Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Hello, is Mr Wall there? (muffled laughter)

This week I've come across two brilliant-beyond-brilliant news stories—and it's only Tuesday!

In case you missed them...


McDonalds is trialling all-day breakfast

As most of you know, I'm a long-time fan of the Egg McMuffin, and I've been campaigning for years to get McDonalds to serve breakfast all day, at least on weekends. Why this is only just happening now I am genuinely perplexed. Heck, you don't even have to make it all day, but cutting us off at 10:30am? What kind of wartime rationing communist BS is that?

Lucky for McDonalds, I'm a forgiving person. When all-day breakfast comes to the Kenmore location, I shall participate.


Michael Jackson used to prank call Russell Crowe

Now this is just delightful. It's like I've died and gone to bizarre fun facts heaven. Here's what the unable-to-get-an-Australian-passport, phone-throwing, almost-kidnapped-by-al-Qaida actor told The Guardian about MJ's pranking spree:

“For two or three f—king years,” he says. “I never met him, never shook his hand, but he found out the name I stayed in hotels under, so it didn’t matter where I was, he’d ring up do this kind of thing, like you did when you were 10, you know. ‘Is Mr Wall there? Is Mrs Wall there? Are there any Walls there? Then what’s holding the roof up? Ha ha.’ You’re supposed to grow out of doing that, right?”

Say what you will about Michael Jackson, but the guy knew how to have FUN.

I bet you anything MJ had this phone. Neverland Ranch décor at its finest.


Cheers,
Margaret

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

I've gone over to the dark side

I did it.

I bought an iPhone.

MuHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAAA.


So long peaceful, voluntary isolation.

Goodbye smiling at strangers in the Starbucks line. 

Sayonara leaving 'what-was-the-name-of-that-band'-type questions unanswered.

Hello buzzing on my nightstand just as I drift asleep. 

Howdy trying to stop myself from reading emails at red lights.

Welcome urge to preserve everything cute/cool/artsy in my life on Instagram. 

IT IS WHAT IT IS. 

I've had my reservations for a long time. And I'll certainly miss my dumbphone. But I don't want to be a luddite. I'm embarrassed that I'm so bad at touch-screens. 

It was time. I'll be fine. I won't let it change who I am. 

Your old friend,
Margaret

P.S. RHOBH reunion tomorrow night. Kyle R. says it's the most intense reunion of all five seasons. To say I'm looking forward to it = major understatement. I'm shite-ing myself. 

P.P.S. OK, you're on to me. I never smiled at strangers in the Starbucks line. I stare at the rubbery croissants and contemplate buying one.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Greetings, Suppressive Persons

Anna invited us over to watch the HBO Scientology documentary tonight. I've been reading about this exposé for months. HBO had to hire 160 lawyers in order to make the thing. Finally, it was time for the big unveiling! I was so excited I couldn't stop eating grapes (in a bowl on Anna's coffee table—mine for the gobbling!).

It came as no surprise that the beliefs and practices of the Church of Scientology are nutso. Like most religions, it's all based on a science fiction book. And who am I to tell anyone what to believe?

But the troublesome bit is the tax exemption stuff. The organization doesn't have to pay any tax because it's classified as a religion. What kind of bullroar is that!?! You're telling me that I have to cough up 25% of my income, but Tom Cruise gets to write-off the millions he puts into the church (which, in turn, provides him with swanky cars and pimped-out airplane hangers and made-to-order wives)?



I was also struck by the fact that the documentary, while seriously damning, didn't actually go into some of the stranger rumors. Even with their 160 lawyers as backup, the filmmakers didn't touch the Leah Remini / Shelly Miscavige missing-person report scandal. I think there's a lot that the film didn't reveal out of fear of litigation.

In other news, I think my migraines may happen because I clinch my jaw in my sleep. I suspect that I do this, since my jaw aches a bit sometimes. But how can I ever be sure unless I buy a night-vision camera and film myself in my sleep? Watching the footage back would be pretty creepy, but also a minefield of potential blog material.

In other other news, I've decided to convert to Scientology. You're all SPs and I'm going to have to disconnect from you.

Goodbye.

Margaret

Sunday, March 29, 2015

Overwhelmed by the flora and fauna

Since I've been home I've had to stop myself from petting every tree I come across. I've always known that the Pacific Northwest is a beautiful place, but never before have I appreciated the sheer variety of trees scattered across this fertile land.

It's overwhelming!

Cedars, maples, oaks, alders, poplars, dogwoods, pines, spruces, willows, cherry blossoms—just look at them all! The big, the small, the broad-leaved, the coniferous, living in harmony, sheltering our wildlife and pumping out the oxygen that fills our lungs, courses through our veins and infuses life into each and every cell of our body.

And it's not just the flora that's stopped me in my tracks. The fauna too!

They have squirrels in Edinburgh, but the ones here are HAPPY. They bounce from branch to branch like it's cirque du soleil. Their fur is thick and brown and they grin at you when you walk by.

As for the birdlife, don't even get me started. Every morning I wake up to a symphony of chirps from the most delighted bird choir on earth. I bet you anything they're singing, "I love it here!"



Don't roll your eyes at me. Other than this blog post and the moccasins I bought in Summer 2009, I'm not that earthy. I've tried Toms of Maine deodorant and I just can't get on board with it. Still, sometimes you can't help but give credit where credit's due. Mother Nature, you are one gorgeous broad.

Goodnight,
Margaret

Saturday, March 28, 2015

Microsoft, lock up your cricket players!

Andy has the green light to move to Seattle! His visa was approved.

Because I'm lazy and it's 11:11pm (woah, all 1s), I'll copy/paste our gchat conversation below.

Andy Williamson
hi lunk
Margaret Kay
YES
hi
should I call
Andy Williamson
I'm in s-bucks and et's pretty besy
so i cannae really talk
Margaret Kay
OH OK RAM
GOOD JOB
How was it?!?/1/!
Andy Williamson
so easy
total time in the embassy (including queuing) 2 hours
total time spent talking to embassy staff - 3 minutes
Margaret Kay
What!? Crazy! And they told you it was "approved"?
Andy Williamson
interview 1 was where i handed in all the forms, then I sat back down
then I got called through to the interview woman who asked very, very cursory questions
and then just said, yep, that's good enough for me


After all the hassle of getting the visa documents together (long story, but it involves some tax forms being dropped off and left for dead at a jewellery shop by an idiot postman), I was SHOCKED that he was approved in just a few minutes.

We were prepared for the worst, and expected the worst. But we ended up with the best case scenario, all things considered.

I told him we all wear American flags behind our ears (shhhhh! don't tell - it's a hilarious prank)
There is one thing. After the interview, Andy spent a lovely day in London with some mates before hopping on the Tube for London City Airport to make his 9:20pm flight back to Edinburgh. Only problem is that he was booked on the 7:45pm flight. All that visa success went to his head and he forgot he booked the earlier flight! Luckily, he was able to make it to the train station in time to blag his way into a first class ticket on the Caledonian Sleeper for the price of coach. In fact, he's snoozing to the sound of "Chugga Chugga Choo Choo" as I type this. 

Now, if you'll please join me in raising your glass to our newest United States resident, Andy Williamson! 

Hip hip? Hooray! 

Hip hip? Hooray! 

Hip hip? Hooray! 

Hmmm...should those "hip hips" have ended in a question mark? I'm second guessing myself. 

Egads. Two stream-of-consciousness blog posts in a row. 

Cheerio, Margaret 

P.S. The title of this post was a spin on "Mothers, lock up your daughters!" Just FYI. 

P.P.S. Remember a few weeks ago when I wrote about how my friend Tori and her sister thought the Kool & the Gang song lyrics were "Celebrate the Taj Mahal"? Well, today my nieces and I were having a dance party to celebrate finishing an alphabet jigsaw puzzle and a certain bro-in-law of mine starting singing, "Celebrations now, come on!" I mean, hilarious. Kool, you and your gang clearly need to annunciate better.

Friday, March 27, 2015

I wanna soak up the suuuuunnnnnn

So weird that Sheryl Crow was engaged to Lance Armstrong for a bit. He would be the worst husband. The WORST. Also—fun fact—she also dated Owen Wilson back in the day.

But the title of this post refers to more than a Sheryl Crow ditty. It refers to my LIFE! Living in Scotland, I've been sun-starved for the past five years. Now I'm home and, sing it with me, I wanna soak up the suuuuunnnnnn. 

As luck would have it, the sun was out today. And I mean really out. According to my Mom's volvo, it was 72°F. I wore black jeans, a terrible choice. My legs were hot to the touch.



Yikes. It's 11:38pm and I need to finish a bit of work. I left this blog post way too late, but I refuse to apologize for it. My Dad told me back in November that I need to stop apologizing for sub-par blog posts. He's right. Saying sorry too much is a stinky cologne.

Have you noticed that I've returned to American English? Check out that "z" (pronounced zee, not zed) in "apologize."

Love,
Margaret
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