How To Snag A Date for the Dodger Game in Two Weeks or Less...

This post, modeled slightly after "How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days" is about a real woman's quest (mine!) to find a normal, sports-minded, not easily intimidated, and dare I say..somewhat good-looking... date for the Dodger/Angels game in May. Now as much as I love the dates I've had for my past venues out here in CA... the guy who argued with me about everything, the guy who said I "made him nervous", the guy who my friends and I think might be gay, and the guy who was addicted to drugs and fell off the face of the planet... I definitely feel that they were definitely not up to caliber and since these are going to be great seats to a fantastic game, I'd like to find a person who is at least one step up from the disasters I've met out here so far. It's not every day that I get to see my hero, Joe Torre, up close and personal, so I must go through a pretty extensive screening process and I only have two weeks or so in which to weed out the bad from the good. Presently, I have the following options:

1. Bars. Happy Hours which host a nice beer special and have big screens in all areas of sight playing either the NBA playoffs or a baseball game. I know if I just open my mouth, I can find someone there.

2. Finally let my friend set me up with her friend she's been bragging about. Even though I'm not a fan of blind-dates or set-ups, maybe the stars will be in line and the gods in my favor that fateful day.

3. Wear a sign. I had thought of crafting up a very colorful, maybe even delightfully written and polite sign that I could wear while I stand on the side of the street with a bell. Better yet, I can wear nothing underneath that sign. If that's the case, I could probably ditch the bell.

4. Personal Ads. Craigslist, Yahoo, you name it. SWF seeks SWM with at least half a brain and baseball knowledge to attend Dodger/Angel game. No intelligent conversation necessary.

5. Hit up all the tattoo parlors in HB. Lord knows these places are crawling with men, since it is very unlikely to see a man walking down Main Street without at least a full sleeve.

6. Ask an ex-boyfriend from hell to come out for the evening. He will most likely complain about every aspect of the trip, but I think if I buy an extra-large case of heavy duty duct tape, we should be OK.

7. Call the guy who argued with me about everything, the guy who said I made him "nervous", the guy who we all think is gay, or the druggie who fell off the face of the earth. Guy #1 would just boo for every player I liked; Guy #2 would crawl into the fetal position and cry every time I spoke; Guy #3 would hold my hand but all the while be checking out Napoli's package; Guy #4 would get up to go to the bathroom and never return. Hey, more space in the car on the way home.

8. GO ALONE. I could possibly do this. That way, I could go crazy every time Joe Torre showed his face, eat as many hot dogs as my heart desires, use the extra seat for storage, and sing "take me out to the ball game" as loud as I can, horrible voice and all.


I will keep everyone updated on this quest. In the meantime, go Dodgers ;-)

Innocent..Naive...or just plain Stupid?

I'd like to think that I was raised by a moral family who taught me the ways of the world in the correct fashion. However, as I keep branching myself out into different areas of the world and experiencing different aspects of life, a question has peaked my interests and I've spend the whole weekend trying to find the answer. Here, listen up to this... maybe you can help me.

I'd like to think that throughout all that I've been through in life, I've maintained a strong sense of "innocence" that is either endearing to some, or stupid to others. Even at this ripe age of 25 and a half years old, I still believe that deep down people are good. I believe that people have a choice whether or not to hurt someone. I believe that it is still possible to find a man who won't cheat, and love his partner with all of his being. I still think it's possible to work your tail off at work and receive the right amount of credit for it one day. I believe that if you are good to others, someone will eventually be good to you in return. I believe that you should be nice to people, even if they don't deserve it. I believe in loving someone with all of your heart, even if they are going to rip out that heart. I believe that there are people who don't lie, cheat, or steal, no matter what opportunity is put in front of them. I believe that money doesn't buy happiness. I believe that having people's respect is winning half the battle. I believe in prayer, charity, and that no one will truly love you until you love yourself. I believe you can change the world, one small act of kindness at a time. I believe in living a simple life. I believe that even though you are not with the person you once loved, that doesn't mean you weren't his everything. I believe that not everyone whispers behind your back, and not all mistakes make your fate. I believe I am a cool person just because my nieces and nephews think I am. I believe---that in the end, everything will work itself out, no matter what.

So back to the question that I brought up in the beginning. The question that has been on my mind all weekend. Am I innocent, naive, or just plain stupid?

The Babes of BBQue

There are several tell-tale signs of getting older. You spot a grey hair, you need new eyeglasses, things on your body start to sag, and you start noticing that every place you go to is playing their music just a little too loud for your taste. These things haven't really started to happen to me yet, but one thing has. Something that is my sign that life is starting to take a different turn on me. When I was a young girl, I was really into the "bad boys." I liked the trouble-maker members of the boy bands, the actors that slept around and swore a lot, and even the boys in school who always got in trouble. In my teens and early twenties it was the clean cut boys--brad pitt look-a-likes, lead singers of bands, baseball players. Now, my heart goes pitter patter for... yes, brace yourselves... the sexy men of The Food Network.

Jamie, Bobby, Tyler, oh my! I find myself tuning in to watch these handsome men cook up a wonderful meal in 30 minutes flat, chop up onions with excellent precision, and know the difference between cilantro and basil. My mouth ends up watering not only for the dish being prepared, but for the tasty dish whose hands prepared it. What happened to the days of sexy actors and motorcycle riding bad boys? Am I now so far gone that it's these babes of bbque that turn me on? I'm wondering if this fasination and innocent (ha, right) crushes on these men will hinder my future relationships forever. Will I wake up one day, look at my significant other while he's scrambling me some eggs and think, he doesn't do it for me like Jamie Oliver does.... ?????

Fun Fashion Accessory... Or Medieval Torture Device?

I have been a fan of shoes for as long as I can remember. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I came out of the womb and wondered in baby language where the nurse had gotten those great pumps. There are so many different varieties, and thinking about all of them gives me warm fuzzy feelings inside. Heels, stilettos, flats, flip-flops, sandals, espadrilles...the list goes on. What men see as "the strappy ones" or "the black ones" I see as "last season's midnight Prada stiletto's." However, as I have started working in an office, the clothes I wear (which will get a post devoted to their wonderfulness soon) require that I wear professional shoes. Since I am a mere midget, professional shoes are "anything that makes me taller and not look like a 12 year old." I graze the hallways feeling like a proud and powerful women with grown-up height to match my grown-up job. But I have to admit... at the end of the day... I want to cut off my feet at the ankles. Those beautiful fashion pieces south of my knees have made me ask the question... "What am I doing to myself?"

I have always been a firm believer in fashion over comfort. Who cares how it feels, as long as it looks cute, right? I don't know anymore. I have begin to wonder--- ladies, what are we doing to ourselves? What are we sacrificing in the name of fashion? And, most importantly, is it worth it?

I experimented by bringing in a pair of flip-flops to wear only during my lunch break. At 12 PM I took off the heels, placed them under my desk, and replaced them with flip-flops, bringing me back down to the ground. In that hour, I felt more unprofessional and sloppy than I've ever felt here at work. Those extra three inches closer to the floor had indeed made me feel like a child. At 1 PM sharp, I put my heels back on, and was transformed back into strong, beautiful, fashionable and professional woman. So, is the pain at the end of the day worth it? I believe so.

The weekend, however, is an entirely different story.

Hey Buddy--Crack Kills...

I have to take this time to vent about a new phenomenon that seems to be sweeping the Orange County nation. It seems to be everywhere I turn my head, and I've realized that this phenomenon bothers me a tremendous amount.

I am a huge fan of all things "male"... I love the way they smell, the way they try and fix things, even the way they look when they wake up in the morning and their hair is doing a funny "alfalfa" thing in the back. However... and this however might definitely be a deal breaker... Crack Kills.

It is common that men wear their pants low on their waists. So do women now, for that matter. It has become normal to see a man's boxer shorts sticking out of the top of his pants when he raises his arms. But recently, I have been noticing a growing number of men (and boys!) who are still wearing the pants very low, still raising their arms up high... and failing to have that strip of boxer shorts covering the nether-region. In the past week, I have seen about a dozen "cracks" put out there by the male species--at the baseball stadium, riding their bikes around the neighborhood, and at the car wash. I'm not sure if I'm crossing the line here by writing about this, but it seriously bothers me to a point where I had to say something. Is it laziness? Are they just forgetful? Do they need a belt to hold the pants up? Whatever it is, unless they are in the plumbing profession, it needs to stop.

To the men out there--I will always love the way you smell, the way you try to fix things, and the way your hair does that funny "alfalfa" thing... But for heavens sake, pull up your pants, or at least put something under them.

Soul Mate Detox

Nowadays, I'm not sure if I believe in the term "Soul mate" and all that comes with it. I don't believe there's one person meant to be your soul mate. I do believe that maybe a soul mate can be a variety of people, who come into your life to teach you something, or give you something. Whether it's love, a lesson about yourself, or to make you stronger than you were before--something along those lines--they are supposed to enrich your life in some way, change it and mold it. Some soul mates stay, and some leave you.

Let me tell you a story about why....

There's a man that has been in my life sporadically but strongly over the past seven years. And I truly did believe he was my soul mate--the love of my life. It was so very "Carrie and Big" or "Ross and Rachel" in the fact that we just couldn't make it work even though the love was there, but I believed that in the end, we'd finally make it--because we were soul mates, after all.

This past year he came back into my life, and I figured this was it-- it was finally our time to make things work. We were both adults now and had grown in our convictions, and this was the time of our lives to be together. However...just like all tortured love stories....this past Christmas, we decided to end things, again, and this time I believe was the last time---the final goodbye.


My problem now, is the detox. How do I rid my body of one soul mate, to prepare for the next? What is the best and safest way to do it? How do you get to the point where you don't need him anymore?--Where you don't think about him, you don't tear up when you look at a pint of Ben & Jerry's because of all the special memories attached to it?--You don't see a commercial or read a joke and think, woah, he really would have liked this....
What's the best way to do it? Do you cut yourself off, cold turkey, from all things him? Do you throw yourself back into the dating pool and date losers who have no chance of ever meaning to you what he did, just to say your "putting yourself out there?" Do you stay away from sad movies about soulmates, love songs, and never mention his name? Or.... do you think about him often, wish him love and best wishes, and then let it pass? Do you look at the pint of Ben & Jerry's fondly, remembering the time you looked out your dorm room window and saw him running towards you, pint in hand? Do you listen to the songs you loved together, smile, and be thankful that such a special person was in your life, faults and all. I mean, like Garth Brooks says, "I could have missed the pain, but I'd of had to miss the dance.." Do you continue on with your life, knowing that if you were lucky enough to have one soulmate come into your life, the odds of being able to accept another are that much greater?

I think I'll choose the latter, it sounds so much more "zen".

Unhealthy Addiction

I feel the need to stand up, in front of a crowd of people that I don't know, and state, firmly and surely-- Hello, my name is Megan, and I am a style tv show-product-CVS-fashion magazine-aholic.

I don't know when the problem started, and I really don't see an end in sight. Maybe it started with my own car, and the discovery of CVS. Maybe it started with a girl and a dream, and her first designer purchase. Maybe it's in my DNA and I can just blame my parents. Who knows. All I know, is that I have a major addiction, to all things beauty, fashion, and products.

I think the product addiction really hit the fan when I started dating Dave, and his house was only a block away from CVS. First, it started out as "I need a new lotion, I'm out"... then, it just snowballed. My bathroom closet started to look like the CVS shelves themselves, containing everything from moisturizer, to shimmer moisturizer, to firming moisturizer... bottles would be only less than half full when I figured it was time for a replacement.

My CVS addiction has quieted down some, due to the lack of funds as of late. So, I have focused my addiction to the magazines and style shows on TV. Just like a true addict, I wonder, "if it's not hurting anyone, why should I stop?" The happiness that comes from the "best beauty buys for your buck" or the Cosmo Karma Sutra, to the shallow Celeb-gossip and "how to thrill him between the sheets" is irreplaceable.

The people who live with me used to get an occasional giggle when they saw the montly Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, Glamour, etc. come through the mail slot each month--all of which containing my name and address on the cover. However now, I see sorrow, pity, and even worry in their eyes when I am as giddy as a school girl at their very presence. The roll of the eyes when the see the style shows on the TV, EVERY time I turn it on, has only gotten worse over the past couple weeks.

The question is, do I try and get help for this? Or, just add it to growing list of faults that people just have to live with, if they decide to love me? I'm still trying to decide. Maybe an answer will come to me in this Month's Cosmo.

How to Socialize-- Sans Beer Belly

I got a couple tips from the “Skinny Chef” about how to avoid gaining weight when you
drink up. I know, this information would have been helpful years ago (Hello, Freshman 15) but I say take what we can get. Summer is prime time for socializing,
and if you’re in a job that requires networking, or if you just enjoy your after-work cocktail hour, here are a couple ways to stay healthy.

*Steer clear of high-calorie fruit drinks. The average candy bar has about 29 grams of sugar. The strawberry daiquiri alone has nearly 40 grams of sugar! Holy
Moley. Add that to an ounce of rum, and you’re looking at a drink that has over 200 calories and 40 grams of sugar. 3 Words for you--- Not Worth It!!! If
you have a sweet tooth when it comes to the good stuff, try flavored vodka with diet soda instead.

*Opt for freshly made margaritas, instead of frozen premixed. If you must have a margarita, avoid the gigantic “I’m in Cancun on spring break” type. Ask the bartender
to serve you up an original. It will save you not only sugar and calories, but that headache and the “what exactly did I say to my client last night” the next morning.

*Watch out for the free-floating bar snacks! Bars give you these salty concoctions to make you thirst for more of their non-healthy booze. I know we all are thinking, hey, it’s free—but they contain hundreds of unnecessary calories.

*Love beer? You’re in luck! Just stay on the light side. Many light beers are 110 calories or less, and contain less than 6 grams of carbs and sugar.

*When all else fails, and you are standing at the counter with a blank stare when the bartender asks what you’ll be having, try old faithful—wine. You can’t go wrong. Not only does both red and white wine contain healthy antioxidants, but at about 120 calories and less than 7 grams of sugar per glass, you’re keeping
on the healthy side as well.


Now, do I always follow these tips? No, but I'm going to start. And treating yourself every now and then never hurt anyone. Remember, everything in moderation-- including moderation.

10 Rules for Men When Dating an Emotional Basket Case

An emotional woman can wreck havoc on almost all of her relationships, if the man she is dating is not fully prepared to deal with her. Along with the negative side of her emotions, comes a fiery spirit and deep sensitivity, which can be an extremely positive thing. With the right manual, which I have so generously provided (along with the help of my ex-boyfriend Chris and my father), any type of man can learn how to tame a basket case, and maybe even fall in love with her in the process.

10. Let Her Cry. Tears are a form of therapy for the emotional person, so my advice to you is let her cry. Even if the shrieks and moans get too piercing for your ears to bear, invest in some ear plugs and just let her finish. A premature ending to a good cry may result in an even bigger disaster.

9. Always admit when you've done something wrong. Even if you really don't think you have, it's always good to show the basket case that you are mature enough to face her and deal with your problems, instead of just telling her what hers are. An emotional basket case always knows what her own problems are. but it's your job to pretend like they don't exist and she is perfect. She'll eventually figure it out.

8. Give her a day to recover from a big arguement. The little things are always the hardest and most dramatic to an emotional woman, so when she blows up at you for something small, let her go and leave her alone for a day. In this day apart, she will have analyzed the situation to death and realized her wrong doings. If you approach her before the day is up, she may not be ready to apologize and you could find yourself in the doghouse.

7. Never say NO and ALWAYS agree. The emotional basket case woman may accuse you of being closed minded if this occurs. Just get used to the fact that it's going to be her way, or the highway. Every idea of hers is great, because much care and thought went into it.

6. Take her out for dinner and a night on the town once a week. If you do not do this, she may accuse you of being cheap or not thinking she is attractive enough for you to show her off. You know you don't feel this way-- you just enjoy your cozy chair and steak dinners at home-- but once she thinks you are cheap or insensitive, it is all over for you.

5. Compliment, Compliment, Compliment. An emotional woman likes nothing more than to hear that her man is pleased with her. Since she believes she works hard at keeping you happy, it is your job to tell her so every chance you get. Tell her of her raging beauty, her sparkling eyes, and how amazing she smells... Take note from the men is soap operas... Their chicks are always putting out.

4. Make sure she is the first person you say hello to when entering a room. When you get home from work, arrive at her house, or at a gathering you both are attending, make sure she is the first person you see and approach. If not, she may accuse you or ignoring her or valuing someone else's company more than her own. If you do not do this, you may end up leaving that party alone or sleeping on the sofa.

3. Don't always let her be the first one to say she's sorry. If this occurs more often than not, she may accuse you of being stubborn. You know it's because you firmly believe you've done nothing wrong, but in the interest of wasting another day in a fight, apologize first. Then, she won't feel like the one carrying the heavy weights in the relationship.

2. Inform, but don't tell. An emotional basket case loves to believe she is independent. If you see her doing something wrong, simply suggest a number of different ways to do it, and let her choose which one she thinks is appropriate. If you tell her what to do, she may accuse you of being sexist or making her feel stupid. This creates more of the tears mentioned in rule #10.

1. Always tell her what's on your mind and how you are feeling. Nothing annoys the emotional basket case more than when she always has to guess what you are thinking. If you are angry, sad, in love, in the mood, or scared, just tell her. It is important to the emotional woman to be connected on another level, so in order to keep the peace, just share your thoughts out there.

To the men out there... Good luck, and god speed.




This is a piece I wrote when I was 20, and it was published in my college's Literary Magazine, which is a annual collection of writings. Teachers have to invite you to join. It is mostly sarcastic, but is also mostly true.

The Thrill of a First Kiss

There's nothing like it. So I thought. That rush of feeling that comes over you when his lips touch yours for the first time, wondering if your life will change, will it stay the same, is he the one, will he break your heart... The queasiness in your stomach overcomes you, and you can feel you heart literally beating faster and faster. Your smile stretches from ear to ear when it's finished, and you feel... satisfied. Like nothing in your world could ever go wrong again, because this action has just righted all wrongs. There's nothing like it. So I thought.

With my newfound "stike" against the men of the world, first kisses come few and far between for me now. Well, let's just say first kisses with any kind of passion like that come few and far between. As this stike against dating has turned more into a way of life rather than a phase, the universe, being ever so kind and never losing its' sense of humor, created new ways for me to experience the thrill of a first kiss. When one loses their sight, it is said that their other senses become magnified. I believe this is true. I truly believe that when God closes a door, he opens a window.

When my one-year-old neice crawls into my lap, and smiles at me... when she reaches her hands way out for me to hold her... that thrill is there. The rush, the feeling in the stomach, the thought of life being so wonderful and nothing can go wrong... Just looking into her eyes and seeing her love for me gives me the thrill of that first kiss.

When I accomplish a project at work... one that took me awhile to learn, one that I have finally perfected, on my own... that thrill is there. When I think back to where I was a year ago today, and think ahead to where I will be one year from today, I get chills up my spine. Knowing that I have only tasted a piece of what this world has to offer me, and there's a whole big cookie left to eat... Getting in the car at the end of the work day, knowing I am doing great things with myself there.... That first kiss.

When I spend time by myself.... something I never enjoyed doing in the past.... just being comfortable in my own skin, and having no one else's company but my own, the thrill is there. Knowing that I don't need anyone else to make me happy or comlete me, that the beach is just as beautiful when I'm by myself, the kite flies just as high when I'm by myself, and the movie is just as good when I'm by myself... Ahhhh, that first kiss.

So the thrills are still there, just wearing a different outfit. And maybe once that first kiss actually comes again, I'll need a new feeling for it, because all the other wonderful things have replaced it.

It's a Big World

Little Gus, Big World... that sums up me, in a nutshell.

This is my first "official" blog posting. Since I am trying to break out into the world of writing, maybe even get published one day (College Lit Magazine's are great for bragging, but don't really count) I figured I'd start a blog that everyone can read and comment on. Since I've been known to many people as "Little Gus" for quite some time now, I think I'll stick to that alias. Is anyone going to find what I say important or interesting? My fingers are crossed....

What a big world. I left Connecticut behind almost 8 months ago, because I thought the world was "too small".(Although I am an LA Native, my father moved me and my family to the freezing tundra of Connecticut about 15 years ago, and I just recently moved back). Now, I'm feeling like the world is too big. I'm like the Goldilocks of geography. I've been finding that so many things are beyond my control, and I stress myself out way too much trying to make them be so. That, makes the world big to me. Sometimes you can't control what happens to you, and sometimes there is such a thing as "wrong place wrong time." I'm finding that California has the sunshine and freedom I had been craving, but who knew that this big fish would miss her small pond, and the other big fish who inhabited that pond with her.

It is human nature that you always want what you can't have. If you're here, you'd rather be there, and if you're there, you'd rather be back here again. If your hair is curly, you'd rather it be straight, if you're tall, you wish you were short, and if you're cold, you'd much rather be hot. I guess I'll be totally unoriginal, and say I miss my little pond.

Out here in CA, I've realized that I can't control how many friends I have. I can't make people like me, or explain to people that I'm only slightly neurotic on the surface but there's goodness inside. I can't stop my mom from missing the love of her life. I can't keep my family from fighting with each other. I can't keep myself out of trouble, because it seems to find me. I can't cure my little brother's stress, or raise enough money for him to float through college. I have no control over babies being born to unfit parents, poverty in Africa, or children being mean to each other on the playground. I can't make my Dad come back from the dead simply because I need him to do my taxes or remind me to change the oil in my car.

What's a little gus like me to do? I'd be open to suggestions, as long as they do not involve the words "suck it up" or "make up your mind already". I hope everyone enjoys the blog.