The Heartthrob of My Weekend Mornings

My dear readers, as you probably know (because everyone who reads this thing is actually in my life - hi Mom!) I am in love with a Chelsea soccer football fanatic. I go with him to the bar on weekend mornings (sometimes very, very early) to watch the matches with his crew. They sing songs I don't know the words to, they know what's going on, and generally I have a great time because I enjoy sports and I enjoy a good bloody mary. Sure, there's lot of cutiepies who play soccer football, but there's only one man affiliated with Chelsea for me - their manager José Mourinho.

Look at this handsome summabish!

Every time I watch a match, I'm like, Where's José ?

He is dapper as hell on the pitch! And can apparently perform wandless magic.

 ON MY HEART.

Am I a little bit obsessed with José?

Why am I obsessed with José?

Really!?

Who's the number one hottie manager of the English Premier League?

See you Saturday, sweet stuff!

Elementary School Crushes, in order

1. The tiniest boy in class with the bright blue eyes.

2. That kid with gigantic ears.

3. That kid who I liked for one day before we became BFFs and then we wrote plays together and he taught me all of the dances to Madonna and Janet Jackson because of course he did.

4. My 4th grade teacher who encouraged me to work hard and be a smart kid.

5. The kid who was just slightly smarter than me.

6. That other kid who was just slightly smarter than me.

7. That kid who was really dumb but super sweet.

8. The boy my best friend liked, but that crush only happened for like a day because I was afraid I was missing out on some great hunk of a boy to have a crush on but then realized that it's better if you and your best friend don't have crushes on the same person.

9. The kid with gigantic ears again, but only for a hot minute.

10. That boy who looked just like Eddie Furlong and listened to Metallica and watched Star Trek.

11. Captain Picard.

12. The shortest boy in class who thought he was a surfer rock god.

13. The kid who never said anything because he must think really deep thoughts.

14. That blonde boy who never looked at me twice even though there were like 40 kids in our whole class.

15. Eddie Vedder. Forever and always.

The Truth About Leggings

My dear readers, I feel I have let you down. To be fair, I've also let myself down. I bought leggings.

I know. I was in Target, doing that thing where you go to Target to get a gift for your friend's adorable three year old and then all of a sudden you're buying shampoo and nail polish and unripe avocados and a bubble machine (and batteries and backup bubbles because you are a nice friend) aaaaaaand leggings. And a bra that you will eventually take back because you picked up "B" instead of "D." And of course they don't have that color in D. Or they do and it's a 32 D and who the hell exactly wears that size? Because that is some Barbie-proportioned shenanigans.

So, yeah. Leggings. But here's the truth about leggings: that shit is comfortable.

I know. Now, obviously, I am not going to violate Rule #1 of Way Too Shay Nation (Leggings Are Not Pants) but I will say leggings are making me feel just a little more secure today. The plaid shirt dress I love ever-so-much is just a mite too short and I usually just throw on some black tights and boots (because 1994) and decide that it's okay for my shirt dress to be a little more shirt than dress. But with leggings? I'm not worried about Joe Commuter glimpsing more thigh that is necessary on the 47 bus. I mean, seriously, Joe Commuter - if you want to glimpse the these thighs, you'd better buy a ticket (shameless plug).

There you go, my dear readers. Up is down, black is white, and leggings are comfortable. But they will never, ever be pants.

Good for Whomping

Hello, my dear readers. I know I've neglected you but the end of the awards show season runs directly into my busiest time at work and I had to, you know, work a lot. Next week is the big conference and I promise I'll get on the whole updating WTS more often after that.

That said... let's talk about online dating. Because WOOF, you guys.

I was fooled by the SortaFineCupid in the beginning. I went on two dates and the second of those dates turned into a lovely relationship with a lovely person. My friends warned me that I was lucky and had no idea how much grossness awaited me. I did not believe them. I was a fool.

The first message I got after reactivating my account was KickMyBalls01 asking "So have you ever kicked a guy in the balls before?"

 

Listen, some of the messages are nice. Some are from my friends being all, you know, awesome like my friends. Some of the people I meet are pretty great. A lot of the messages either just say "hi" or are just a smiley face - THE WORST. Oh, how I hate emoticons. Sometimes people are vaguely mean. But then... today...

WAIT. I should probably tell you that in my profile I mention that I have lovely skin because it's true. Okay. Now you know that.  Here's exactly what I got today.

'lovely skin', good for whomping on, certainly

 

So, I guess the moral of the story is I don't like getting emails on a dating site about getting "whomped."

Television Comes to South Philadelphia

My dear readers, my roommate and I got cable and reliable internet recently. This is the first time we've had tv since moving into our house three years ago. I had come from a tv-heavy house and was looking forward to the break. I think she was humoring me. What I found out during the time we didn't have tv was just how many times I could watch the movies and shows on DVD we already owned. The answer: a lot. But we decided to take the plunge a month or so ago and I have learned some things.

1. I will watch almost anything on the Food Network as long as Robert Irvine is not involved. And sometimes I will watch the Robert Irvine shows also.

He is the physical embodiment of the Uh Oh Feeling for me.

1a. The Prairie Woman has a cooking show. It's not awesome but I still love her.

2. I will watch any iteration of House Hunters and yell at the entitled jerks who are looking at properties. I now have the words "en suite bathroom" "detached house" and "stainless steel appliances" burned into my brain. I'm a little concerned that my house has none of these.

3. Modern Family is well written and consistently funny. Parks and Rec is much better than it used to be and has made me cry more than once. The Mindy Project is entirely disappointing. Chopped is on all the time, but it's always a Thanksgiving episode. 

4. As it turns out, I can save money by watching football at home instead of at the bar. Not that I am surprised, it's just nice to remember that.

5. I am mystified and amazed by the ability to fast forward through commercials. DVR is insane and great. 

6. On the subject of DVR, I didn't realize you had to make difficult decisions. Last night we had to decide between taping Breaking the Faith and Home Alone. We chose BtF because we are obsessed with it. 

Sorry, Kevin. You cannot hold a candle to my obsession with prophet-based religious sects.

7. It occurred to me only the other day that having television means that I can watch awards shows the way they were meant to be watched: at home, in formal wear, eating pizza, yelling at the television.

7a. And I can watch hours upon hours of red carpet coverage. You're welcome in advance.

8. Because I was watching television, I was alerted to the fact that Michael Buble does a Christmas Special, and apparently his guests this year are my girls Mary J. Blige and Mariah Carey. What are MJB and Mariah doing on Michael Buble's Christmas Special? 

Basically, goodbye productivity. It was nice knowing you.

Get ready!

My dear readers, Sunday is the Emmy Awards!!!

You remember the Emmy Awards, right? Last year featured such hits as Nicole Kidmans' Ice Phoenix Ode to the Vagina; Ashley Judd's ginormous hairdo; and Julianna Margulies once again wearing a floral slip cover!

Just to review, here's who we currently have on probation:

Kaley Cuoco
Debra Messing


If these two want to be taken off probation, they have to land solidly in the Good pile for the Emmys.

And veering dangerously close to being put on probation:

Amanda Seyfried
Julianne Moore


If those two land in the Bad pile or the WTF one more time, I'm going to have to ban them until they get themselves together. It's really for the sake of our collective mental health.



PS, I'm sorry I've been so MIA. It's Fringe time in Philly and things have been nutty. I'll be around more now. I missed you all! To prove it, here's an unflattering photo from like 6 or so years ago:

A letter to myself 10 years ago

My dear readers, I started thinking the other night that as of this Labor Day, I'll have lived in Philly for 10 years. So I wrote my younger self a letter. I'm sharing with you. Enjoy.

Dear Meghann,

You are about to start an amazing decade. I know that right now you are itchy to move out of South Jersey and start your life on your own, but don’t be too quick about it. You are so lucky that your parents had a place for you to stay after college and so, so lucky that they taught you about paying rent before it really mattered if it was on time. You owe them a lot, but you’ll figure that out in a few years.

It’s about to get crazy and fun. You’re about to learn how to use a gas stove  - which is going to seem dangerous and weird at first but I promise that soon you’ll never understand how people cook on electric stovetops. Oh! And in a couple of years, you’ll learn how to cook. You’ll get better at it, even if you do cook those sad little porkchops down to tiny bits of meat the first time you have Colin over for dinner.

There will be lots of work - too much work sometimes. But every time you think it’s the worst working situation of your life it’ll get a bit better. The theatre company you’re struggling to find a name for will be some of the hardest, most rewarding work of your life. One little thing: there will come a time when you’re staining a particleboard wall at midnight and you really hate everything about everything. You’re right to hate having to stain a wall that has already been put up, but look around because this is you and your best friends living your dream. Don’t be fooled into thinking that “living the dream” is actually fun - mostly it’s hard work with some exceptionally fun moments. Also, don’t be fooled into thinking you have new freckles on your face - those are just little splotches from the stain.

I know that right now you’re still reeling from that horrible heartbreak. Ten years from now you’ll be friends again and it won’t hurt anymore. You’re going to find a couple more people to love in the next ten years and you’ll learn so much. Don’t try to be so cool; you don’t pull it off that well anyway.

The thing you don’t know is how much Philadelphia will become a part of you and that living here will sometimes define you. It’s more than cheesesteaks and Eagles games. (Although I’m a little jealous on this side of the decade that you’re about to experience the Linc for the first time and that you’ll get to enjoy a few years of winning sports teams. Spoiler alert: pay attention to the Phillies in 2008. It’s going to be really fun except for those “saved by zero” commercials. Ugh, you’ll know what I mean.) No, the thing is this: inch by inch you are going to layer your life onto these blocks, those buses, that building. By the time you’re where I am, you’ll hardly be able to walk half a mile without having a million memories.

This corner here is all at once the theatre where you opened the first show you directed in Philly and the patch of sidewalk you stalked when your friend was so terrifyingly ill in the middle of a show and also where you waited for the bus after a second date with that jerkface journalist who liked your thighs (his only redeeming quality - don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with him for long).

This building is where you’ll spend months and months and days and nights in rehearsal or building sets. You’ll cry in there a lot, sometimes out of frustration with an actor, sometimes out of sympathy for a friend who is losing her father, sometimes out of sheer exhaustion because you just got through 13 hours of tech and now you have to stay late and paint the set. But in this building you will also form some amazing friendships, have glorious moments of beautiful work, laugh and laugh and laugh when that girl walks through the damn daisies (just wait - it’s so good), and perform (oh right, forgot to tell you - you’ll end up performing again, mostly naked - don’t think about it too much).

Over here, on this commercial corner, you’ll feel the greatest stress and the greatest elation of your life - you’ll see that soon. You’ll live through it and it will make all the difference.

It’s sort of like this extensive modge podge project that you just can't seem to finish. Things get layered over each other but exist harmoniously; never one experience trying to edge another out, rather all of the experiences building up until you sit where I am on the other side of Broad and realize that moving to South Philly was the best decision you ever made.

A few things to keep in mind:

*There is no such thing here as never seeing someone again so be gracious and kind to absolutely everyone.

* Eat at good restaurants. We have a lot of them and they deserve your time and money. I am so excited for you to experience such amazing food in the next ten years!

* It’ll be a lot easier for people to get the spelling of your name right if you go with Meg instead of Meghann.

* Cynicism is a trap and doesn’t do you any good.

* Sometimes it doesn’t matter if the play is good or bad as long as the experience of putting it together was great. You don’t have to try so hard to show your work.

*Finally, be extremely present and engaged when spending time with people, especially Aunt Dixie, Uncle Warren, Single Guy and Jackie Kay and Mel (you'll meet those girls later - you’ll adore them).

Welcome to Philadelphia!. You're going to love living here.

Love,

Meg

Better Living Through Scarves

My dear readers, I had an amazing idea yesterday morning while getting ready for work. I put on a dress I usually wear with one of my many belts, but I really didn't feel like wearing the belt I usually wear. (This is because said belt necessitates a pair of shoes that are a bit annoying to wear.) So I decided to see what the dress would look like with a polka dot scarf I own.*

It looked better than normal AND I didn't have to endure the entire work day adjusting my belly fat above and below the belt while sitting at my desk. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.

That got me thinking about my closet and how I could re-imagine parts of my wardrobe. I'm a little bored with my clothes, to be honest, but I'm in a place where I don't want to buy new clothes. And I really don't want to go clothes shopping because it is THE WORST. I love shopping for other people but going shopping for myself is the most boring, annoying thing I'm "supposed" to like.

So anyway, I'm giving myself a couple of hours this weekend to go through my closet and try things out in different ways. Maybe I'll see what that pink dress looks like with my combat boots. Maybe I'll try out my Janet Livermore dress with some sandals and jewelry instead of the black tights and boots I always wear. I'll let you know how it goes.

* A quick word about scarves - I love scarves. I love big winter scarves and I love to use scarves as belts. I have never been able to make a jaunty scarf around the neck work for me, though. I have friends who pull this off beautifully, but I always just sort of look like I'm hiding a hickie. In fact, if you see me with a scarf around my neck, I probably AM trying to hide a hickie.

Best scarf-wearer of all time?

obvs.

Ways to Deal with Stress

I think leftover expectations from my school years coupled with the fact that, generally speaking, theatre seasons are Fall through late Spring have combined to make me always expect Summer to be easy-breezy. Vacations, day drinking, picnics and barbeques, flitting about like a woman who laughs alone with salad - I just sort of want to do nothing in the Summer months. But I'm here to tell you that this is not the case. For starters, my day career kicks into extremely high gear round about the middle of June and pummels away at my patience and tolerance until September. For enders, I think we all want to cram as many fun things into each Summer as possible, making every free moment an opportunity to "enjoy the weather."**

What I'm trying to tell you is that I'm a bit of a ball of stress. Not to mention I've been trying to avoid/deal with some low-grade depression, which makes all of this a lot more fun.

Mental Health America's first question to determine whether you are stressed or not is "Do you find yourself 'eating emotionally': eating unhealthy foods or eating when you’re not hungry, as a response to stress or difficult feelings?" I figured I was in deep trouble when my first thought was, "Is there another way to respond???"

So I looked up a few tips on "dealing with stress" and they are, well, kind of hilarious. Spoiler Alert: absolutely none of them recommend soothing oneself with pizza. Damn it. Here are some highlights:

from Mental Health America:
Connect with others
Stay positive
Get physically active
Help others
Get enough sleep
Create joy and satisfaction
Eat well
Take care of your spirit
Deal better with hard times
Get professional help if you need it

from WikiHow:
Work your body out
Get enough sleep
Eat properly
Learn to relax

from American Heart Association:
Count to 10 before you speak.
Take three to five deep breaths.
Walk away from the stressful situation, and say you'll handle it later.
Go for a walk.
Don't be afraid to say "I'm sorry" if you make a mistake.
Set your watch five to 10 minutes ahead to avoid the stress of being late.
Break down big problems into smaller parts. For example, answer one letter or phone call per day, instead of dealing with everything at once.
Drive in the slow lane or avoid busy roads to help you stay calm while driving.
Smell a rose, hug a loved one or smile at your neighbor.


OKAY. So some of these are helpful (breaking problems into smaller parts, sleep, eat actual food, go for a walk) but some of these are TOTAL BULLSHIT. Learn to relax?! Oh thank you, I will do that immediately. Take care of your spirit? What even! Smell a rose!? SHUT UP. That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard, and I used to regularly listen to morning shows on rock stations. I decided to make my own list of tried and true methods that I will be rolling out on the regular. Buckle up.

HOW TO DEAL WITH STRESS
* Actually, yes, eat actual food that has vitamins and nutrients in it. You will feel better AND if you're eating kale or something like that you can feel all smug and fancy. All the better.

* Actually, yes, go to the gym or take a yoga class or zumba or something that will make you not just sit in front of the couch until you run out of episodes of Sherlock. You can use Sherlock as a motivator, as in  "After I do 20 mins of cardio, I am totally going to watch Sherlock." You guys have seen Sherlock, right? It's a wonderful motivator.

* Actually, yes, sleep. Sleep is good. I don't have a lot of time for people who think sleep is for the weak. I used to be one of those people. To my 22 year old self I say: Self, you are an idiot. Get more sleep. Your skin will look better.

* Two words: Dance. Party. This is the best stress buster I know. It can be a dance class, a night out at some club or something, an impromptu kitchen dance party with some friends, or an all-out, balls-to-the-wall, sweaty-as-you-can-be solo dance party in your room with the door closed. The advantage to the solo dance party is that no one will judge you when you bust out some Backstreet Boys. And maybe know all the moves. And maybe pretend you are a Backstreet Boy. It's fine. No one will know.

* There is a time and a place for this one, but one of the best stress relief techniques I know is, ahem, la petite mort. Helpful AND fun.

* Maybe this has to do with "taking care of your spirit" but I feel very strongly that little things that make you happy are worth the extra bit of time. Nothing makes me happier than looking down and seeing my nails nicely shaped and painted a pretty color. It takes me about 20 minutes to make this happen. It's worth it. (My nails are currently painted a color called "Mint." I had them painted this color for a date a few months ago and the dude I was out with commented in a disparaging way about 30 year old women wearing "teenage nail polish." I held out my hand and said, "Like this, you mean?" You should have seen his "OH CRAP" face. Still not sure if  the "OH CRAP" face was because he no longer wished to be seen with me or because he thought that was going to ruin his chance with me. The rest of his personality was so awful, the nail polish judgment was but a blip.)

* Fantasize about something nice. Whether that means trolling the real estate listings in Paris, or looking up the statistical possibilities of actually meeting and talking to Gloria Steinem, or planning what you would do with three million dollars... just do that for a few minutes. It sucks to come back to reality but it's nice to think about your alternate life where Michelle Obama calls you to see if you think she should grow out her bangs. (Eh, maybe?)

* When all of that fails, just keep this photo handy and know that you'll be okay.

** Not that Philadelphia has had weather to enjoy lately, unless you are like Shirley Manson and are only happy when it rains. PS you guys  - where did Shirley Manson go? I never mastered eyeliner quite the way she did.

Mouse in Da House

Living in Philadelphia is wonderful. I don't need a car to get where I'm going, the neighborhood bar is open during hurricanes, things move quickly, people are interesting and colorful, I walk to small and large markets (and sometimes the grocery store and CVS) to buy the things I need, the arts scene is vibrant, the food scene is outstanding, and the rent is so affordable I actually feel bad telling my friends in other cities what my roommate and I pay to rent a full rowhome in South Philly. Sure, there are things to complain about (murder, corruption, poverty, humidity, freakin' Septa) but overall I love it here. But there's a certain cycle that I do not love: pests.

Winter: mice
Spring: those weird tiny red bugs that are on absolutely everything outside
Summer: roaches
Fall: here come the mice again

My roommate and I discovered a mouse in the house a while back. Probably not A mouse, but let's just be optimistic for a while. It's not the first time, of course. We live in Philly. It gets cold so the mice come inside to warm up. Yesterday was particularly chilly, so I wasn't terribly surprised when around 9:30 pm my lovely roommate sort of gasped and told me she had seen a mouse in the kitchen. I was calm, I sort of laughed it off, and made a couple of comments that, in retrospect, sounded condescending. I feel bad about that today. I felt bad about it at the time. I was just trying to be strong for her because I was also pretty freaked out by the mouse sighting. But why!? Mice are kind of cute!

 cute enough, like my first couple of boyfriends

I refuse to be sucked in by the cute, though. One time, in my first apartment (which had MANY mice) we saw a little baby mouse running around. It was SO cute. We called it Squiggles. Unfortunately, though, for us and for Squiggles, we had recently set out some glue traps because we didn't know they were evil. Squiggles was ensnared and we had to spend hours listening to the baby mouse scream its head off.

After that I developed a fear of mice. Naturally.

insert some sort of commentary about the evils of humankind

There was one time, a million years ago, when a mouse got trapped in the kitchen trashcan. My then-partner was away for an extended period of time and I was home alone. Worse, I had not yet closed and locked the door to the apartment. The door to the apartment which was located in THE KITCHEN. Dun dun dun. All of a sudden, the walk from the couch through the dining room to the kitchen went from a 45 second roundtrip journey to something resembling this:

please keep in mind that this is a 

doubly intimidating photo for me because I hate nature

All I could hear was the sound of the mouse trying to fight its way out of the large kitchen trashcan. With each passing moment, the size of the mouse increased in my mind until I was sure that there was vermin the size of a golden retriever waiting to eat me as soon as I stepped foot into the kitchen. In my terrified imagination, it was the largest mouse of all time. Actually, no. It was huge, gross rat with beady eyes.

and it was very concerned with labor unions

So I did what any mature, self-assured, twentysomething-year-old woman would do: I called my boyfriend in hysterics. He was in DC, working on nuclear physics a play and as I sobbed out my tale of woe he very kindly did not laugh at me. Or he only laughed at me a little. But when I demanded that he immediately leave DC and come back to Philly to deal with this mouse, he did not comply. It was just a mouse, after all. Probably the bigger problem was that his girlfriend has lost her damn mind.

artist's rendering of me on the phone that night

Certainly this is not one of the stories I tell potential suitors. Obviously I felt really dumb about it after. But last night, when I heard the tone of my roommate's gasp upon seeing our unwanted housemate (mousemate? too soon?) I knew completely and totally how she felt. Even though we could see it, even though it was clearly very small compared to us, it was scary. So instead of being scared last night, I decided to be calm. I closed up the house while she ventured upstairs. I turned out the lights even though I'm usually afraid of the dark. I laughed only a little.


PS, we're borrowing our friend's cat to try to catch the stupid mice. Of course the temperature also rose about 25 degrees today so the mice will probably clear out. Just in time for the roaches to move in. Philadelphia, y'all.

Sometimes you take a month off...

My dear readers - HI! I have missed you! I just came out of the craziest few months I've had in a long time and now I am back and dedicated to entertaining you once more.

for starters

A lot has happened in the past few months! I accomplished a very large task for my worky-work life, I directed a really fun play in my theatre-work life, I helped one of my friends plan out her proposal to one of my very best friends, I tried really hard not to hulk out at my friends and family even though every day I was on the edge of the angerdome, etc. You know, just a few of those crazy months. Wait, here's another cute thing.

Nirvana in skirts. Adorable.

So I am out of the other side of this, a little tired still but feeling quite accomplished. And infinitely more sane. People don't stop me on the street anymore to tell me I look tired. (Which, PS, is not terribly helpful. Don't do that to people.) I am making a promise to you here and now: good content coming up! For example, I watched Top Gun for the first time recently and I have THINGS TO SAY about it. For another example, the Met Ball is next week and you KNOW that has the potential for shenanigans, sartorially speaking. Remember last year?

Met Ball! The Sev! Oh yes!

And now, I'd like to open it up to you, my dear readers. Since we've had a bit of a hiatus I feel the door is open for suggestions. What would you like Way Too Shay to cover? I've already had one (repeated) request for a full post concerning leather dresses through the ages, so that's in the pipeline. What else? In the immortal words of Baby June/Gypsy Rose Lee,  let me entertain you.

Mean Brain VS. The Wall

My dear readers, I have finally hit a Wall. You know the Wall - it's the wall that says, "Oh, hi - you can no longer pretend that pizza is a health food." The Wall also says, "Remember how you found out a few years ago that working out is a good thing? Let's try that again." The Wall is not a bad thing.

The bad thing is my Mean Brain. My Mean Brain says things like, "Eh. You're fine," and "Seriously, if you work out at lunch time you're going to be all gross and sweaty and what if you run into someone you know on the way to rehearsal?!" My Mean Brain also calls my body really nasty words all the time.

You guys! I'm sick and tired of those nasty words! I'm also sick and tired of not wearing some things in my closet and feeling sort of worn out and old. So guess what? I'm embracing the Wall.

Mean Brain wants pizza and candy and lots of sitting down. Wall wants kale and yogurt and pilates. Mean Brain wants to come home from rehearsal and have a couple of beers and a good laugh. Wall wants to come home from rehearsal and have some peppermint tea and a good laugh. At least we can all agree on laughing.

Let's talk about the kale for a second, okay? It sounds SO BORING. And it takes a little bit of work. But I actually really like it (and not just because it's trendy). I feel good when I eat it. I feel full. I like how it tastes. I like the kale salad my friend Jeni told me about. Here it is!

Jeni's Kale Salad

* a bunch of kale cut up small
* some quinoa
* some nuts or whatever you like (I'm doing sunflower seeds)
* some dried fruit (I'm doing dried cranberries)

Make some quinoa - it's 2 cups water to 1 cup quinoa. I usually just make about a half a cup at a time and then split that between two servings of the salad.

Okay, the kale: apparently  to make it not gross and hard to eat you have to massage it for a couple of minutes. This step really did not excite me until I did it - YOU GUYS. When you massage it, the kale turns bright green and it's pretty thrilling! Also I find that doing this helps separate the stems from the leafy goodness and then I don't chomp into a piece of kale spine and hate my life.

So massage the kale. Then add in the quinoa and your other things. BOOM. You are done. I don't even think this needs dressing. Go for it if you like, but I think the sweetness of the fruit is enough.

I'm not going to pretend that vegetables are as delicious as cheese or bread or anything else that isn't all that good for you. I'm just saying that if I can override Mean Brain long enough to actually start putting good stuff into my body, I find that I enjoy the good stuff. You guys all probably know this but it's something I have to learn again and again.


I have goals about overriding Mean Brain and embracing the Wall. They are quantifiable and attainable. They are also constructed with full knowledge that there will be days the Mean Brain wins. Goal #1 concludes on my birthday and we are calling it Better at 33 Than 23. Goal #2 concludes in the beginning of September and we are calling it Operation: Pants Off Dance Off. Goal #3 concludes at the end of the year and we are calling it Strong and Steady.

For funsies, here are a few photos from roughly a decade ago.

Better at 33 Than 23 is GO. Screw you, Mean Brain. I can do this.

I think I'm getting dumber

My dear readers, all we've been doing lately is fashion so let's do something completely different now that we have a breather until the Met Gala. Allow me to spew.

I sincerely think I'm getting dumber.

I used to fancy myself quite a smart lady. I thought big thoughts, I read big books, I thought about those books, I saw challenging movies, I had larger conversations, I wanted knowledge for the sake of knowledge. More than knowledge, I wanted personal growth. I wanted to think deeply about the things I took for granted, I wanted to think hard on my future and why I wanted what I thought I wanted. I did a lot of writing, a lot of thinking. Now? Not so much.

IN FACT! I just took a break from writing this to look up this photo to show Reader Katya that Justin Bieber was wearing poopy diaper pants the other day.

I AM GETTING DUMBER.

I don't like that. I like being smart, inquisitive, insightful. I've been reading my friend Adrienne's amazing arts blog and just feeling the chasm grow between my former self and my present self. Obviously, this isn't Adrienne's fault. And obviously there is a lot of time in our world for both intellectual analysis and Justin Bieber poopy pants. Too much of one or the other makes us all very dull.

The thing is: I know I still have the capacity to think deeply and learn. Or as my grad school friends say, "unpack." (PS - why is that such a specifically grad school word? Cause it really is.) And sometimes I start to think deeper, start to figure things out, start to ask the hardest hard questions. And sometimes I do start to re-read The Second Sex because I cannot remember the finer points. But it always seems to be at the end of a long day and the unpacking is so exhausting and The Second Sex is not the world's #1 guilty pleasure book and I end up giving up and going to some thought, some entertainment, something that demands nothing of me.

I mean not EVERY day but... too much

And then I feel lazy and kind of dumb. And mad because I do not have a Time Turner which would enable me to make more time in the day during which I could sit down and figure things out. I guess what I'm saying is: can I get an amen? Does anyone else feel stultified* like I do?

Maybe I just need to grow up and tough it out. I'm almost 33. You'd think I'd be tough by now. But I'm about as tough as the Sharks and Jets. And guys? Musical theatre tough isn't actually tough. It's pretty, though!

*True fact: I have been in love with the word stultify since I first heard it on Lisa Loeb's debut album, Tails. 
True fact #2: I still listen to Lisa Loeb all the time.

Mama Jack

Hey guys, let's talk about my mom for a minute, okay? My mom's birthday was last week and in the craziness of the past few days, I haven't had even a minute to post here about just how awesome she is. So let's fix that, shall we? Here are a few reasons my mom is awesome:

1. She is straight up adorable.

seen here as a sexy cat among sexy cats

2. When I'm stressed out about something (usually work-related), it keeps her up at night. Last week, I accidentally rolled down the window of my sister's car and sent her car reindeer antler flying out into the night. Mom actually dreamt where it had landed and I was able to pick up the pieces the next morning.

3. She likes to read romance novels but only likes romance novels with a good story and believable characters. Case in point, she took the spelling of my first name from The Thorn Birds.

4. She loves my friends and my friends love her. Everyone calls her Mama Jack. More sexy cats as proof...

5. My mom has the greatest cackle laugh in the world. But even better than that is when she laughs so hard that no sound comes out.

6. She's way stronger than anyone would think or even than perhaps she knows. This lady has been through a lot but keeps chugging along with a smile on her face. It's kind of remarkable.

7. Mom is certainly not afraid to speak her mind - which can either great or terrifying. While doing an on-camera interview for my sex-ed burlesque show (because she's so awesome that she'll let me bully her into being part of even that), Mom said that she feels that sex is private and shouldn't be talked about. To which I was like 

and she was like

8. Because she always listens, she always has my back, she always takes my side (even when she doesn't agree), and she always loves me even though I sometimes disappoint her. And you know? She does the same for my sister. And my dad. And our best friends. 

9. Mama Jack taught me how to be generous through her own unbridled generosity. She also taught me how to laugh at myself. 

Note that Mom is wearing three necklaces and a funnel on her head.

10. Most of all, though, my mom is awesome because she has no idea how awesome she is. Someday maybe we'll convince her.

Maybe this will make sense to you

Yesterday the Philadelphia theatre community lost one of our bright rising stars. He was very funny, very talented, very sweet, and touched the lives of very many people. Unfortunately for me, I didn't really know him - we would say hi to each other and, man, did I enjoy seeing him perform but we weren't friends.

Here's where grief gets sticky.

As the vaguebooking started yesterday morning, it was clear that our community had lost someone. It was hideously familiar to a morning two years when the vaguebooking ended with the news that our dear Mel was gone. Gchat and texting ensued, trying to put it together. How are the people who are the first to post their grief connected? Who worked with whom? Who are their close friends? And as the facts are still murky and it's unclear what has happened and to whom, the grief starts. Grief pulls a chair over next to yours and seems to have no plans for the day other than sitting there with you. You start to guess at who might be gone and start to mourn them. And then the pieces come together, the horrible news is disseminated, and sometimes it's the worst news in the world. Sometimes it is simply just terrible news. So Grief decides to hold your hand for a bit.


Here's where grief gets confusing.

The thing that has always sort of struck me about grief and mourning is how easy it is to get swirled around with other emotions - especially guilt. Guilt is the annoying little brother always tagging along saying "Me too! Take me too!" I've had experiences in mourning when I felt relieved...and then guilty. I've had experiences in mourning when I felt jealous...and then guilty. Right now I just sort of feel guilty for mourning at all - because I don't have stories to tell, insights to share, remembrances other than, "I loved him in that show." I tell my friends that everyone is entitled to their own grief, but I'm not sure I believe that for myself right now. It's confusing.


Here's where grief gets useful.

There is a short window of time around a grieving process when you realize how wonderful everyone you know is, you realize how good your life is, you realize how much you have. That is a tiny little moment, perhaps the most ephemeral moment of all. Soon it will be back to taking people for granted and nursing deep wounds that are in reality just papercuts. This is the Emily Webb moment and you've got to wrap your arms around this feeling of clarity and appreciation and hold on with all you have. It will be gone, no matter how hard you try not to let it go.

Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? - every, every minute? I should have listened to you. That's all human beings are! Just blind people.

The truly graceful people of the world are able to communicate their love and appreciation without hesitation at any moment they so experience that love and appreciation. May we all be filled with grace.

Egos Like Hairdos

I know this statement will not shock you, my dear readers, but sometimes I get a little full of myself. Sometimes I believe my own press. Sometimes I get a little cocky. And during those times I realize that I have to shut it down as quickly as possible lest I become permanently annoying. And so I present to you...

Proven Ways to Get Your Ego in Check

* Hang out with a baby. Seriously. Babies don't give a shit if you directed a play or wrote a novel or won a Nobel Prize. Babies care if you are paying attention to them, making sounds they like, feeding them, and keeping them dry. If you fail at any of these tasks, babies will scream in your face until you feel like the stupidest and most useless person alive. BOOM! Ego in check! Note: this is the cutest and most satisfactory way to get your ego in check.

* Manual labor. I was feeling pretty impressed with myself when I woke up yesterday. When I went to bed last night, I was feeling like a normal person with a lot still to learn in this world. How did that happen? A) I held a baby for a while who was definitely not impressed by me. B) I helped my dear sweet darling friend Mix pull up all of the adhesive linoleum tile in her back bedroom. It was difficult, we were both sweating and cursing and sore, and we ended the task absolutely covered in flooring glue. BOOM! Ego in check!

* Try to do something new. Hey, you're feeling like the queen of the world! You're awesome at everything you do! Well then the time is ripe, my friend, to attempt to crochet for the first time or to learn to play guitar - oh! but without giving up in the first half hour. If you're anything like me, you will immediately feel dumb. BOOM! Ego in check!

Do you have any other tips for deflating one's head? Let's hear them in the comments!

Better living through manicures

You guys read The Hairpin, right? It's only like the best website of all time and I wish I was writing for them. I am deeply glad for Jane Marie and her articles on clothes and makeup and hair and how to be a girl, but today's article on doing your own nails just sort of stabbed me in the heart... in a good way.

Can you suggest a reasonably priced nail dryer? Like the ones in the salon with the infrared lights that assuredly are giving me cancer? Not the fan-only ones, I've no patience to sit that long.

No. First, UV rays scare me. They're probably safe, but I'm not going to look it up. And second, just sit still for 10 minutes!!! I think it will help you in so many ways, not just in your nails. Just relax and take a valuable break. This whole deal, the manicure, will take less than an hour, start-to-finish, once a week. You should actually be chilling out a ton more than that. Prioritize time to zone out on something like this, m'lady, or you will get sick and DIE. You think I'm joking!

I'm not trying to be super cheesy  but sometimes life jabs you with little reminders from the least expected places. I expected to read this article for tips on how to make my at-home manicures take less time (because I sooooooooo hate waiting for my nails to dry). I didn't expect to be reminded of one of the big lessons my dear, amazing life coach Dawn tried to drill into my head: Take at least two minutes every day for quiet and stillness.

I'm just going to keep using this image as much as possible.

Straight up, I forgot all about the quiet and stillness until I read this article on doing your nails. Which ... well, we'll just leave that statement as is without comment. And then when I started thinking about the quiet and stillness lesson, I was reminded of something my dear, amazing therapist Stephanie tried to teach me (failed, but tried anyway) about processing grief: Take some time to just lie on your bed and just let sounds come out, whether they be angry screams or just the sound of your breath reminding you that you are alive.

The truth is it's easier to hide, to escape. When the Busy sets in and the Stress parks on my heart and the Worry attaches itself to my brow, I prefer to just push through and ignore. I don't know, I guess I figure the Stress and the Worry will get bored if I don't play with them and move on to something else. But... REAL TALK... but when the Busy has set in and the Stress is parked in my chest and the Worry digging deeper lines into my forehead it's hard to fight back when Hurt decides it's time to latch onto my shoulders. Walking around with all of these things clinging to me really tends to dim my shine and I hate not being fabulous.

Instead of just letting those things hang out and plowing through the day ignoring them, maybe it's time for some quiet stillness. Maybe it's time to listen to myself breathe. Maybe it's time to paint my nails.

This is not my beautiful house...this is not my beautiful wife

As David Byrne once said (approximately): And you may find yourself ... going to your 10 year college reunion...And you may ask yourself... How did I get here!?

A bunch of my friends are going to our 10 year college reunion and I thought, well why not? I didn't really think too much about reunion until the other night. The other night I got a text message from someone with whom I've sort fallen out of touch. It wasn't anyone's fault, I don't think. We just stopped making the effort to see each other or talk. And then she texted me. And I texted her back. And that happened for about an hour and it was amazing. When I realized I was going to see her this weekend back on campus where we skipped many classes together, I suddenly felt nostalgic, guilty, and kind of old. Nostalgic, of course, for those sepia-colored days. Guilty because ten years ago I couldn't have imagined my life without my "fake sister." Kind of old because... holy crap! How have ten years gone by?

I've done a lot. I don't feel like I wasted my time. I'm definitely not where I thought I'd be at 32, but I think that's okay. And then I started thinking about all the people I'll get to see this weekend - many of whom I probably forgot existed in my little cocoon of small theatre in Philadelphia. A handful of them I'll have seen really not that long ago. A handful of them I used to make out with (again, TEN+ YEARS AGO). A handful of them I really will have no desire to chat up. I'm looking forward to seeing new jewelry on the ring fingers of old friends. I'm hoping there will be babies and children. Hilariously, one of the people I'm most excited to see didn't even go to school with us - she just happened to marry one of my oldest and dearest friends.

Maybe everything will be different. I hope things are not exactly the same. Most of all, though, I hope I'm able to process all of this and finally move on.

THIS HAS BEEN DEEP THOUGHTS WITH MEGHANN WILLIAMS.

10 Things I Learned About Marriage From My Parents

My dear readers, today is a special day. Today is my parents' anniversary AND my dad's birthday! If you know me (and if you're reading this, hahaha of course you know me), you know that my family is tremendously important to me and I love them fiercely. And you know that my dad looks great in a hat.

Dad's number one rule about birthdays is that it is always good to have a birthday. "Another day sucking air," as he is known to say, is a very good thing. Tonight, we sushi to celebrate. (Sorry fishes but we are glad you are no longer sucking air... water... whatever. You are delicious.)

Now, I've never been married but I think I have a pretty good pair of role models. Here are a few things I've observed from them.

10. Clearly delineated ownership of tasks makes things a little easier. Example: your daughters do most of the cleaning in preparation for a party so you can make the food and freak out. (Just kidding, Mom  - don't get mad!)

9. When attending or throwing a party, divide and conquer. Social butterflies are not attached at the hip.

8. Be proud of each other, even for small stuff.

7. When raising kids, be a unified front of discipline - none of this "wait until your father gets home" crap. Children should be equally terrified of pissing off either parent.

6. When raising kids, be a unified front of love and support. Children should work hard to impress both parent with their wit, knowledge, and skill.

5. Human contact is required every day - hugs, kisses, little touches - otherwise you go insane.

4. "In sickness and in health" doesn't just mean the two of you - it extends to family and friends and pets. Taking care of a partner's sick parent is, to me, the truest and most grueling expression of love.

3. Sometimes you make each other absolutely insane. Sometimes you make each other laugh until you cry or pee your pants. Ebb and flow is a good thing.

2. Quiet alone time is golden.

1. Appreciate how short life is and never assume that your partner knows you love them. Say "I love you" every day. As much as possible, really.

it's safe to say I got my love of necklaces from my mom

Alphabetical Advice... to myself

So things are a bit cray-cray in TooShay Towne (I added the "e" to make it fancy), so I think I need some advice. Luckily, I absolutely love giving advice, so I'm going to give myself some right now. For your reading pleasure. And we're going to do it alphabetically because why not!? If this advice has been gleaned from elsewhere, it will be attributed in (parentheses).

Abs workouts feel good and bad at the same time, so just do it anyway.
Beer before liquor, never sicker. (American College Student Code of Conduct)
Carrots, celery, cherries: yes. Chocolate, chicken wings, cheezypoofs: no.
Drink all the water you can handle.
Every day is fresh with no mistakes in it. (Anne of Green Gables)
Forgive the people who hurt you, but don't forget how you got to the point of being hurt.
Get a grip, lady!
Hold steady to your dreams, goals, and values.
I really don't think you need that last glass of wine.
Just keep swimming. (Finding Nemo)
Kale is really, really good for you. Eat some.
Love is always worth throwing yourself completely into, even if it doesn't work out.
Mom and Dad and Sister are only trying to help - be nice!
No one deserves to be on the receiving end of your attitude problems.
OPP, yeah you know me. (Naughty By Nature)
Please, thank you, you're welcome, I'm sorry, and how are you are all words and phrases to be said sincerely.
Quiet time is necessary, especially when things get tough.
Real women ask for help and bourbon.
Style. Please infuse your wardrobe with the style you know it should hold. It's time.
Try to be gentle with yourself. Those little jabs and stabs you are sure people are thinking? They're just in your head, so you don't have to say it first.
Undergarments. Please purchase attractive undergarments. Just for you. Just because.
Vera Wang was really good at figure skating but she didn't make the Olympic team. So she just became the most famous wedding dress designer in the history of ever. And so, remember: A career change is always an option.
Weave your stories, sure, but focus on having experiences instead of doing something just for the hilarious story it will be one day.
You have proven a million times that you'll be fine. So be fine.
Zany is okay, but poised and graceful are now to be cultivated.