CRACKED OUT LIFE PLANS!

Almost getting fired last week turned my world upside down, but not in the way that you think it would. Instead of being like, "BAHHH, I almost got fired! Jobs are hard to come by! Money buys you pants and sandwiches! I should straighten up and fly right!" I just wish I had actually gotten fired. Because while anxiously waiting for The Talk last week, I really came to peace with the idea of not working here anymore and got excited at the thought of pursuing other life avenues. But as we all now know, that Talk never came and here I am, still stuck in this ghost ridden dump show. Perhaps last week was the wake up call I needed that I've become too complacent in this job and it's time for me to make moves. After all, this was origionally just supposed to be a "for now" job and I've already been here for over a year. Yep. It's time to bust a move.

But here's my question: if I quit my job...where exactly would I get this "money" that everyone speaks so highly of? Jäger isn't exactly cumming in their pants at the thought of sponsoring us, literary agents are like bicycles: I don't have one, and Lord knows you're just as broke as I am, so I'm not looking at you. This means that when push comes to shove, I actually can't make moves. Which is a fact that causes me a significant amount of stress and frustration. And that stress and frustration, coupled with how sick I've been recently, has turned me into one giant cracked out freakshow.

HOWEVER! When god closes one door, he opens a window and I think I've found my window! In my haze of complete cracked out...ness yesterday while talking to Co-Blogger Chris, I got an idea: I'm going to make a graphic novel and make a babillion dollars off of it. BAHAHA! Take that quarter-life crisis!

CRACKED OUT GRAPHIC NOVEL BOOK IDEA:

I call it, The Adventures of Aspie's Clip and Weekend Hair. Aspie's Clip and Weekend Hair are two important characters in my life who you don't know about because up until now I've had a shred of dignity left. But you know what? Fuck it! I've got nothing left, so why not just let it all hang out, right? Let's start with Aspie's Clip. I have a Mac Powerbook that Alex got during his Junior year of college and I bought off him when I moved back from Brooklyn. It's a bit old and rickity, but it gets the job done. One day I was in bed with said laptop when I randomly found a paper clip. I started fiddling with the paper clip, as you do, and I realized that it is magnetically attracted to the latch on the front of my laptop. From then on, I kept the paper clip attached to the front latch so I have something to fiddle with while I'm working. I became oddly dependent on it. It became part of my creative process.

Flash forward to the weekend of Jäger Ball. Saturday morning Chris and I were snuggling in bed together when I pulled out my laptop to check my email. Chris, ever the curious little thing he is, reached over and grabbed the paper clip off my computer. Which is when I freaked the fuck out. I shot up, grabbed the paper clip back and shouted, "DON'T TOUCH THAT!!!!! DON'T TOUCH MY PAPER CLIP!!!!!!1 Now, the reason I did this is because I knew that if Chris got his grubby little talons on it, he'd probably unbend it or pocket it, or drop it or lose it or any number of things that result in me no longer being able to fiddle with it while working. (And I realize if that were to happen, I could easily just get another one, but bringing a paper clip home from work for the soul purpose of sticking it to my computer to fiddle with is a depth of odd that even I'm not willing to explore yet.) So, yes, I freaked out a little bit. "Wow...." he said as he handed the paper clip back to me with wide eyes. "Here's your paper clip back, Aspie." Embarrassed, I tried to explain why I was so attached to the paper clip in the first place, which of course only made the situation worse. From then on out, we began referring to it as my "Aspie's Clip". Throughout the weekend Chris would randomly be like, "WAIT! EVERYONE STOP! STOP EVERYTHING!...Where is Aspie's Clip??" and I'd point to him safely on my computer and be like, "He's right there! No worries!" (Also, I'd be lying if I said at one point during Jäger Ball, I didn't lean over to Chris and whisper, "God, I wish Aspie's Clip were here to see this.") (I'd also be lying if I said Chris didn't respond, "I know. He'd love this.") Aspie's Clip has taken on a life of it's own. In casual gchat conversations with Chris, he'll routinely be like, "Hey, how's Aspie Clip doing?" and I'll give him a full life update. He's a force to be reckon with. He's Aspie's Clip! How could you not love him?

Now, Weekend Hair. Ok. I'm not going to lie to you: I have an affinity for fake hair. I've had painfully fine hair my entire life and have always fantasized about what it would be like to have long, thick, luxurious locks. I've thought about getting extensions more times than you can imagine, but always Jew out in the end when I see the steep price tag. Thus, you can imagine how happy I was when I heard about the Ken Paves/Jessica Simpson line of clip in hair extensions called HairDo. One day in early 2008, I finally went into Ricky's in New York and got myself a 22-inch midnight brown HairDo clip-in hair piece. I was elated. It looked badass. I explained to Co-Blogger Chris (my then roommate) that I would only wear it on weekends because it would be too awkward to show up to work one day with mysteriously long and luxurious hair and my short little chemo hair the next. "It'll be my weekend hair!" I told him. And thus, we started referring to it exclusively as Weekend Hair.

I honestly think Weekend Hair was more popular with my friends than I was. While I'd get ready to go out for the night, Chris would pop his head into my room all, "IS WEEKEND HAIR COMING OUT TONIGHT?!" and if I said yes that meant it would be a good night. (It has been theorized that the Black Eyed Peas' I Gotta Feeling was origionally written about Weekend Hair.) When my friends from home came up to visit they'd all ask if weekend hair would be coming out with us and when I came home to visit them they'd remind me not to forget her. When I arrived at places, it was always, "WEEKEND HAIR'S HERE!.......And...Meg..." I think towards the end I was only invited places because Weekend Hair happened to be attached to my head.

One time I got cocky with it and wore Weekend Hair to work in an up-do. What a heinously embarrassing call that was. The evil whore-bags I worked with would be like, "Your hair looks...different today," and I'd have to be like, "HAHA...yeah. It's just a...it's a Ken Paves...it's...never mind I GOTTA GO I THINK I HEAR MY EMAIL!" Finally towards the end of the day an Editorial Assistant came in to give me something and was like, "What's different with your hair...?" and I completely lost it and yelled at her, "IT'S FAKE HAIR, OK?! YES, I AM WEARING FAKE HAIR. TO WORK. BECAUSE I AM RAGING WHITE TRASH. ARE YOU HAPPY?!" I don't think that really helped my dwindling office popularity...

Anyways, like all good things, Weekend Hair had to come to an end. The average lifespan of a HairDo peice is six months, and man did I stretch that out. One night Weekend Hair and I hooked up with a gentleman on a tarp under a beer pong table and when I woke up the next morning she was covered in Miller Lite knots, body fluids, broken dreams and god knows what else. Thus, I finally decided it might be time to retire her. (Sidenote: Jen Toppe, I know you've been mind-boggled by this before, but let me reiterate that you can hook up while wearing Weekend Hair and he won't know the difference. Because THAT'S how Ken Paves and Jessica Simpson roll. Although I will tell you that one time I was doin' it with a gentleman while wearing Weekend Hair in a low pony tail and in the heat of the moment he pulled on it and it 100% slid out. I was like, "Yyyyyyyeahhhhhh...just ignore that." Honestly, he didn't seem too fazed. Although anyone who's going to pull your hair that hard during sex probably deserves to have it be a clip-on.) (That was the most redneck sentence I've ever written and I'm not sure what to do about it...)

After I gave Weekend Hair her royal burial in a dumpster in Brooklyn (fitting burial or what?) I never bought another one again. It just seemed like it would be cheating or something. My mom did buy me a HairDo ponytail she saw on QVC in October ("Weekend Hair 2.0"), but it's not the same. Sometimes Chris and I have uncomfortably long gchat conversations about how much we miss Weekend Hair and wonder what she's doing right now. If she's staring at the same moon and thinking about us...? Yesterday, in my state of sheer cracked-out...ness, we began musing about who would win in a fight between Aspie's Clip and Weekend Hair. The thought of Aspie's Clip and Weekend Hair with little shivs in their hands, circling each other West Side Story style was almost too comical to imagine. Thus! I want to write a graphic novel about the Adventures of Aspie's Clip and Weekend Hair living together in my apartment and the shenanigans they get up to when I leave for work. I think it could make it big in an Arj and Poopy kind of way. And make a babillion dollars and never have to work again.

My only trepidation is that I can't illustrate. And I don't know how interested people are in the adventures of my paper clip and slutty clip-on hair. And that I'm currently having this conversation with Chris via ghchat:

me: so i have an entire post about aspie's clip and weekend hair written, but i don't know if i'm brave enough to post it.

Sent at 12:08 PM on Thursday

Christopher: this is dicey.

what exactly are you saying?

like just outline it for me

i'm concerned a reader might have you committed.

Sent at 12:10 PM on Thursday

me: my life is in the shitter -> what should i do with myself? -> oh i have a cracked out idea! -> write a graphic novel about the adventures of aspie's clip and weekend hair! -> who are they, you ask? -> this is aspie's clip -> this is weekend hair -> this is a bad idea. lol. FIN.

Christopher: this worries me.

God damnit. Back to the drawing boards...