Get ready to puke—it's EMOTIONS FRIDAY!!!!!!1

T.G.I. Hagman, babies! And man is this one needed. I've had a wee bit of "a week", if you will, but I'm fine. It happens every now and then. I'm overly-emotional. And by "overly-emotional", I mean I have "clinical depression." BAHAHAHA. But before we get into all of that mishegoss, let's check in on the one true son of God—Larry Hagman.

As of 1:27am on July 2, 2010, Larry Hagman is...alive! May Hagman be with you. (And also with you.) Good evening. (Good evening.) [...Yes? No? Catholic mass anyone? No? Heathens.]

I don't really know how to describe what's been up with me this week without sounding like a giant, whiny downer (although that's never stopped me before...) so I'm going to try to make it brief: shit sucks right now. There it is. As is the exhausting theme of my life, everything that could possibly go wrong recently has gone wrong. In a very big way. And you'd think I'd be used to that by now, but I'm not. And as I always do, I keep it all bottled up inside of me until one day I'm rolling around on the floor hysterically crying because it's too humid to properly wrap a gift with double-sided tape.

And you know what the queerest thing is? That blog panel Tulane Chris and I did last week really fucked with my head. I don't know what's happening to me. I had such thick skin after design school and now I'm all, "THAT FLOWER'S LOOKING AT ME FUNNY! BOO HOO HOO HOO I'M ON MY PERIOD!" I don't know how to describe what happened last Thursday without sounding like a total fucking asshole because 1.) we were honored to even be invited to participate at all; 2.) Glory from ihatemy9to5 was so incredibly sweet and cute and I don't want to disrespect her; 3.) A bunch of fun-as-shit readers went out to dinner with us afterwards and that was totally worth it in and of itself.

But honestly? It was kind of a downer. What I took from our candid discussion with four other bloggers on the craft of blogging was this: we will never make money; EVER; The Apocalypse is probably more probable than a book deal; we're not trying hard enough; Tulane Chris and I might be alcoholics and Dan from Prince of Petworth is kind of a dick. I mean. Really. He was the moderator and the first thing he said was, "I'm actually not familiar with any of the blogs on this panel, so I guess we'll learn about them together!" What? You sit at a computer all day. You couldn't hop on The Google and learn a few things about the blogs you're in charge of discussing later? And then there was always our less than warm introduction. He was like, "And this next blog I only know because they beat me for City Paper's Best Blog this year. [Scoffs] Say hello to 2birds1blog." We were like, "...........Oh...Hi." Not to mention the awkward and insulting questions he asked Tulane Chris ranging from "where's your vagina?" to "does it get cold living in Meg's shadow?" Christ. If we were going to participate in a panel dashing all of my dreams, it would have been cool to at least have a moderator who gave a fuck.

So then I went into this tailspin all week being like, "why do we even do this? Nothing is ever going to come of this. But like, ever. I'm going to work at Paper Source for the rest of my life just barely making rent and end up in a creepy polyamorous relationship with a box of Kashi Go-Lean and a bottle of Paxil." All of which I kept inside, naturally. Healthy decisions. Actual conversation from Saturday:

Chris: Something's wrong with you.

Me: Yeah. I'm kind of...meh.

Chris: What's going on?

Me: 'Eh. I don't really want to talk about it.

Chris: OK. Well. Would you rather talk it out with me, your friend and business partner, now, or would you rather keep it inside until it you're crying in bed at midnight watching Bridezillas sometime next week?

Me: Ooo! I'll take the latter!

And then we got ice cream, went to a party, never talked about it again, yada yada yada, crying over adhesives.

But you know what I realized during my Emo Week of Wah? It's fine. Not making any money is fine. Never getting our "break" is fine. I am fine. Because writing this blog is fun. Infinitely more fun than any "real" job I've ever had, so who cares if I eat tin cans for the rest of my life like a goat and friends of friends think I'm a trust fund kid who doesn't do anything "real" all day. [Cough...No but seriously. Someone actually said that to my face. The theme of this past week has been "Say something extremely offensive to Meg McBlogger and watch her squirm!" And I wouldn't "hate" it if it stopped.]

So basically what I'm trying to say is: I'm sorry I've been a giant emotional loser this past week, I'm sorry the blog suffered because of it, I have sufficiently given myself a wedgie and told myself to get over it and I expect next week to have 30% more posts with 90% less emotions. I'll be re-posting last year's 4th of July Drinking Game on Sunday, so make sure you and your liver check back for that doozy. Also, Queer Abby will be back in full force Monday morning, so get excited for the return of the ying and (Kevin) Yang of advice columns.

I leave you now with Tulane Chris' Blog Panel/Weekend at Evie's Drinking Game!

Drink when:

Someone uses the word “monetize.”

Meg and Chris drink too much and/or talk too much.

Someone comments on Meg and Chris drinking too much.

The Prince of Petworth asks Tulane Chris if he feels “emasculated” by the name 2 Birds 1 Blog, “because when he hears ‘bird’ he thinks of a woman.”

The Prince of Petworth asks Tulane Chris if he feels emasculated:

- during his menstrual period

- during his twice-yearly visits to the gynecologist

- when his father gave him away at the altar

- when he’s cast as Maria in his high school’s production of “The Sound of Music”

- because of his clear, sweet soprano

- during his mammogram

- by the fact that his full name is Tulane Chris Gladys Victoria Imogen Adelaide Blogger-Blog

- by his two X chromosomes

- by his clitoris

- because of his striking resemblance to the late Jayne Mansfield

- by the “F” on his driver’s license

- by his through-the-roof estrogen levels

- by his flawless portrayal of Sally Bowles in a local dinner theatre production of Cabaret

- by his wide, childbearing hips

- by his long struggle with ovarian cancer

- during his several pregnancies

- because people are always checking out his "gams"

- because he always the lucky girl picked to play the Virgin Mary in his Chruch's nativity scene

- because when he lost his virginity, a hymen was torn. And that hymen was his.

- when he won “Miss Congeniality” at the 2006 Miss Texas pageant

- by his membership in the League of Women Voters

- during his two years as a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader

- when passersby say of him, “There goes a real lady.”

When a woman in the audience rises to ask a question, but instead of asking a question talks about how she’s a real writer who went to school to be a writer. At St. John’s College. In Annapolis.

When you decide, “Fuck it! I’m moving to Annapolis to be a writer!”

When, once in Annapolis, it all comes together, and you write several novels described in the New York Times Book Review as “luminous, with a depth and sincerity seldom seen, especially so consistently and in one so young.”

Evie refuses.

Meg makes you wait an extra half-hour for lunch because “Evie and I were having kind of an intense cuddle. She may or may not have drooled on me."

I'm sorry, but that last one is a point of pride. And she did drool on me. Have a great weekend everyone and wave a mini flag for me on the 4th! L8rs.