Surprise homelessness and last-minute parties: The last days of the apartment reboot

Me and the Peez in our bedroom.


Whew, what a crazy couple of weeks! The apartment reboot has been both stressful and the best thing ever.

Having to take down all my shit for painting, then move all my shit for floors, then find where all my shit goes again, was not fun.

When the floor guys brutally mutilated and murdered the wall jack that supplies the internet, I thought I was going to give up, quit my job, leave town and never look back.

It wasn’t like I could get in bed, pull the covers up over my head and have a good comforting sob about it… I had no bed. I had no bed for a very long time, because what was the point of getting a new bed, and then having to move it to to get the new floors installed?

Luckily my parents keep a flat in my same building. So I packed up a lot of my stuff — clothes, shoes, toiletries, computer, dog, etc — and moved in there. That worked out really well… until I got a call from my mom late at night that my brother was going to be using the apartment for a few days. This gave me two hours to move out of my safe haven and find a new place for my dog and myself to live. Yikes!

The next few days were spent in two different houses, and one hotel in Newport Beach. As stressful as it was to find myself instantly homeless, it was actually a fun few days. I enjoyed the time I got to spend with my friends, and Peezu even got built-in dog-sitters. By the time I was back from Newport, my bed had been delivered, the internet was flowing once again, and it was time to pick up my boss and friend, Ariel, from the airport!

Yes! I was finally back to living in my very own apartment, on the same day that had my first house guest who can stay in my perfectly lovely guest room! Look:

When your guestroom also holds @meggyfin's cosplay closet. HAAAAAA what to wearrrr?? psychedelic #bohowedding dress?

A photo posted by Ariel Meadow Stallings (@offbeatbride) on


In honor of Ariel’s visit and my apartment reboot, I decided to throw a party the night Ariel arrived. I invited a few of my close friends over to drink and take in the sexy minimalist vibe of my pad, all the while getting to meet the woman they hear me talking about all the damn time, but have never met.

It was an amazing night. I almost literally had every close friend that I love most in the world (and a few people I didn’t know at all) under one roof. Someone pointed out that if a drone was to strike my apartment it’d be a devastating loss for me. Fortunately the evening was drone free and super-fun.

Here are some photos from the party… Read More

Purging and finding calm: My apartment burn down

One day I looked around my apartment and all the stuff that had made my house feel like a home started to make me feel entombed. All the tchochskies, the books, the toys, the furniture, the art, even the rug under my feet — curated, collected, and displayed just so — all started to feel like “too much stuff.” I felt like I was living in an episode of Hoarders — the overly decorated edition.


I thought about culling. I thought about starting a donation pile. I even got rid two or three bags of clothes. But the moment I would start on the rest of the place, I would promptly get overwhelmed. What good is this tiny dent going to make when this whole two bedroom apartment is full-to-bursting with SHIT!?

I remember thinking, as I edited a post about an apartment fire, “I wish I could just burn it all down and start over.”

A few months later, I kind of did… Read More

Female SHIELD agent cosplay at a Marvel-themed party

Female shield agent being rolling as backup to Black Widow.

Once again I got to attend another epic cosplay party. This time it was a Marvel-themed joint for my friend Brittany’s thirtieth birthday. And the birthday girl had a special request: could Ken and I dress up like Shield agents and “clear” people as they come through the door — checking for Hydra, accounting for any undocumented super powers that might cause disruptions, etc. Our answer was HELL YEAH!

shield agent cosplay

All Ken had to do was don a suit, and boom, instant male agent of Shield. I, however, was having a problem finding costume ideas. I googled “female Shield agent costume” over and over, and found out that the women of Shield all dress so differently. They don’t wear straight-up suits, like the men do, some wear jumpers and body suits, some wear business casual outfits. Then my friend Matt, and Marvel expert, suggested some kind of pencil skirt and blazer situation. I hopped on Amazon to see what I could find, and I found the perfect dress:


Using this dress as the base, I began to assemble my female Shield agent cosplay… Read More

This post is more of a “proof of life” entry…

I’ve gotten a few concerned emails from my lovely wonderful friends asking if all was okay, since I hadn’t blogged in a while.

The answer is overwhelmingly YES! Actually.

I’m home from all my travels. I’m filing for divorce officially. I’m happy about that. I’m going out a lot. I’m going on adventures with friends. I’m eating foods I’ve never tried before. I’m starting up the ‘ol Fitbit again. I’m walking a lot. I’m kicking ass. I’m re-doing my apartment. I’m getting new hard wood floors. I’m re-painting. I’m buying a dining room table and chair set. I’m re-decorating. I’m overwhelmed by all of this but…

I’m good. I’m great. I’m happy. I’m excited. And mostly… I’m looking forward to the future.

A text message to a friend today from Paris…

I’m not really texting you. But i need it to look like I am for reasons of needing to see if the guy next to me is leaving a tip at the restaurant or not.

Weird, right?

Well, the French are fucking confusing.

It says on the credit card receipt that there is “service included.” And yet, when you ask the waiter about leaving a tip, or if it’s included, they say “it’s up to you!” With a dismissive shrug of the shoulders.

They could either be fucking with us, or being restaurant-polite. But either way, I hate to fuck people over.

Oh he paid. He’s not leaving anything? He’s packing up his credit card in his massive wallet? I think he didn’t tip.

Holy shit. Mystery over!!!! Merci fucking boucoup. That shit’s been bugging me the whole time.

The ghosts of Paris past

Bon jour from Paris!

It’s strange how familiar it all seems to me, even though the last time I was here was 15 years ago. But the buildings, the sounds, the street signs, the taste of a cafe au lait… all is just how I remembered it. And it’s bringing up memories of a younger, less anxious but more naive version of me.

Today we’re going to be seeing some landmarks I hit up on my first visit, I wonder if I’ll see the ghost of that Megan — the one who once wrote this — as I walk to the Eiffle tower, or wander the halls of the Louvre.

The last time I was here it was also post-big-breakup. Being a world away from my old life made me feel lonely and long for that companionship again. But it also showed me how much of the world I hadn’t experienced yet, and how much I longed for more freedom. I remember feeling torn between two choices — return to my old life of familiar dysfunction, or embrace a new life full of scary-but-potentially-awesome experiences. I think ultimately, because of that trip to Paris, the loneliness and the siren song of the familiar won out (I got back together with that awful boyfriend upon returning home).

This time, however, I’m enjoying Paris all the more because I’m still able to be connected to my life back at home. Such a vast difference from the last trip where I was ever looking out for internet cafes, desperate for an email from someone — and feeling sick and untethered when there was no contact from home.

Cell phones and wifi have pretty much changed that whole experience. Some part of me wonders if I’m jaded because of that. The old Megan was in awe of every site, and every non-American person, place, and thing. Today, I’m in fucking Paris, and yet I’m constantly checking my phone to see what others are up to back at home?

But I wouldn’t change for the world that Ken was able to keep me calm as I searched for my mother in the airport. I was able to comfort someone I care about as he dealt with a family emergency. And another friend filled me in on his dating life at 4am, when I was wide awake and my mother was not. I even hit that timing sweet spot so I could interact with my co-workers during my evening/their morning. I’m also sharing my sites on Instagram with lovers and strangers alike.

I guess I’m already seeing and feeling the difference in 2000 Megan in Paris and 2015 Megan in Paris. This trip is feeling less like “OMG BIG LIFE CHANGING EXPERIENCE!!!” and more like “Yup, change and new experiences are just part of my life now.” Which feels awesome.

Now I’m must get dressed, and venture out into the brisk morning to hunt down more delicious coffee, and introduce my mom to the Louvre… My goal: To get a better look at the Mona Lisa. Last time I was here I was too short to see anything through the crowd of people gathered around it. This time, I’m not going to let that opportunity pass me by again.

“You Better Work, Bitch”: my up-beat, mood-boosting, feminist playlist

Alright, so I never found a break-up song. Instead, I found “fuck yeah, things are going to be okay” songs. I call it the “You Better Work, Bitch” playlist, and it’s been awesome.

I feel like this walking down the street, only I’m sweaty as fuck and don’t look nearly as fashionable.


When I’m in Maui I go on these four mile walks. So I blast this playlist and feel like a bad ass bitch, like South Kihei Road is my fucking run way, and I’m model-stomping my way past everyone and all my problems. Or, if it’s a particularly awesome tune, I pretend I’m doing that slow motion walk thing in a super hero movie.

This is my collection of songs about women being strong, songs about being happy, songs about being sexy, and some Justin Timberlake, of course. If you need a little bad-ass bitch boost, add these songs to your ipod right now: Read More