Hope everyone had a fabulous holiday weekend (if you celebrate!). Mine was spent reconnecting with one of my dearest friends and meeting her kiddos for the first time. They are the cutest.kids.ever. I fell in love about 10 times today. But more to come on rekindling friendships.

For now, I have a story for you. Or, several, rather. Last week, my colleague Melissa shared with me that the stories I have about my life (at least, the NSFW ones) are pretty hilarious and random. So per your request, my dear friend, here are a few:

What comes first, the chicken or the dance?
In my first week of work at Golin Harris in Chicago, my team made me put on a chicken costume and dance in front of the Ellen Degeneres Dance Cam at Tribune Plaza. So in case you were wondering, the entire country DID in fact see me dance like a chicken and ‘back that ass up.’

Auntie Em! Auntie Em! It’s a twister!
Years ago, I took a flight to Houston that had a short layover in San Antonio. The latter city was experiencing one of the worst thunderstorms of the season, and yet, AND YET, the airline decided to authorize one plane to take off to Houston that evening. As I was en route to see who I thought was the love of my life, I was extremely anxious to get there and volunteered to take a seat on a potentially-doomed flight.

And doomed it was. If by doomed, you mean – OH HOLY SHIT, WE ARE GOING DOWN BUT KINDA NOT.

Midway through, we started to nosedive. Anticipating these would be our last moments on earth, people reached out and held hands with those next to them and across the aisle. Oh, but guess what kind of plane doesn’t go down in a storm? The kind of plane carrying an entire gospel choir. Who sang praises to Jesus THE ENTIRE TIME. Needless to say, all turned out OK. Thank you, Jesus. No seriously – thank you JESUS.

A tisket, a gasket
If you drove a car that had a malfunctioning gasket during the summer of 2002, blame me. It was the year the economy went to shit and jobs that were typically staffed by college students were taken by men and women who were taking second and third jobs to make ends meet. Without enough hours at the bookstore to keep my bank account stocked, I had to get second and third jobs for the summer, working at a dry cleaner’s during the day – seriously WHO would hire me a dry cleaners, I barely do my own laundry – and a factory that made gaskets at night.

At least, I think they did – I’m actually not really sure. I still don’t even know what a gasket is, despite the fact that for four hours each day, I was responsible for inspecting them. Uh….sorry?

Trump Says: You’re Fired
The first guy I ever fell in love with was a colleague of mine. We were together for awhile and were wildly in love…until we weren’t. Things were back on the up and up, or so I thought, until one day he emailed me to meet him in the conference room (THIS IS NOT GOING WHERE YOU THINK IT’S GOING). Instead of doing what you think we were going to do (but seriously, who actually does that), he sat across from me, and fired me from the relationship, Donald Trump-style. Good thing I didn’t have to fill out your 360 evaluation, mister!

Shirley Temple, on the Rocks
I broke up with my boyfriend the day before junior prom, but made him take me regardless. We laugh about it now, but looking back on it, my behavior was horrific. Who does that?

Poor guy was forced to dance with me a few times during the night, but otherwise kept to his side of the room among the rest of our friends.

Although, that karma – she’s one stupid booger. Because you know what happened? I went to the stylist that morning and asked for lose waves. Instead, she turned me into Shirley Temple. You win, karma, you win. #Comeuppance

P.S. He’s now happily married to that beautiful redhead in the middle. So thankfully, alls well that ends well. Coulda done without that hair though, man. GEEZ.

Necesito un taxi?
I once (almost) got Natalie Holloway’d in Peru.

I was traveling with friends who had been backpacking through Central and South America for months and who had, by that time, become fluent in Spanish. We had been together the entire week, wandering through Peruvian ruins and experiencing the wonder that is Machu Piccu, and I relied on them to communicate as the only Spanish word I knew was “tequila.”

I was scheduled to fly home from Lima at the end of the trip, so my friends dropped me at the airport and headed to Equador. Seeing that I actually had 8 hours before my flight, I checked my backpack at the airport and took a cab into downtown Lima. One of the most beautiful but scariest places on earth. Especially when you don’t speak a lick of Spanish.

Before they left, my friends warned me to keep a sharp eye. But what’s the first thing I do when they leave? I get in a cab that wasn’t actually a cab. When the cab driver got out of his car after I got in, removed the “Cab” sign (or whatever it was in Spanish), locked the doors and proceeded to fondle my leg, I almost pooped myself. He took me on a joy ride of Lima – me crying in the back and longing for my gospel choir pals to praise some Jesus for me, him laughing hysterically in the front seat and making phone calls to who I can only assume were Peruvian drug lords.

Nah – turns out he was just a prick who didn’t want to pay licensing fees to be an accredited cab driver and liked to take advantage of American women. Paid him $80 for a $10 cab ride, a ride in which he couldn’t even actually drop me off at the airport since he was not a real cab driver. So I walked a quarter mile through strange Peruvian streets to get to the airport myself. Yeah, I’m not that smart.

B.A. in Cooking
I was not one to spend time in the kitchen in college, and often left the cooking to my roommates. Though one night, after a night out at the bars, I decided to be adventurous and test my new Kraft Mac & Cheese skills. So I made some.  In a strainer. In my lap. #CheeseEverywhere

No photos, please
I am a celebrity magnet. Not in the sense that they are attracted to me (no, no!) but no matter where I am, if a celebrity is afoot, I will find them. Sometimes, I even get to hang with them for my job!

Spottings/interactions include: Josh Hartnett, Aerosmith, Kim/Khloe Kardashian, Vince Vaughn, Tony Bennett, Ewen McGregor, Orlando Bloom, Alicia Silverstone, John & Joan Cusack, Cindy Lauper, Common, Serena Williams, Lindsay Lohan (a kajillion times), Plain White T’s, Joey McIntyre, Jason Segal, Steadman (of the Oprah persuasion), Lauren Conrad, Nicky Hilton, Rashada Jones, Amy Poehler, Steve Carrell, Ben Stiller, Megan Mulally, John Legend, Ne-Yo, Ted Nugent, Bob the Bachelor, Jillian the Bachelorette, Jonathon Knight (woot!), Jessica Biel, Gerard Butler, Jesse Jackson,  Jennifer Love Hewitt, Christian Sirriano, Richard Lewis.

This Ain’t No Sons of Anarchy
Elizabeth Tulipana and I used to sing our way out of cab fares in Chicago. Oh, and once I stopped her from being stolen by a Mexican drug lord on a motorcycle in Wrigleyville.

Grow Some Balls
When I was a little  nugget, I joined the local youth soccer league. Athletic I was not, but it was a chance to spend time with my friends who happened to be very talented on the field.

It was a rule in our particular league that each kid – no matter what their skill level – had to play at least one quarter during the game so no child would feel left out. After the second game with no Megan time on the field, my dad approached the coach.

Dad: “Listen, I know Meg isn’t the best player on the team, but you’ve gotta put her in for a little bit.”
Coach: “Jim, it’s not up to me. It’s up to her. We’ve tried to get her to play for the past two games but she refuses to get off the blanket and stop eating everyone’s orange slices.”

And that, my friends, is why I became a cheerleader.

A Broken Escalator is Just Stairs
I once got my hand stuck in an escalator. I was seven, and my 18-year-old twin brothers inexplicably left me alone for a moment, probably to attend to the lady friends who followed them everywhere in those years. In the 30 seconds I was left unattended, I decided to satisfy my curiosity and let my hand stay on the moving banister as it cycled underneath. Hand.Grinding.Massacre. Brothers ran to grab a mall attendant to shut off the escalator, then took me to Wendy’s to ease my suffering. That’s normal, right?

The End
I once woke up with a half eaten burrito in my hand. I don’t think further explanation is necessary.