Career Megan vs. Street Megan

I realized about 30 minutes ago that I have dual personalities. There is Career Megan and then there is Street Megan. Career Megan is extremely professional. She is polite in all of her dealings, remains politically correct at all times, and can whip together a corporate strategy before you can say "Government Bailout." Let me give you an example of an exchange that would take place with Career Megan.

Unnamed VP: Megan, [co-worker name] is clearly incapable of handling the assignment I have provided her. I think it would be best if you handled her assignments going forward. As for this assignment, I'll need that completed immediately as the deadline has already passed. You'll be able to complete that asap right?


Career Megan: Sure [VP], that shouldn't be a problem. Does [co-worker name] know that I'll be handling the assignment on her behalf?


VP: Ummm no, she doesn't. I think its best if we just kept this between the two of us. I feel kind of bad that she isn't able to handle the request. This IS what I hired her to do, but some people have it and some people don't you know??


Career Megan: Oh yes, I'll be sensitive to the issue. I'll start working on that now.

Now let me introduce you to Street Megan. Street Megan has no filter. She's blunt and to the point, doesn't take anyone's shit, could at times be called "ghetto" in her responses and behavior, and curses like a truck driver's daughter. Street Megan is the "Megan" that most people know and love. I'm assuming if they met Career Megan they would be astounded and would probably pass out from the shock of professionalism and clean language. If we were to refer back to the situation that just took place, these are the responses Street Megan would have given.

Unnamed VP: Megan, [co-worker name] is clearly incapable of handling the assignment I have provided her. I think it would be best if you handled her assignments going forward. As for this assignment, I'll need that completed immediately as the deadline has already passed. You'll be able to complete that asap right?


Street Megan: Ummm, doooo what? Something wrong with that betch that she can't do it herself? And asap, whaaaaa??? Did you JUST find out the she was incapable of doing such tasks? Does she know I'm about to take on all of her work because she isn't smart enough to do it herself?


VP: Ummm no, she doesn't. I think its best if we just kept this between the two of us. I feel kind of bad that she isn't able to handle the request. This IS what I hired her to do, but some people have it and some people don't you know??


Street Megan: *laughing* Oh yes [VP's name] I DO know. And really, really, you want us to "keep it to ourselves" huh? Orrrr you could fire her. You hired her to perform specific tasks, which she is clearly incapble of completing, so why would you keep her around? And how can you feel bad for her? What the hell is wrong with this place? Its like worse than the government! How can you work somewhere, not do your job, and STILL work here. And then no one wants to even talk to you about the fact that you aren't performing as expected. Oh no, we'll just give your work to someone else because they don't have enough work of their own to do. Eff this place, I'm out. OOOOoooo OOOOOOOOOOOOO (throwing dueces)

So you see, each day I struggle while at work to keep Street Megan at bay. She tends to speak in a soft muffled voice at my desk, using every curse word ever created. Sometimes she starts to come out and I have to use all of my might to push her down and let Career Megan handle the situation. Career Megan is so level-headed, I'm so proud of her. Street Megan just thinks she's a little biiiitch.

All Dogs Go to Heaven

Next week marks six months since we said goodbye to the most well behaved, prim and proper German Shepherd you have ever met, and will probably ever meet. Its taken me six months to get the balls to write this post and I'm certain I won't make it through the whole thing without looking like Tammy Faye Baker by the end.


I've owned animals my entire life. My family got a cat from the neighbor when I was in Kindergarten. I won a black lab, named Annie, when I was crowned Little Miss Strawberry Festival. I loved them both dearly and they loved each other so much that once one passed the other wasn't far behind. We all told ourselves at that time, no more animals, never again.


I dated a guy in college and "we" got a Pitbull. The dog ended up becoming "his dog" and we broke up. I wanted visitation rights, but there are no formal papers for a broken heart. He was an amazing and loving dog. When my ex moved to the West Coast he actually didn't take the dog with him, the dog stayed here in Nova. However, he and I did lose touch, and with that I lost touch of the dog. I was sad, but not devastated. So much time had passed and the dog truly wasn't mine, that it was sad to me, but not crushing.


Then I met Coal Miner. I swore I would never date a guy with a dog b/c they treat dogs better than their girlfriends. They let their dogs sleep in the bed, sit on couches, eat people food, etc, etc. I made an exception for Coal Miner b/c he was so charming and loving towards me even with the cute German Shepherd, named Casey, I saw in his pictures. And then I met her. This dog, this German Shepherd named Casey was the most wonderful dog I've ever met. She loved Coal Miner more than an animal should logically love their owner. She knew the sound of his car, his whistle, even his footsteps. She knew his work schedule and would wait patiently by the door for his arrival. She was the lowest maintenance dog ever. She just wanted to be played with and walked. That was it. But there was a catch, she was kept indoors.


When Coal Miner and I decided to move in together I didn't know how I was going to handle a dog living in my townhouse. I was raised to believe that animals were outdoor creatures that should live outside and never be allowed to take residence in a home. But I said I would do it. I would give it a shot, and so I did. It took some getting used to (and the agreement of a bi-weekly maid service) but I was actually pretty okay with the whole arrangement. Actually, I ended up loving it. I ended up loving her. I ended up loving her more than I ever loved another animal. Because this dog, this German Shepherd named Casey loved me. She followed me around. She came to me instead of Coal Miner. She waited patiently for me to get home. She knew the sound of my car, my footsteps, my schedule. She loved me more than any animal should logically love their owner. I bought her more toys than necessary. Gave her one too many treats and tried to make her eat super expensive food. I yelled at her when I shouldn't have, took my frustrations out on her when it had nothing to do with her, became infuriated when she wouldn't walk fast enough when it was cold outside, let her sleep in the bed when I was scared or alone, talked to her when no one would listen, cried to her when no one was around. She became, well, one of my best friends.


Then one day Casey wouldn't go on her walk. She wouldn't go further than a few steps. She just laid there in the yard staring at Coal Miner. She lived for walks and picking up new sticks and chasing dogs that look like small squirrels. So we decided to take her to the vet immediately. We couldn't get her to move from the floor in the office, to the exam room. She wasn't even acknowledging small dogs when they entered the vet's office. She just wasn't herself. So the vet came to her. He drew some blood from her leg and asked us to head back into the exam room without Casey b/c they were going to carry her into the back.


20 or so minutes passed and the vet came back with a very solemn look. He informed us that Casey had blood in her stomach, a cancerous hole in her liver, and that was what he found just in a few short minutes. He paused and looked down at the floor before moving onto the next part. I noticed he had tears in his eyes. He then let us know that we would have to put Casey to rest that evening. This was not something that Coal Miner and I were prepared for, capable of understanding, or realistically going to follow through on. She's fine. She's in the room with us now. She's licking my hand. She's fine. But she wasn't fine. She was dying. She wasn't eating. She didn't have any strength and her body was shutting down.

The doctor gave Casey a cortisone shot and allowed us to spend one last night with her. She ate like a queen: pizza, twinkies, and bread sticks. We played the flashlight game for at least an hour. We stayed up with her until 1am until we couldn't possibly keep our puffy eyes open a moment longer.

September 15, 2011 was, to date, the hardest day of my life. I will spare you the details mostly because I don't want to recreate them in my mind. I played with her fuzzy ears, told her I loved her, and that was the last time I saw that beautiful furry face.

So my friends, if you have a furry friend that holds a special place in your heart. Play just a little longer tonight, go in for one more hug, and cherish those wonderful moments together because they can be gone in the blink of an eye.