Before I knew it, friend, awesome designer and nerd-extraordinare Jon Jandoc gave it the typographic design treatment and turned it into an iPad background for me. Behold:

Anyway, I survived with (I think) most of my wit intact. But in my trippy state of fevery half sleep, I “watched,” over the course of several days, 139 episodes of The Office and 30 Rock. Keep in mind, I have seen each of these episodes a minimum of 5 and a maximum of 50 times each (not exaggerating), so I don’t really have to watch to understand what’s happening. That came in handy around hour 54 when all the liquid had steamed out of my eyeballs.

Every time I closed my eyes, though, the weirdest thing would happen. Actually, no, it wasn’t that weird. I was hallucinating. Vividly. About things loosely related to what was going on on those shows that were playing. And here, my friends, is my list of hallucinations and general thoughts that I decided to write down for your amusement, should I survive the ordeal. I had originally titled the document “sickthoughts” but really wondered how that would look if I died so I wound up renaming it to thoughtswhilesick. I regret it now. Anyway, here goes:

1. Tina Fey riding a panda the size of an elephant through a children’s toy store.
2. How come no one wrote a people magazine article about Tracy Morgan’s weight gain/loss over the course of 30 Rock? They would have if it had been Jane Krakowski or Tina Fey.
3. If you watch the office backwards, it’s about a guy who bitterly divorces the love of his life, moves to a shit town in Pennsylvania, and then self-destructs until he an awkward, bitter racist with a horrible haircut.
4. Why didn’t they call the mini microwave the micro-micro?
5. Meredith Palmer and Todd Packer would have made a great couple. they are both gross, ridiculous, and have herpes.
6. Do people get crabs anymore now that everyone overshaves their junk?
7. My mother actually asked her 27 year old daughter “are you pooping?” on Mother’s Day. And she didn’t mean “right now” she meant “in general.”
8. I wonder how those Civil War era dudes that had to sit for hours for photographs would feel about our stupid MySpace bathroom photos and duckface poses?
9. Why does no one ever draw creepily realistic drawings of Disney animals?
10. I miss Dunkaroos
11. An empire penguin in a red fur coat singing “I’m Coming Out” in a dressing room
12. A submarine sandwich in a harness repelling down the side of an office building

Oh, people, it was so strange to be around you. My life felt so much more vibrant when we were together. I remember the color of everyone’s eyes. I remember the green of the grass on the quad and the bright orange fake cheese on that bagel melt.

Do you remember, back in Senior Week, when we all stumbled around, with the waves crashing and the cool salt air, telling each other how much we loved and adored every moment we spent together? At the time it felt like a lie but it wasn’t. It so very much wasn’t.

Youth is wasted on the young, it’s trite but true. The trio of boys sitting on a bench in front of the concert hall, two on mandolins and one on a guitar, singing sweet little harmonies at 3 in the afternoon. The unwashed, acne prone, wild haired girls who wore clothes that only covered about 40% of their bodies, their half-shaved legs and their natural tans. I both want to teach them and become them. Knowing now what has become important and what hasn’t. Tell them that their awkward, embarrassing hookups might someday be the fathers of their children, and to keep a diary so you can remember all the beautiful things they whisper to you and write on your white board.

I wasn’t good at telling people how I felt when I was in school. Instead of reaching out or branching out, I stayed in my room, talking for hours to a boy who would eventually break my heart and leave me feeling even more alone than I volunteered to be. I regret it now, absolutely, but it felt right at the time and all those people I could have loved harder will one day (I’m determined) comprehend how much they meant to me.

I burst into tears upon seeing the courtyard where I learned how to be away from everyone I loved on the opposite side of my world. I remember staying up late at night, reading and listening to the rain fall on the fat green leaves outside my window. How strange it felt that it rained for a week when I first heard we were going to war in the desert.

It was a weekend of impressions. Of beautiful explosion and implosion of emotion. Of exhausting myself holding back tears and running across grass to throw myself into the arms of an old familiar friend. Wishing things had been different. Knowing I wouldn’t be myself if they had.

Walking past my dorms, over and over, trying to remember just which room was mine and being disappointed in myself when I couldn’t. I kissed a boy under that tree. I followed another back to his room as he lead me by the hand up those stairs. Pulling closed the blinds and feeling natural and beautiful and completely at one with the world and everyone around me.

C and K, I barely know you now, but did you know I wrote you a thank you note that went with a suicide note one night in 2004? I was so sure I wanted to die that night alone in my room, ready to take a fistfull of pills. But then my thank you note to you grew longer than my reasons to die and I went to bed and tried to be better in the morning. I’m so glad I saw you this weekend. You’re still beautiful people. So full of life with so much love to give.

And my best friend – do you remember chain smoking outside? How I used to tease you about how you held your cigarettes? You never held them right but I loved to watch you smoke them. I loved that you wanted to be outside with me, at 2 in the morning, just us and that bush covered in spider webs. You drove me insane sometimes, but from the moment we stabbed the cork into that Charles Shaw so we could drink it in 2002 to when we poured that Kahlua into a Ziploc bag so we could take it to Starbucks and drink outside on the morning we turned in our theses, you were the best friend a girl could ask for.

And my wonderful, beautiful Los Angeles family that has embraced me wholeheartedly since I moved here, who understood when I had a mini-meltdown from being an introvert in a social situation, and who didn’t judge me (nay, they cheered at me), when I stole a bottle of wine to drink slowly and happily and publicly. Who made me want to cram ourselves into a makeshift hot tub (read: bathtub) just because we could.

Thank you, everyone.

But circumstances changed. After the initial shock wore off, I slowly realized that I was a whole person without my family, my friends, or my relationships. I found myself “alone” and suddenly incredibly aware of the surprisingly comforting notion that I was the only one I could rely on. Forever. From birth to death and everything in between. And so I started making plans to get to a place where I could live with the confidence of real independence.

And so here I am. Years later. Living alone in a city 3,000 miles from “home.” And I am not scared. Not even a little bit. I am adrift in my solitary world. It is beautiful. I make time for myself every day. I am unapologetically antisocial when I want to be. I breathe fresh air. I do nothing. Some weekend mornings I don’t even get out of bed until I’ve drifted in and out of sleep three or four times.

I pee with the door open. I burp. I fart. I sit in unladylike positions. I only buy diet soda and no one kicks me awake at night or hogs all the damn covers..

Being alone is nothing to be afraid of. It is easy. it is quiet when I want it to be quiet, it is loud when I can’t hold it in anymore.

It is cathartic. I don’t have to hide when I burst into tears. Sometimes I just throw my head back and laugh and cry at the same time of the terrifying thrill of knowing that I’m all I have in this world, and I fucking love it that way.

How many people get to do this, really and truly, in their lifetimes? How many of them have the money, means, time, and constitution to live on their own? I don’t mean to say that being with other people is completely undesirable, but being truly alone and accountable to no one is something I wish everyone could experience.

Yes, sometimes there is a loud noise at night and I wonder if I’m minutes away from being murdered in my bed. Yes, sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to about whatever is on my mind. Yes, sometimes I wish I had a person I could meet up with without having to spend at least 5-10 minutes getting to the same place. But it’s usually not a murderer. And my friends still pick up the phone when I call them and sometimes I welcome them into my home for glasses of wine and intellectual discussions. And when we are done talking, I get to kick everyone out, lock the door behind them, take my pants off, let my hair down, and I laugh louder than necessary at the book I’m reading and know that I’m not bothering anyone with my joy.

Thus, my crazy birthday weekend was hatched. Saturday, March 26th (my birthday eve, technically), the adorably excited crew of myself, Jon, Bronwyn, Marshall, and Zach (who somehow doesn’t have a substantial web presence – what’s up with that by the way?) were met at Jonwyn’s house at the crack of dawn (read: 10:30am) by Rachel and her adorable younger sister (who was also celebrating a birthday) with freshly baked donuts as an amazing birthday present. The donuts were delicious, and clearly marked as ALL FOR MEREDITH, but were a sorry substitution for Rachel and sis’s company, which was sorely missed. HOWEVER, off we went. Eating donuts. In the car.

It took us all of 25 minutes to drive from Los Angeles to Six Flags Magic Mountain (so many theme parks in SoCal!), and then another 30 minutes to get through the door. But then after we were excitedly let loose on the park we ran straight to the first ride (X2) where we proceeded to wait for 2 hours, only to be told that the right was not functioning at the moment so we could continue waiting at our own risk. I could tell you all about how long we waited in every line, but mostly I remember the awesome little word games Zach brought / came up with, my favorite of which involved two people saying a word each, at the same time, then each trying to say a second word that combined the two previous words, with the ultimate goal to be saying the same word at the same time. Example:

Round one

A says “Horse” & B says “Magic”

Round two:

A says “Horn” & B says “Wizard”

Round three:

A says “Unicorn” and B says “Unicorn” AT THE SAME TIME. YAY! Everybody wins.

I could give you lots of hilarious examples of how this game played out, but the most famous of which involved all five of us trying to play at the same time and echoing an overly-loud chorus of 5 people saying victoriously saying something very awful in a very public and crowded line for a roller coaster. But embarrassment and public humiliation are, so I say we round the overall funniness of that situation out to 0.

Over the course of the day, I also got my dumbass completely soaked (there are photos of this somewhere, I’m sure) by a water ride that I went on despite the fact that it was in the low 50s and the ride warned that riders would definitely get “wet and/or soaked.” And I did. And it was FREEZING.

But we ate ridiculous amusement park food (corndogs!) and went on rides that made me barfy (tilt-a-whirl!), and spent our last hour or so in the park waiting in line for what I will easily call the best roller coaster I have ever had the pleasure of riding, Goliath. AMAZING. I could not have had a better day.

But wait, there’s more!

Sunday, March 27th (my actual birthday), I woke up late and sore from galavanting around the amusement park, only to be phoned by my best friend in the whole world who told me she was headed into town by way of Las Vegas with her boyfriend. After she pretended that she was still “hours” away when she was actually only minutes, I ran to meet her and freaked the HELL OUT. You see, when I decided to leave Virginia, the number of things I was going to miss was a pretty short list. They were mostly people (my mom, my therapist) and a few places (Vapiano, Silver Diner, Hard Times Cafe), but none of them from DC (my mom doesn’t count because she’s my mom) have seen me since I became Californiadith (the Pokemon I evolved into when I moved to LA). And here was Mimi and Josh, two people who it hurt like hell to live the vicinity of, in my parking garage. Yeah, I cried.

After I got the waterworks out of the way we dicked around Rodeo Drive and saw the HOLLYWOOD sign and then we got ourselves all dolled up because Josh (aka the Swankiest Dude I Know) got us a reservation at Bazaar for my birthday. As I’ve mentioned in my previous posts, I’m not really a foodie, but Bazaar was absolutely amazing. We had a 16-tapas meal, much of which I’ve included in a slideshow below. Please excuse the quality of my crappy iPhone pictures.

Monday I took the day off work and attempted to show Mimi and Josh around Hollywood & Highland where I spent waaaaay too much money at Sephora and we saw Helen Mirren getting her handprints done at the Chinese Theater. We also cruised over to Santa Monica where we wandered onto the set of an episode of Castle where I did my best to simultaneously play it cool and not assault Nathan Fillion with fevered nerd hugs.

And…. the rest of the day (and the following 36 hours) is a complete blur in which I went to two clinics, and ER, and took a bunch of Vicodin (prescribed to me, thank you) to fight off a nasty infection that put me out of commission for a couple days. NOT the best end to an awesome birthday weekend, but I assure you I’m on the mend now.

And so here we are. Being 27 feels a lot like being 26, and I’ve got my fingers firmly planted in my ears while I’m yelling “LA LA LA I’M NOT CLOSE TO 30 LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU” at the persistent ticking of time.

So on February 25th, which was a relatively normal Friday that I spent working from home, I was having my coffee on the couch and a sudden craving hit me. Biscotti. So naturally, being under 30, I decided that the world should probably know about how I wanted some biscotti. Thus, this totally stupid tweet was born.

Within minutes (and seriously, I mean minutes) there was a rather curious email in my inbox from a company called Gina’s Homemade. It read:

Hey Meredith,

Here’s a strange email.  I even feel odd writing it.  I saw your tweet about biscotti because Tweetdeck shows me all biscotti tweets (there aren’t that many).  And then I saw your blog and your relation to Pomona.  I went to CMC and was just there last week.  At any rate, we’re an artisan food company in Arizona and we make the best biscotti.  Given the Claremont connection we’d happily send you a free biscotti sampler if you’re still craving them.  I will tell you with all due modesty – our biscotti rule.

You can see who we are at the following locations:

www.facebook.com/ginashomemade
Twitter: @ginashomemade
www.ginashomemade.com

Let me know if you’re still hungry.

–
Best Regards,

Christopher

So I did what any self-protecting young woman who lives alone would do: I emailed this stranger my address. But seriously, how adorable was that e-mail? I got emailed by the biscotti fairy! Did you know the biscotti fairy lives in Arizona?

With my address, I included a little note about how tickled I was by the whole situation. I don’t know if you realize just how small the Claremont Consortium community is. Each graduating class is less than six hundred people, even at the largest school. (My high school graduating class was larger than my class at Pomona). But we all paid a crap-ton of money to go to those tiny elitist schools and are proud as punch about it. Usually I would have made some comment about how Pomona was a better institution than CMC, but guys, biscotti was involved.

So the following Monday there was a package for me to pick up in the rental office when I got home from work. And guess what was inside?!

"Rumor has it you like biscotti. Please enjoy these on us!! The 'Nights With Nicola' is named after my oldest daughter. She loves to heat them up in the microwave and eat them warm. Just a suggestion."

Look at that adorable packaging! I mean seriously. Cute as hell. And the handwritten note? So so rad. But that wasn’t even the end of it. There was also a note on the back apologizing for them being “late.” Seriously, Biscotti Fairy? It took you TWO WHOLE DAYS to send me my FREE BISCOTTI? The NERVE.

By the way, when one gets free samples of biscotti, you’d expect like a piece or two, right? NOT FROM GINA’S HOMEMADE. Look at this bounty:

Like a MILLION pieces of biscotti!

Let me tell you something, ladies and gentleman. Christopher was NOT KIDDING AROUND. This biscotti was ah-maze-inggggg.

I insisted that Marshall help me eat some of this deliciousness. We took Nicola’s advice and warmed up two pieces of the toffee biscotti (with caramel and milk chocolate). That girl is a GENIUS. The caramel and the chocolate warmed up just a bit turned the whole piece of biscotti into this decadently perfect treat that melted in my mouth. We had already eaten a huge dinner so I didn’t want to gorge on these, but after we tried the Angell’s Baby variety as well. Totally different feel, but equally amazing. Just the right amount of sweet and tangy from the cranberry.

I’m not a food blogger. Not even close. I’m not great at describing food or how amazing it is or telling you what you should order where. In fact, I’m super picky and usually just either like something or not. But this biscotti — no joke — life changing. I’ll never be able to go back to that crummy Starbucks biscotti again. Thank you guys soooo much.

So if you’re in the Scottsdale area, or if you want some amazing biscotti shipped to your door, you should really, really check out Gina’s Homemade.  I can promise you it’s worth it.

Me: yeah they look snazzy the neatest part is that when you close them they put the iPad to sleep
My mom: Like a built in momma.
Me: … what?
My mom: Momma putting baby to sleep.
Me: you are weird
My mom: Yeah, that was lame

webmaster friend: hmmm
wait
no
i dont want to “share” on twitter
i just want the little icon
like at the bottom of this page: http://www.wintergreenwinery.com/winesA.php

me: you need to get the icon from somewhere
and then upload it to your site
and put it there

webmaster friend: whats that mean?
but how then do i link it to twitter?

me: you are hurting my heart

webmaster friend: lol
am i being a tard?

me: ok so do you know how to get an image
and then you add the image to the page

webmaster friend: to get the feed
i needed to embed HTML and shit
do i do that with an image and stuff?

me: there should be an icon for add image
depends on how your set up works
also you could google
“add an image”

webmaster friend: so
cant i just copy the icon from the page i sent you

me: you can
but that is copyright infringement

webmaster friend: im so confused.

me: [a href="http://twitter.com/yourfeed"][img src="URLOFIMAGE"][/a]
is the code
to make an image link to something

webmaster friend: idk wht that means

me: then i don’t think i can help you

webmaster friend: haha
ok
once i get the image
how do i get it to link
that is my basic question

me: the same way you would text
highlight it
and click the link button

webmaster friend: ohhh
ok

me:  -_-

webmaster friend: SUCCESS!