Not the Year of Megan

So the universe decided for whatever reason that this year it was going to fuck with me.

And I'm not talking just "Hey look we just made that girl trip on a crack in the sidewalk, isn't that funny" fuck with me. I'm talking someone up there has something against me fuck with me. Serious stuff.

In the past fourteen months I have suffered the following catastrophes:

March 2007, Drunk driver slams into my car on my way home from work one Friday night, totaling my car, leaving me devastated.

November 2007, My only living grandparent passes away completely unexpectedly.

December 2007, Fall victim to theft and vandalism, when some stupid assface decides one week before Christmas to break into my new car and steal my GPS Navi, rip out my dashboard, render the car useless and leave me in the dead of winter without heat and a broken window.

December 2007, Shitty insurance coverage. Nothing is paid for. $900 just to have to heat fixed. Can't afford to replace Navi, or even buy terrible replacement radio. Tolerate gaping hole in dash for seven months.

December 2007, Chase Bank notifies me that my credit card identity has been stolen and $3000 has been charged to my account.

January 2008, End nearly decade long relationship with high school sweetheart, true love, first love. Heart shattered yet again for the thousandth time.

March 2008, My book publishes. Receive publisher's copy and realize it has been chopped to shit. Not my words. My heart aches. My moment in time blackened.

April 2008, My sister gives away our dog. This one speaks for itself.

June/September 2008, City of Chicago perpetuates my now predictable cycle of bad luck with unrelenting, ruthless ticketing of my car and final boot placement. Humiliated and downtrodden, I take public transportation to City Hall.

July 2008, The great apartment plumbing fiasco occurs. All of a sudden thrust into a living hell of landlords, rusty sewer water and $800 worth of damage to my beautiful closet and all of its beautiful and irreplaceable contents.

September 2008, MOVING HELL. I aged ten years in this process. There were moments where I woke up crying after falling asleep sobbing.

October 2008, Lose $10,000 in investments. Only a "paper loss" my ass. It's still the largest sum of money I've ever gambled away. Watch feebly and helplessly as my year-to-date return dwindles daily. Gasp. Sigh. Repeat.

October 2008, Latest, and hopefully last, catastrophe of the year. Wake up one morning with a stiff neck, think nothing of it. Next morning find myself admitted to the hospital, IV stuck in my arm, doctors ordering cat scans. Final diagnosis, that subtle neck pain was actually a rare throat infection called epiglottitis, that of all things, can be fatal. No, seriously, Google it. I had to.

And listen, I know I have a lot of good things going on in my life, too. I'm the first person in line with that paint brush, ready to paint my own silver lining, trust me.

I know there are people out there who have it much worse than me and that's how I rationalize not throwing myself into traffic on Lakeshore Drive whenever the next disaster decides to saunter its way into my life. I feel like I've done a pretty good job of dealing with all of these things as they come, but I'm seriously at the point where I'm starting to wonder if life will ever get easier? All of these things together make me wonder if I am going to be fighting with bad luck for the rest of my days on earth.

I guess right now what I need is a sunny day and hug. Some friendly encouragement. Maybe some spiced apple cider. And a cute puppy licking my face. And an iPod Touch.

Awwww

So I've been sick this past week and to my surprise my sister showed up at my apartment with what she called "The Cheer Up Megan Squad".



This is the founding member. :)

Good luck is not in my vocabulary.

I was alarmed by the sound of dripping water in my bedroom on Tuesday night. Then I felt the slow seepage in the carpet which eventually led me to at last run my hands over the clothes in my closet to find them all soaking wet.

Then I found this...



Yes. That is my jewelry sitting in approximately three inches of dirty sewer water. You see, due to limited space in my bedroom, I hang my jewelry in plastic sleeves in my closet. So much for the "protective plastic" idea.

To make a long story short, the ceiling in my closet pretty much collapsed in with old, rusty, greasy pipewater from the three apartments above us. It was out of my control. All I could do was salvage what hadn't been coated and soaked already and watch while it rained down from the ceiling. I have a video...I'll post it.

Most of you know I am a collector of designer dresses and shoes, vintage jewelry and an avid purseaholic.

So here's some of the damage:





It doesn't look THAT bad, admittedly, but you have to understand that most of the damage was contained to my closet. My closet that houses everything I hold dear to me. BCBG, Diane Von Furstenburg, Nicole Miller, Armani, Gucci, Fendi, Badgley Mischka, Tiffany & Co. My friends, you will never be the same. You will never have that "I've just been deeply discounted" glow that you used to. You'll always be just a little tarnished to me. That breaks my heart a little.

To my surprise, when I went upstairs to see what the hell was going on in the apartment above me, I found a note in place of the tenants. It read something like this...

Dear ________ Realty Company,

Fix our sh-t before we take legal action. Our kitchen sink has overflowed x-number of times since we moved in and you keep hiring the same incompetent plumbers to fix it. We are going out of town and if this isn't fixed when we get back, we are going to sue your asses.

Thanks,
Apt. 3C

My roommate, who just happens to be one hell of an attorney said that the note proves the property management company's negligence. So I took it to work and made a copy. Along with the photos and the video, I'm pretty sure I have a case to get my stuff replaced. Or at least dry cleaned. What do you guys think?

I leave for Florida on Saturday morning for work for two weeks so this doesn't come at the most opportune time. I'm trying to remain calm.

You guys all remember this fiasco less than a year ago. I thought I'd at least have some good juju leftover from that mess. Oh and then there's this disaster at my old apartment. I just don't know where this black cloud comes from.

Someone please send me some good karma, please? I'll even pay for postage.

STOP FUCKING TICKETING ME.

Today marks the THIRD DAY IN A ROW that the City of Chicago has ticketed my car for having expired plates. On Monday, June 2nd, I ordered my renewal sticker online and received an email confirmation later that day. I swear, if I get another ticket tomorrow night, someone as the Department of Revenue is getting shanked.

I am going to write a note on my car tonight that says, "Psssst. I know you are writing me a ticket. You might want to think again jackass because that shadow in the window behind you is me. Watching you. With a sniper rifle. Go ahead. Dooooooooooooooooo it."

I am fucking livid right now. I'm going to make poster sized copies of my receipt and tape them to the hood of my car with a sign that says, "See this man ticketing my car? STONE HIM." and I'm going to leave a big pile of jagged rocks by the curb with a smaller sign that says "Use me".

It's all about the menacing signs and notes, really.

And it's the same fucking guy every night at the same time. Officer Young, Badge #1005 between the hours of 10:30 - 10:40 PM. I'm gonna find you and cut you, Officer Young...even if I have to stake out my car all night. Even if I have to sit on the curb for hours widdling my shank.

Yeahhhhh so you could say I'm still harboring a little hostility. The City of Chicago and I have had a sordid history that began about 67 tickets ago.

Not even Barack Obama standing in the middle of Wrigley Field hoisting the Stanley Cup over his head could make me happy right now.

Do I have a black cloud over my head?

My bank just called and informed me that my debit card number was stolen and someone in Michigan just charged $2000 in merchandise.

I'm going to go throw myself off a building.

Seriously, what's next?