Monthly Archives: August 2012

Friendship bracelets and swimsuit models

Like most eight year old girls, I love friendship bracelets.  Making them for myself, others, my pets.  If there is something that needs a little color and a creature that needs to feel loved/make a wish, I got things covered.  Thank god that women like The Man Repeller (see her Instagrams here: ) have made it more normal for a 25 year old to be slathered in embroidery floss and pony beads.

Like, fuck yeah bitches.

Needless to say, I’ve been pinning the shit out of these flashback bracelets and now just need to get busy working.

You’re probably all like, that’s cool Meredith, but I heard swimsuit models and came right over.  Hold your horses.  Brooklyn Decker is my girlcrush.  If she showed up at my house tomorrow and was all like “let’s eat pizza, braid each others hair and be best friends” I’d probably fall over and pee my pants.  I mean, she went to Alaska and looked at eagles and that’s really neat!

Look at her, wondering where her future bff Meredith is. Photo via

So lately I’ve been having this reoccurring dream where B.D. (that’s what I’d call her) and I are making each other friendship bracelets and eating chicken nuggets and it’s totally epic.  Like, what does this mean?  Dream dictionary’s are being so unhelpful and should I just make her a bracelet and send it to her agency?  Or would that get me a cease and desist letter?  Kidding, bffs don’t send those.

Love you, mean it.




Zumba, eh.

I am an absolute pro when it comes to “adopting” peoples old things.  Oh, you don’t want that tennis racket?  Please, allow me to put it with the other 15 I have as I plan out a Pinterest worthy craft.  What do you mean this cat is no good?  She’ll be excellent for harassing the schoolchildren walking home. Blahblahblah.  I love when people give me things, mainly because I have no money to buy them on my own. 

But don’t worry, I totally got that cat fixed.

When a family friend caved to the pressure of a man with an accent selling Zumba DVDs on the TV, I knew it wouldn’t be long until those videos were in my possession.  I know that I’ve got white girl moves, but I’d totally win in a dance off with this chick.  So now I’ve had this set of six DVDs and loudasfuck maracas/hand-weights since late winter.  Guess what, there is zero Latin blood in this body.  After taking an extended break, mainly because it was too hot to do anything but drink Gin Rickies and fantasize about designer s’mores, I decided to hop back on the Zumba wagon.  I still have zero sexy dance moves.  That’s cool though, because bitch, I got heart. 

Why am I telling you all this?  There’s no one around to talk to and my dog is all like “yo, I don’t care about your problems.”  Whatever.

Also, I just finished a two mile bike ride and will now continue to finish dying.

And no, I didn’t put in any YouTube links to people Zumba-ing.  I don’t know where you people get your jollies.

The Crazy/Hot Scale and how I will take down Barney Stinson.

So last week I got all gussied up, hopped on the MegaBus to Chicago and went on what I was expecting to be the greatest first date ever.  Of course reality decided to be everyone’s favorite bitch and slapped me in the face.  The manchild I had started to like, even enough to consider holding his hand, told me that my Crazy and Level of Hotness just didn’t match up.  WTF, right?

Crazy/Hot Scale by Barney Stinson

After a few Greyhounds, some intense fitting room therapy (where I of course bought nothing), and a plate of french fries, I but my heiny on the MegaBus back to Iowa.  After 24 hours of beating myself up, in which I considered chopping off all my hair and becoming a lesbian, I realized that I probably shouldn’t give a rats ass what a manchild who gets his ideas of how females should behave from CBS a second thought.  In fact, maybe I needed to keep some time off from giving any and all males a second thought.

So that’s when I decided to take the rest of the year and just focus on me.  Focus on making my eating habits better, actually work out daily, spend more time cuddling with my dog, maybe read a few self help books, as well as the pile of magazines I have sitting by my bed.  Not to mention all the Pinterest recipes and crafts I’ve been itching to do and my desperation to dress up for me, and not some boy.

So here I am, getting ready to reinvent myself.   Make Meredith the greatest girl she can be; with the help of workout videos, my stylist, Patti Stanger and Emily Post, and of course, Scotti the dog.

Please, sit back, relax, and enjoy watching me tackle my harshest critic.  Meredith Hope.  She’s a crazy bitch, but at least she’s fuckin adorable.

Meredith in Black and White.


Love you,mean it!