port of entry

So here I am, fine readers, a Girl of the City. Yes, a true urbanite (who does not know how to spell "urbanite" or if "urbanite" is even a real word). I am what some may call "the new mayor of the Great Salty Apple in the Sky." Those people would be wrong, however, because I am not the mayor (yet) and the Apple is not in the Sky, it is comfortably floating in the Lake.

But let's get down to business. How has the transition been so far to Salt Lake City? It's hard to say because any and all transitions are traumatic events for me, even when the change is ultimately a positive, healthy one. You already know this about me, though. Yeah, I'm neurotic! And sure, I may have a little thing called "crippling anxiety"! So be it! Sobe. A Sobe drink from a gas station would taste so damn good right now in this million degree weather. I have no car to drive to a gas station, but I COULD walk to City Creek's food court and buy a fountain drink and go sit by the fountain bra-less and get arrested for having SEXY breasts (by "sexy" I mean "tragically small" and yes, they arrest people based solely on cup size, I googled it and I am also a liar) and fugg it. (I say "fugg" for the sake of my mom, although I DO talk about my sexy breasts - which is worse, mom? Me swearing or talking openly about my private parts? I will only fucking censor one of those two fucking things.)

Anyway, the CITY. Yeah! I feel just like Whitney Port in the spin-off of Lauren Conrad and Co.'s poignant drama The Hills, which was a poignant spin-off of a poignant documentary poignantly called Laguna Beach, which makes me want to poignantly puke in my mouth. So I'm Whitney Port (but actually just Meghan Wiemer), figuring out how to make it in the big (medium-sized) city. I'm completely overwhelmed! Where do I begin? Who do I meet? How do I meet? When and why and can I please get a bottle of Sailor Jerry to calm my nerves on these high seas, matey? I'm joking, mama! But to everyone else, I am dead serious. Let's sit on my balcony sippin' spiced rum and forget all about the resume and cover letter I need to create and the rent I need to pay and the groceries I need to buy and the freeway I need to drive on (I never do! Terrifying!) and the people I need to avoid (just the toxic ones) and the rum I shouldn't be drinking (wanna be healthier, much healthier) and the Kombucha I should be drinking (mushroom tea or whatever the fugg it is is healthy, right?) and let's just forget all of those things for today, okay?

Please, join me. I'll be waiting. And in the meantime, please also tell me what in the hell I'm supposed to do while I wait. Fine, library it is.