Well, Key Westers are doing their part to help in the wake of the Katrina tragedy—many of our captains have taken their boats and headed to New Orleans and Mississippi to help with search and rescue.
But even if you aren't a ship captain, you can help! Go here to learn how.
During times of national tragedy like this, it falls upon entertainers like myself to try to bring a smile to your face. Because entertaining you is my job, and I take my job very seriously, today I am bringing to you:
Yes. It is your favorite MTV show, Cribs, only Megstyle. Today, I will be presenting you with a virtual tour of….
For reasons of privacy, I cannot, of course, show you a picture of the outside of my crib. That's because, although I do not have one presently, I am hoping one day to have a stalker. Most of my author friends have stalkers—some authors I know have more than one.
I am trying not to take it personally that no one wants to stalk me. I'm sure one day, my stalker will come. And so I am preparing for that day in advance, by not posting a picture of the outside of my house on the Internet.
I can, however, describe my crib to you:
It is square. Well, it is more rectangular than square. And it has a front yard, and a back yard.
I'm sure you are getting the picture.
Here is an action shot of me, your hostess, Meg Cabot, at work in my office, which also doubles as my bedroom:
As you can see, I am wearing my new Lilly Pulitzer lobster jean skirt, and using my new laptop, on which I have written several novels already this year, including most of the one I have due tomorrow.
Would this be a good time to mention it's going to be a little late?
I don't normally wear skirts when I work. I was only wearing one when this was shot because it's new and I was showing He Who Shall Not Be Named In This Blog what it looked like (verdict: “Are those…LOBSTERS???”) I prefer to wear non-binding clothes, such as yoga pants, when I am writing. Even though I don't like yoga, as it seems to involve sticking your butt in the air for long periods of time. I feel very vulnerable when my butt is in the air, and so I try to keep it as close to the ground as possible at all times.
I would also like to mention that that purple thing on my nightstand is a FLASHLIGHT for when the LIGHTS GO OUT as they often do here, and not what some of you cheeky monkeys are thinking it is.
This is the requisite Cribs photo of my refrigerator.
No, not my KITCHEN refrigerator, silly. He Who Shall Not Be Named In This Blog won't let me keep TaB in the kitchen refrigerator, because it takes too much room away from his marinating pork tenderloin and bunches of cilantro and radicchio.
So I have to keep my TaB, which is VITAL TO MY LIFE BLOOD, in a small refrigerator that I had installed inside my bedroom closet, so I have easy access to it while working on the novel I have due tomorrow. Which is going to be late, by the way.
I would just like to add that recently, someone stepped into my closet to look at my refrigerator there and mentioned that she didn't think I had very many clothes. That is a blow from which I may never recover. I have been shopping feverishly ever since. Thus the lobster jean skirt.
As the closet is obviously an area of my house that causes me great pain, I think we should move on.
This is the closet under the stairs in which we make Harry Potter stay when he comes to visit.
I am assuming you have one of these, as well. Doesn't everyone? Does your cat run from yours in terror as well? Do you keep a large brown basket of action figures near yours, in case a small child stops by who might have need for said action figures?
I don't want to talk about this closet anymore either.
This is a portrait of the wife of the man who built my house. It came with the house.
Doesn't she look cheerful? Even though I totally adore her, I'm not hanging her in the dining room, since I think she might put people off their pork tenderloin. I often visit her grave in the Key West cemetery to give her pep talks about how she shouldn't haunt me just because I live in her house now and I don't intend to hang her portrait in my dining room. So far, it seems to be working.
This is the mural on the ceiling at the top of my stairs that the lady in the portrait's husband paid to have done in like the 1800s or something.
Sometimes I lay on the floor at the top of the stairs and just stare at the mural and wonder what I know you are wondering, as well: HOW DID THAT GUY GET UP THERE????
That might be one reason why my book is going to be late.
Of course, no episode of Cribs would be complete without a shot of my bling…
Yes, you're right. It's the complete set of Disney Princess Castles, including Belle's from Beauty and the Beast with the Light-Up Rose turret that doubles as a flashlight. And yes, that IS Cinderella's coach. Please don't be jealous. If you come over, I promise I will let you play with them, so long as you are age 6 and above, as that is the recommended age range for Disney's Princess Castles, which contain many small parts that can be easily swallowed and pose a choking hazard.
…and of course, the pool:
I chose a shot of the pool from an upper story balcony. That's because all of my other shots of my pool have me in them. And though I love you all dearly (even though none of you will stalk me), I don't think I'm any more ready at this point in our relationship to show you my belly than I am to show you the outside of my house. I'm sure you understand.
And last, but not least, my ride:
Yes, you're right: those ARE spokes. AND fenders. We don't scrimp around the Cabot/Name Withheld Due to Request household. We go ALL out on our vehicles.
And look, I know there are probably fancier rides out there. But Purple Heat and I have been through a lot together, and I'm not giving up on her just yet. Even though her bell is broken, and now when I try to ring it, it just makes a sad cracking sound.
Well, that's all the time we have for today's episode of MegTV Cribs. But ya'll come back to the blog real soon, and we'll have part two of this very special episode, which just might include an explanation for this shot:
Don't act like you don't want to know.
Hey, you ask for it, I deliver. That's my job.