Blog Voyeur Turned Blogwhore

I've Moved!

2010-02-13T13:30:00.001-08:00

To www.piratemeghan.com ....update yo' readers and come on over there. The water's nice and I have lemonade to share.!

On The Road to Recovery

2010-02-09T19:40:00.004-08:00

Me, " Do they know what caused your heart attack?"

Dad, "No, but it happened right after your mom went to Costco and I saw the receipt. I think its safe to say I know the reason."

* * *
Me, "Since you have to eat healthy, I'll get mom to send me the buttertarts that are in the freezer so you won't have the temptation. It's for your own good."

Dad, "You're too kind. No, really."

* * *
Mom, "Well he's up and complaining about hospital food. It's always a good sign when people are well enough to complain."

Me, "That's right. We're a family that likes to celebrate success with sarcasm and complaining."

Mom, "Exactly!"

* * *
Mom," Your dad now has heart medication, aspirin, blood pressure medication, sleeping pills, and.."

Me, "Think he'll share the sleeping pills?"

Mom, "Ohhhhh, good thinkin."

* * *
Me, " What all are you doing during the day, Dad? You know you're supposed to relax and take it easy."

Dad, "Yeah, I checked my email earlier. It was pretty hardcore. Now I'm going to keep on sitting. I may even stand but lets not get too crazy."

Yep. Things are getting better.

There Are No Words

2010-02-09T14:17:00.002-08:00

There are no words to express the emotions I have had running through my mind and body the last few days. And that's why I have been staring at a blank page for the better part of an hour.

What words can I use to tell you that while I was celebrating Superbowl with friends, drinking beer and dealing with the drama of a fight that broke out at the pub (testosterone and beer aren't always a good mix), my parents were on their way to the hospital, sixteen hours away. What words can I use to tell you that while the police were taking my information outside of the pub to make a statement I got a foreboding text to call my parents right away. What words will explain the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you hear the words,

"Your Dad just had a heart attack. He was rushed to the hospital. He's in stable condition. I'll let you know information as I find it out."

What words can describe the following twenty four hours as I waited to hear the news that he was going to be alright. This was a warning, and a wake up call. He's now going to be on heart medication. He's going to be in the hospital and off work for awhile. He's going to have to change his lifestyle drastically. He's going to have to change everything dramatically.

What words can describe the anger I felt that he placed himself in this situation. Years of smoking and gravy and bacon and rye. All of it leading towards a moment, a call, a situation that although devastating was not entirely unexpected. The long hours and stressful days that could have lead up to it. The anger of remembering the conversations where I pleaded to get a side salad rather than fries and gravy.

What words can describe the guilt I feel. Lectures about smoking while secretly keeping a stash in my purse sleeve. Late night milkshake runs knowing he is supposed to watch his cholesterol. Questioning his career choices in the economy rather than supporting. Not understanding the burden of his stress.

What words can describe the thanks I have to a God I am not certain exists, that my Dad was in a center where there is an actual medical facility not a mining camp. That my mom was able to see the symptoms and react quickly. That the cardiologist happened to be on shift. That he gave my Dad a warning, rather than making him an example. I have wept to God more in the last two days than I can remember.

What words can I use to describe that right now I am scared and terrified. I am angry, and I am guiltridden , but most of all I am thankful that he has been given a second chance. I am emotionally raw, and the nerve endings are exposed. I feel like a small girl that just wants to go and be hugged by her Dad cause I know that Dad's hugs make everything better. But knowing full well that I need to be the strong one right now. Because my Dad's heart needs to heal, even when my heart feels like its breaking.

2010 Grammys Wrap Up Report

2010-01-31T20:08:00.008-08:00

After doing a wrap up for the 2009 VMA's its only fitting to do a recap of the 2010 Grammy Awards of course. If you haven't seen it, it's okay you'll get the gist with these highlights.

Lady Gaga could eat a kitten on stage and seriously in my world she can do no wrong. Although I suspect if there was only one pair of sequined sunnies we would have seen Elton John and Lady Gaga have a bitchslap fight to the death on stage.

Some people carry pepper spray on them. Lady GaGa ups the ante.

The oldest Jonas brother seems to smile more since he's gotten laid. Don't worry little brothers, you'll get your chance one day. Until they keep Blue Steeling.

Green Day weren't relevant at the VMA's. They still aren't here. No seriously. They aren't.

Beyonces outfit was clearly designed by her mother. That wasn't a compliment. Although her ability to crotch grab and headbang in a dress is seriously impressive.
Rihanna- I'm glad you made it here despite all the shit you went through at this time last year. But get counselling for your problems. The doves on your outfit didn't deserve it.

No, seriously. What did they do to you?

I have no idea who this woman is but have now dubbed her 'Double D Tits McGee'

Taylor Swift is precious. Like if the Easter Bunny and Mother Teresa had sex and out popped a faberge egg and it hatched Taylor Swift. Yeah, that precious.

Is it possible to be scared of/turned on by someone at the same time? Yes. Her name is Pink. And it would be worth the risk.

Miley Cyrus and Black Eyed Peas are bearable if you put the tv on mute. And turn away from it.

Who is Lady Antebellum, and how do I not know about them? This rock sure is cozy and provides great shade.

Alice Cooper, you will always make me wanna tease my hair, rim my eyes with black and dance on tables to 'Poison'. Thank you for that. Katy Perry, you can die now. And take Russell Brand with you. EDIT. I just saw this on twitter and Russell has since redeemed himself. Rusty Rockets -Grammies? Is that how much coke you need to stay awake through em? LoooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooong. Well played Russell, well played.

I'm sure the Zac Brown band is lovely. So if they could nicely give the Best New Award artist to The Ting Tings it would be greatly appreciated, thankyouverymuch.

A legion of people shed a tear during the Michael Jackson tribute for not keeping their 3D glasses from Avatar.

'Living on a Prayer' is known to cause incessant air guitar, hip shaking, and singing into any object near by. There is no known cure.

Dave Matthews Band are fantastically mellow. Unfortunately that translates to kinda boring when not baked. Yeah, hate me but I went there.

Quentin Tarentino sounds like a WWE announcer. But Eminem, Drake and Travis Barker all together is a supergroup I can get behind. Or underneath. What?

Thanks for tuning in to my recap of the 2010 Grammy report and don't fret about your need to upcoming celebrity observations and judgement. The Oscars are right around the corner!...

*All photos are shanked from www.msn.ca Please don't sue me.

Living With Anxiety

2010-01-26T09:43:00.005-08:00

Picture jacked from here.

Roughly four months ago I wrote one of the harder posts I've ever written about finally dealing with life having Generalized Anxiety Disorder. At that point I was bleak about anxiety in my day to day life, but hopeful about treatment. Where I had tried options like meditation and yoga and it it was getting worse, not better. Where I dealt with it. Here is the follow up post.

I started medication shortly after the post, in a minimal dose of 10mg daily. Side effects did spring up for the first couple weeks in the form of losing appetite, spotty sleep and a general malaise. I debated stopping the pills but pushed through and within a month found they had tapered off. Taking my medication in the evening helped to ward off the drowsy feeling I get afterwards.

I didn't notice any sort of big difference in my life. Pills will not solve problems, and if you think they will you are kidding yourself. The problems are still there but I found they have brought the mental clarity and stability to deal with them. I still have the same thoughts as I always do. I still have the same comforts in routine and lists and prefer a night in to social activity. But it was when I didn't take the pills that I noticed a change.

If I forgot to take a pill in the evening I noticed myself more irritable the next day and on edge. In fact I normally ask my coworker/good friend every day, "Do you think the boss is going to fire me today?". Every day. And I am never joking. I didn't even realize I had stopped asking until one day when I had forgotten to take the pill and started questioning her. It was only then that we both realized I had forgotten said pill.

A month ago the dose increased to 20mg daily, and I didn't notice the side effects as much as the medication was already in my system. There have been adverse side effects that come with anxiety medication. I find that if I drink more that 2 drinks in a night, I black out. I haven't blacked out from drinking in a long time and that in itself is scary and I have been very aware of this side effect. Another more embarrassing one is it has affected my sex drive (good for when single!) and ability to orgasm. It'll still happen, it's just not as easy. If anything I've found its good reason to keep practising (giggedy). I questioned my doctor about them, and she said down the road there are possible avenues to take for the sexual side effects, but I agree it's not enough reason to stop taking them.

On the overall four months in, I'm glad I've gotten the help I need. Its not as scary to think that I may be on medication for life to treat anxiety. It's no different than taking a calcium supplement if you have weak bones. And I don't feel embarrassed to say I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder, I feel liberated that I am going on with life despite it. I am not "cured" of anxiety and will never be. I still worry too much, am prone to anxiety attacks and sometimes just have to leave social situations because I find them very overwhelming. I still have control issues and like things done a certain way. But the last time I went to my doctor a couple weeks ago she had me do some test to see where my anxiety levels are at, and asked if I was worried about how they would come out. And to tell you the truth, I hadn't really thought about it, and was alright either way. And to let you know it had shown my anxiety levels went from severe to moderate.

NOTE:This is just my story of dealing with anxiety/medication. I am not saying medication is right for everyone,it is right for me. If this is something you suspect you may be dealing with, please contact a physician to see the path that is right for you.

My Points of Contention

2010-01-24T20:24:00.007-08:00

Picture jacked from Here

I have to admit as much as I am a forward thinking career woman with a tongue like a whip, I still have some very old fashioned ideals when it comes to social etiquette. I don't believe you should answer your cellphone at a meal, guys should pay for the first date (unless asked on it), you should show up five to ten minutes early to an appointment, and thank you notes will never go out of style.

That being said lately there are a few things that have been annoying me endlessly, and it's been a point of debate among friends if it's socially fine and I'm just uptight, or if there are boundaries that some people just do not have respect for anymore. Either way it's an excuse to rant.

Scenario 1: I'm out at a birthday dinner a month ago, at a nice restaurant where the dinner does not come free and that's fine. I give the guest of honour a nice and heartfelt gift along with a card which is appreciated and everything goes fine. Until the bill arrives and it was decided by the other guest that we would split it. I didn't want to be the ass that objects, but it was an extra 15 dollars to my bill I was not planning for when scrounging for Christmas presents. I would have gladly donated towards the dinner, but it was the expectation. I did not expect anyone to pay for my meal on mine, but that's just me. Maybe it's stingy, but it was a bit of a slap in the face after the expensive gift bought.

Scenario 2: I text someone. A day goes by, still no text back. They have updated their facebook or twitter, but no text. I understand some people are busy and not everyone has a witty reply or something to say. And that not everyone has their celly strapped to their side when eating/sleeping/bathing. But when you know someone is within constant range of their phone and they do not reply, it makes me stabby to a point of no return. Offensive, or just not expected?

Scenario 3: This one has been happening more frequently. You decide to have a social eve, so you invite a few friends out for drinks or dinner or whatever. They take that as an open invite to invite their friends. I'm all for meeting new people, and if you want to bring someone along, go for it. That's always a good time especially at social events. But recently there was a get together at a local watering hole and a couple guests took it upon themselves to invite no less than four friends of theirs. This lead to having no room at the table so that people that were originally asked to meet up had to leave. Is it wrong to think it's rude when someone takes it upon themselves to invite their friends to an event, even if it is in a public place and it was an open invite via facebook? I don't want people to feel out of place, but also feel there's a certain point when it becomes rude and also the person should mention it first.

Scenario 4: You are making small talk with someone at the coffee line up, elevator, etc. I'm the queen of small talk and have this uncanny ability to manage to talk fashion with strangers (which is odd being that I'm not fashionable). But lately I've found simply asking someone about their day/the weather has lead to the person leading into their sob story for no less than 3 minutes. Their kids are sick at home, their husband left them, the rent just got boosted which sucks cause hours got cut back at work. And not to sound like a complete heartless bitch, but really more often that not, I don't care. I just want to get my coffee from the line up without the awkward chat about court custody cases. I understand sometimes its loneliness, but seriously people need to think before they open their mouths. Discretion can be golden when I'm peeing in the stall next to you, and yes I've had it happen even there. Maybe it's heartless but I'm not a shrink.

These are just a few of the social boundaries I have noticed lately and have been up in the air about. Do you have an opinion about any of the above? What are your social grievances?

#Love Harder

2010-01-20T18:04:00.005-08:00

I am so in love with the internet and the blogging community at 20sb right now, it's hard for words to express. Tears, elated gasps and grinning from ear to ear has done me a lot better as far as communication has gone today. Today has proved its more than words and html codes, it's about friendship and community and sticking up for each other. It's more than a moment, today we became a movement.

But this post isn't about me. It's about Brandy. I may not know her but one month ago she reached out to the Internet with a plea to pray for her boyfriend who had recently been diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma. Posts started dotting 20sb pages and people grasped out and wondered if there was any way to answer her pleas.

The quandry: We feel terrible. Just horrible. And oh so helpless… if only there was something we could DO for them.

The answer: Ummmm. Did you forget that WE ARE THE INTERNET?!?!!??! And also, Yes We Can!!!

The result: Brandy and your Hot Awesome Dude… this one’s for you. Love, The Internet.

So without further ado....the post I jacked from Ben/ Lilu and managed to melt into one. Talent? No. Just good ol' copywriting for a cause.

(These are the people who's lives I stalk daily On video. Singing.)

Our friend Brandy is a brilliant writer, a wonderful teacher, and a generous friend. And she is in love with a man who has just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.

We are raising money for the Multiple Myeloma Research Fund in his name. For the price of a cinnamon dolce latte, half-caf, hold the whip, you can be part of an effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide.

http://www.loveharder.org

Every dollar brings us a dollar closer to a cure. And every donation brings a sliver of hope to a girl who needs all the hope she can get.

What You Can Do

•Give. Be part of a worldwide effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide. Every dollar helps.

•Pass it on. Forward this story to five people. Share this blog post. Become our fan on Facebook.

•Love harder. Life is short, love is unbending, and no one knows what could happen next. Tell someone you love them today.

Where Your Money Goes

•The American Institute of Philanthropy recently named The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation one of the best organizations to give to in terms of their accountability and use of resources.

•By working closely with researchers, clinicians and partners in the biotech and pharmaceutical industry, the MMRF has helped bring multiple myeloma patients four new treatments that are extending lives around the globe.

•The MMRF has advanced twenty Phase I and Phase II clinical trials. They need your support to advance these clinical research programs and accelerate the development of better, more effective treatments.

•The MMRF's Multiple Myeloma Genomics Initiative recently became the first to sequence the multiple myeloma whole genome in its entirety.

•A whopping 98% of your donation to the MMRF will be used immediately to support high-priority multiple myeloma research.

•With diminishing funding for early stage drug development and the next myeloma treatments not expected to be approved until 2011, the MMRF desperately needs your help.

DONATE: http://www.loveharder.org/
CONTACT: theloveharderfund@gmail.com
FACEBOOK: http://facebook.loveharder.org
MORE INFO: http://www.themmrf.org

These are the people that made this happen: Go visit their blogs and love them hard: Maxie, Ben, Tia, Alexa, Kyla Roma, Sizzle, Rachel, Jessica, Rachael, Katie, EP, Courtney, Tipp, Nicole, Jamie Varon, Laurie, L G, Ashley Marie, Wishcake, Matt, Doniree, Chelsea, Lisa, that short chick, Princess Pointful, Derek, Jess, Marie, Jamie, Jenn, Ashley, Erin, Jessica, Renee, Allie, Grace, Rachel, Restaurant Refugee, Titania, Brad, Jolee, DC Princess, Patrick, and Deutlich.

Little Grasshopper

2010-01-13T18:08:00.007-08:00

This little chunk o' the internet is where I have been known to shell out advice, mishaps and adventures for people to love by. I'd like to believe it's my civic duty to pass along to the public how to learn at a young age about alcohol tolerance, dating skills and life lessons about vibrators and gag reflexes.You're welcome, really.

But the time has come where I'm turning to you,sitting cross legged, grabbing my notepad and taking notes as I have questions that need answering. I've contemplating a few changes of the blog, maybe some new curtains and disco ball, and I know that you will be the ones with the answers.

So with that in mind...for those bloggers out there, what do you find preferable; blogger or wordpress?

Is there are particular site (ip) tracker you use?

Is there any way to back up all your posts in blogger without the risk of losing everything/crying in a corner/hitting rock bottom?

For those who self host, do you need to be versed in the intenet to do so? (cause I'm not always computer literate. not at all.)

Is there any way I can become a millionaire off of blogging leading to days spent on the beach with my laptop?

How do you make those little hearts on facebook?

Is it just me or does twitter grow more addicting over time?

Healthy natchos; how do I make them?

BloggersinSinCity: a somewhat good idea, or an extremely good idea?

Is it bad to stop shaving your legs cause you're dating someone long distance and they won't see them anyways for a month at a time and you're lazy and its winter and you wear pants anyways?

Please, if you could shower me with answers for any of these I shall owe you my first born, or a hug, or a shot of tequila straight out of my cleav'. Any comment, an email, a drunk text is appreciated. Please, I promise I'll do my bext to take good notes, and shall repay the favour kindly. No, not in that way. Perverts.

TMI Thursday:Most Awkward Blogger, Indeed

2010-01-06T23:44:00.002-08:00

We're in the final stretch of voting for the 20SB Bootlegger Awards, and I know I have to go big or go home. Up against heavyweight bloggers like Lilu, Jenn, Phampants and Wishcake, I really do feel like the underdog. The dark knight. Or is it dark horse? Either way something dark. Like wet jeans that chafe your crotch. So to bring out the big guns I'm giving you what may be my worst TMI Thursday yet. Enjoy! (Unless you're my mom in which case, please stop reading. It's for your own good.)

When I was twenty I moved to Terrace, B.C. to go to college which was lamens terms for drink a lot and not go to class. We'd all get sexyfied up up and go out to the bar for vodka slimes and paralyzers every Friday and although picking up men was not the goal, they were always nice to look at.

Until one night when looking turned to touching. His name was Rick. I think. Meh, his name isn't important. The point is, I went home with him. Skanky, no? No. Not so much. You see cause at that point I had my virginity in one iron clad fist and someones blue balls in the other hand. I didn't want to give it out to just anyone, so instead I went home with men for heavy petting. Yes, I was the 'Everything But Girl'. In retrospect, why I was not raped, shanked and left for dead is beyond me. Stupid, stupid girl.

But anyways, I digress.

We got back to Rick's place and after some heavy making out and a couple layers of clothing coming off I decided to use him as practise for the blow job skills that Cosmo had been instructing me about earlier. I was really excited as at that point I'd only ever given one bj in my life for a man that couldn't quite salute the flag so I was excited to have a willing member to play with. And it was, well. A blow job. What can you expect?

The only thing is Cosmo had never told me that sometimes while your focusing on sucking and moving and tongue action and hand placement is that guys sometimes like to push on your head. Even when you have a bad gag reflex. Even when you've had one too many China White Shooters. Yeah, you know where I'm going with this.

He pushed on my head. And I puked all over his junk.... And groin. ...And sheets.

The good news is that we were in the dark and his reaction time was a little slow so while he was figuring out what the wet was and where it came from, in the dark I'd managed to grab for my clothes and just run. I've never run so fast out of a place. And that lead to the drunken walk 45 minutes home at five in the morning without shoes.

But you can make damn sure I've never made that same mistake again. The ten words every man needs to know are "You push on my head. I puke on your dick."

The end.

If you think that's awkward, feel free to go here and vote me for Most Awkward Blogger!

Twitterpated

2010-01-03T21:51:00.006-08:00

You know that guy whose face I may have missed kissing on our first date before running off? Well needless to say I got that kiss at midnight and a whole lot more.

I think this is going to be a good year, I can feel it.

Oh and he reads this blog, so if everyone can say hello to him; I'm going to refer to him as Radioactive Guy (inside joke). But Awesome Guy works too.

2009

2009-12-31T07:51:00.003-08:00

Whereas I keep seeing posts and facebook statuses kicking 2009 to the curb and slamming the door it its face, I can't do the same. It's not that I'm clinging to 2009 as I'm not I just don't have any bad feelings for the year. You see, 2009 was the year that things started to come together.

Don't get me wrong here, I'm still awkward and say the wrong things and have no concept of fashion or home decoration and I don't see any of those things drastically changing when the clock strikes twelve. And the last year has had its moments of kicking my ass; food poisoning times three, the Hiney flu, trips gone awry and fights with friends that were painful not proactive. Lonely nights and questioning finances and career aspirations are subject matters that have all nibbled at my achilles heel over the last twelve months.

But somehow last year on this day I was looking forward to the year because it was going to be what I made of it. For one of the first times since I started my twenties I sat down and asked myself what I really wanted. Not for dinner, or to wear to a party, but out of life. The heavy stuff. Fresh from a breakup and still licking my wounds, I vowed to start over and to start fresh. And so I did.

Most of the changes have been small but they have been there. The old me would have not jumped on a plane to another country for a vacation as it would be deemed too irrational and luxurious. The old me would have found another way to cancel plans of jumping out of a plane. The old me would still be telling herself that anxiety disorder is just another thing to deal with by yourself since noone will ever understand it. The old me would have quit blogging when push come to shove, and been embarrassed about her awkwardness. The old me would have told you how much she knew about life and waxed poetics about it rather than realizing just how much she has left to learn.

Don't get me wrong, on the surface most of these changes are minimal and internal but they are there, and I don't see it stopping in 2010. I don't think that when the champagne toasts are over and the the ball has dropped, I'm going to be miraculously a better person. I'm not going to suddenly start going to the gym just so I can pat myself on the back for sticking to a goal. I'm just going to smile, give air kisses and slowly and surely keeping working on my list for 2010.

2010 doesn't need to be better than 2009 and I don't have any false illusions that by the grace of God, I'm suddenly going to fall in love or have things tie up in a neat package with a bow. My credit card balances will still not be at zero. I still don't have a plan for retirement and I'm never gonna bake that perfect cake. But with an open mind and an empty heart I'm ready for 2010 and all it brings.

Merry Christmas Everyone

2009-12-22T17:21:00.006-08:00

(Jacked from someone's myspace page who clearly already jacked it off www.someecards.com )

So far this holiday I've found what it's taken to bring out the belated holiday spirit is chilling at the parents place in beautiful Tumbler Ridge, B.C (I make it way too easy to stalk me)eating a shitload of food, watching girly movies and staying away from my parents computer of doom with their dial up internet (the dvd player is powered by a hamster running on a wheel). Since I prob won't be posting again til closer til the New Year, have a great holiday and drink lots of 'nog, hug someone you're close to (but that you know. Don't be creepy.) and spread a little cheer like an Attention Defecit Carebear, m'kay?

Merry Christmas,
Pirate Meghan

My Mom Is On Facebook

2009-12-16T13:55:00.009-08:00

And for some reason won't add me. Booo. I wonder if it's cause profile pictures like these....

and....these...

oh and can't forget...

And status updates like these....

Meghan L is wondering if a lapdance will help her get onto Santa's nice list, or if it'll push her farther onto the naughty one.

Meghan L refuses to get sick this week. Germs need to respect that I am a busy woman with no time for their nonsense.

Meghan L thinks Christmas shopping would be far more acceptable if I was allowed to fight through the crowds with a flamethrower and had a constant IV hookup of Ativan. Or Moonshine.

Meghan L has mistletoe on her belt.

Meghan L is dreaming of a white Christmas....white beaches, white swooshing waves, white...

Meghan L isn't on Team Edward or Jacob, she's on Team Jailbait With No Shirts On.

Meghan L declares herself the Director of Caffinated Things. Praise me as your morning savior.

Meghan L is Trixie Firecracker.

Meghan L doesn't take nicely to the term 'Cougar' and prefers 'Dried Up Sex Panther', thankyouverymuch.

Meghan L wants a drink and it's only 9am. New high or new low?

Meghan L has taken to piecing together the night with photographs, text logs and bank transactions.

Meghan L is on her third cup of coffee and tweaking like Lindsay Lohan on a Tuesday night. Chamomile tea will be her downer.

Meghan L would like her order of pasta to come with a side of stretchy pants.

Meghan L is wondering if getting the H1N1 vaccine if you've had it already is kinda like trying to screw back your virginity.

Meghan L went grocery shopping this eve. Caught a whiff of weed down the snack aisle. Immediately had the urge to add m&m's to the cart. Well played Save On, well played.

Meghan L is going to taking up ballet AND kickboxing. So she can look graceful while kicking your ass.

Bah-Humbug

2009-12-09T13:13:00.007-08:00

Remember that time I was all blogging is the best thing in the world and I can't wait to tell you everything about my life on a day to day basis and have so much to say and....*Poof Gone*. Yeah..... that was good times.

It seems this is the anticlimax of Nablopomo, as suddenly I have nothing to share despite there being no lack of foddler so I'll just try to break it down into segments....

*****
Usually I'm that person you wanna shank with a candy cane come December as I piss out christmas cheer. But this year I have none of it. Eggnog and christmas baking isn't bringing it out and I'm still staring at the box of Christmas cards rather than writing in them. Despire planning, not all presents have been purchased, plans are not concrete and so forth. I'm not going to blame commercialism, or the lack of snow as it's more of a feeling of just... meh. The cheer hasn't come yet and I'm not quite sure what's going to jump start it.

*****
Every year for the past handful of years there has been a loose tradition where no matter what the family is upto we all go to my parents place for the holidays. Plain and simple. This year my brother refuses to go due to schoolwork due early in the new year and his new girlfriend has to work christmas eve. This annoys me endlessly. We have never feigned to be that close, but it's the one time of year where we all try to get together and pretend to be a happy suburban family. We eat dinner and open presents and watch movies and chill one week of the year. But my brother can't even feign that this year. I can't say how many years when I was in school that I dragged books home over the holidays to work on essays and readings. And suddenly because after fourteen years of procrastinating, he's decided to go to school and get a job suddenly 'noone knows the stress he's under'. Despite people rearranging their schedules based on his. Despite the fact that everyone around him seems to be able to make it work. He can't do anything that inconvienences him for one week. One fucking week.

*****

The roads are safe once again as I parked my car for the winter (it's a summermobile) and have joined the ranks of those who take public transportation. Yes, public transportation (it only works if you say it outloud with a sneer. try it. like this...)

Sexy, no?

Now as much as we all know public transportation is really just a fancy reminder to get your hep shots and not talk to strangers this week I've actually found there are a couple upsides to it. If you're a young professional and you take the bus, you are by default going to be one of the sharpest dressed on there hands down. Also for all nostalgia of wishing I could go back to my college days I am quickly reminded that I don't miss the 30lb backpacks that came with it. Also if you keep your Ipod on and give people the shifty eyeball, they tend to leave you alone. Ex) Yeah, I'm listening to the Little Mermaid soundtrack; you got a problem with that? Didn't think so. Also it has been helping me not buy so much crap as I don't want to walk to the store just to get a cookie. Usually I am that lazy ass that will drive to the store to pick up ice cream when I crave it, even if it's 11pm at night. Not so easy when you're taking the bus.

*******

This last weekend I knocked off one of the scariest things from my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days. Being that I sang kareoke, all by myself at a pub. How was it, you ask? Somewhere in between William Hung and a cat in heat. But I did it. I sang 'Sweet Caroline' and gave it my all to a crowded pub on a Saturday night and it was terrifying but at least no tomatoes were thrown.

That's about it from Meghanworld, any particular thing that you do to jump start the holiday bandwagon?

Drumroll, Please

2009-12-03T13:00:00.007-08:00

Doesn't Jessica look impressed to be helping me out?

I don't know how to do those fancy status shuffles as far as contests go, so instead went the old fashioned way. By harrassing Jessica (the front desk wondergoddess) at work to draw papers from a jar. As you can see it was impartial as I was too busy using the workplace camera to take pictures.

And the winner is.....

At Oh! How Lovely!. Email me yo' address to piratemeghan at hotmail dot com so I can stalk you. I mean send you presents. Thanks to everyone else who entered my first ever giveaway. If I could I'd give each and every one of you lapdances and tequila shots. But lets save that for the 20SB 2010 meetup, okay?

Stick a Fork in It, Cause I'm Done

2009-11-30T21:37:00.004-08:00

With NaBloPoMo. 30 posts. 30 days. Thanks for sticking it out with me. Even though at some point the posts were a bit painful to write, and certainly even more painful to read, it was well worth it.

It was an amazing writing exercise that allowed me to stop stressing so much about each post being "spot on" and just enjoy sharing the sometimes silly, sometimes melancholy thoughts that run through my head. If a post sucks, it doesn't mean I suck at life and should shut down my blog. Wait til another day and click the publish button. If a post doesn't get tons of comments, oh well, write another one and maybe that one will resonate with readers.

Not every post has to have a theme or a happy ending or a corresponding photo and that's alright. As well, comments are gifts, not validation. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me for the last month, and it allowed me to focus more on the writing rather than watching comments build until I find it to be a suitable number. I would encourage anyone to do it at some point, and if you do you know I'll read along to see what all you have to say. Does this mean I'm going to continue posting daily? Hells to the no. But does this mean I'm going to strive for consistency in writing and commenting? Yes. So all in all the mission was a success.

Also a shoutout to my girl Paula who managed to conquer NaBloPoMo as well. You're a rock star, and a terrific writer and I'm proud of you girl.

Tis The Season

2009-11-29T22:29:00.006-08:00

To elbow people at malls, go to ugly sweater parties and finally get rid of that god awful Movember mo' that's making my guy friends look like Where's Waldo with a restraining order.

Oh, and of course Christmas stuff. When not suckling at the teet of Starbucks Eggnog Lattes in their fiery cups I've been know to enjoy a mulled wine or two. Or in the case of last year's workplace Christmas banquet, a bottle or two. Followed by tucking the skirt into my nylons. In the front. And chatting with the boss and his wife.

Yeah. Anyways.

So I thought since it's the season of sharing I'd show you a few of my personal holiday drink recipes from my liquor stash so that you can report back with your own trainwrecky stories of mistletoe stapled to belts and making out with the janitor at your own workplace soiree.

Rum Eggnog
1 container of store bought eggnog.
Good quality amber rum
A glass.

Pour rum into the bottom of a glass. Roughly one third of the glass, but more or less to taste. Add eggnog. Be festive and add a sprinkling of nutmeg. Not too much, that shit is potent. Stir and enjoy.

Mulled Wine
1 bottle of red wine. Don't get all fancy shit on me, the 7$ bottle will do.
1 cup apple cider. Without alcohol. We're making mulled wine, not moonshine.
A blob of honey. No more, no less.
A small handful of cloves. Note I have tiny hands.
A handful of cinnamon sticks.
Some orange slices.

Throw all ingredients into a pot, and simmer on the stove for 20 minutes. Note I say SIMMER. The heat must be low or the alcohol will burn out and then you might as well feed it to the dog or get high on the leftover nutmeg from the eggnog.

Candycane Martini
Vodka.
Peppermint schnapps.
Candy Cane for garnish.

Measure out 3 ounces of vodka. Put two into a martini glass. Take the other one as a shot. Don't be a pussy, do it. Burns right? But in a good way. It's okay to like it.Throw in one ounce of peppermint scnapps. Use a candy cane as garnish and to stir your drink. Cause you're classy like that.

I hope these recipes fair you well into the New Year and encourage you to go to your local mall and sit on Santa's lap and tell him whatcha really want for Christmas.

P.S. Don't forget the giveaway on my 200th post is still open til Wed night.

Hello, Is Anybody Out There?

2009-11-28T19:19:00.002-08:00

Between American Thanksgiving and Black Friday it seems like blogger world is quiet right now. Of course this is the weekend I pick to do a giveaway. Figures.

Shrug.

200th Post+ Giveaway!

2009-11-27T06:47:00.000-08:00

Thank you.

It's been a long haul, and I don't say it enough, but thank you.

I started this blog three years ago for a plethora of reasons, I have gone over but also because before this blog I honestly thought noone read blogs other than friends back home looking for updates. Then I stumbled across Steph who I still think holds the bar and she was sharing hilarious stories, and painful truths and there was a whole community of bloggers supporting and each other.

Then came 20sb and I fell down the rabbit hole to this wonderful and wacky world.

It's hard to believe in 200 posts, I've been through 2 jobs. 2 apartments. 2 relationships (I'm starting to see a pattern here), and one broken heart.

Facing the hardest thing, and dealing with mental problems head on. Dealing with fears, and near death experiences. Addressing friendships solidified, and friendships changed. Spur of the moment trips, and falling from the sky. Oh and lets not forget that I'm on my third car since I started this thing.

More bad dates and trainwrecking nights than my archives would like to justify. Sharing waaaaay too much information, lonely nights, and hungover morning. Oh and you were there when I met Tinkerbell, on numerous birthdays, and have dealt with a couple blog breaks. Over the last year I have met a couple of bloggers, and hope to one day meet more.

Throughout this blog I have changed as a person. Throughout my twenties I have had a pretty good grasp of self, but through applying it to this blog it's given me confidence in my choices, my truth, and myself.

It's been a wild ride, but honestly for all the times I've had writers blocks, and days of frustration and thoughts of quitting, I always come back. Because it's not about simply entertainment and validation, it's become about friendships and release.

It's hard to believe I've gotten to 200, and lord knows if I'll get 200 more out of this, but all in all, I know I wouldn't have done it if not for you, so I have to say, from the bottom of my heart,

Thank you.

.....so now onto the good stuff. I wanted to give something back to say thanks for reading, and to continue to read so I have a 15 dollar ITunes Giftcard and 10dollar Starbucks giftcard* to send away to one lucky reader. You know the routine.
Comment= one entry.
Tweet and link it back= 2 entries.
Become a follower*= 3rd chance to win.

You have til next Wednesday. Good luck!

*That's all that I can afford. It's Christmas and I'm broke/don't have blog sponsors.
*Current followers already are counted for one entry.

....200th Post Tomorrow

2009-11-26T20:22:00.000-08:00

Yup, that's about it ;)

Single Goggles

2009-11-25T17:07:00.000-08:00

Single goggles are cousins to the beer goggles and are infact interchangable and sometimes easily swapped. But whereas beer goggles fog your vision to make the opposite sex funnier, sexier and worthwhile of relations, single goggles are trickier.

You see beer googles happen within a twenty four hour period and are akin to sunglasses at night and when ripped off in the morning light, slap you in the face with the mistake made in the sense of someone who's drivers license you look at while in the washroom and promise to friend on facebook.

But single goggles are goggles you have on all the time but fog up over time. The prescription gets stronger the longer you go without kissing, dates, and "relations". They make you question that ex you broke up with years ago and think that their drug problem really isn't that much of a dealbreaker. They make you look at that guy at the party with the limp and the unibrow and wonder if maybe he has great character and personality other women haven't discovered yet. They make you eyeball men at the grocery store and see if their groceries are similar to yours and if this is enough for a conversation starter. That guy on the dating site that has 'n/a' under profession could just be mysterious, and that guy at the bar with the Ed Hardy shirt....well that's where I draw the line.

But the single goggles are glasses that come on after a certain point of singleness, and the prescription gets deceptively stronger over time which is why you need the advice of a wingman. Not the beer goggle wingman, those have a whole other set of wingman rules I'll go over at some point. But the single goggles wingman will coax you from texting that guy that asked for your number and failed to follow through. They'll verbally (and physically if need be) slap you across the face if you think about taking him back just one more time, cause it's just soooooooooo comfortable with him. They'll encourage you to date, but won't let you scrape the bottom of the barrel just so you can at least feel like SOMEONE wants to take you out for coffee.

I think it's safe to say we've all wore a pair of single goggles at some point or another. Have you ever worn them or been a wingman for a friend with single goggles?

Kareoke, Anyone?

2009-11-24T20:55:00.003-08:00

It's not Wayne's World, but it should give you a chuckle for the night.

Quantity vs Quality

2009-11-23T23:01:00.000-08:00

I warned you all that I'm stubborn. Maybe it's the red hair, maybe it's the fact that I get what I want and maybe it's both sprinkled with the fact that I can be a tichy bit batshitinsane at times.

But in the good way, of course.

So it's no surprise that some of my posts have gone down in quality and at this point if this was an essay I'd be handing it into the instructor with a sheepish smile hoping the Super Cool title page will bump it up to a C+ even though the writing is more of a C quality.

Does this mean I'm embarrassed by the quality here? Yup. Does it mean that I'm going to resort to boob shots and a KD recipe post? Probably. Does it still give me incentive to do my 200TH BLOG POST+ GIVEAWAY on Friday (a little selfless promotion works), of course.

Does this mean I'm going to give up NaBloPoMo? Nope. Because I'm sticking through this to the end. And if I have to resort to pictures of my cat/jazz hand Vlog posts or seeking out adventures on the streets for a C+ on this project, so be it.

That or I'll just drunk post for some extra credit.

A Throwback to College Town

2009-11-22T19:51:00.000-08:00

My friend Al (Alistair when I'm feeling refined) is passing through town and has placed himself at home at my place for the evening. He's currently watching the hockey game, while well fed and I'm surfing the internet. And although the food I fed him is a little healthier than in college and our night tamer than others, I'd be lying if it's not a throwback. Often in college Al would be over at our place eating Kraft Dinner, drinking beer and watching the game. Lives and locations change, but sometimes it's easy to go back to a routine you didn't even know is ingrained.

So to celebrate, I'm going to jack a few of the quotes off my friend Nick's blog from when we were all in college, cause we may be a little older, and a little wiser, but underneath it all, we're still saying the same stupid shit years later...

"What we need to do is torch the classrooms, burn down the clocktower, and murder our teachers." - Melissa

"If you cry and bake cakes you can manipulate people." - Melissa

"It's friday, I'm naked and I'm drinking. It's a good day." - Meghan

"I'm going to go up to random people and go 'Word to your mother!'...see how many time I get punched out." - Meghan

"I'm a worthless piece of skin!" - Al

Al: What kind of party ends at 1 AM?
Nick: The kind that starts at noon.

Do You Wanna Shag Now, Or Shag Later?

2009-11-21T19:49:00.000-08:00

I just watched Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me.( the best of the trilogy) and have concluded that at the two parties I am going to tonight, I shall only introduce myself as Ivanna Humpalot.

This shall have no dire consequences in the morning, certainly.

Job Application

2009-11-20T17:28:00.000-08:00

Harpo Studios
1058 W. Washington Blvd.
Chicago, Il 60607

November 20th, 2009

Pirate Meghan
Apartment w/ Cat
Kamloops, BC V2C V2C
www.piratemeghan.blogspot.com

Dear Oprah,

My name is Meghan, and I am currently applying for the job Queen of Daytime Television and Other Stuff, post date starting in 2011. I am available for this job effective 2011 and will be able to relocate to Chicago.

I have no previous experience in broadcast television, but don’t let that stop you from considering my candidacy for the position. Like you, I have a background in entertainment journalism, a strong drive and a love for great shoes. I am able to entertain and relate to others and feel I can use the platform to show surburban soccer moms everywhere, everything from Blogging to Online Dating-the Do’s and Don’ts.

I may not have a Stedman in my life, but don’t you worry I’ll pick up right off on the are you/aren’t you debate with Gayle due to the fact that I am married to my best friend on facebook and it keeps people guessing. Your Favourite Things show will be as amazing as ever with Macbooks and Iphones for all (guess I’d better start doing lunch dates with Steve now) and I even have friends in Chicago that I know would work well on the show too. Oh, but one thing is enough Adult Contemporary singers on the show, Lady Gaga and Jay-Z need to make their way to the sound stage.

If asked, I can provide an extensive list of bloggers for reference who are legit and able minded and will make a great production team for the show. Feel free to contact me at the blog provided or piratemeghan at hotmail dot com to discuss this opportunity further.

Sincerely,
Meghan L.

P.S. Obama-rama representing.
P.P.S. Would it help if I told you I almost named my cat Oprah?
P.P.P.S. I love you.

TMI Thursday: The Time Santa Took Out My Tampon

2009-11-19T10:12:00.001-08:00

So, on Friday I had the unique pleasure of getting a Pap smear AND a cervical biopsy at once. Yeah, I know, you’d think it was my birthday or something (and I just officially lost all my male readers).

Let me tell you there is nothing comfortable about a pap smear from the bottom bearing paper gown to the poking and the prodding of your vadge like it’s a grade four science experiment. The epic point came when the MALE doctor came towards me with the cutter thing and stated, “This won’t hurt a bit.” And before I could think, I shrieked back, “How do You know? You don’t have a vagina!”

Yeah, a little bit of comedy to go with awkward vaginal probing. Thank you, thank you. Tip your waitress.

But none of this was an embarrassing as the time I had to go and get my tampon taken out in the walk in clinic by Santa Claus.

K, whaaaaa?

A few years back, I decided to do the whole switcheroo to tampons because before that point I’d read too embarrassing stories relating to them in teens magazines. But figured there’s obviously a market for them so started using the cotton plugs to do what they do. It’s a pretty straightforward thing I don’t need to get into.

Except that one time I went to ummm, remove the said plug and there was a bit of a problem. Ya see, the string came out. But the tampooni stayed right nice at home in my ladycave. After checking to see that fingers wouldn’t do the trick and damning my small and childlike hands I realized I’d either have to shove tongs up my vadge to get it out or go to a medical professional.

I chose the medical professional.

So off I went to the walk in clinic on a Saturday to wait for two hours. Two hours so that a doctor could come into the room that looked exactly like Santa Claus. White beard, glasses, flushed red cheeks (of course the fact that I was spread eagle with a stuck tampon may have had something to do with that) and a belly that was probably robust from beer not milk and cookies, but yeah. Santa Claus. With a duck. Removing my tampon and remarking how he’d only heard about this thing from other doctors, but I was his first stuck tampon.

Glad to be your first. Charmed, I’m sure.

Ever since then I have been paranoid about checking that damn string first. Because really, theres only so much vaginal probing a woman can take without dinner first.

Coming Attraction Posts

2009-11-18T22:11:00.000-08:00

Santa+ A pap smear=awkward Meghan.

200th postiversary + free shit.

Blogger meetup at My Place, BYOB!

Recipe Post:Kraft Dinner and Bagel Pizzas

Blog Forum: Facebook etiquette?

Facebook status updates: The Sequel.

Home renos with duct tape and a staple gun.

What NOT To Do At Your Staff Christmas Party (Hint: Don't tuck the front of your dress into your nylons and then talk to your boss's wife).

Value Village Fashion Blogger.

Mark it in your google readers...

Enough About Me...

2009-11-17T20:44:00.000-08:00

lets talk about you for awhile. Is your drink alright? Would you like a top off of your coffee or tea? Take off your jacket and stay awhile. There's shortbread if you'd like....

Anyways, even though it's my blog I'm getting tired of ME talking about ME. nd when you get sick of hearing yourself, that's not a good sign. So tonight I'd thought I'd turn the table, as I have an eclectic mix of commenters/readers lately; new and old and how about we switch it up. Why don't you tell me something about yourself- Who you are? Is there something you want to share here? Something you wouldn't think I'd guess by reading your blog? What's your favourite colour and food? Biggest pet peeve? Biggest hope and fear?

I'm listening.

I Made a List, But Didn't Spellcheck It Twice

2009-11-16T13:36:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa,

I know it’s about six weeks away from Christmas still, but I know you’re a busy man so I thought I’d let you have a heads up on this years wish list. Remember, organization (and cheap elf labour) is the key to success.

This year my list isn’t that grand, but I do have a lot of specifics so you’re going to want to check this list twice. And don’t bother asking already cause you know I prefer naughty over nice. But this year I tried hard and short of a grilled cheese night, have been doing good things, so try to keep that in your sight.

This year I want a shiny diamond ring, a nice tennis bracelet or other forms of bling.

A new dvd player, one that doesn’t fall apart. A Super Nintendo complete with accessories to play Duck Hunt and Mario Cart.

If you could pay off my VISA, it would be better than any present you could wrap. I know that would ensure you one visit of sitting on your lap.

Some new boots, a winter jacket, and some skinny hipster jeans. Perhaps from Rich and Royal, so that I can feel just like a queen.

A new bed with headboard, one that doesn’t creak. The neighbours would appreciate the discretion, as a mattress that doesn’t squeak.

Some chocolates, and coffees and gourmet herbal teas, some Starbucks cards and don’t forget chocolate gelato please.

A new Macbook and cell phone, one that I cannot break. Oh and some vegetarian casserole recipes that even I can make.

A sweet pair of yoga pants, straight from Lulu Lemon, with a matching water bottle and yoga pants would be my ideal piece of heaven.

Of course I’m going to save the best for last and I hope you don’t think I’m a prick. But a nice guy, with manners and smarts and at least a six inch…

Love,
Meghan

Scattered

2009-11-15T17:03:00.001-08:00

My mind is still scattered so I'm just going to verbally throw up a little of what is in my head.

Went out Friday night for one of my best friend birthdays and had more fun than I thought I would, but unfortunately an epic night of carousing lead to an epic morning on hangover for the 2nd weekend in two weeks. Saturday was spent eating takeout and napping.
Unfortunately I'm finding that 1.) due to the fact that I almost never drink anymore I can't handle my alcohol compsumption like in my younger years. Lightweight tendancies, blackout evenings and quesy mornings have overtaken, but I'm not too concerned as I'm thinking it's a sign maybe I should stop drinking so much. I like the taste of alcohol; a glass of wine with a nice meal, beer when watching a good hockey game, ceasars when out at a pub but I hate that the next day is filled with ten times the anxiety than one should have due to the fact that I hate the feeling of being outside of my control and getting drunk is one of those things that does that. Having a drink and getting drunk are two very different things that I am going to start exercising.
The debt ball is snowballing lately due to tires blowing out, emergency root canal and having my taxes done wrong so owing the gov't 200$. At this point serious adjustments need to happen so I am starting to look for a second job and am debating keeping my car parked through the spring. I refuse to be someone who is going to be drowning in debt and so the choices are: make more money and cut back on expenses and those are the two realistic ones that I can think of.
I just ate 1200 calories of cheesecake. 1200 calories worth of cheesecake. If this doesn't indicate a dry spell in my life, I don't know what does.
If my past dating career has shown me anything it's that I'm attracted to sociopath sort of tendancies. No joke. I've been trying to break this habit for the last while. And have been successful in the sense that I'm not currently dating so I'm obviously not dating any sociopaths. But then last night I was watching Dexter and realized I have a total star crush on Dexter. Not the actor who plays him, the character of Dexter. I think this is a step backwards.
While broke and on a budget I've also decided I need to start decorating my home. Obviously. The first step is new cushions for the couch. One budget friendly step at a time.
I see there is a new layout for posting on blogger for posts. I like that I can do more things now, but can't seem to find the spellcheck. This is sad for all involved.

And that's about all I have today. Off to coma on the couch and new cushions. Eating half a cheesecake will do that to you.

Blah

2009-11-14T22:28:00.002-08:00

I'm super hungover today.
And super lazy. My head is cloudy and unfortunately I've been thinking way too much.
I hate thinking too much.
So this is my crappy post on this crappy day.
Apologies.

TWLOHA

2009-11-13T16:57:00.000-08:00

Join the movement

Don't Let the Cuteness Trick You

2009-11-12T21:26:00.000-08:00

Bad webcam pic of headbutt time....but you turn your back for one second and...

She's on my dinnerplate, stealin my noms.

You Win, Tai Chi

2009-11-11T20:44:00.000-08:00

I hate giving up and am stubborn to a fault. It's why I'll continue with a recipe even after it's destined to fail. Its why I\ll grasp at threads of relationships long after the flame has burned out.

But today, it's official. I'm a quitter.

I started tai chi about six weeks ago, much to the shock of my friends. It's not something I'd normally do, but that just fed the fuel even stronger. I had no idea what tai chi is, but in the Kamloops Info brochure it sounded fun, and like it would be a good branch off of yoga.

And it is a beautiful blend of martial arts, self defense and spirituality. But unfortunately it never really clicked. Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to exercise, and love the zen of yoga, but something about this just never really resonated with me. I haven't picked up the moves fast, but because I haven't really wanted to. I'm going to each class with no enthusiasm or spirit and it shows in my movements and moods. I don't leave the class feeling refreshed and recharged, but simply annoyed at the wasted hour. I don't take the pin pointing of my wrong movements as a positive learning experience, like in other classes, but a magnifying glass of how I don't fit in. It's not low self esteem or awkwardness, or even just giving up before trying because week after week I go, with my smile tight and my teeth gritted and do it.

But tonight, I thought about going to tai chi and how being a stat it probably wouldn't be happening tonight and felt a wash of relief and happiness. Happiness that I didn't have to go and do a hobby that I'm paying for! Hobbies are supposed to be challenging, but above that they are supposed to be something you enjoy and in procrastinating before class to accidentally missing it I realized that it's not work the twenty five dollars to push through the next six weeks. And so I quit. Plain and simple. The words taste bitter, but I am an adult and I will not be forced to do what I do not enjoy. So come January, I will be going back to the yoga I know and love and possibly even pick up a dance class, cause I'm willing to try different classes to find the one that does.

So I;m going to pose the question to you, when do you stay with something you don't enjoy because you're getting something out of it, and when do you simply walk away and quit?

Lest We Forget

2009-11-10T19:15:00.001-08:00

Rememberance Day has always had meaning to me, of course. It's a day of remembering the soldiers who fought in the war and those who are still fighting. It was the day of the year where a day off school meant dressing up in my Girl Guide uniform and leotards to fight the cold while carrying the Canadian flag in a parade down to the park where veterans dropped wreaths and I hoped my chattering teeth weren't audible during the minute of silence. Afterwards there was always skating and watered down hot chocolate at the skating rink for all the students to attend. This is what I knew until of Remembrance Day until I was fifteen.

The summer I turned fifteen, I was able to go eight hours south with our Girl Guide troop to Prince George,BC where we would meet with other Guides from all over the world at a camp called S.O.A.R. There were girls everywhere with accents I'd never heard outside of movies but unfortunately the weeklong camping trip was cut short when after two days in the rain a bad case of strep throat got the better of me forcing me to pack it in and stay with my grandparents for the remainder of the week while the rest of the troop, including my mom, camped it out.

My grandparents were amazing people, traditional but not to a fault. Sunday roast was at 4:00pm every week and plants and knick knacks littered their home. Although it wasn't fancy it had everything they needed from the rotary phone to the clothes line outside. Up until that point I had mostly spent time with my grandparents on long weekends when we would visit all the while stocking up supplies for the long winters up north, all the while shelling peas from the summer garden. This was the first time I had ever spent with them, one on one.

With typical teenage angst and boredom, even during sickness I balked at their lack of sugary cereals and cable tv and utilized my illness to get a lot of soups and white bread and coins to go play at the arcade down the street. I chatted with them about school and life in general, but it wasn’t until the second to last day, when all the Reader’s Digests had been read that actual conversations started to form. It was then that my grandpa asked if I wanted to go through some old photos with him. With shaking hands he opened a dusty trunk and out came yellowed crinkled photographs and the stories to go with each.

First Group of Photographs...Growing up in Gundy, BC. Farm life for the family. Church and family and chores split among siblings. He was proud of all the hard work his family had done for rural area of BC, since deserted for oil plains and valley suburbs. A village I was only able to visit in the years after his death and see through his eyes.

Second Group of Photographs...Family, brothers and sisters each with a story he told with a twinkle in his eye. Showing that sibling rivalry was universal throughout decades and demographics.

Third Group of Photographs...The War. Or more specifically World War Two. I'd known that my grandpa had been in the war fighting for Canada just as my other Grandpa had been in it fighting for the British, but is was something neither of them spoke about and we weren't to bring up. With a slow and steady voice he started to tell me his stories of the war. His truth.

A Photograph of Boys Carrying Guns... No older than those with fake id’s and high school diplomas. His friends. His brothers through the bonds that they shared and the horrors they saw.

A Photograph of Fatigues... Proud of the badges he wore but each one told a story of a battle he wished he wasn’t in. A test of daily survival. A memory of a war he, years later was still trying to forget.

A Photograph of His Brother... His identical twin. His mirror image. Both of them identical in stature and pose, tall and handsome. His best friend. They kept each other company, just as much as they kept each other sane. They fought in the war together for too long and were close to coming home to the lives they had back in Canada. Back in Gundy. Unfortunately both of them didn’t make it back. My great uncle, Kenneth Bulley died in battle in Italy. He buried his twin brother in a country he didn’t know during a war he didn’t want to be in.

With each story, it opened a door that had been closed shut for years. That he had to keep shut in order to go on, to come back, to survive, to marry, to live. A door that noone would understand unless you were there. It was there in his eyes, I saw it. The one person who understood was gone, and years later he opened me up to this horrific world he lived. These were not photographs from a text book, or from a A&E documentary. These were his life. Each story, told in a voice with emotion held back. Each photograph, yellowed and creased was a stamp of bravery and heartache. And in that moment, I got it. I really did.

I never told anyone about the talk we had until the next year when his sudden death had past and we were burying him in a graveyard in Gundy. Next to the headstone of his brother. His twin. It turns out that my ears were the only ones to have heard. Not his wife, my grandmother. Not his children, including my mother got to see the photographs I was able to see. To be honest, they seemed a little jealous that I had been given the experience they all wanted to ask about. Years later, I'm still not certain why me of all people, and why on that day he decided to share it all. But to be honest I'm glad he did. Because in that moment, suddenly Rememberance Day wasn’t about watered down hot chocolate and frozen fingers, it was about war tearing apart families and brothers. It was about honour and courage. It was about trying to move forward, but never, ever forgetting.

One of the Guys

2009-11-09T22:25:00.002-08:00

I've always been one of the guys. It's a blessing and a curse. And tonight when out for coffee with my guy friends it made me wonder if it's the reason I'm single. Not cause I have tons of guy friends. But because the following can come up into conversation casually....

-sleeping with your mom
-sleeping with my mom
-phallic cupcakes
-'special' christmas cookies
-the proper way to get carted out a bar
-how drinking leads to Bad Decisions
-how we should drink this Friday
-rating the Starbucks clientelle on their 'sexability'
-would a lesbian vampire go down on a mortal on the rag or would that lead to death?
-masturbating with butter in a pinch

And would you believe everyone at the table is on the edge of 30? I'm never getting laid again.

Because Your Approval Means Everything to Me

2009-11-08T16:27:00.002-08:00

Foiled By My Own Plan

2009-11-08T11:07:00.004-08:00

Yesterday was kind of an expensive, shitty day. Except for getting my first eggnog latte of the year. That was nice. But the rest?

A tire blew out on the car which resulted in getting up at 7am on a weekend (grossness) to beat the snow tire lineup so I can get two new tires on Buzz Lightyear so he can continue to go to and fro. That took until about 11:30am and I chose not to blog about it.

Also at approximately 10:30 am plumbing Armageddon happened in my kitchen and I chose not to blog about the pools of water everywhere and the ruined kitchen supplies. Cause that's not too fun to blog about. Besides, I had other blogging plans for the day so those were just irritating inconveniences to get me to that point.

Ya see kittens, I had a dentist appt yesterday (yes. again.) and my dentist is heavy handed on the Ativan as welcoming as I am with taking it. 1 root canal =2 pills. So although it wasn't the longest appointment, I was quite royally effed up by the time my bestie came to pick me up. This is where the plans of blogging came in, and I patted myself on the back for being so clever.

Ativan in all its tricky glory has a tendency to make me black out. Big time. So I figured I'd blog everything I thought/did said when ativan induced which would be entertaining for you, but also helpful so that when I woke up this morning groggy and out of it I could go back to my computer and it would all make sense.

Example of the Blog I thought would be created:

4:25 Took a sip of iced tea

4:50 Decided to watch Robin Hood:Men in Tights. Wendy's baked potatoes need to get recognized in foodie circles more.

5:15 An ode to Ativan:
I love you.
You make me so sleepy.
Refrigerator

And so forth....

What actually happened.....

Leanne and me came here. She ate her burger, I ate part of my potato we chatted for a bit, my landlord came over to fix the sink and we watched something on tv....

BLACK OUT..... wake up. Ten at night. Leanne is gone. Cat is eating the potato. TV confuses me. BLACK OUT....wake up, it's 3am. My cat, full on potato is curled up besides me. Lock the door, make my way to bed.

11:00am this morning, wake up. Sink is missing from kitchen, cat has puked up the potato on the floor, no word of Leanne and blog is not posted. Epic experiment in Ativan fail. but know that the thought was there. And in theory, it was good.

I guess the only way to make up for this is to do a double post day.

Nom Nom Nom

2009-11-06T13:57:00.004-08:00

In light of yesterdays candy post, I'm going to hammer the final nail into the Halloween posts....

If you're anything like me, you like structure and there is no better way for a kid to gain obsessive compulsive and organizational behaviors than with Halloween candy. I remember on Halloween night dumping out the pillowcase onto the livingroom floor, shifty of anyone eyeballing the good stuff, and with frozen fingers and a buzz, sorting it into 3 bowls. The Good Stuff. The Alright Stuff. And the Throw Outables.

Here is where I show you how to determine between the three piles.

The Good Stuff: any full size chocolate bar easily goes into the good pile. Hands down. Along with anything with chocolate or nuts in it, peanut free label be damned. Everyone knows the little nugget sized bars of Snickers and Oh Henrys made any lunch day better and you would be the one the kids wanted to trade snacks with on the playground. Not that you would. Suckers.

The Alright Stuff: This is the pile where the wagon wheels and granola bars go. Not bad snacks by any means, but they're already the usual suspects in the lunchbox so they're not really special. This pile is mean to be eaten when The Good Stuff pile of candy is gone and yet you don't want the remnants of free candy to be over. Sour Kids and Caramel Corn always end up in this pile for me, but you may find that they belong to the Good Stuff pile and I can respect that.

The Throw Outables: Any fruit by default ends up in this pile because my mom said that she knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who ended up with poison or some sort of razor blade in unwrapped food. And my mom isn't a liar so we should all listen to her. Also in The Throw Outables pile? Raisins. Anyone who gives raisin on Halloween is by default an asshole. Even at seven this was apparent. Those weird corn candy things with the trifecta of ugly fall rainbows have always made their way to this pile as well as Rockets candy. Even as a kid, mamma wanted the good stuff and knew her ghetto candy when she saw it. Also in this pile? Candy apples. Covering a fruit in sugar doesn't mean there's not fruit underneath it. Caramel apples however? They obviously belong in the Alright Stuff pile. But eat it before you get to the rest of the pile due to the time sensitive nature of the fruit underneath.

Anyways, I hope this lesson in Halloween candy sorting 101 has been helpful and remember if you need any help next year I'd be more than happy to come over to supervise the sorting. But this of course means I get to choose what I want from your Good Stuff.

Diabetic Coma

2009-11-05T18:14:00.006-08:00

Oh yeah, and in all the wrap up posts about the parties and the drama I forgot to mention one other little thing about Halloween...

Not one kid stopped by my place for candy, and I couldn't be happier ;)

Confession Time

2009-11-04T22:00:00.003-08:00

I'm not very good at finishing through with goals. Of my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days, I'm finding the ones with a finish line are the hardest. Jumping out of an airplane is one thing but doing sit ups for a whole month is definately another. Which is why the last few days that you may have noticed a few more posts than normal, I didn't want to admit that I've been secretly setting my goal on NaMoPoMo.

But then tonight came and I'm tired and cranky and have an ear infection and just got off the couch after a two hour nap which trumped both laundry and tai chi to stretch and get ready for bed. And I looked at my blog page and was planning on signing out without a post. You didn't know my super secret goal, so noone would have been any the wiser. But the thing is, I don't want to sweep this one under the rug like the quit soccer classes and dusty dancing shoes. This is the one I want to stick with. To grow from, to maybe even learn from?

So it's official. I'm sticking it out there. NaMoPoMo, it's on like donkey kong. I may fail, but if so it's going to be with everyone knowing the finish line in the first place. Last week I wasn't even certain if I wanted to continue with blogging anymore, muchless whether or not I had anything to say. Well, needless to say that's about to change quick. Another stressful factor is that it's going to be an exercise in not using comments as vaidation. Often I have larger gaps between posts cause I like my comments to be higherand it makes me feel the post is popular? Respected? With each comment it is a little smile towards the post. With posting every day I'm not going to have time to see whether or not I have what I consider to be enough comments before going onto the next one.

But that's all I'm going to rattle on about tonight since I have to find something to talk about for the next month! I hope this post makes sense from my sleep addled brain, but if not that's okay too cause I'm going to bed anyways.

The Halloween MashUp

2009-11-03T22:08:00.008-08:00

You have to take a look for yourselves to see what the night consisted of....

Gretchen loves beer, and beer loves Gretchen!

A beer wench, kissing booth, Batman and a sailor walk into a bar one time, and...

Mario and Luigi decide to join us for a good time.

Poor duct taped heel. RIP Halloween, 09.

Anyone want a ride?

Not drunk AT ALLL.....no siree....not in our group...

And what's a wench to do after crying on the streets? Join a grumpy Batman at Denny for some grub, of course!

Man Handled

2009-11-02T13:48:00.002-08:00

I am 5' 2". I weigh approximately 97lbs on a good day. I don't pretend that I am big, nor tough, but that doesn't stop me from voicing my opinion and sometimes running my mouth.

This is amplified when I drink.

So when I went out on Saturday and drank too much, it doesn't surprise me that I got mouthy when given attitude. I'm normally a happy go lucky drunk, but can dish it out as well as I take it in any form. Unfortunately on Saturday, this came in the form of lipping off a bouncer at a club.

He then without warning or hesitation picked me up, fireman style and literally threw me out of the bar, banning me for the night. If not for the other bouncer knowing one of my friends and alerting her, noone would have been any the wiser that I was kicked out, and I would have been stuck outside freezing.

I'm not going to dispute that I was drunk, but a lot of people were drunk that night and did not get kicked out. A girl threw up at our table and didn't get kicked out. Was I drunk? Yes. Was I obnoxious? Yes. For both of those I am still embarrassed. I'm not going to say there wasn't reason to kick me out. But to do in such a manner is making my blood boil. He could have asked me to leave the bar. He didn't. He could have walked me out of the bar. Once again, he didn't. Instead in front of a large group of people he threw me over his shoulder, knowing that I was wearing a short skirt which would expose me to the world and had his hands on me.

Would he have tried to do that if I was a guy? Absolutely not. Would he have done that had I been 170lbs? No. He took his position of authority to a level that is inappropriate and unneccesary. I may be mouthy but in no way as I am physical threat to anyone and to use physical force to get someone to leave without asking them to leave in the first place is completely unneccesary.

It all happened so quickly that I was left, bawling on the street wondering what the hell just happened. I'm humilated still as I've never been kicked out of a bar, muchless in such a manner.

This was done at the same bar that once tried to kick me out for being too drunk when I was the DD and hadn't drank, and once cut me off after two drinks for being too drunk ( I may be a lightweight but even I can handle that). At this point I'm wondering who's dog I kicked that works in that bar.

Today I am debating going to said bar to lodge a formal complaint, but am still absolutely humilated and don't want to show my face there.I just want to hide away from it all. In one way I don't agree with what happened, but it's his word against mine and my memory is blurry. It's 'the drunk girl' going against the bar staff. That being said, I don't think what happened is right and I feel that my size and weight were used against me when I was in a vulnerable state.

Just because I'm drunk does not make it right for anyone to put their hands on me inapppropriately, muchless display my ass to the world. It doesn't mean not giving me reason to kick me out, nor does it mean he should have tossed me out on the sidewalk. I could have fallen. I could have still had my purse or jacket inside. I'm wondering if I making too much out of this, but something tells me I'm not.

The Hangover

2009-11-01T18:01:00.004-08:00

When you don't remember the night before due to excessive alcohol consumption there are certain keys to piecing together the night.

1.) Check that there isn't anyone in your bed with you, you have your housekeys, wallet and so forth.

2.)Ask friends what happened.More than likely they are in the same boat but together you can start to make a semblance of an evening.

3.)Check for photos, text logs, and bank transactions to show you where you've been, who you texted and what you found important to record.

4.) Wait for people's messages/writing on your wall on facebook.Don't be shy, when they say "Ohmigod, I can't believe what happened last night!" ask, point blank, "What happened." Also new friend requests are a good way to start figuring it out.

5.) Hope that the colourful vomit you're expelling will show what shots you did, what post bar food was? Too much? Yeah, but it may help.

6.) Try to muster up the dignity to go back to the bar to ask why you got kicked out.

7.) Know that even if your outfit didn't start out with a duct taped shoe, the night ended with one. Poor, poor shoe.

8.) And last but not least maybe hide out for a few days to see that since you don't remember, everyone else will forget what happened.

Fuck. This is why I don't drink anymore.

Failed Blog Post Topics This Week

2009-10-25T12:11:00.010-07:00

I love cheese, just not the after effects.

Air Guitar and Margaritas for Beginners.

UFC: My Cat vs a Crow.

7 Cups of Coffee in a Row= tweaking like Lohan on a Tuesday night.

Lets All Practise Our Thriller Dance for This Saturday.

The Good Side of H1N1=Making out with Douchey Ex's and Not Being the Fugliest Person at Walmart.

Vote: Will My Halloween costume get me sent home from work to change?

Twitter: I still don't get it.

........yeah, so you can see why it's been quiet here in these parts. So I'm going to take the opportunity to fill out a meme that has been passed along to be by a few wicked bloggers and have been meaning to get to for the last while...

Here’s how this one works: USE ONLY ONE WORD! It’s not as easy as you might think. Copy and change the answers to suit you and pass it on. It’s really hard to use only one-word answers.

1. Where is your cellphone? Coffeetable

2. Your hair? Red

3. Your mother? Strong

4. Your father? Quiet

5.Your favorite food? Sushi

6. Your dream last night? Effed

7. Your favorite drink? Caesar

8. Your dream/goal? Happiness

9. What room are you in? livingroom

10. Your hobby? Blogging

11. Your fear? alone

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? settled

13. Where were you last night? Earls

14. Something that you aren't? rude

15. Muffins? Yummy

16. Wish list item? Money

17. Where did you grow up? Stewart

18. Last thing you did? Shower

19. What are you wearing? jammies

20. Your TV? Foodtv

21.Your pets? Sleeping

22. Friends? Scattered :(

23. Your life? Mellow.

24. Your mood? Anxious.

25. Missing someone? LOTS.

26. Vehicle? Infiniti

.27. Something you're not wearing? Shirt

28. Your favorite store? ValueVillage

29. Your favorite color? Green

30. When was the last time you laughed? Afternoon

31. Last time you cried? Sunday

32. Your best friend? Back!

33. One place that I go over and over? Home.

34. One person that emails me regularly? Mom

35. Favorite place to eat? Subway

Go for it and have a turn, I'm going to tag...

Kelsey

Kyla

Taylor

Amber

Hillary

Angela

It's upto you if you wanna partake and pass it on, but it's good for when you have a blogger funk day. And along with the meme comes an award, at least that's what I managed to get from Paula at *Insert My Blogname Here* who is more of a friend than a fellow blogger at this point. It's just a meme and shout out to some of the blogs I love.

A couple weeks back I also got this award from Taylor and it's pretty sweet (check out her blog, she's a good writer and hawt) so I wanna pass it along to people I think give good blog too.

Jamie

Ben

Mike

Tricia

Paula

and Maxie

It's not that I don't love everyone on the blergroll it's just these are some of the blogs I have been following for ages, and I don't normally give out award so wanted to show some love to some of the people I know best at this point.

And remember blog awards are the gifts that keep on giving only without a week long prescription and ointment so feel free to keep this ball rolling!

The Un Post

2009-10-18T21:38:00.003-07:00

I'm on the verge of writing one of those posts. You know the ones. Where the sky is dark and your mood matches and you have no real right to feel that way, but you do anyways in defiance. And so you want to share that sentiment and you blog about it.

Mostly complaints come out, a little too bitter to have the true innocence of being emo, and a cynical side slips out usually reserved for quiet nights bitching on the phone to friends who will mirror sentiments. When feeling sorry for yourself is just too easy to not give into. Where some of the cracks start to show and the veneer of confidence is dented by loneliness and melancholy that even a cute blogger pic or anecdote can't hide. Where surfing facebook somehow isn't about updates, but a show of people around you and realizing at some point when you weren't looking people ran past you into lives filled with companionship and ambition, whereas you're floundering. Where looking at dating sites makes you wonder if they're walking the tightrope of being hopeful and or giving up too. When suddenly you question those insecurities in your life whether it be your career, your finance, or your state of being.Where you wonder if they're glaringly obvious to those around you or just magnified by the the deafening silence of a Sunday night. Where suddenly you feel very alone and scared and you just want someone to relate on some level.

But your hand hovers over the button where it says Publish Post because you know you're going to regret it in the morning, when the sun is up. You're going to look at the computer and grimace, your face turning to lemon candy sour hoping that maybe nobody read it during your sleeping hours. You're going to feel embarrassed for that moment, that hour, that day where you felt hopeless because obviously people are going on with their days, just as it's the start of a new day for you.

I wonder how many people have hit the save now on this post, and gone to bed to think it over. I wonder how many people feel alone at this very moment, in the darkness. I wonder how many people have thought of publishing this exact same post.

Don't Share Chapstick Kids

2009-10-15T20:35:00.003-07:00

Even if your lips hurt real bad. You could get sick.

Right now I've been hibernating at home sick as hell for the last 3 days. I've boiled it down to either 1) H1N1 2.) The Death Flu or 3.) Lung Herpes but you know I'm sick when I get winded going to the get the mail and I haven't even read any blogs. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest and not in the good way. More like I got bitchslapped with snot and a fever. Might I just add that the flu does nothing for looks. Stringy hair, blotchy skin and a wheeze that no one should ever experience.

So I'm just gonna post a few 'sick' videos to tide you over til a real post this weekend. And and Happy Wedding Day to Maxie and Lilu this weekend, have a blast and report back with stories.

Also let this be a reminder to get your flu shot this season...

Also as much as I am the most pitiful, bitchy version of myself when sick at least it's not the dreaded Man-Flu. Then again if I had a bell can't say I wouldn't do the same.

It's Like Warm Pumpkin Pie

2009-10-09T09:40:00.009-07:00

I'm not big on the Grace in Small Things movement, because I'm far better with complaining about stuff than recognizing the good. The glass is half empty because I drank it down and I'll take another while we're at it.

But this weekend marks festivities of Thanksgiving in Canadaland and so I'm feeling the need to bring attention to all the things I'm thankful for including those things that really don't get the recognition they deserve.

I'm thankful for my parents, first off. If they knew their little 5pound preemie bundle of joy would have brought them tampered liquor cabinets, college pregnancy scares, a totalled SUV that they just bought and hours upon hours of stupid questions, I'm sure they would have placed me in a dumpster long ago. But they didn't. Instead you ate the food I've created over the years, burned bits and all. You wheeled the tv into my bedroom when I was sick so I'd be able to watch soapies and didn't complain. You have taken every accident, incident and encounter with stride offering wisdom rather than lectures, and have always addressed me as an adult. You have given me guidance but allowed me to make the mistakes I needed to make in order to grow and I look forward to your call every Sunday morning. Over the years I've come to terms that you're not perfect, but you're human and you're the best parents I could ask for. I am proud of the threads of mannerisms and flecks of personality that have been passed down. For that and a million other things, I thank you.

I'm thankful for my brother. Even though we may not be close and we don't really understand each other, I've never actually thanked him for being such a bad ass delinquent in highschool that I looked like the good kid by comparison. And then switching the roles once we hit college age so I could experience my own rebellion later in life and not give my parents cardiac arrests for having two bad apples in the family photo. For that and teaching me self defense, countless pranks and how to jack the parents liquor cabinet, I say thank you. I don't know if we'll ever be as close as we once were but I thank you for interviewing potential boyfriends, offering to beat up the ones that hurt me, and allowing me to tag along with you and your friends to build forts when you were at an age where you wanted little to do with your little sister. To date I don't think we can ever watch UFC without crying with laughter.

I have to say thanks to my best friend, Leanne (who just got back from Europe)and all my other friends that have put up with me over the years. Helping me find my pants in the morning, piecing together the night, letting me have the last toke, and more with little to no judgement. Helping to pick me up when I'm down physically and metaphorically and being awesome enough to laugh at me about it and come back for more. You're all sadists ,and for that I thank you. There are tons of acquaintances you have in life, but with a select few they are more than friends they are family. They are the people on your emergency list, the people you go to for advice, the ones that will love you no matter what shoes you're wearing and even when you're pmsing and cranky. Cause that is what family does. They don't make fun of you for pmsing and feeling bloated, they're the ones with you at the local DQ eating blizzards and talking you through it. I'm lucky to have a handful of those people and a soulmate in Leanne. Our friendship has been stronger than any relationship I've had to date and I don't see that changing. We're married on facebook and really I think it's a testament of our friendship as there are the ups and downs, the good periods and bad patches, but through out everything there is loyalty and laughter and commitment and and love.

And thanks for all of you in bloggerland, who make me laugh and reflect week after week. You put up with the crap posts, comment on the bad ones and make me feel good about things like new haircuts. You've been there when I've confessed my sins and just laughed along when I've done yet another stupid wine induced antic. You have brought me a sense of belonging. For the first time in my life through blogging I feel like all of the different cliques don't matter. we're all here with different stories, lives and perspectives to share.

So with enough mush out there, I just have to say I don't feel to document the small things I am thankful for because every day all around me it is shown in a large way even though sometimes a holiday surrounding a turkey and stuffing can make you take a step back and really recognize all the things you have going for you.

What are you thankful for this weekend?

It's Not All Tinfoil Hats and Wraparound Jackets

2009-10-05T14:22:00.000-07:00

Okay. I lied. But my tinfoil hat is cute and goes with my new haircut, so work with me here.

But in all seriously, my apologies for the lack of blogging/commenting the last couple weeks. My new noggin pills gave me a bad ass case of the sleepies and the yawnies for the first couple weeks whilst kicking in and so I went all hibernatey on your ass, that and I'm working on getting my winter white Twilightesque palour back. So you just get a hot mess of an update. With lust.

First off I'm loving Vampire Diaries right now and don't even wanna type it out. Sooo bad and good. I figure after this weeks episode I'm going to the highschool across from my place (no, really there is one) so I can find thirteen year old girls to discuss it with. Except I have more street cred as I've been stalking Ian Somerhalder ever since he graced his baby blues in The Rules of Attraction and I blame him for getting me hooked on Lost. He died on the show. I stopped watching. That's how tight we are. Speaking of tight...

I want to work on getting a tight ass? TMI. Too bad. My vanity has reached new peaks when I was approached by a lovely later middle aged man who followed me to my car yesterday and after realizing that he wasn't there to jack my car he handed me his business card. Not to try to sell me something, but as a pickup. And I realized that even though grossed out, I'm at an age where this is becoming a more common place practise and even socially appropriate? I handed back the card. What does this have to do with having a tight ass? Nothing. I just wanted to complain about it.

Although taking tai chi has something to do with getting buns of steel (flex your quarter hands). I know nothing about tai chi. I think it's like Japanese yoga/zen/martial arts. But the truth is that not many people know about it, yet it sounds all mysterious. That way I can look all graceful while kicking ass. I'm the youngest person in the class by roughly fifteen years. That and fight club was full.

Since my life has taken on boringness like never before (what, the best friend has been in Europe and I'm trying to save money) I've taken to trolling dating websites again. But suspect that guys don't like it when you give them helpful tips for spellchecking their profiles and edit and send back the sent messages. Would it surprise you that I'm not getting laid any more frequently since joining up?

Oh and since I've become queen of bad video links, here's one. Of a cat! In a jacket! Trying to play with a string! Oh the shenanigans of it all!

Just look at it.

Ohmigod. I finally accidentally just learned to embed videos. How exciting. And you're all here for this moment. Golf clap anyone?

And that's all I got tonight. Peace out, lovelies and studs.

Text Message Slut

2009-09-27T11:07:00.006-07:00

I'm a text message slut. And I make no apologies for such promiscuity. Some of the better received texts I have saved from my text log...

"I just just got my test results and I have the HIV, herpes and the clap, wanna come over for some unprotected sex?"
"I don't think I'm hungover so much as I'm so awesome my body is trying to clone itself."
"So frki druk."
"You should put me on your bucket list of things to do"
"Did you lose your panties again last night?"
I'm currently on a yacht drinking scotch and just traded a days labour for bondage gear."

Those are only a few of the jems as I kill cell phones frequently. And I thought I had a knack for sending/receiving weird texts but last night I found the website...

Texts From Last Night

So since it's always good to find another way to kill time at work go ahead and take a looksee for yourself and try not to pee a little from the laughing. A collection of my personal fav's so far..

(915): I hate it when hot girls behave. It's so anticlimactic
(412): I have big tits. Rules don't apply to me.
(954): a hangover this bad deserves a feeding tube
(270): I do regret it. But I can't unfuck her
(919): his penis is like a homeless cat. ever since I've satisfied him he keeps showing up on my doorstep ask for more.
(317): Just looked at my call log. I called Planned Parenthood at 3am.
(231): i don't care what she did to you. we are not having sex in front of your sister.
(305): i made the cop pinkie-promise not to arrest me if i failed the Breathalyzer.
(215): her orgasm sounded like a fucking walrus crying.
(641): I ate one of your animal crackers. just one. ok four. but no frosting. ok frosting.

There are a lot more that I like but don't want to ruin the experience for you. Your welcome. And let this be a lesson that NO BAD can come from drunk texting. None. Unless you're this guy....

(816): I accidentally asked my mom for a blowjob because 'mom' and 'molly' are next to each other in my address book.

Its Time To Face The Problem

2009-09-17T19:14:00.005-07:00

As I've documented on this blog before I was diagnosed four years ago with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. If we've ever spent time together you would know why. If we haven't met you'll just have to make a visual for yourself. Think high strung and times it by ten and add a lot of coffee and nervous energy.

I don't see myself as someone with a mental disorder or disease, when in fact that is exactly what is it. Which is part of the reason I have eschewed medication in the past. The antidepressants prescribed at one point were enough to make me comatose and a life filled with worry is better than a life filled without emotion or reaction. Then about four years ago I went through a bad bout of anxiety, hopefully one of the worst I'll ever write about. Insomnia, panic attacks, and just the will to stop eating and socializing. I withdrew from everything and everyone. And with the right pills I started feeling like me again. Not drugged, and not like the medication solved the problems in my life, but that it just felt like I was able to deal with the problems at hand without a cloud over my head of doubt and insecurity.

I went to my doctor today to discuss a few things happening in my life, none of them anxiety related. She has been my doctor for roughly the past year and I've had mixed opinions of her. She is very "to the point", but can also seem cold and distant. I wasn't certain if it was the right fit. After discussing the problems at hand she blurted out that we need to deal with my anxiety. I was honestly shocked as I've never told her about my anxiety, as it's something I just deal with. It's like breathing, you just do it. It's just part of me.

She explained that I definately have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and she could tell within the first five minutes of our first visit. And she wanted to sit down and talk to me about it and was glad I came in. She then with sudden caring in her voice she asked me the the hard questions. I couldn't look her in the eyes but started to sob as we both knew the answers.

Yes, I feel a loss of control in my life and have control issues because of it.
Yes, I stay awake at night worrying about everything from finance to friendships to if I said the right thing in the conversation earlier that day.
Yes, I have obsessive compulsive tendencies.
Yes, I tend to snap at people and get irritated easily.
Yes, I often feel on edge and nervous all the time.
Yes, I hate social situations and sometimes drink to feel comfort.
Yes, I worry all the time.
Yes it affects my relationships, friendships, work and day to day life.
Yes, its something I deal with every single day.

And I'm not talking the anxiety you feel before a test or that feeling that people are talking about you in social situations or when you feel overwhelmed by everything. I'm talking about an overall sense of unease about most factors in my life every single day. This is life with anxiety disorder.

For example so far this evening one of my worries is: I haven't ate dinner yet because I'm stressed about what to make and so I ate a container of peanut m&m's which is horrible cause I keep eating sweets lately and what does that mean and it could lead to diabetes which would mean needles and I hate needles and also dinner means dishes and I hate doing dishes but would have to do them but I have to eat dinner cause what kind of freak doesn't eat dinner after work and I should prob drink more fluids even though I hate fluids but I'm sure not drinking enough fluids will lead to adverse health too so I should find something, but not water cause I hate water, and not too sweet cause sugar isn't good for you....

Still with me? This is one of my worries. About food. One of many I have had tonight. And this is what I deal with all day long. No, I am not crazy. In fact, I have to look outside myself like I am doing tonight to find it even weird cause this is the thought process I know. this is the only thought process I know. It's normal to me.

And so finally after going over everything she looked at me with sad eyes and mentioned medication. And so the cycle begins. I'm smart enough to know that the right medication can and will help. I'm just terrified of the process that I need a daily pill to feel like me. I'm scared of side effects, I'm scared that maybe just a little bit of ME won't show anymore, I'm scared that if I go on them then I'll just quit the pills after six months like last time when I "felt better".I'm scared that by taking pills people will see me differently. That I'll see me differently. Lets not try to pretend that people don't often still get judged for mental disease. I'm scared that by taking the medication I am losing the control I so sorely crave when really I am not in control in the first place. I am an intelligent woman and it's a hard thing to realize that I am not in control of my emotions I am driven by them, and the control I have is with the reaction to those emotions and even that can be altered by medication.

But then again this is neurosis and the narcissism of feeling like I am capable of handling this.If I cut my leg deep, I would go to the doctor to get the stitches neccesary. But when dealing with mental problems it becomes a whole other ballgame. After talking to my mom on the phone tonight who has never been a fan of taking pills admitted that I've been on edge for about the last six months and it's like some days she doesn't know what will set me off and it can be straining. And that maybe it's time to consider it again.

And so it brings me to the conversation with my doctor and how I'm scared about the thought of medication. Apparently it's normal to feel anxiety about treating anxiety and that's part of the cruel irony of it all. But it can get better. It is possible to live a life without worrying all the time. She wants me to try medication for a year. And after asking if my anxiety has affected my work, friendships and relationships and getting a solid yes to all three she posed to me,

"What have you got to lose by trying this?"

And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think she may be onto something. Even if it is a hard pill to swallow. .

The VMA Wrap-Up Report

2009-09-13T18:58:00.005-07:00

I don't know how to embed videos (seriously, a monkey chained to a laptop would probably have a better blogger skin, a more organized reader and VIDEOS) so there will be none of the VMA's but I'm sure many other bloggers will have them out and about. Or just go to Youtube and type in :Kanyne is a fucking twat. Or watch this...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdcY_3PdzBc

But to summarize...

Madonna's tribute to Michael Jackson was a class act and I think this brought Janet Jackson closer to a comeback than she has seen in years. There were tears and I won't apologize for any of them. You forget about the days when Madonna, Michael and Janet ruled the stage based on choreography not gimmicks. Oh and now that I have the basics of Thriller down my new life goal is to learn the choreography for 'Scream'.

Kate Perry+Joe Perry intro. Perry. PERRY! Get it? Get it? Yeah, Katie Perry and a Queen cover go together like shit and a blender.

Russel Brand. 2ND year hosting. Still waiting for the funny.

Lady Gaga, there is fashion, there is art and then there is looking like a damn fool. You crossed than line with your second outfit. A face mask? Meh, bad but if Slipknot can do it. why not you. But looking like the dominoes guy on purpose? That's not art. That's just bad form. And a feather face do-hickey? That's one step away from stapling a damned live duck to a headband and acting as it it's just another day with a duck stapled to your head for fashion. But you were fierce and creepy during your performance and god knows I respect creepy.

Kayne is dead to me. If I was Taylor Swift I would have said something when he was being a drunk cunt. And by said something I mean punched him in the head. It would have been worth any night spent in jail. His opinion is not the only one that matter and in fact it doesn't matter at all as you can see by the booing his name brought the rest of the night. I still swear his mother would be ashamed if she saw the way he acted. It was not the time nor the place and he proved his character. It placed a shadow over the rest of the eve.

Green Day aren't relevant anymore. They just aren't.

Is it just me or does Eminem look like he aged about ten years in the last two, but finally grew up in a good way?

Kirsten Stewart looked good. And like she showered. Coincidence? I think not.

Speaking of Kirsten's, is Kirsten Cavallari not dead yet? Really? Oh.

New Moon Trailer=instant female boner

Wearing a stupid outfit doesn't make you look younger, hipper, or like less of a bitch. Yes, I'm talking to you J-lo.

Muse is sex.

I've never been a Beyonce fan but her performance was stunning and giving up her speech at the end of the night so Taylor Swift could have her moment was a classy move.

Ooops. Repeat outfit alert. Think if either Pink of Shakira asked nicely they could borrow a headpiece from Lady Gaga and make a tube dress out of it?

Jay-z is like a fine wine of hip hop that keeps getting better with age and I just wanna chug a quart of him. The man has charisma during his live shows but I could feel this one through the tele.

And that's all. This is Meghan, your VMA 2009 correspondent signing off.

Two Weeks Late....

2009-09-07T15:53:00.015-07:00

...with posting wedding photos. Wait, what did you think I was gonna say? ;).....

This is Vassy. She was Jessica's bridesmaid. She's all sorts of awesome and even carried the wedding cake on her lap on the plane from Saskatoon. That's loyalty and skill. Oh, and she's hot.

This is Mare. She's Jess's Maid of Shining Honour and is all sorts of hot too. And great at planning surprise Bridal Showers/Stagettes.

This Is Jessica (aka Pirate Jess, aka Emma) walking down the aisle with her Dad. Ten seconds after I told Maureen I never cry at weddings. Then saw Jess and proceeded to bawl.

Jess and Brad make strutting down the aisle look goooooooooood!

Me and my date.

The first dance.

Congrats to Jess and Brad on your happy life and marriage together. I have no real experience with marriage so really cannot merit giving advice. I remember visiting Jessica when she went to BCIT and her and Brad had only recently started dating. They were chock full of infatuation and the giddiness of new love, but it ran deeper. In the three months they had been dating Jessica knew he would be the one she hoped to marry. And seeing the constant grin she had when around him, I hoped she would too. And a couple weekends ago I got to witness such an event. So in retrospect I raise my glass of gingerale to you and just say,

"To one of the warmest and most earnest couples I know, I wish you love, loyalty laughter and good sex. And may all your ups and downs be in the bedroom."

Klassy.

Terminal Velocity

2009-08-30T09:35:00.008-07:00

So, remember that list I have of completing 101 things to do in 1001 days? Yeah I haven't forgotten about it and have been slowly crossing things off....and managed to cross off #31 yesterday.

# 31:Do An Extreme Sport (click on the link to see photos)

So my one friend is a skydiving instructor. The one I have had Grilled cheese & costume/bondage sex with. And from the first time we met I have harassed him to take me falling from the sky and he has agreed to do so. But circumstance has always prevented us from doing so, and honestly I have always been relieved as to not have to actually go through with it. It sounds badass to say "I want to go but we just haven't managed to find a date that works."

But earlier this summer perhaps in drunk (post coital) bliss, I insisted that this is the summer we should go. Unfortunately he set a date around my schedule and held me to it. As any normal person would do to someone asking them. Well played. I'm not sure why I am surprised but when I got the text on Monday to say "Plane booked see you on the airfield Sat at 9am" it suddenly struck me in a peal of nervous crying and laughter how absurd it is.

I'm scared of heights. Always have been. And I'm a nervous flyer. With anxiety disorder. And so why not pay good money to jump out of a plane at 3000 feet all my myself (screw tandem) hurling towards the ground at terminal velocity. It was at this point that I questioned if anyone had ever peed in the jumpsuit before and said goodbye to all the guys I never had a chance to make out with before death. And made a will leaving it all to my cat including the shoes. No lie.

And yesterday.......................I did it. I fucken did it.

It was the hardest thing I think I've ever done physically and mentally. First off having "known" the instructor for other reasons made me really nervous as well as the fact that I was the freaking remedial kid in the class and kept freaking out and forgetting the steps. At least ten times I thought of backing out. Seriously. But while the others kicked back and chatted and waited for their turn, all day long in the hot sun I practised my jump. The course lasted all day going through everything from what to do if the plane goes down to emergency procedures to what to do if you go off course and hit a building. We went through best case and worst case scenarios. It was around lunch that K asked me how I was feeling and I gave him my most honest answer.

"I'm terrified. Absolutely terrified. I'm scared of heights. I'm scared. But not doing it is not an option."

He smiled and said it a great answer as real courage isn't not being scared. You should be scared when you jump out of a plane. Courage is being scared and doing it anyways. I've never been called courageous before but you wanna know what? I'm gonna take that compliment.

And so I practised. And kept practising. And kept practising. And finally it was time to suit up and jump. The parachute weighed about as much as me, the jumpsuit was stifling hot when in a dusty and insanely hot airfield. And we went up in the plane. The two other jumpers jumped and suddenly it was just the two of us in the plane, jumping at sunset. I was almost crying, I forgot to breathe (sounds ridiculous, but it happens) and almost hyperventilated, but we just looked into each others eyes and slowed breathing and held hands for what seemed like an eternity and then the door opened.....

And as much as they tell you in the class that it's an insanely strong wind, nothing will prepare you for it. It's like standing up in a convertible going 100+km an hour with a 40 (?) lb backpack and nerves. And you climb out on the wing, taking every ounce of brute strength to a certain point and on the cue, you let go. Except I didn't want to let go. So I ignored the command. Again on the second time. Sorry, but gut instinct told me not to let go and I was quite okay with keeping a death grip on the plane wing. I finally did let go, but found out afterwards he was about to pry my hands off anyways.

And then I forgot the proper arching procedure so almost flipped which would have screwed up my lines, but didn't and because of my screw up I actually got to see the moment my parachute opened. And after that, the view. It was hard to steer as it takes tons of strength to do so, and it takes a lot of trust in your flight coordinator as it seems like you're going way off target. But with no wind to help I managed to glide down and had what is considered a 'soft' landing despite faceplanting in the end.

And the feeling.......like nothing I can describe, despite the fact that over 12 hours later I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my body. It was scary, but I did it. It was terrifying, but I did it. I almost chickened out, but I didn't and I fucken did it.

And it got me a thinking yesterday....I'm not the same person I was a five years ago. I'm not even the same person I was a year ago. Honestly I doubt I would have gone through with the jump at either points. Getting suddenly dumped was soul crushing in a way that has stung for longer than words can get into. But I built back up even stronger. If not for that I wouldn't have jumped on a plane with my best friend on a sudden trip across the globe. If not for that I wouldn't have dated some of the weird and wonderful men that have come in my life this past year. Honestly, if not for that I don't know if I would have jumped out of a plane yesterday.

But I did it. And it was amazing, and I am changed because of it. I feel scrappy and I don't feel like I can do anything right now. I know I can. The feeling of independence and power that I have right now is ethereal.

Oh and this totally gives me Bad Ass credibility too, right? Thought so.

Don't Call It A Comeback

2009-08-24T08:36:00.003-07:00

So my blogging minibreak turned out to be a little bit longer than expected, but you know what? I don't regret one single moment of it. The last few weeks I managed to spend time with friends, family, see the facebook wife before she took off to Europe for two months ( her Europe number is now in my phone under "The Whore That Left Me") and going back up northwest for almost a week expedition to see one of my closest gals Pirate Jessica get married.

I was super stoked when there about the post I was going to have about the wedding and all the adventures of the week up north; seeing old friends, the stagette, reconnecting with the town where I grew up, etc. But as with all things ME things have a way or going awry. Horribly, horribly awry. So I'm going to break the story up into two posts. The one I'm going to tell here about the trip from hell and another one to come later with pics to show just how amazing the wedding was complete with happy tears, a radiant bride and groom and amazing, wonderful people.

So. The Story.
(warning, this is gonna be a long one)

My trip up north started a couple weeks ago when I went to the local greyhound to purchase my ticket. I have taken the greyhound travelling numerous times and although gross it is the cheapest way to get from A to B. So I booked my trip to take off the Wed at 1:30 in the morn (blech) to go to Smithers which would arrive there at 2:35 in the afternoon. enough time to have a quick nap and get ready for the bachelorette.

Being riddled with anxiety I went to the bus at 10pm last Tuesday night beforehand to check that the bus was on schedule to leave at 1:30am. The woman announced my ticket was wrong and printed me a new one. Which stated my bus left in exactly fifteen minutes. I panicked and convinced a taxi to follow me home where I threw together a suitcase in record time and ran out the door with the lights still making it on the bus with moments to spare. Whew. That was an exciting time but I made it onto the bus and even managed to doze on the seven hour trip to Prince George where I would have a layover of two hours before continuing my journey the rest of the way to Smithers.

Except when I got to the terminal at 6 in the morning and the driver asked where I was going and I stated Smithers. and he said there must have been a mix up with my ticket. You see, there are no Wednesday buses that go to Smithers.

Oh?

After a bit of panic of waiting for the station to open its ticket counter I did get the confirmation that there was indeed no bus that travels to Smithers on Wednesday.And there was no flight I would have made to Smithers and no trains running that day. I was officially marooned in Prince George-the halfway point- for nineteen hours minimum. And then they lost my luggage. And then I became the crazy person in the greyhound crying and yelling.

Didn't matter, I wasn't going anywheres.

At that point I received a text from the Maid of Shining Honour, Mare saying that she was trying to hook me up with a ride with the groomsmen. And a couple hours later of drinking coffee in a coffee shop it was confirmed that they would be passing through and would pick me up. Knowing that I wasn't going to be stranded forever made it a lot more bearable. After my luggage was found, I even found solace in playing with my makeup kit and giving myself a manicure in the greyhound washroom (I'm ghetto, no?) and finding an internet cafe nearby that allowed me to surf facebook and eat sushi. By the time the groomsmen showed up I had turned my frown upside down and was sitting on patio furniture outside of a department store enjoying the sunshine. I ended up waiting nine hours but nine is better than nineteen. (Math is fun isn't it?)

The groomsmen were amazing for men that had just picked up a stranger off the side of the highway to take on a five hour drive to a wedding. Jessica had been telling me for months she could see me getting along with them swimmingly, one in particular, Brett( with a wink wink nudge nudge) and I can see why. They were hilarious and charming and easy to get along with. We were already making plans of defacing the town mountain goat statue with funny pictures when suddenly I started to feel.......off?

And ten minutes later I felt even....worse?

And ten minutes later I threw up in the backseat of Brett's SUV. And again ten minutes after that. I was grabbing at any bag I could find to ensure not a drop would get on the backseat. But at one point I ran out of bags, so did the next best thing. I rolled down the window and puked all over the Jeep.

Being mortified by my behavior and starting to realize that sushi from an internet cafe was probably not the best of idea I popped gravol like candy only to recycle them at a rapid pace. But some of it did eventually hit my system not stopping my stomach from heaving but leading to an overall high and slight hallucination and tracers and a slur.Meanwhile Jess is texting me to see if Brett and I are getting along yet (wink wink nudge nudge).

Yes, we were getting along as swimmingly as two people can for guys that picked up a woman on the side of the highway only to have her start violently throwing up on his jeep and then slurring gibberish. Did I mention he has a weak stomach too so every time I threw up he slammed it into park and had to run out of the truck to avoid the chain. This went on.

Every.Ten.Minutes.For.Five.Hours.

At that point I had puke on my jacket, in my hair and found myself defeated to writing the text saying I would not be at the bachelorette party while ignoring texts back that I might still make it. Eventually we made it to Smithers where I went to the B&B to sleep and puke the night away.

The next day I eventually made the bridal shower with a bottle of gingerale in tow which happened to be my date for the next three days that I could not eat food. I did not eat food for almost 4 full days. Meaning I was not chock full of hot at the wedding, I'm scrawny to begin with and I looked emancipated in my dress and everyone refered to me at that girl that got stuck in Prince George and was barfing everywhere. Even if I wanted to avoid that title the fact that I could only stomach gingerale at a wedding with free drink tickets would have been a very cruel tip off. I ended up spending a lot of the days eithering sleeping or drinking gingerale and I only felt alive again ON THE GREYHOUND RIDE HOME this last Sunday.

Oh, and sorry Jess that the set up didn't work out. I thank you for trying as I know how you thought Brett and I would go well together, but I don't blame him one bit for politely avoiding me for the remainder of trip. Even if i did try to do the right thing and gave him money to clean his SUV the damage was done.

Oh and after work today I am on my way to try to get the woman fired from Greyhound who sold me the ticket for the bus that doesn't exist and caused the chain reaction in the first place. No joke.

running behind the pack

2009-08-04T18:45:00.005-07:00

I need a week off. Maybe two. I'm burnt out, big time.

Work is starting to eclipse into the personal life and I could almost make a full blackberry schedule out of the personal. Family deciding to surprise visit for over a week was amazing and stressful and time consuming all at once. Laundry and food in the fridge aren't givens and it seems I'm falling behind in my personal life. Coffee dates missed. Friends I don't see as much anymore, some I don't see at all.

I'm sorry but my toothache and vagina are going to have to get a place in line because I don't have time for a dentist appt/pap smear much less a haircut. Someone please tell me where this summer is going?

I can barely find time to upload pics to the new computer before I kill a cell phone and have to find out how to use the next one as well. At this point I'm going to throw fashion aside and wrap everything in bubblewrap as there's no way for finance to keep up with my vengeance for all things expensive and breakable.

Oh and anxiety has reared his ugly head again. How I missed you, you ugly prick.

And then the blog. Sigh. Feeling a week behind all posts. The last to comment. An equally shotty friend on the interworld. Sorry. I suck. And of course that's the one that is stressing me out almost the most.

Which is why I'm going away for a week. Maybe two. And when I come back I'm going to mark all as read, take a deep breath and try to pick up where we left off. For sanity's sake.

Or for the sake of not going postal on the office fax machine, hitting the cell phone with the hammer, crying while uploading pics on the computer, rambling on the blog with random words relating to "fucking split ends.....fucking marking....fucking heat wave" and doing a vlog of drunk crying to Alanis Morisette.

The Hypocrite

2009-07-28T09:51:00.003-07:00

So I had a date last night. A blind date. And it went surprisingly well. We met for drinks at 6 and found ourselves chatting til past 10. He's really smart and funny and charming. He's good looking and a great conversationalist and there was a huge connection. We laughed and bonded and I'm going to kiss and tell when I say that the night ended with a very sweet kiss. All in all first date solid gold.

So last night I went home and (okay I was a little bit drunk) started to tell friends about it. But then rather than say about how funny he is and smart I did what I normally do. I started picking him apart. "yeah i know he just moved here from Toronto but he doesn't have a car"..."yeah but he's in his 30's and just getting his career together"...suddenly there were a million faults and flaws. My swoony date feeling turned into grimace.

It wasn't until I was saying this to my bestie this morning that I got the wake up call I needed, mainly in the form of her ripping me a new asshole (as only a bestie can). "You're going to fault him on not having a car? That's stuck up. And shallow. How many guys have you dated that mind fuck you and treat you like shit that have cars. And this guy seems great and you're going to fault him on transportation?"

Ouch. Harsh.

Ouch...true?

This was a bit of a slap in the face. But albeit maybe one that's needed. I've picked apart men before and had scraps of remains I've found undateable. I've dated men who look great on paper and could have made my hair curl with the horror stories I have. And this guy is honest and witty and charming and I rake through him to try to find reasons not to date him. Maybe I am a little more fucked up than realized. Also, it's not like I'm an ideal person to date. I can be insecure and jealous, I can be clingy and aloof all at the same time. Good times.

Last night I threw out a menagerie of things that one should NEVER bring up on a date. Ex boyfriends-check. One night stands- check. How I get falling down drunk-check. How I got an STI once from a one night stand*- check (seriously who says that on a date? seriously?). And yet he was sweet enough to leave me an email last night just saying how much fun he had with me and how I seem 'real' when the evidence is quite contrary.

Point taken. I think I may invite him out to the lake this weekend. I'll drive of course.

*which was cleared up in one week with antibiotics and is a hard thing to admit on a blog so please be nice.

ALSO: For more proof of what an epic ass I am, go to Paula's blog today where I am doing a guest post :)

Diagnosis

2009-07-21T22:08:00.010-07:00

If you're a borderline hypochondriac *points at self* with a lot of natural health issues *finger still pointed* then the worst thing you can do is google your symptoms. Especially if you have a titchy bit of the crazy. It won't help. I have been feeling a general grossness all day long. Nauseated, dizzy, exhausted, achy, and an oddly tingly tongue. So far google has me convinced I have:

Anemia ( I don't eat meat/poultry and live off diet coke and fries. It's probable anyways)

Diabetes ( I'm severely hypoglycemic so maybe the pancreas decided to do a 180 for kicks)

Mono ( I do kiss a lot of boys)

MS ( What, like it couldn't happen)

The H1V1 virus formerly known as Swine Flu (it's trendy right now)

AIDS (I was promiscuous first year college, what can I say)

I accidentally inhaled meth from the crackheads that stand outside my workplace (it's not weed in their pipes and second hand smoke is serious business)

Immaculate conception (not so slutty now and very very safe)

Syphilis (apparently it's on the rise in BC and in Alberta)

Delayed nerve damage to my tongue from a root canal I got weeks ago.

An allergic reaction to :air/water/coffee/sun......

An unexplained disease that will merit a full chapter in a medical textbook and be named after me one day. "Meghanitis burns like brothel pee and has no known cure"....

This is why I'm going to the doctor tomorrow morning to get blood work done. Because lord knows it can't be something like the flu or just a general run down feeling. That would make too much sense.

Oh and did I mention the irony that I'm terrified of blood test and they make me nauseated and faint and woozy? Yup, it's hard work being this nuts.

Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowgirls

2009-07-15T22:01:00.008-07:00

I just got back from Merritt Mountain Musicfest.

Yes, it's a country music festival, and although I can stomach country (what, I grew up in small town B.C. I know how to two step and wear a cowboy hat) I am still a bit green to the whole country music scene and feel a bit old for rocking out at festivals. But when presented with a free weekend ticket complete with camping in an RV (cost over $300 FREE! )I knew it was too good to pass up. Note I can totally understand why people that paid full price hated me when I had to ask who Kenny Chesney and Jo Dee Messina were.

And yeeehaw, it was a hootenany of a good time.I finally made it to Merritt Mountain after rolling my car on the way two years ago. Remember that post? Yeah. I bussed it this time. But the point is, I made it!

It wasn't quite what people were talking about when Merritt Mountain was in it's prime,(where Maxim magazine dubbed it the third most likely place to get laid at, after Mardi Gras and Cancun-Spring Break) but after seventeen years of playing in Merritt they know how to do it right. It was clean, it was organized and it was a a hell of a good time.

It wasn't the place for fashionistas and name dropping it was a place of dirty sandals and cowboys hats. Mullets and redneck flags and plaid shirts by the dozen. Cowboy boots tromped through mud and the every day people dragged beach chairs to the river to do what we all came there to do. Drink beer, listen to country music and get to know each other. It was friendlier than anything else.

I have to say it was fun to embrace my inner cowgirl for the weekend and drink Bud Lime and dance to the Steve Miller Band and give out some whoops and a few woooohooooooos. Maybe age is catching up with me but my clothes stayed firmly attached on my body, the only thing my lips touched was beer and the only fighting I did was with the current when going upstream to meet others. Lesson learned, myself included, before people judge going to a country musicfest I encourage you to try it on for size and you may just like it as I did. Also, fashion aside after seeing a few of these around I think if anything can bring the fanny pack back, Merritt Mountain can!

Let the Goosh Begin

2009-07-06T21:09:00.015-07:00

A Fairly Fargone Self Portrait....

What a week. I said I wouldn't have a gooshy post about my birthday but it was bound to happen. I think this one could have been the best. Better than the lapdance from a stripper named Maria with loose morales. Better than the threesome after the box of wine. Better than meeting a past fling at a gas station. Drunk. At eleven a.m.

I've matured since then, obviously.

Sarah Kat and I have perfected the drunky hug

I can assure you I was showered with more love and affection than I think words can describe. And I'm a shitty writer with a lot of words in my pocket. Facebook messages, tweets, blog comments, cell phone texts all reasons I love being a social networking slut because the well wishes rained.

I got flowers not once but twice. Neither from a boyfriend but I wouldn't have had it any other way. Chocolate cake during the lunch hour complete with chocolate frosting (which proved to be a late bar snack)from Jessica the Wondergoddess. Friends coming as far from Kelowna and Vancouver to celebrate with babysitters arranged and work schedules balanced. The cutest purse I've ever laid eyes on (to be seen in future posts) golf clubs, fashion, cards that fit to a "t". Oh and a beach bag that reeks of hilarity. A visit from Bachelor #1 (Bachelor #2 is officially dead to me. Don't ask.) with a personal present (wink wink) and a promise to take me skydiving this summer. Nuts!

Two girls. One t-shirt. Great Canada Day.

A new little black dress courtesy of the best wife ever. A trip down the river and a beer garden and dancing to a drum beat around the solstice circle and fireworks (okay, technically these had more to do with Canada Day, but whatever). The laptop I gave myself as a present after not having a laptop for a week. Due to me giving it a christening with an 2ltr Wendy's iced tea. Oooooops.

Dinner and drinks and sparklers in brownies and iced cream and desserts. Enough Starbucks cards to last me...a month. And feed my Subway addiction. And the drinks. Oh dear god, the drinks. Ceasars and margaritas and shooters I've never heard of in my years of bartending.

Dancing. Flirting. Smoking cuban cigars. Hugs, photos. Hottubing. No swimmies allowed. Guys having a peen measuring contest in the hottub. Not looking at it. Seriously. I thought they just did that in the locker room. And there was almost a Bachelor #2 (#2 the sequel?) but a heads up to bachelors it's best not to hit on a girl and then two seconds later to grab her friends number. That is just bad form.

Yeah, my beach gear has street cred. And bows. Got a problem with that?

Realistically any time I ever complain about being lonely, I need to just turn to this post as I don't know when I've had that much fun in ages and felt so cared for. I have the best friends. I have the best family. I have tons to be grateful for....

The wife got me a plate with dividers so my foods don't have to touch. That's love.

But seriously, what drunkenly possessed me to finish the salmon burger that was left in the car for 7 hrs after dinner is beyond me. Friday was the grossest day of my life.

I Like Birthday Bumps

2009-06-30T08:58:00.000-07:00

Guess what Thursday is? July 2nd. Also known as the day that I entered the world 29 years ago aka MY BIRTHDAY! But 29 has an uncomfortable ring to it so this year I am celebrating my 28th birthday Version 2.0. So rather than having a post where I talk about how much I learned over the year and how I'm going to manage the steep decline to 30 without self medication and wine(answer: I'm not), I'm just gonna blabber 'bout 29 random factoids bout myself for you to ponder over and wonder why I'm allowed this little space on the interwebs for myself.

1.) I am a horrible driver to the point that they call me 'Crash' at work. I have to date; ran over a railway crossing sign with my parents new SUV, fender bendered a Mercedes, hit a parked jeep, totalled an ex boyfriends car by hitting his friends car, hit another car that the girl had bought off the lot not only two hours before, rolled my car on the Coquihala and hit the cement stopper for parking every single day.

2.) So would it really be a surprise to see that I have been nominated twice for the show Canada's Worst Drivers?

3.) I love Diet Coke and hate Regular Coke but love Regular Pepsi and hate Diet Pepsi.

4.) Speaking of I live off fake sugar and Splenda is a godsend. I know reports have shown it's horrible for you, can cause early alheimers and pretty much rots your brain. But sugar rots your teeth and I can see my teeth whereas I can't see my brain so fake sugar wins.

5.) I don't like getting it on in the dark. Too dark. Candlelight or lamps, please.

6.) I just played my first ever game of beer pong last week.

7.) I tend to have trust issues with women more than men even though I've been cheated on by men.

8.) If you're a guy and you're cute, I've probably imagined us having sexytime together.

9.) I like porn. There. I said it.

10.) I am the worst singer you'll ever meet. But it doesn't stop me from belting out 'Small Town Girl' any time I ever hear it at a pub Every. Single. Time.

11.) I am fiercely loyal to the friends I have in my life, but I don't make friends easy. I have tons of acquantences but only a handful of really, really close friends.

12.) I only smoke when I drink. A pack of cigarettes will last me months and I'll freeze them or throw them out when they dry up. But will freak out if I don't have cigarettes on me. Cigarettes and beer are like ghetto wine and cheese.

13.) I'm the person people tend to open up to. I'm not sure why but people feel comfortable telling me all sorts of things. Friends. Strangers. It can be odd but also flattering.

14.) I had a stalker in second year college. Like a bonafide stalker, none of this half assed bullshit. He was never convicted and is still out there. I have made sure not not have a landline phone ever since and my address is not easily traceable.

15.) I worked for MTV Canada for one day years ago. I was deemed 'not cool enough' to work there full time. But it's okay. Cause I swiped food that was on the bands rider for the dressing room. Heh. Score one for eating Matt Good's cheese.

16.) I don't care how vulgar and uneducated it makes me sound, I fucken LOVE swearing.

17.) I want to meet one of those people where you stay up all night talking. They may only be in your life for a day but they will make an impact. It's been awhile since I've met one of those people.

18.) I don't floss regularly.

19.) I still can't call guys. Or if I do, I get completely nervous and clam up like I'm in highscool. It's a fear I've never outgrown.

20.) I have one tattoo on my back that is the japanese character for 'dreamer'. I plan on adding the characters for hope and strength this year.

21.) My favourite thing about myself is the fact that I am a natural redhead. I think we're special. Like an endangered species. I finally believe my mom when she says people would pay good money to have my hair.

22.) I would eat almost anything if it had cheese or chocolate on it.

23.) Even in my late twenties I still can't have foods touch each other on a plate. Every food has it's own special area on the plate and they are not friend with each other.

24.) I hate nightclubs. I like pubs. I like open mic sorts of bars or music venues, but hate nightclubs.

25.) I have twelve months to give all the people at 20SB a lapdance as a bribe to be a featured writer (lets be honest here. I'll do it either way).

26.) I never had my first "real" kiss until I was 18.

27.) If I comment on your blog and you don't comment on mine back I'lll take it personally.

28.) I have a knack for naming things. The laptop that died as of Sunday (water+laptops=not friends) was Winston(est 2005-2009). My car is Buzz Lightyear (cause it's an Infiniti). My vibrator was Travis (from blink182). My Blazer was Bessie (for the cow that died for the leather seats), and so forth.

29.) If I'm in an elevator by myself (not glass) I will do a dance but immediately stop when the doors open on any floor and them resume when it's just me again.

So since comments are my crack cocaine go on and give me a hit and throw me some comment love (and I mean you delurkers) to make my (birthday) day! Or just come here and I'll give you a piece of birthday cake.

The Legacy

2009-06-25T21:27:00.007-07:00

If you have access to a television, radio, Internet, twitter, blogosphere or facebook you probably know by now that Michael Jackson died today of a heart attack.

Wow. Didn't see that one coming.

It wasn't even ten minutes after TMZ reported it, and http://www.idontlikeyouinthatway.com/, followed that it started to spread like wildfire and for once the rumours appeared to be true.

It wasn't even twenty minutes afterwards that facebook statuses spat out everything from, "MJ, you truly were the king of pop" and "Where were you when Michael Jackson died?" to the more cryptic humour of, "A million little boys can sigh a breath of relief tonight" and "But his nose was so young."

In the last few hours of listening to radio and other news outlets there seems to be a divide in the reaction. Shock by all, but slowly he is shaping as either the hero or the villain.

The boy wonder turned pop star who blew people's minds with his iconic song, dance and sense of entertainment. A man who was beyond his time and courted the public and media better than any coked out starlet now (remember when MJ and Madonna went to the Oscars together? holy publicity batman!).The Elvis for our times. A humanitarian, a confused soul, a man who never knew how to grow up, a father and an icon. A legacy.

The man who mocked us with his face but claimed natural beauty. The man who had children over at his house in inappropriate scenarios. The pedophile. The recluse. The bankrupt shell of what he was. A man with all ego. The self proclaimed victim. Jacko the Wacko. The poor father. The bad example. The eccentric. The crazy.

Why does he have to be one of the other? Why is history trying to typecast his stone so soon? We like our celebrities to be one dimensional as it makes them easier to relate to. The good guy. The bad guy. But people are not built that way, as we all have layers, we all have secrets and love and shame and good days and bad periods.

He spent almost forty-five of his fifty years in the public eye. What will his legacy be? Verdicts out, but I don't think it can be summed up in one sentence even if we wanted to. Suddenly people are talking about him as if he was a high school friend. He was a childhood icon, but just because he died doesn't mean I know any more about him today that I did yesterday. I don't know him. I don't know what his thought were and am in no place to try to summarize him as a person.

But we on the whole are the ones that create his legacy. Who will tell our children one day about the man whose poster was on my wall. The man who created a scary music video and dance that revolutionized all content to come afterwards. The man who once had so much love from the public was castrated by the media and courts and the reputation of a molester never truly went away. A father. A brother. A son. And really at the end of the day, he may have had air in his shoes and glitter on his hand but he was not Invincible.

What do you think Michael Jackson's legacy will be?

*I also say this also in light of Farrah Fawcetts passing today as well. She fought cancer hard and she fought it with class. I suspect her legacy will always be that of one of Charlie's true Angels.

The Post Where I Tried Running and Died

2009-06-21T21:27:00.007-07:00

Over the last month or so I've had a couple "gentlemen callers" in my life and it's been a good time (it's not as trampy as it sounds, honestly). But there's been one thing I can help but notice glaringly by having interactions with these men. They're both extremely active. Ugggh. Bachelor#1 just went to the Himalayas/India for three weeks to hike mountains in the snow. For fun! He's obviously insane and not to be trusted. Bachelor #2 also likes to wake up at the crack of dawn to run up mountains for fun. He calls it a 'hobby'. Meh.

The problem is that it draws attention to the fact that not only am I NOT extremely active I am not active at all. I sheepishly admit here that I have been almost proud of my laziness over the years and it's taken a lot of practise at doing nothing. Unfortunately it's also resulted in me having the lungs of an eighty year old crackwhore and the energy of a sloath. Extreme yoga helped with getting a bit back but I've still got a long ways to go before I would be what physicians call 'in shape'.

So with men as my motivation (what, did you think health and well being was going to do it?) I have decided to get into shape. But being poor means not paying a gym fee, so I looked at other means. Namely running.

The first challenge with this is I don't get running. I mean sure, go for it if some one's chasing you with a chainsaw or a bear is on your trail but otherwise I've never understood the appeal. When I see people running by me in the park I tend to give them a sideways glance of w.t.f. which could be translated as, "Why are you running when there are so many funner ways of transportation like sashaying and moseying and driving half a block down the streets in your car just to drop off the movie that's three days late."

But often where there is not understanding, there is curiosity and so I decided to go forth and venture to try this "running" out. First things a runner needs is a cute outfit. Check. Next, running shoes. Unfortunately for someone with over 30 pairs of shoes in the closet these were the closest I got to sneakers and velcro straps weren't just gonna cut it.

So off to Wallyworld I went to get runners that were cooler.There. I don't have a pic so you're going to have to trust me that they're cooler. Not that it would be hard to top the velcro/plastic sneaks. Only thing is it seems odd to wear socks with runners but even odder to not. Do they have to be black and match? What's the fashion etiquette of running?

But the next part in question was where I would keep my stuff? I mean I can't take a purse on a run and I can't not bring my car keys as well as a few dollars (in case I run past the ice cream shop) and ID. And fannypacks are obviously out of the question. I didn't trust leaving my purse in the car my the nice park area as it's not the best area of town ( homeless people like a view too I guess). So I did what any person would do. And shoved the loot down my shirt. With both a workout bra and normal bra it wasn't going to go anywheres.

And then I ran. And it was....odd. Note I run the way Phoebe Buffey does on the infamous Friends episode, so it's quite a sight to be seen.

Maybe I'll get Leanne to do a video feed one day so you can see the trainwreck for yourself. I almost hyperventilated a few times. I didn't. I almost threw up a few times. I didn't. But I didn't I would have shanked anyone for a water bottle by the end and made a mental note to bring one the next time. But all in all it wasn't the worst experience I've had. And may even try it again. But next time I'm going to throw 'Eye of the Tiger' on my MP3 player so I can pretend I'm preparing for a big fight in the end. Or in my case sexy time where I don't have to stop for a breather/glass of water.

Summer Lovin Gal

2009-06-15T23:16:00.009-07:00

Things I'm Currently Lovin 'Bout This Sweet Ass Summer

Finally learning to like driving again and feeling comfortable in the driver's seat.

Hot weather=people wearing less clothes=randy folk. Nuff said

Scoops ice cream (with over 50 flavours of ice cream) a block from my work. Coincedence, I think not!

Nom, Nom, Nom Rootbeer Float Iced Cream

Downtown musicians and vendors than make the lunch break so much more enjoyable

Metric- Gimme Sympathy (I have such a girl crush on Emily Haines)

Weekend plans that revolve around maximum time spent outside.

Thundershowers.

Bbq's with firepits and s'mores.

Maxi dresses. Passionfruit iced tea. Cold Stella's & Corona's.

Dinner salads on downtown patios.

Bright colours everywhere!

Everyone becomes more laid back.

Floating the river and pretending to be a pirate. Actually, screw pretending. I'd declare mutiny for beer or bling.

Summering' at the lake every weekend and trips on the boat. Riding on a dolphin, doing flips and shit.

Working on my golf game.

Balls. I gotz them.

Things I'm Currently Hatin Bout This Sweet Ass Summer

Boob sweat. Thigh sweat. There, I said it.

A broken a/c making my place so unbearable I put my Tinkerbell in the freezer (she has a fur jacket in the summer!) for a minute so she could cool off.

Bug bites the size of a loonie from being at the lake.

Date dude saying he was going off to Vancouver for four days which actually meant going around the coast for three weeks before updating his facebook status to say he moved to Edmonton. Guess I'm not getting that kiss.

Feeling out of the blogging loops cause I've either at work or out and about doing summer stuff.

Working long hours and having people come in with iced caps talking about how "it's soooo gorgeous out today, you should see it!". Like I hadn't thought of that. When in the classroom.

Melty makeup face.

People on bicycles that hog up the whole road. It's hard to save the world when I'm running you over!

Still sucking at my golf game.

But, at the end of the day when you look out and see views like this the positive outweighs the negative anyday!

LOVE

Meghan is Funnier on Facebook

2009-06-08T08:46:00.003-07:00

First off thanks for all the nice comments regarding the last post, I really appreciate them. I think everyone in this big 'ol blogosphere we gots going on can feel the self induced pressure from trying to be witty/deep/interesting sometimes and it's hard thing to admit when you've lost your blogging mojo. It really is a "it's not you, it's me" situation.

With that in mind, I'm not taking a break but the posts may be a bit scattered til I get the mojo back. And no I am not going to turn into a "writer"* as much I wish to be. Perhaps it was too much sun that made me forget my actual writing is the literary equivalent of lycra induced cameltoe on a hot day. Gross. Save the writing for bloggers like Peter DeWolf** who are good at it. And as Nick pointed out I'm (by blogging) already pretentious enough. Next thing you'll know I'll be posting about drinking oaked chardonnay at quaint Bistro's while reading Faulkner. Except this is me and it's more likely to be a box of the house white while eating day old pizza and reading the comics section of The Province.

But I digress.

Short of an artsy *** photo of my toes or something or an artsy**** poem about my cat don't expect anything big to be coming out of here any time soon. Instead I've just compiled a list of some of my facebook statuses for the last couple months as I find myself to be hilarious on facebook. Most others probably wouldn't agree. But that's why they're blocked and deleted.

Meghan L: sealegs or still drunk?

Meghan L is going on a motherf*&^%ing boat, wearing her flippy floppies....

Meghan L .....so Shenanigans is your name? I'm Hijinks. Charmed I'm sure. Would you like to join my friend Friday in a sexy three way?.....

Meghan L: Hello Friday. You're looking mighty sexy. Would you like anything? A cold beer? A BJ?......

Meghan L 's air conditioner sucks. If anyone needs me I'll be hanging out in the fridge.

Meghan L ...and this headache today is sponsored by wine. Smooth, tasty wine. Pick some up from your liquor store today!

Meghan L admires children for their carefree attitude of swimming in the river with no concerns of duck mites and dead hookers.

Meghan L is too old to be jailbait, too young to be a cougar, so will settle for being a floozy.

Meghan L is bored and playing with superglue and can see no possibility of error in this plan.

Meghan L skipped yoga for pizza and found inner peace with that instead.

Meghan L just realized her neighbour has been staring at her. But rather than being creeped out is upto the challenge of staring back while mouthing "you're dead motherf*CKer"...

Meghan L 's favourite foods are the ones that require no dishes.

Meghan L is getting paid to disrobe in front of students and get massaged. I love my job.

Meghan L feels like Canucks are that token ex that doesn't get better in bed, but she keeps sleeping with anyways just out of hope and desperation.

Meghan L is starting to flex her drunk texting fingers......

Meghan L is going to extreme yoga tonight. Fight club seemed too tame.

Meghan L has a hot date with the sun. Get it? The sun? It's hot. Hah.

Meghan L is going to be reincarnated as an 80's hair band slut.

Meghan L has no voice anymore so will convey her opinions through body language, starting........now.

And as of today...

Meghan L would like to spend all day on her back, in bed. Sleeping. Perverts.

* you totally called my bluff there
**A fellow Canadian blogger/writer who sorta intimidates me.
***drunk
****drunk

For One Day

2009-06-02T23:20:00.002-07:00

With people dropping like flies in the blogosphere and a struggle to bring steam to the ol' blogtrain myself it brings forth questions; but not the initial question I first thought of-

Why do I blog?

As that one has many answers. I blog to find community. I blog to feel justified in my feelings, thoughts and actions. I blog to write, to clarify and to entertain. I blog because sometimes I don't even know what I'm feeling before the words come out. I blog because there are some stories that are too good to keep to yourself. I blog to come to terms with my past. I blog to help gain hope and perspective for the future. I blog because I have read stories with tears in my eyes due to laughter and deep sadness. I blog because I have found people that I consider friends. I blog because it makes me feel like a writer. I blog because it makes sense.

And yet despite all this it is still a struggle. It could be the sunshine and the warmer weather, but I have troubles sitting down and getting the words out. The keyboard is not my friend. I always feel behind in commenting on other people's blogs. The person who laughs last at the joke. The person who goes too long between posts to not lose readers. The person who isn't as funny or as clever as the profile write up would imply. The person that dreads coming up with new post ideas.

An so instead I posed a new question to myself:

What if you became a writer for a day?

No site meter. No blog surfing....just....a writer. Someone with no focal point of entertainment. No justification through comments. A writer who writes what they want with no deadline. No formatting. Someone who doesn't bedazzle a story with clip art. Raw. Uncensored. Not trying to find the funny in the mundane. Not trying to find the summary of the lesson. Not aiming to please. Just me. Just writing.

I like this idea. I think it's time to introduce writer Meghan to this blog. Hope you like her.
If not, that's okay too.

The End of the Night

2009-05-27T21:47:00.003-07:00

I love first dates. Love them. There's such a nervousness and electricity abut them that I can't help but get off on the nervous energy. A lot of people hate first dates but I figure a good one will have the right amount of laughter and convo and sexual energy and a bad one is good for the blog foddler so either way it's a win-win.

The one last night was good. Someone I have known for awhile now but never gone on an ctual date with. The right amount of laughter was there. Conversation. Manners. All in all a good date and worthy of a second one.

Then he drives me home and as we pull up to my place it's that awkward moment...you know the one....do you kiss or not? So we both did the nervous laughter and the fidgety stuff while saying the prerequisite, "I had a good time" blah blah....and then it's that moment. And we just sit there eyeballing each other to make the move for what had to be a full on thirty seconds ( Do you know how long thirty seconds is to do that? Go on and do it right now, stare down someone down for thirty seconds. Weird, isn't it?).

And he went in for the kiss while I went in for the hug. And he got my hair.

And then to backtrack, I went in for the kiss while he pulled away. So I full on missed.

So I muttered something about calling me and then played with the door handle to unlock it before realizing IT WAS ALREADY UNLOCKED and bolting from the car with a confused and somewhat amused guy waiting behind in it. And then shaking my head all the way to the door.

Goodnight kiss, fail.

Time Heals all Wounds

2009-05-22T10:05:00.003-07:00

So, I ran into the one ex a few weeks back. Like, literally almost ran into him. And his reaction was to jump, and give a haphazard smile before turning and running in the other direction.

I love when I have that reaction with men.

And the sad thing is, I was the one to say hello despite the fact that almost six months later (not to mention the fact that I am somewhat involved with someone now) seeing him still makes me feel like throwing up. It literally knocks the wind out of me and my stomach does a fair ride flip.

Not fun.

But then last night, I was driving throughout town when at a stoplight, I saw a familiar face pulled up next to mine. The ex that three years ago ripped out my heart and threw it in a blender. The one that left me for a friend/coworker and was (part of) the reason I ended up on strong antidepressants. The one that made it feel physically ill to go to work every day and see them together and prompted me to leave that job to get the one I have now. The one that lied and manipulated and took advantage of my anxiety to paint a picture of paranoia rather that confess his wandering. The one I hated for embarrassing me publicly and couldn't be in the same room with.

And the thing is when I saw him, he smiled and waved. And I smiled and waved back. No anger. No tears. No nothing. Just a nod of recognition before heading on my way.

One day, down the road I'll get there with G. Not any time soon, but one day.

I'm Not Dead Yet (At Least So Far Today)

2009-05-17T18:58:00.010-07:00

Yikes, holy unplanned for hiatus, batman! It's not for a lack of wanting to, but just a lack of having the time to. That and a tich of writers block has set in.

Observe....

I can't really review the new Star Trek movie other than saying,

Yummmmmmmmm. Same goes for Gambit in X-Men Origins. Yes, I'm apparently twelve. But these men can turn anyone into a bit of a sci fi nerd. Meowch, Spock!

Oh, and speaking of yummy what's summer without downloading some great tunage. Although I'm sure most of my musical tastes are outdated (you know you're old when you don't care about being musically relevent and don't have a time to search out indie bands to sneer at top 40 music). But right now I'm loving....

Lenka- Trouble is a Friend *

Great singalong for in the car. Which brings me to the next bit of summer news, for the first time since I took my car for a steamroll on the highway I drove to and fro at a distance of over ten minutes. I drove out to the lake to spend time at the bestie's cabin. It's only about 70min away but it still means driving on the highway and considering I'm here to write this post its a successful mission. Lame or not its still a feat that took a lot of self pep talks to conquer. But the risk of imminent death is always worth it when you see that her family just got ....

Puppays!** Two of the cutest puppays in the whole world. There is nothing these two little rascals can do that isn't cute. Trust me. They were even cute when waking me up at 6am to chew on my nose. Annoying, yes. Cute, yes.

And this is their very jealous housemate wearing a cowboy hat to try to pull of being cute too. Nice try, but the puppies got the attention right now by default of newness. But I still love Flint too.

Also speaking of pets, you know it's not just my blog I'm currently neglecting to work on my golf game and tan when I was about to go out yesterday and notices SomeOne *hmmm, tinkerbell*had hopped in my purse along for the ride. It's only subtle when you're not the same size as the purse, however.

Other than that, it's been sunshine and roses in Meghanville. Summer is finally hee and even though the skies are still a bit grey for my liking it's the time to work on the tan, ogle people showing more skin (sunglasses are made for creeping) and get the road trips a going. This is what I've been upto so far on this May long weekend, what have you been doing with yours?

*I don't know how to post actual Youtube videos on my blog. If anyone can tell me how (cause I really am that dumb) feel free to comment or email.

**Even though I look ridiculous in this photo it's the best one of the pups so it's the one you guys get. Who says I'm not nice.

The Best Things in Life Aren't Free

2009-05-07T19:47:00.007-07:00

I want it, and I want it all right now.

Stuff.

Fashion stuff, household stuff, stuff I don't even need or would know what to do with. Bring it on. My 101 list said I had to be debt free within 3 years and I have over 29 months left. Laughable. Bring. It. On.*

The thing is, normally I am quite the thrifter. Not by choice, but by survival. Even at twenty eight I am not beyond living paycheque to paycheque. It's become more of a lifestyle than anything. Living by myself equals rent, utilities, student loan payments, car insurance, food, credit and survivalist bills. This leave me with very very little bling to fiddle with, and the day to day necessities like coffee, and the occasional cheesecake or sushi date (any financial advisor that tells me these are not necessities can cram it) tend to eat it up.

I'm usually the one that can't afford stuff. Wait, let me correct that, I'm still the one that can't afford that stuff. Redheads tend to look good in green, and the green I usually wear is envy of friends who can afford frivolous and fancy things.Tech things. Shoes things. Purse things. Concert things. All a sounding board for me to be jealous of you. But suddenly with age, it's like a certain amount of vanity and entitlement has kicked in.

I feel like a failure when at twenty eight there are people my age that own nice cars, houses, have travelled extensively, and can buy nice clothes knowing that they don't need to stress about it. It's not fair to pin your life against anyone else's as we all have different paths, but at a certain point it's hard not to take a look around and see that I don't measure up. I don't regret the choices I have made as going to school in a different town and paying for it with student loans/waitressing jobs made me a stronger person, I just wish it wasn't still biting me in the ass with diamond encrusted teeth.

I don't wanna live in a student's apartment anymore, filled with makeshift tupperware end tables. I want a big bed with 300 thread count sheets and jewellery to go with outfits that match. I want to shop at a thrift store cause I want to not because I have to. I want to be able to get my eyebrows waxed without the consumer guilt kicking in (although really it's not laziness, it's essential. I can't draw a straight line much less pluck hair in a shaping motion). I want a gorgeous balcony with a quaint bistro and BBQ, not winter tires and a hand me down plastic chair set. Right now I could easily name twenty things I WANT off the tops of my head and could realistically justify them all to myself.

Of course as much as I have a hard on for all things material right now and could easily be portrayed as a slightly less popular Sophie Kinsella novel character, I don't want to slide down the slippery slope of debt. I watch shows like 'Til Debt Do Us Part' and want to shake the people in it as it's petty, immature and reckless behavior that has gotten them into those messes in the first place. It doesn't take a psychologist to realize that I am trying to validate worth through "things" to make up for certain life expectations not met at this age. And validation through finance is a dangerous game to play. Spending outside your means is a deliberate choice, plain and simple.

This isn't just a post to bitch and kvetch, even though I'm good at it, and could probably make a whole blog of whining, but to see if anyone else is in the same place. Do your wants sometimes out weight the logic of savings? How do you curb the cravings for Stuff? How does one start to become financially secure while trying to gain as they move into a more adult lifestyle? Any tips on how to come into my own economically without fisting my credit card? Some insight, tips, or just people relating so I know this is Normal would be muchly appreciated.

Same with a million dollars.

*By debt I don't mean student loans. Student loans are like the herpes of debt and shall stay with me for life with occasional flare ups of interest.

Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies

2009-05-03T16:27:00.007-07:00

Alright, I have to say those were some interesting, creative and insightful questions so thanks to everyone who threw one my way. I hope I did my best to answer them!

Ben asked, "Your worst personal moment of 'the crazy'? i.e. a time that you look back and go: WTF?!"

Hmmm, it's hard to narrow down just one but I have to say 2 nights that were documented through blog posts represent the reason I don't drink so heavily anymore.

One involved waking up in a bed with my arch nemesis while I was missing clothes/my panties/my cell phone/ my house keys/my money/ my jacket (all lost at various random points throughout town) and of course my dignity.

The second involved accidentally taking home my 22 year old boss from a company I no longer work at.

Oh and when I was twenty I got banned for life from a Denny's after going there mid afternoon to have 'pleasant chat' with what was a very recent ex turned into a screaming match involving throwing things. Yep. I'd say I displayed "The Crazy" very well in that encounter. And yes, I've never gone back to that Dennys since just in case eight years later someone remembers me.

Joyless Prole asked, "Have you ever cheated? "

Plain and simple, yes. I have once in a relationship about six years ago. I do regret it but adamently do not believe "once a cheater always a cheater" as I think there are the people who cheat just to do it or cause they can and the people who find themselves seeking elsewhere cause they aren't getting what they need out of the relationship.

In this instance it was an emotionally abusive relationship where I was made to feel dirty and tarnished and was accused of cheating throughout the duration of the relationship. After months of being degraded as a slut and a cheater I finally caved in a "if he thinks I'm going to do it anyways, why not do it anyways that way he can actually have something to call me a slut about" way. There were also thinly veiled threats about if I ever left him....so if anything I thought that by cheating he would dump me and I wouldn't have to worry about him ever following through on any threats. Cheating to me=dumped=freedom. Instead he just set down more ground rules for me, but by that time the damage was done and it ended. It doesn't make sense and it certainly doesn't make it right but I did it. Now I know the lesson first off not to be in a relationship like that ever again (duh) but also just the basic rule that if you've checked out the relationship before the other person, have the decency to end it. I have not cheated since, nor do I ever intend to.

Maxie asked "Tell a TMI! It doesn't have to be your "big" one that you don't want to tell. Just something hilarious :-)"

I've said someone else's name in bed. I've slept with a guy who's name I didn't know. And I will only take it in the pooper once I'm married and it'll be saved for birthdays and anniversaries.

Angela asked "Have you ever been arrested?

Not officially, but I was slapped on the wrist by police when I was twenty relating to a certain herbal supplement B.C. is known for. Oh to be young and foolish again. Oh and I was charged during my car accident last year for excessive speeding and I certainly deserved that.

What's something you've learned about yourself from blogging?
Through blogging I have realized I'm more hopeful than I let on. During my day to day life I can be quite high strung and a bit of a realist to the point of being cynical. It's nice to see I still have a hopeful side to me when it comes to love, ambition and goals.

What's a career you'd love to do, but it's just not realistic?"
Anything to do with healthcare. Everyone in my family is in the medical field but me and even I have my level 2 first aid (which yes, I have used in emergency situations). Academically I am fascinated by health care and biology, but have a very very weak stomach that would prevent any career in it.

Nivelo asked "What was your proudest moment? Something that you achieved and do you feel you could of done more or less to get there."

Honestly, I have to say getting my degree. It's not that it's particularly hard to get a degree and a lot of people have them, it's just that the road was bumpy through college and I almost gave up many a times. Depression, anxiety,bad relationships, finances and self sabotage all provided large road blocks along the way so when I finally got my degree at 24 it was a very proud moment to be the first person in my family to have a college education. As far as something more I could have done; yeah, not drank away the first two years college/student loan money and gotten a C average. Not the smartest move, but it's all a learning experience.

Random Musings of My Life asked, "One of your biggest regrets from high school?First boy you kissed?First girl you kissed?Most embarrassing moment while drinking too much!"

Biggest regret in highschool- coloured jeans. Otherwise I have no regrets.

First boy I kissed- his name was Kevin and we were in grade two and we kissed during story time and I was the first girl in my class to kiss a boy. It ended with a meeting with both our parents and the teacher and assigned and different seating. Then over the summer Kevin started dating one of my classmates.

First girl kissed- Her name was Jamie, we were eighteen in an overcrowded hottub and we had some tequila which helped with the decision. It was way before kissing girls ever became cool.

Most embarrassing moment is still the story I have is about

"Loving Sodomy"

which is linked and I insist you go to and read (and yes I just linked it in the last post too). Go on and read it, I'll wait....................done yet? Yeah you can see why it's one of my finer moments.

Lad Litter asked, "Hi Meghan! Have you ever let a friend down really badly."

Yes, yes I have. It's a personal matter but I will say I have hurt a friend badly enough for them to end the friendship with me, and rightfully so. I miss them and always will but respect that they moved on with their life. I can say I have changed a lot since then, but sometimes the hardest lessons have the strongest consequences.

Foggy Dew asked, "Aside from the fact we live in different countries, what is it that makes Canadians and Americans different? Seriously, a friend from Toronto gave me her thoughts and I'm curious what other people think. What Canadian attributes would make Americans better? What American attributes would make Canadians better?"

Well I think fundamentally we're all the same and having travelled through the States I can say I've honestly met some of the nicest people there. I'd say the biggest differences I've noticed are that the media in the States tends to report in a way that creates fear through society rather than information (and that's not to say any media is objective). And with fear comes irrational judgement calls as I have seen with American war policies, health issues and global relations. That's a Canadian attribute I'd say could be passed along to the media, is to find the information, question the resource and then present it in a manner that promotes logic, rather than reaction.

Oh,you don't have Ketchup/ Dill Pickle chips in the States and we do.

As far as American attributes we could use, I find Americans tend to be more appreciative of health care and higher education as both are more expensive in the states which we tend to take for granted here. Also whereas I find Canadians tend to be more well travelled internationally, many (myself included) have not travelled our own country extensively whereas Americans are more travelled throughout their own country and appreciate the tourism more which we could use. Also Americans can be incredibly hospitable to tourists whereas we can be snobbish to American tourists ( I say that as someone who worked in a tourism field for years). Of course this is just my opinion and I'm just one person and I'm not speaking on behalf of Canadians or Canadian society.

But at the end of the day we're all just people doing our people thang.

Slyde asked, "How exactly do you manage to keep your hands off of me? We both know you want me.... why do you fight it so hard?"

It is hard and something I struggle with every single day. Constant masturbation and the good ol' right click/save button have made it easier but distance is only so far away.

Jamie asked, Will you marry me?Also, why aren't you going to Vegas when everyone else in blog world is?"

Ummm, yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But note I am facebook married but am alright with the bigamy of being blogaged too if you're okay with the logistics. And can we get married in Vegas? Who is going to Vegas? I'm so out of the loop :( I wanna come!

Paula asked, "Where is the weirdest place you ever had sex?Plus i think you need to tell the sodomy story again - or at least link to it for those who missed it . . . ;)"

Weirded place- on the presidents desk at my old university.

And that's hilarious that you mentioned that because this is the second post in a row I linked the story :)

Mike asked, "If you could change anything about yourself, what would it be?"

Physically I'd have a cuter nose. Baseball has not been kind to me. And butt. I have no badunkadunk in my trunk. Emotionally I wouldn't take things so personally. Mentally I'd less high strung and not sweat the small stuff, as well as be less judgemental and critical of people. For someone's who has admittedly learned a lot of lessons through making mistakes I sometimes get frustrated with people who maybe have to experience something themselves in order to see the big picture and am in no place to.

Racquel asked, "Spits or swallows?"

Despite my almost vegetarian diet lacking protein I don't get it from the money shot. I tend to spit. But do find that if you use an altoid in your mouth (it creates a nice tingle for the guy) and you deepthroat right when they're about to finish swallowing's not so bad.

Truth or Truth

2009-04-30T13:27:00.004-07:00

I'm going to steal this one from Angela over at My Quiet Testimony (just call me Miss Musings) and am going to use this post to open the platform to you guys to ask any questions at all; none too private, embarrassing or silly and I'll open up wide and spill the beans. You have til Sunday and they'll all be answered. Go ahead.

I dare you.

My Mouth is My Weapon and I'm All Outta Ammo.

2009-04-26T11:20:00.010-07:00

So, as noticed by the highly astute Lanette I am infact a dirty liar with pants set ablaze on fire as I failed to meet my self imposed deadline. But that's not to say I am not chock full of good excuses for my lack of fun-ness and overall shenanigans.

1.) The TMI Story; yeah I just chickened out. Plain and simple. I'll talk about my encounters with vibrators on here, bad dates, grilled cheese sex and my love for sodomy but there are some stories that even I can't bring myself to share here. The boundaries I have may stretch as far as the naked eye can see but they are out there somewhere just like the force. And when I cannot be certain of family friends/coworkers and others possibly reading my blog I just can't open up the deepest darkest corners into my hall of shame. At least not this week.

2.) Health hell. Plain and simple. Remember how in the last post I explained that this is the busiest time of year for work up until later next week? Well, I thought it would be a little better if I could pull off event coordinator hell with a few challenges thrown in. So I promptly lost my voice for three days. Now although it doesn't excuse the lack of blog postage as blogs involve writing not speaking, it is tiring to want to blog after you have been typing your message to your coworkers all day (CAP LOCKS MEANS I'M YELLING AT YOU! ALTHOUGH LESS SCARY, IT STILL MEANS SOMTHING!) and conversing through lewd body language. It's surprising I don't have more sexual harrassment suits against me. I'll have to start trying harder.

But that's not the icing to the sweet week of hell cupcake, the sugary buttercream frosting involved massive dental surgery yesterday.

Wheeeeeeee!

See, once upon a time I got my wisdoms/2nd molars out ( I hve a very tiny mouth and they don't fit. That's what she said.) Turns out the nice dentist lady didn't take it all out (that's not what she said). Namely chunks o' leftover teeth (feel free to cringe and vomit now). After meeting with my current very nice dentist who is as generous with drugs as she is with compliments it was decided they were coming out once and for all as well as one tooth that was damaged in my massive car wreck last year that involved a mouth full of glass. It's a shoddy deal to realize via x-ray that you have to get stuff taken out of your face, but it could be worse. I could be this gal.

Talk about paying out the ass for your cell phone bill.

Anyhoozle, back to the story. So after getting proked, prodded and pulled yesterday it was upto my bestie Leanne to take care of the drugged out mess that was me. Being that I was on Ativan. novocaine, T3's, ibuprophen, antibiotics and more; I am currently a walking pharmacy plug that would make Lindsay Lohan cream her panties. Needless to say yesterday was a complete blur and I don't even remember being in the Superstore to pick up my prescriptions. And it doesn't explain why my ass is sore today. Leanne? I'm looking at you.

So today I am puffy, can't talk, drugged out and drooling. I think it's safe to say I'm finally getting closer to being "the marrying kind". At least right now I can constitute puddings and T3 as breakkie with any feelings ouf guilt. That guilt shit just ruins everything. So if you don't see me for a few more days that's the reason why; I'm going to be running around and coordinating events as all good event coordinators do, but this time with the added bonus of chipmunk face and a menagerie of antibiotic good times.

This is Meghan, With Your News Update

2009-04-19T11:26:00.007-07:00

In the news this week...

I'm way too busy with work right now. Like waaaay too busy. In my job there are roughly 2 periods (spring and fall) where for 3 weeks I am running off my feet. I'm halfway through the stretch and burning out fast. Yes, the last two weekends I have brought work home. Add the fact that anything that can go wrong has gone wrong, a cold, and a cranky staff and you have one stressed out Meghan.
Susan Boyle is great and all, but she's no Paul Potts. Even so, I do love a good underdog story.
I am about to have my third date with the Vancouver Canucks this week and let me tell you it's getting serious. I suspect matching outfits by next week. I've never known anyone to make me scream louder. And they go hand in hand with beer and pizza. Luongo, you make a mouthguard sexy. Cheering for the Canucks during playoffs (because Canuck fans are some of the most loyal in the world. Disagree and I'll shank you). Playoffs always make me think of a bittersweet story I have to share;

When I was sixteen my Scottish grandpa was in the hospital dying of lung cancer and it was at the end stage. We had his hospital room filled with pictures of family and friends, Scottish candies and a Canucks magazine. When my family immigrated in the late 60's and early 70's from Scotland one thing they embraced of Canadiana is hockey. We were Canucks fans all the way. Ever since it's been in my bloodstream. There was a moment of silence in the hospital room where tears had dried and words had been spoken and an emotional exhaustion left us all waiting for the next step. It's then when my uncle turned to my Grandpa and with tears in his eyes, said,

"Dad, I just wish that you could have lived to see the Canucks win the Cup."

He was silent and with tears in his eyes struggled to get his breath and his speech. And said slowly and audibly for all of us,

"Son, with their track record, I don't know if You'll be alive to see the Canucks win the Cup."

It was the perfect moment, as any good Canuck fan can tell you although we've been close to winning the Cup (1994 anyone?) we can admit that we have not always been the strongest team in the series, but we are loyal and determined. Every year I pray that this is the year we prove Grandpa wrong.

I updated the good ol' blergroll to the right, so if I haven't added you yet or you want an add just let me know in the comments. I did it while before my first cup of coffee so it's no wonder I know how to sign into blogger, muchless add to the roll.
Oh and my bff and facebook wife Leannimal has started her own little spot on the interwebs so lets give her a nice warm welcome.

Alright, I'm out but expect a post later this week having to do with my bad gag reflex and a walk home without shoes. Stay Classy World

To the Batcave, Robin!

2009-04-12T22:24:00.009-07:00

So, I had sex this weekend in a Robin costume, while making a grilled cheese by a man wearing a Robin cape.

And I didn't even burn the grilled cheese.

But lets back up a minute.....

It was with a man I have been crushing on for 3 years. Three motherfucking years of sexual tension built up. All because I was having a dance off with a guy at the bar (I lost purely on a technicality) at the bar when blindly drunk and this disgustingly hot stranger offered to judge. However since I saw his talking to the acquaintance earlier I figured him to be an impartial judge so decided to tell him his judging would be unnecessary.

By telling him to go fuck himself and go away. And that just cause he was hot doesn't mean I give a shit.

We ran into each other one week later at the same bar. I laughed, he pursued even harder. He's bad news; too witty and he knows it. Good looking and he knows that too. Charisma and charm in one package. Within four minutes of conversation I knew I'd sleep with him. Within five minutes, I knew his name. One problem though, he had a girlfriend. Almost three years later, problem solved. They broke up. Slight problem, I had a boyfriend. Problem solved, break up via text. A good friendship developed along the way over the years, with no apologies for a flirtation underneath.

He's a man I don't know whether to kiss or punch half the time, and I don't apologize for that either. We don't talk often but when we do, it's for hours on end. We both dressed up as Robin for Halloween. My costume was superior. He disagreed.

And then it lead to Friday....

Where does it go from here? I don't know, and I don't really care. But I do know that I'm never going to look at grilled cheeses in the same way again.

Baby Got Back

2009-04-05T19:57:00.010-07:00

So it's back.

My mojo.

Or if not back, its peeking at me tepidly from around a corner.

Except by mojo I don't mean the lusty Meghan who trots around hornier than a nun at a dildo factory. Or even the Meghan that eyeballs public places as potential mating sites, but just a general zsa zsa zu is back. My joy de vie, the swagger in my step, the sideways smile that says more than words, its all starting to come back to me.

And the funny thing, nothing I thought would bring it back, brought it back.

Not the trip to Cuba even though the white washed beaches and heavy handed mojitos made it the perfect scenery to find one's mojo. And not my spiffy new haircut complete with bangs for the first time since 1992. It wasn't my newfound love for red lipstick and the fact that I suddenly seem to not only LIKE the colour yellow, I can't get enough of it. It hasn't been any clothes purchased or shoe stepped in, and although my new twice weekly meeting with the tanning booths are making my skin a lesser shade of pale, it's not really that either. The yoga classes and daily sit ups have meet slowly shaping my physique to that of a less skinny, more toned woman and I do have to say I like it, but that's not quite it either. A progressive date this week with undertones of flirting was lovely, but did not make or break my new found mojo.

The truth of the matter is that none of these things and all of these things have done it all at the same time. It's just finding that general sense of comfort with who I am that had been lost ever since the break up, as well as really *gasp* opening my eyes up to things around me.

It sounds so simple, but in the day to day life I get very trapped in the comforts provided by routine. And slowly that starts to spread into routine of diet, clothes, physique and life choices. It's as simple as questioning the fact of how redheads are not supposed to wear yellow or red and deciding for myself to do both, at the same time. It's not talking about how I'd like to exercise but making the choice to do so. It's deciding that whether or not my date progresses into a second or third, I'm alright with the outcome either way.

It's realizing how little I really know and how much is based on the hole I have boxed perception in. I'm finding in my later twenties that my preconceived notions can often be the reason I feel stagnant in the first place. I have experienced a lot of life for my age, but that is not to say I can't go forward and learn and experience a million more. Something as simple as my new years challenge has opened the door for this new experience, and with it is suddenly a rush of excitement that makes my senses feel alive again.

That, in essense, is my mojo.

Feeling comfortable with who I am all the while feeling open and excited for what I am learning, and what I can do. It's about looking at dating as a fun adventure, not a chore and that mojo is not about sex it's about feeling comfortable in your own skin which then equates to sexiness. It's not glossed lips and painted fingernails, designer labels and stilettos. *

It's all me baby, and I'm back!

*That's not to say that bangs, red lipstick and a new outfit hurt either ;) And thought I'd post a pic to show off my spiffy new bangs.

The Yoga Class

2009-04-01T08:16:00.008-07:00

The Yogi, and The Student:

This is a time for love, for peace for showing love to those who are close in your heart. To your family. To your friends. To the people in your life. To the people that need love. To the people you do not like. Do not harbour negative energy, show them love. Feel deep down in your centre, the love you have and think about who and what you love.

I love Subway.

And relax. Take yourself to the floor. Breathe in and out. Breathe deep from inside and feel yourself stretching and relaxing all points. Close your eyes and let your mind and your body relax....

I have to fart. PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT. K, better now.

......

Yoga is still a work in process.

When

2009-03-26T20:15:00.002-07:00

When does that line occur, between the good fight and the bad fight? Between the fights where words are said, feelings are hurt, but issues get resolved and the fights that cut. Cut you down, cut your heart, cut your strings and the ties that bind.

When can you love someone and yet no respect for the decisions made? When stubbornness rears its ugly head and there are four feet planted firmly in the ground apart from one another. When 'talking it out' dissolves into angry words and frustrated echos. When you'd be better off arguing with a stranger. When you cannot see someone's side, nor do you want to and you know they cannot see yours on the horizon.

When do you call a truce without losing your stance, your convictions? When you cannot see the fight ending and yet cannot, no will not stand to back down. When you cannot see a change happening. Yet you love the person. When do you go back to the way things were when you are not able to change the way things are? Do you lose respect when someone disrespects you? Do you lose self respect by going along with it? When you aren't sure what tomorrow brings but hope at some point there will be a peace flag rather than sharp tongues. When you know it's worth it to be the Drama Queen. When you are not sure how to move forward from here.

When does it end when there is no end in sight?

Meghan's Magical Detoxifying Hot and Sour Soup

2009-03-22T17:24:00.013-07:00

Sometimes when I have a bad head cold, or go on benders binge drinking for a week (all inclusives will do that to you), I know that Gatorade and a salad will not do the trick as far as getting me back into tip-top almost healthy shape. And so I created a recipe through trial and error a few years back that I break out about once every month or two and it does the trick every time. This is one of the only things I can cook, but it's so worth it. And it's my time to share it with you.

Meghan's Magical Detoxifying Hot and Sour Soup

1 small onion

1/2 a spanish (red) onion

5 cloves fresh garlic

3 tablespoons fresh grated ginger

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 tablespoon sesame oil

6.5 cups vegetable stock (you could use chicken but I prefer veg)

2 tablespoons chili sauce (I like it hot! If all else add one, then add more gradually to taste)

1 pinch cayenne pepper

1 pinch sea salt

1/3 a cup of white vineger

1 red pepper

1 yellow pepper

1 green pepper

Bunch of broccolli

Bunch of spinach (I sometimes use kale as that works too. It looks like a lot, but cooks down)

5 large or ten small mushrooms

2 small zuchinni

1 tin water chestnuts

1/2 a package of medium firm tofu

1 cup cooked, deveined cleaned prawns (to make the soup truly veg you can omit and it would still taste good)

1 tomato

Whew. That was quite a list. But it's totally worth it in the end, trust me.

Start by chopping up the onions and throwing them into a giant pot to soften on medium low heat with the oils. The sesame oil is a Must but use sparingly as it is quite a strong flavour. Use a garlic press to press the garlic in (do you have a garlic press? if not, get one. It is your friend). Also peel the ginger easily by using a spoon to scrape it off. Then use a cheese grater to grate it into the soup. Let it all soften about 5-10 min and make your kitchen smell wonderful.

At that point add all the vegetable stock. You can use homemade or store bought vegetable stock, doesn't matter. If all else you could use vegetable bouillion, but make sure it is blended well and reduce the salt from the soup as bouliion bases tend to be salty. Now you just start chopping the veg and dumping them into the pot, easy as that. I tend to do a chunkier chop as it's about the texture and colour. Start with your hardest veggies as they will take the longest to cook. So brocolli followed by the peppers. I use about 3/4 of each pepper so I can use the rest for an omelet the next day, but use the whole thing if you want.

See how pretty and colourful it looks already. Next throw in the zuchinni, mushrooms, tofu and water chestnuts. For those leary about tofu note that it just absorbs all the flavours in the soup. Add the chili paste next, spices and vineger. It make seem very spicey/sour but will mellow out a little. The water chesnuts are optional but I find they give the soup a really nice crunch. Now you sit and let it cook at a medium heat for about 20 or so minutes so that the vegetables are cooked but not mushy. Feel free to test after about 12-15 as different stove tops are different and I don't want to be responsible for your mushy veg.
Also during this time feel free to binge on cookies because the soup is SO HEALTHY it's going to kick those cookies asses anyways.

Now when the soup is almost done you get to throw in the prawn and the tomato. Not before or the prawns will get overcooked and rubbery and the tomatoes will get all mushy in the soup and gross. At that point let it cook on low for another 5 minutes, throw it into the biggest bowl you have and enjoy! You're going to have tons (enough for 2-4) but I doubt it will last long. It doesn't freeze that well but it'll be long gone before then and so will any cold or ailmet and you'll be right as rain and ready for another bender.

NOM, NOM, NOM

Quick tip! You know the bits of veggies that don't seem that nice, or the mushroom stems and veggie ends and bits that people tend to throw out? DON'T! I throw them all into a giant ziploc bag and throw it in the freezer til chock full and when it is, it can be boiled down and strained with some salt, pepper and garlic into a yummy homemade veggie broth for future soups.

A Postcard from Cuba

2009-03-19T17:53:00.011-07:00

What, like I wasn't going to give a cheesy title after a week in Cuba.

I understand if you hate me

I'm back after an amazing and exhausting trip to Cuba. It was well worth it in the end, and the trip of a lifetime. I have definately been bitten by the travel bug and want to continue as far as finance will allow. The country was nothing I thought it would be and everything I could ever want. This trip was exactly what the doctor ordered, allowing me to relax, party, and really open my eyes to a whole other culture. Kinda vague, so I figure the only way I'll get through it is to break it down into smaller incriments and subheadings.

I will never master the self portrait

The Good:

White sand powdered beaches like I've never seen or felt.

Crystal blue ocean water that is swimming pool warm.

Grilled fresh lobsters in creole sauces. Fresh squeezed orange juice.

Cuban coffee. Mojitos.

Palm trees everywhere. The architecture. Cities that are clean.

Feeling safer in Cuba than I do in some Canadian cities ( I was able to walk back to the hotel from the bar one night without an ounce of fear).

The heat. Havana. Markets where you can barter but wth no pressure. No beggars.

Love for tourists from the locals.

Austrian men; preferable Austrian good looking men who happen to be police officers. Giggidy.

The fact that Cuba is not 'Canadianized' or 'Americanized' but truly it's own world.

Local pride. Cheap cigarettes. Like.60cents cheap. 3 dollar bottles of rum. Sailing.

Cute stray puppies and kitties. Coconuts. Double decker buses.

Local bars that are okay with the tourists wandering in.

Slight almost-but-not-quite-offwhite tans.

Smoking and drinking are acceptable everywhere and at any time of day by the locals.

The hospitality.

The whitest girl on the beach, hands down.

The Bad:

The hotel food. Now I know as a herbivore I can expect to be limited at times but buffets that had only cabbage and carrots and olives? Really?

Getting charged to use the washroom at the local bars and then getting charged for teepee (damn men for just being able to shake).

Locals trying to take advantage of tourists, aka: price of a drink is the bill that you hold up. Canadian dollar being crap compared to the Cuban peso.

Tour advisors who forget to tell you that there is a dress code required for the evening show, so you get to pick up a dress at the Havana market and borrow shoes off a woman on the tour bus.

Having to wait on the tarmac at the Vancouver airport in the plane on the way there for almost three hours waiting for the plane to be de-iced because of the snow.

Getting food poisoning at the Cuban airport on the way back.

The grosses 24 hours and trip back I have ever experienced.

Getting a bad headcold as soon as I got back.

The, Oh Meghan:

Not my finest moment, but I can say I learned to like rum.

Getting blindly drunk, falling down ass over tea kettle in front of everyone at the local bar (people clapped) and continuing to pick up the hot Austrian guy whilst bleeding profusely.

Learning just enough Spanish to call one of the clapping women a bad name and have her almost kick my scrawny Canadian ass.

Deciding that flipping up a skirt to show your knickers is a universal pickup line.

(note; only Leanne saw)

Chasing stray dogs at 6:00am because I want to pet them. And hoping I don't have rabies right now.

Getting offered marriage by a very good looking local, but turning him down as the fact that he then wanted to jump on a plane right away to Canada made me question whether or not his intentions were true love.

We didn't kill each other. And it was our one year "facebook" marriage anniversary.

I'll definately get into specifics another time but for now I am all about recovering (my skin tastes like salt water and alcohol) and trying to get the sand out of my crack. Here's the link to a few albums I have up on facebook as I'm way too lazy to post all the pics I have up on here.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=233312&id=542670532&l=4b86eac4b5

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=233367&id=542670532&l=e4bc4a31fc

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=233660&id=542670532&l=6d82d1d3cf

Buenos noches!

Thirty One Million Years

2009-03-16T09:30:00.003-07:00

Courtesy of Spaz at Mind of Spaz. He's smart, funny, and writes thoughtful posts. Oh, and he's another awesome Canadian blogwriter. He makes me laugh. A lot. Thanks for the post!

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Our world is in constant motion. The planet earth teems with life, and all life puts energies into the planet. Plants grow, animals rear young, and the human industrial machine is moving forward at an exponential rate.
Still, all the energies put out by life on this planet that seem astronomically huge to the average human are naught compared to the movement of the planet itself. Our thirteen-thousand kilometre wide planet spins on its axis one full rotation every twenty-four hours, and hurtles through space at an astounding thirty kilometres every second! Not only do earth and the other planets rotate around our sun, but our sun rotates around our galaxy. Our sun, and by proxy, our planet with us on it, makes the trip around the galaxy once every two-hundred and thirty million years.
My intention is not to bore you with remedial facts about energies and motion, but to introduce the concept of our celestial cycles.
Our sun does not stay on its plane as it screams through the galaxy. Scientists have discovered that it makes an up and down motion as it travels. The suns motion would be much akin to a child’s yo-yo toy, as he bobs it up and down while walking down the street. As the sun’s permanent partner in this never ending road trip, we actually see a large portion of our galaxy.
Therein lies the problem.
The galaxy contains an almost unimaginable number of stars. There are four hundred thousand million stars that we call neighbours, yet they are spread out over a diameter of one-hundred thousand light years. To put that kind of size in perspective, the speed of light is approximately three-hundred thousand kilometres per second, which gives our galaxy a diameter of, well, my calculator gives me an eighteen digit number. The spacing of our galaxy allows for light years in between stars.
Our solar system spends most of its time dwelling in the low density area of the arms in our spiral galaxy. Because the solar system travels in an up and down motion as well as a forward one, every thirty million years we pass through the high density central area of our galaxy. Scientists call this area the "danger zone", and for good reason.
The spacing between stars in the danger zone is still unfathomable to the human imagination, there is no argument there. But compared to our usual position in the galaxy, the star spacing can be akin to a subway during rush hour. By the standards of celestial mechanics, it’s much too close for comfort.
The very out most edge of our solar system contains a vast sphere of huge chunks of ice and dirt, some tens of kilometres in diameter. At the thirty million year mark, when our solar system passes through the danger zone, increased gravitational forces push some of these large masses speeding towards our solar system at incredible rates of speed. As they get closer to the sun, they develop plumes of gas and dust, and we now know them as comets.
These thirty million year comets take one million years to reach our solar system. That means that every thirty one million years, our odds for getting struck by a massive celestial body increase exponentially.
Compared to the average human lifetime, and even the time that we have been around on this planet, thirty-one million years seems like forever. But there is something that you need to know, something that puts all that time into sharp focus.
We are now at our thirty one million years.
That is some very sobering information. We are at our thirty one million years, and an unknown amount of comets of unknown sizes are at this very moment speeding towards us.
Are they millennia, centuries, decades, or years away from us? Will they hit us, or miss us by millions of kilometres? We don’t know for sure, as astronomers cannot pick up or track these bodies until they are very close to us. They are coming, and they are very close, as evidenced by the shoemaker-levy comet hitting Jupiter in 1994. The comet was massive. Even though the intense gravity of Jupiter broke the comet into pieces before it hit, each piece created an impact area larger than earth itself.
Jupiter is, by and large, our saving grace. The massive planet pulls in many of the travelling celestial bodies that otherwise might cross paths with earth. Our solar system is a very active place, and without Jupiter, we surely would not be here to this day.
That does not mean we go without our fair share of space missiles impacting our planet. We get hit on a daily basis; luckily most of the bodies that rain down from the heavens are so small as to burn up in our atmosphere before ever reaching the ground. Some are large enough to do some damage, and there is evidence all over our planet of large craters. Indeed, some are so massive as to still be seen despite our planets ability to erase and change its surface through dirt deposits, ecological activities, tectonic plate movements and the like.
There is, however, a reason to be concerned with our thirty-one million year mark. Evolutionary history is not a constant. Rather, it is a series of events, springing from the ashes of evolution before it. Palaeontologists have found that there are massive extinction events which are very common to the history of life on earth. Scientists discovered approximately twenty events in history where the majority of life on earth vanished, was extinct, was wiped from the face of the earth.
There is an ominous pattern to these extinction events. Whether it’s from comet strikes are not, mass planetary wide extinctions seem to have a pattern of every thirty million years or so.
The evidence seems clear. Our time on this planet is limited, and it may not be of our own doing.
Indeed, the shrill shrieks of the planets eco warriors and the grunts of our greedy money driven industrialized economy are trivial in comparison to the celestial pattern of destruction and rebirth.
What are we to do, then, if we are interested assuring continued human existence?
There are two bodies of thought for protecting ourselves from being hit by a large body from space. The first involves a method of blowing it up, or using rockets to nudge it out of the way. This may or may not work. The only way we will know is to try it, and if it doesn’t work, we can kiss our lives good bye.
The second way is to colonize the universe.
Diversification is the best way to assure the survival of our species. If we can put our energies into developing the technology to finding other habitable worlds and to getting there, the destruction of earth will be the great tragedy, but not the apocalypse.
Compared to the ultimate certainty of the next impending mass extinction, all human differences are moot. When it happens, the differences of religion, race, creed, colour, and locale mean nothing. To assure continued human survival past the next and ultimate event, the human race must realize the folly of hatred and intolerance.
We must push aside our class structure, our greed, our quest to be financially successful. All of our energies must be put towards the technology needed to purchase the ultimate of all insurance policies.
It is only when our species spreads throughout the stars that we will be truly safe from destruction.

Better nate than lever!

2009-03-13T08:00:00.002-07:00

Thanks to the sexy and talented Racquel at Smell the Glove for guesting today. I adore you more than Lady Gaga and strong martini's. That says alot!

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Better nate than lever!

Meghan is sunning herself on the beaches of Cuba. I'm freezing my titsoff in the Maritimes (all Atlantic Canadians know that spring doesn'tcome until sometime in mid-June), but any bitterness that I may haveharboured has been nullified by the fact that she asked me to write aguest post. To say that I was pleasantly shocked would be anunderstatement, since my blog tends to be one long diatribe against Lady Gaga and the laundromat, but pleasantly is the operative wordhere. So let's go, yes?

Having a friend go to Cuba in Smarch is grounds for jealousy, but tobe fair I've had my time in the sun before; a few years ago I workedas an au-pair in Greece, and learned some valuable lessons along theway (none of which involved sunscreen. As an Irish chick who freckleswhen a candle is lit you would think that I would have coated myselfin zinc and Coppertone, but I decided that the best way to fit inwould be to burn myself to a delightful lobster-shell hue. Amazingly,it didn't happen. I actually tanned, for the first and possibly onlytime in my life. Go figure.)

It was Greece that broke my veg, albeit temporarily. It wasn't eventhat the food was irresistible (note: North American Greek salad isnothing like Greek Greek salad.) No, it was more that I didn't want tobe rude, shunning the provisions of my employers and subsisting on adiet of fatty yogurt and hard bread. We lived on the coast and I wouldsometimes swim out to the fishing boats, collecting nets of sardinesand God knows what else, asking them in broken Greek to bill us later.As I would backstroke back to shore clutching a net of still-livingfish, I was a mix of guilt and bliss, similar to how most Catholicsfeel when they have sex, but minus the tingling in my nether regions.Lesson learned? Greek fishermen will never actually send you a bill.Especially if you're a twenty-one year-old blonde in a polka dotbikini. I have yet to test this out in my home province, but don't think I haven't been tempted.

As for the opposite sex... now, I hate to stereotype, but the Socratesthing is dead-on. There's nothing a Greek dude likes more than abackdoor entrance. Now, there is not (and never will be) a back doorto Club Racquel, but again the blonde thing worked in my favour.Unfortunately, Greek men tend to be short. At 5'5", I'm far fromAmazonian, but most of the guys in Lavrio and Sounio made me feel likea runway model... and not because of my dashing looks. The other thingI learned is that The Sisterhood Of The Traveling Pants lies. Greekmen are not romantic. They're stoic enough to make you questionwhether or not Greece was actually settled by Russians, but thecatcalling and ass-slapping (again, I blame Socrates) is pure Europe.

Maybe the most important lesson I learned is the importance ofdressing up for the plane. I'm an old soul in that I refuse to wearpyjama or sweat pants out of the house, and nowhere was I rewardedmore for this than on British Airways. When I checked in, they tookone look at the dress I was wearing and asked if, since the flight wasoversold, I'd be willing to fly Business Class. Ummm... YES!!! I alsogot a pass for the pre-flight VIP lounge, where I drank a disturbingamount of nice Chard, enough that it was actually hard for me to boardthe plane without breaking out into song, dance or both. They did askme to change my shoes, however; apparently dirty Converse would havelooked amiss next to the cot-sized chairs and complimentary hot towels(side note: I still don't understand the purpose of hot towels, butGoddamn if they aren't the most luxurious thing next to love slavescoated in chocolate.)

And finally, and this can't be stressed enough: the most importantlesson I learned in Greece: when you get a giant, poisonous sea urchinstuck in your leg, diaper rash cream will not make it better. Nomatter how much praying you do. Neither will vinegar. Or moonshine. Orsand. Really, it's a better idea to just leave the wound alone insteadof trying random substances and kitchen products on it. Althoughpersonally, I kind of like the scar. It's like a free tattoo. Thespikes took almost six months to work themselves out, but the memorieswill last forever.

Kali spera, everyone.

The Fame Game

2009-03-10T09:27:00.003-07:00

Hello. I'm Paula.

What do you mean, "who is Paula?"

Don't you know who I am???

Sigh.

Okay, let's start over again. I'm Paula and I normally blog at the immensely popular (in my dreams) , award-winning (well, a couple of other bloggers have given me awards so that counts, right?) "Insert My Blog Name Here". I just thought I would practice being a celebrity. Because I fully intend to BE a celebrity one day!

I've always thought it would be a lot of fun to be famous, you see. Hasn't everyone at some point? It would be awesome, right? You get to go to lots of parties. Get given lots of free stuff. Have lots of fans - well, most of the time. It would be GREAT to have tons of people telling me how absolutely and completely awesome I am. I mean, I KNOW I am anyway, but having it reinforced is just the best.

However, there must be drawbacks.

First of all, celebrity break-ups. Now breaking up with someone in the REAL world . . . that sucks bigtime. Changing your relationship status on facebook and having everyone ask you what happened? That sucks (although I suppose it's a good way to let everyone know you've been dumped and saves you having to tell everyone individually).

But having it broadcast all over the papers and magazines? Having people reading about your pain, and what "sources" have said about you? Having to watch your ex hook up with someone else right in the public eye (if he is famous too, obviously!)? Man, that would be absolutely AWFUL. I don't think i could cope with that. In fact, I think I would have a big celebrity breakdown Ms Spears style and possibly take some sort of blunt object . .. . to my ex's head.

Which would, naturally, be caught on film for the world to see.

The second thing that I would absolutely hate about being a celebrity .. . . you know those magazine articles you get where they take a picture of someone famous and point out what's wrong with them? Like "Oooh, their cellulite is awful, isn't it NICE to know that so-and-so is normal too?" Or "Look at how weird her middle toe is in those sandals" (with a picture zooming in to the offending foot and the toe in question circled in red in case you missed it.) Or the ones where they take a picture of a old picture of a celeb, put it up next to a recent picture and decide what kind of plastic surgery they have DEFINITELY had? Even when the celebrity in question has DENIED it.

It would be hard to leave the house always having to look your best, just because you need to make sure you're not shown on the "Celebrities Looking Like Shit" page in Heat magazine (not a real feature, but I'm sure there's something similar). And then even if you DID leave the house always looking perfect, you're going to get accused of having work done to make yourself that way. So what's the point?

Other than those drawbacks though, I think I could deal with being a celebrity. And I would have TONS of money . . . which mostly would come from my lawsuits against the magazines writing shit about me. Result!!!

If YOU were famous, what do you think the biggest drawback would be? Discuss.

(I realise that sounded sort of like an essay question in an exam. That was the intention.)
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Since you already did the intro, I just wanted to add a note at the end and say thanks for the guest post Paula. You rock and I swear you're my sister from another mister in Scotland.

Dropped The Ball

2009-03-06T20:15:00.003-08:00

Or more importantly the blog the last few weeks. I have been a shitty blogger and an even shittier commenter. Forgive me as I'll come back post trip being the blog and comment whore you all know and put up with.

I guess it's been a combo platter of writer's block, not having anything really happening in my life and not wanting to beat my trip excitment with a dead horse post, and actually getting busy with prep for my trip. Tanning appointments, waxing appointments,getting shots in order, getting gear in order, packing and a million other errands. This certainly isn't a complaint, just an observation as I'm not sure how people maintain the jet setter lifestyle with ease.

But not to worry about more random gaps of space and time from blogger world where this bad boy slowly collects dusts and drops readers like no tomorrow cause I have a rare treat of some of the best guest posters in the land. The only problem is that by the time I get back you'e going to see what REAL writing looks like and won't be so accomodating with my laptop dribble. But that's something we're both going to have to come to terms with. I hope you give a warm welcome to Spaz at The Mind of Spaz, Paula from Insert My Blog Name Here and Racquel Valencia from Smell The Glove as they're all going to be making themselves home.

Other than that, have a fabulous time, drink too much, say the wrong things, do the wrong people and I'll see you soon (if not getting eaten by a shark).

TMI Thursday: It Was NOT Whisper Quiet

2009-02-26T09:00:00.014-08:00

(I would first off just like to thank Deutlich for having a TMI post that made my jaw drop today and convinced me to get out of my blogger/winter funk and write a post.)

When I was twenty one I came to Kamloops to come to school for my second year college, a spritely young thing. No longer as innocent or as virginal as my first try at college, but certainly not a worldly sophisticated woman in any sense of the word. At that point I had seen peen, but the encounters were still minimal as I had only been with my first love.

Now that my appetite for peen had been discovered only to be crudely ripped away from me post break up, I was looking for something to sait without the chance of AIDS, PREGNANCY AND DEATH.

And so when during my first week of college, at my new school on my new campus I was invited by a very liberal feisty group of woman to go to a sex toys party, I jumped on it. While we licked edible body creams and sprinkled shimmer dust on ourselves while those with partners giggled about what they should buy for some bedroom sparks. As a single woman I didn't really care about the warming massage oils, I was there with for one thing and one thing only.

A vibrator, namely.

So the time came and they started twirling the room as battery fuelled batons of pleasure. Every light, shape, size and girth came my way to look at, turn on and estimate how much it would turn me on. They had fancy clitoral stimuli and were whisper quiet and had beads and bumps to hit the g-spot Just So. I still don't know the point of the ones that light up different colours as it's not like your cervix will know the difference.

The only problem is that most of them cost a lot of money, 110.00 and up! That was money to be spent on tuition. I mean beer. I mean cigarettes. So when one was held up and not turned on it but priced at only 40 buckaroos it made me think that it would be the best choice economically, so I shelled out my moolah and traipsed home with my anonmously suspicious blacked out bag.

The thing is at home it looked a lot bigger. And bigger is only better until your ovaries are getting punched in the face. At 5'2" and not even a buck, the sheer logic was that it almost reached belly button potential. Yikes. But with the right amount of bad lube and D volt batteries I was still going to go pioneer on this bad boy. Travis was his name.

Travis was one bad ass motherfucker alright with a bad ass engine to boot. From the moment I turned him on he had things to say in VERY LOUD VOICE. Travis sounded like a car backing up that happened to be powered with an old lawnmower engine. Travis was the reason that the first time I turned him on ALL THREE ROOMATES stepped away from whatever and whoever they were doing to see what the noise was in my bedroom that late in the pm.

Travis was never to go near my kitty again. But that is not to say that he didn't make a great margarita mixer and in tune a great conversation starter at parties.

The Anniversary Post

2009-02-18T21:05:00.005-08:00

It's been 2 years and it just keeps getting better.

I love you, Miss Tinkerbell.

A Belated Love Letter

2009-02-16T10:27:00.008-08:00

Dear Veggie Bacon,

When I locked eyes with you across the health food store yesterday I knew there was a spark. You look nothing like other veggie bacon, all false advertising of texture and greyish colour.

You are what has been missing from my life. Smoky, chewy, crisp veggie bacon. You are what shall tide me over during the carnivourous nights where I ponder chasing cows with a fork and knife and watch people grab real pig bacon from the store like a Factory Farm voyeur. I don't see you as plastic and fake or false advertising. It's all you baby, and I'm proud to show you off.

I see so many future plans for us. Bacon and eggs. Perogies with Bacon. BLT's. Bacon with a side of bacon. This is just the start of a very long term relationship. I shall treat you well, I miss you when you're gone and I think I just may be falling in love with you. I know we shouldn't rush this but why stop now when it feels so right.

Lets do dinner tonight. I'll cook.

Love,

Meghan

Shaggadelic, Baby!

2009-02-09T22:49:00.004-08:00

As much stuff as the psycho ex left here for me to sell on Ebay, I hate to admit it but there's one thing he took and hasn't given back.

And I'm not talking bout the housekeys which took over a month to be returned after the threat of changed locks and bills.

No, I'm talking bout my mojo. He took it, and I want it back.

The zsa zsa zu, the purrrrrrr factor, the little something something that makes me want to wear heels a little higher and smack my glossed lips to match the batting eyelashes.

Nope, that sex kitten has packed her bags and left Meghanville, population .05. And it's embarrassing. I like flirting with guys. I'm good at it. Or at least I used to be. Same with sex. I'm sure it's like the riding the bike rules but fear by the time I get around to wanting some sexing I'll be back with tricycle wheels and a helmet.

I want to go out there and eyeball potential suitors for a date. I want to dress up and feel sexy and wear my feminism on my sleeve. I miss flirty witty banter and intellectual conversations with sexy nerdy men who flirt even if they don't realize it. I miss lusting after movie stars and fantasizing about the lead characters in the novels I read. I might as well trade in'Twilight' for an Oprah magazine. Yeah, it's that bad.

I live in yoga pants and makeup is an afterthought. Sexuality has all but been lost and forgotten from my daily thoughts and actions. There is no swagger in my step, no sway in my hips when I dance. Bedroom eyes are no more. Coquetteish momements have become clumsy and awkward. Innuendo has been replaced by irritated looks and even "self" love has lost its appeal. I use the batteries to go with the discman and the badass Spanish tapes.

I'm not going to go out there and have a one night stand or casual sex to prove I still got it. I know I still got it somewhere. Deep down in the cackles, or the subcackles. I just need to find something, or someone to help bring it back.

But what? Guess I'll have to work on that.

Who Likes Free Stuff?

2009-02-06T10:15:00.009-08:00

Editors Note: Comment=Free Homemade Gifts from Moi! No Gimmacks.

I know I sure do. I'm one of those bastards that loiters around the Costco stands while they cut up the thin crust pizza as if I really am interested in the giant econo jar of Pesto sauce just to avoid feeling like a barn animal waiting for it's next feeding. If a drink is bought for me and it's gross, I'll drink it anyways and convince myself it tastes better because it's free and by default free stuff tastes better. I have a plethora of free samples of random things in my house; shampoo, conditioners, hotel lamps, all free!

But really this isn't about me liking free things. This is all about you!

The lovely Little Erin at There and Back Again has a shindig of a little contest called the Pay it Forward Contest going on and I'm going to play along. Direct from her site are the rules:

Remember, if you want to enter this contest, you are going to also have to comment, and for another chance to win post your own "pay it forward" contest and create something handmade for the three winners! I'm not good with using the random pick a winner things, so I shall go with the tried and true names in a hat method of finding three winners. I'm going to let this "pay it forward" contest last until This Next Friday, the 13th!

The Rules are quite simple:

1.Leave a comment on this post, where the first word in the comment is "Yes". By saying "Yes" as the first word, you signify you want to participate in this give away

2. Winners must post this challenge on their blog, meaning that they then must Pay It Forward, creating a handmade gift for the first three bloggers who say "Yes" in a comment on THEIR future post.

3. The gift that you send to your three friends can be from any price range and you have 365 days to make/ship your item. This means you should be willing to maintain your blog at least until you receive your gift and have shipped your gifts. And, remember: It’s the spirit and the thought that count!
4. When you receive your gift, please feel free to blog about it, and link back to the person you recieved your gift from!
don't forget to actually say YES!

Now here's the clincher, part of me being superblyawesomefantastic I'm going to make it even easier on you guys. And you thought that Christmas was in December. Anyone who comments is going to have a chance to win, but people who pay it forward as well get a second entry. And you best believe I'll be checking.

Now of course this is a gamble, just because as you see the name implies this is something homemade from me. I'm not known for my crafty skills so this could be a finger painting, a stick person Christmas card, half a knit scarf with a note spewing hatred of stitch, stitch, hook or a gift card to get Quizno's finest.But nmore than likely it'll be something that I spend my time making for your enjoyment. It's luck of the draw but I assure you an 89% guarantee, you will not be disappointed.

Good luck and happy commenting!

Editors Note: Comment=Free Homemade Gifts from Moi! No Gimmacks.

No Hablo Espanol

2009-02-03T08:01:00.004-08:00

In part of my trip preparation ( tanning booth, Hep shots, conditioning my liver for all day alcohol consumption) I have been working very hard half assing it with trying to learn some common phrases in Spanish as I don't want to be the asshat that thinks everyone will speak English just cause I do. Outside of the resort a lot of the locals do not so I feel it's my duty to try to learn the language a tichy bit.

So far I have learned:

Hi. Hello. My name is Meghan. How are you today? I am (well/very well/so-so/bad). Thank you. Please. Water. Wine. Beer. Tourist. Shit. Goodbye.

I don't see it getting me very far. Hydrated and polite, but not very far.

So I picked up some cd's (to go with my super rocking discman I tote around like it's 1996) and have been listening to them a bit throughout the week. The cd's are meant to learn Spanish for your trip with useful phrases you would be expected to use while on your vacation.

They are not useful.

And they are not phrases I expect to use while on vacation. In fact, it's safe to say common phrases from the cd expected to be used are very different from the phrases I expect to use.

Example;

"This is my friend Juan. He studies philosophy."
"Hello Juan. Philosophy is a very interesting subject."

"I'm sorry kind sir, I seem to have lost my pants again. May you please help me find them?"

"Are you a doctor, or are you all doctors?"
"We are all doctors, here. Pleased to meet you."

"You're hot and I appreciate that. Might you have a face I can sit on?"

"Is that water, or is it wine? I do not know whether or not it is water or wine."

"May I please have a drink or seven for my friend and myself? With a lime?"

"The lake goes into the ocean. The ocean and the lake are different. The river and the lake are different."

"I like rum. Rummy rummy rum. Yum yum yum. In my belly. Down the hatch it goes."

And so forth. So if anyone knows of a cd/ tape/ translator who can help me with the things I will need to know rather that discussing lakes and philosophy it would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise I'm going to be the douchenozzle who just randomly shouts out spanish words when drunk like a tourettes patient in a bikini.

Sigh.

I'm so getting punched in the face in Cuba.

So This Weekend

2009-02-01T21:59:00.014-08:00

I finally learned how to use the camera I got for Christmas so am finally going to start posting more relevant pictures rather than just stealing graphics off of google image (okay, I won't stop but slow down). And by relevant pictures I mean...

Pictures of Tinkerbell and me practising Blue Steel in front of the camera. It's still a work in progress. But even better, was receiving my passport in the mail! And was super excited until I saw I look like a criminal in the picture...

And it made me want to flee the country greatly, but I am holding back as I am going to be taking off in 5 weeks and it will take less explaining to my work this way.

I ventured into baking land once again after the last spoiled attempt ended in burnt cookies that even my baked friends wouldn't eat. And a cake that was heavier than a hockey puck. But this time I went for something a little easier (baby steps) with apple crisp...and it turned out!

I'd offer to share some, but then I'd be lying. Suffice to say it's good.

I also added twitter to my blog this weekend. Now I'm not quite certain what it entails but get that it is like text msg/facebook status for blogs so feel free to add me and then you can get updates such as..

Meghan is contemplating torching her office work, if the office goes up with it, so be it.

Meghan is Glen Coco

Meghan didn't watch the Superbowl but used it as an excuse to eat natcho cheese

Meghan did 25 sits ups today as a part of her pact of doing sit ups every day for a month and almost vomited.

Okay, so I may not really be selling myself here, but you should add me anyways cause it's fun and I want to be in on it. I hope everyone else had a fab weekend as well.

Wanna Know What Really Grinds My Gears?

2009-01-27T09:01:00.006-08:00

I work in an office where I am required to live here from Monday to Friday. And although I won't talk (much) about my job on blog I can say that a lot of my day is spent staring at a computer, working with computers, numbers, events, people, places and things.

All in all, my job title is glamourous but the job itself can be far from it. In fact on days where I am running errands, climbing under dusty desks to rewire cord and trying to manage (not burn) paperwork it's all I can do to not jab a pen in my eye, claim it somehow as workers comp and frolick my one eyes, parrot on the shoulder wielding self home.

But there's one thing that can make the day go inherently better or worse. The dealbreaker, one may say.

Lunchtime.

A good lunch will get me excited like a six year old bringing the kids size kitkat to school to go with the Lunchables. A Subway day makes any stat report worth it as I know that for 30 minutes I'm going to be mowing on a delicious combination of veggies layered with processed Monteray Jack cheese and Chipotle sauce. I would eat my cat if she was covered in that Chipotle sauce. Don't think I'm kidding.

Unfortunately for me my lunch yesterday. Was. A Bust. A Lean Cuisine meal that was four whole dollars. That's a lot of dollars for a meal encased in a plastic shell to be pierced and radiated to goodness. At 6:45 am when I was getting ready to make my trip via the bus (which reminds me that I'm getting my hep shot today) I was stoked as I knew that a meal that cost four dollars and included both shrimp AND pasta and a creamy sauce was going to be delicious.

It wasn't good. Not at all. And this is the second meal I've had in the last week that has been a false advertisement of good taste. The padded bra of the lunch world , if you will. Don't these people that manufacture meals know that the time I spend eating lunch during the day is my escape from office suck? Do they not realize that if they feed me ass food the rest of the day is shot? That I depend on them to push me through the rest of the afternoon fueled by a moderate amount of carbohydrates, sodium and slight requirements from the Canadian food guide?

Apparently not. And so today I have brought not one, not two, but three slices of veggie pizza with me. And a kitkat. And a apple-pear. And a banana. To ensure that today is not going to be a day where I let a bad lunch ruin my day. Today I will have the best lunch in the staffroom where all the others are going to stare at me and wonder how awkward it will be to offer to trade me their leftover casserole for my pizza (and I'll refuse of course). Because no office work is bad after pizza. That's just a statistical fact.

( Yes. It's a slow week in my world when I'm posting about lunch. But in other news I finally found out what I Love Lamp means!)

Dirty Little Secret

2009-01-20T17:27:00.006-08:00

I have a secret. Actually I have tons of secrets and they'll be revealed in time, but for today it's time to come clean with one I've been embarrassed about for a long time.

I can't swallow pills. Actually I have troubles with my gag reflex period (if anyone makes a sex joke now I'll cut you). I can't do shooters, and have to sip them like tea at the bar. Ask me how sexy that skill is to show off to bachelors. I can't get normal sized xrays at the dentist they have to do the child sized ones otherwize I end up gagging and puking on whatever hygenist or object is near. I can't even take the birth control pill and that's why I have a bandaid style birth control patch attached to my hip which is changed weekly.

It's not that I don't want to. I stare at the pill. I size it up. I convince myself that it's not so scary and throw it in my mouth....and nothing. The pill just gets soggy if it's in a capsule and opens up expelling whatever taste of death is inside. If it's a solid pill the gel coat comes off in my mouth and reveals the chalky underbelly of whatever nasty pill it is. I've tried pinching my nose. I've tried emptying the contents of the pill on a spoon with honey or chocolate.

And as it turns out chocolate goes with everything EXCEPT yucky pill taste. And I cannot force myself to take the spoonful of chocolate hate. It's like trying to wax your own legs. It's not putting the wax on, it's taking it off. I'd rather pay someone else for the torture any day. Unfortunately there's no job description for this which doesn't sound insane,
" I will pay someone to hold me down, shove a spoonful of chocolate/powder junk in my mouth and as much as I squirm and thrash about like a fish out of water, keep pinching my nose until I swallow!"

As you can tell, I currently have a prescription of pills to take. 4 a day. For seven days. And the bottle is taunting me, but this time is different. I am mature. It's a New Year. I'm braver and stronger and smarter than the pills. I am going to another country for crying out loud. I've attempted to take one pill so far. It ended up half melted in the kitchen sink. So I figured eating a cookie will help me to get braver. Or seven cookies. Or eight.

Alright, little purple pill. Game on. You're my bitch.

Sunshine and Lollipops!

2009-01-19T21:34:00.003-08:00

I'm not going to post about how I got a computer virus exactly 14 days after my three year warranty expired. And how the soul sucking company known as Future Shop told me that I'd get it back for roughly 50 dollars in three days. And how that actually meant 8 days at the rate of 200 dollars.

Nope not gonna post about that.

I'm also not going to post about how I've finally gotten my credit card down to a payable amount only to have to get an emergency root canal which will probably need a crown. Even with dental coverage, that's another 400 + down the drain. Ouch. And after paying for the trip and my computer repair bill I have no choice but to put it on my credit card.

Not gonna post about that either.

I'm also not going to post about how my landlord is away on vacation to Hawaii for a month which is also around the time I suspect the hot water tank to be on the spitz. One minute warm water followed by frigid ice water rain does not a good morning make. Or the fact that my neighbours have really, really loud sex (sometimes with a third) and the thin walls does little to provide a barrier for the noise or the vibrations. Yick.

Not even gonna mention that. Cause like the other stuff it's all very depressing and negative and January is depressing and negative as is.

So instead I'm going to discuss things I like:

Patrick Swayze in Hot Pants, Foods that are Microwaveable and Preferably Cheesy,

Toy Story, Are You Being Served, Hot Chocolate with Mini Marshmallows,

Puppies, Space Monkies, Vulgar T-shirts, All Wine that Comes in a Bottle, Kitties,

Big ol Bear Hugs Like You Mean It, Warm Socks, Good Books, 10% Teacher's Discount,

The Weather Network's-Varedero Link, Tanning Beds, The Veronica's, Obamarama,

Body Butter, Any Food on a Stick, Yoga Pants Worn All Day Long, Foodtv.ca,

Canadian Tire Money, Turtles, Dolphins, Dilbert, The Real World: Brooklyn,

Set for Life Scratch Tickets, Under Eye Creams, Lava Lamps, Earls Food,

Poutine at any time of the Day-with Double Cheese,

Not Work Related Emails on the Email Work Server,

Learning Spanish Through CD-The Lazy Way, Dollar Store Treasures, Bunnies,

Robert Pattison, Discovering Blogs, Blog Comments, Happy Nappy Time,

Old Married with Children Re-runs

Much better