Headed East

In just a few hours I will board a plane to fly back to NY. There I will go to the memorial service for Adam and attempt to honor his memory in the way he would have wanted: with vodka and pizza.

There will be tears, there will be drunkenness and in the spirit of Adam there will be laughter and some fucking amazing memories.

See you all on Monday.

Oh, Liz

This is why I like IM & Liz:


Liz (2:45:51 PM): I too blogged. today is stupid. enjoy
Meg (3:03:50 PM): poor liz
Meg (3:03:53 PM): you have of the anger
Liz (3:04:04 PM): what? sea monkey are stupid
Meg (3:04:11 PM): yes
Liz (3:04:25 PM): thank you
Meg (3:04:26 PM): but when you write like that I can tell it's due to the fact you have the rage
Liz (3:04:32 PM): oh yes.
Meg (3:04:33 PM): why do we hate sea monkeys today?
Liz (3:04:44 PM): BECAUSE THEY AREN'T EVEN MONKEYS
Meg (3:04:55 PM): no, they are not
Meg (3:04:58 PM): excellent point
Liz (3:04:58 PM): false advertising. they're shrimp with delusions of grandeur
Liz (3:07:41 PM): AND they come to life when you put them in water. that's fucking creepy

You know, she makes a good point. She may be angry, but she's not off base on the delusions of grandeur thing. I bet they even own tuxes. Stupid uppity sea monkeys.

Great, now I hate sea monkeys too. Man I am susceptible to suggestion.

Klutz

I've never hid the fact that I'm a klutz. It's actually hard to as well, I walk into stuff a lot and shout 'ow'. It draws attention. It's been going on my whole life, so much in fact that on my 8th birthday four separate people bought me a copy of the book 'Megan the Klutz'. Haha, people. Ha fucking ha. Usually I am ok with the whole thing. I find it mildly amusing and point out bruises I have gotten by oh, say, walking into my living room chair and flipping over it, landing on a cat scratch pole.

Yeah.

That actually happened.

However... lately it's been out of control. I went to answer my cell phone the other day and the person on the other line heard a scuffle then me saying 'oops, I hit myself in the face with the phone.' Who does that? Who can't open a flip phone and press it to their face to speak? Me. That's who. I flipped it open, hit myself in the nose and dropped it. I've got mad skills, yo.

It all came to a head yesterday though. I was walking side by side with my new CEO and opened a door for him. I opened the door directly into my face, knocking off my glasses and making a comical 'ughhhh' noise. Once he finished laughing he patted me on the shoulder and walked off.

I make great first impressions. And now have a bruise on my eye. Rock and roll!

And She's Back

Dudes, I love Napa. I specifically love it when the group you are with hires a limo to drive you from vineyard to vineyard. This allows you to avoid getting arrested for a serious DUI but also, and most importantly, allows you to drink between tastings. And this my friends is how I entered into what can only be described as a two day long hangover. I am just starting to feel mildly human again which is key as well, it's Monday and they expect me to function like an adult at work.

This weekend I also ate the best meal of my life. I am something of a down home girl and am used to just cooking myself some brown rice pasta and calling it a day. I am not used to 12 course tasting menus that take 5 hours to consume. I am also not used to having 11 of these dishes include truffles. I have come to realize one very important thing: I really effing love truffles. By the 12th course however I was ready to cry I was so full. I would have taken a nap under the table is allowed but I think that may have been looked down upon. But I soldiered through and bemoaned my overly full state while attempting to breathe shallowly so I didn't bust the seams on my dress, when as a parting gift the waiter handed me a bag full of hand rolled chocolates and cookies. I then ate these in the car on the way home. I am a model of restraint and responsibility.

In closing: if you go to Napa bring stretchy pants as you will leave full and hung over. Also, schedule in some time to have your liver recover. I hurt. And in 4 days I leave for New York where Sera will attempt to damage my liver all over again.

Ugh

I have a head cold. To make matters worse in approximately 6 hours I board a plane to have a whirlwind weekend in Napa. Do you think I can drink away the cold? Or just will it away? Because dammit, I want my weekend vacation! I want to drink and eat overpriced fancy food. I do not want to lay around be be sick.

(Angrily stamping feet)

I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh, So That's Where They Are

In case you were wondering where all the fedoras were last night they were with me at the Andrew Bird concert. Apparently I didn't get a crucial memo dictating that we should wear some kind of head gear to the show. I'm in no way exaggerating when I say all but one person in the row in front of us had some type of elaborate head accessory. The best one was a bright red silk turban with a flower.

Yeah.

And she wasn't an 80 year old woman from Russia. She was a wee hipster lass. In addition to the greatest hat ever, she was with a dude wearing teeny tiny circular glasses who almost had a rendezvous with my fists of fury. The reason for that being that he told my companion to keep it down as her brief conversation of 'hey, I'm going to the bathroom, be right back' was 'ruining his concert experience'. You know, the rock concert. With the loud. And the hipsters. And the loud. And did I mention it was a concert? If we had been at oh, the opera, perhaps I would have understood. But we were at a rock concert full of fedoras where the lead singer was on minute 2 of a 4 minute whistling solo.

And this is why I drink.

The Stalker

In July I went on one date with a dude. One. It was a blind double date and I was told that he was 6 feet tall and hilarious. He was 5'6 and obnoxious. He made fun of 'fat' people (read size 12) in the restaurant and spent roughly 3/4 of the night calling his friend gay and asking him how much he enjoyed anal sex. I know, you're shocked we're not married right now, right? Well... apparently so is he.

You see when he went in for the kiss at the end of the night and I violently jerked my head away giving him, awkwardly, the chin, he took this as an invitation for love. I hear from him every few months when he's in town asking if I want to get together. These calls/texts always come in around midnight. You see, somehow my intense disinterest in him also spelled out that I was a whore and would definitely be interested in a booty call. Again, all shades of logical.

So there I am on Saturday night laying in bed with my fella, commenting on the awesomeness of Valentine's Day when the boy says 'is that your phone?' I say no because hello, who in God's name would be repeatedly text messaging me at almost 1AM on Valentine's Day? The Stalker would, that's who. It seems he was 'around' and wanted to know if I was out 'partying'. All I can say is: What. The. Fuck.

So, I am being stalked by a midget with a foul mouth. Score? I think it's time to step out of the 'ignoring' him realm and into the I will eviscerate you mode. I am taking suggestions on what to say to him. Thus far I have come up with: Please understand I have no interest in you as a person. In fact, I think you are stealing valuable oxygen from society. Do not text me. Do not attempt to facebook me. I will squash you like a tiny, annoying, and probably small dicked bug.

Thoughts?

The Girl Who Fell Apart

Dudes, I just cried in my Korean class. I didn't know one of the words and so I burst into tears. Trust me, it was not due to the fact that I couldn't remember the word for sunlight. I am just, well, beat down. My body has been a crazy mix of emotions for the last couple of weeks and it just came a pouring out.

In class.

Where no one speaks english.

To say they were confused would be an understatement. But, I just couldn't maintain anymore. I am quite frankly all over the fucking place. I go back and forth between heartbreakingly sad to over the moon happy and my body can't do it anymore. You see, I have fallen for a very wonderful man. And as such, that makes me happy. He's amazing. But? I spent the greater part of yesterday writing my speech for Adam's memorial. Happy. Then sad. Then back to happy. You get my point. Add in some work stress and upcoming travel stress and I am a walking raw nerve. I am anxious and jumpy and many charming things including panic-attacky.

I honestly don't know what to do but I do know this, I haven't laughed in about a week and that makes me incredibly sad. Instead I am just kind of floating, somewhere between happy and sad but right over crazy land and I don't like it. I'm hoping that after Adam's memorial in a couple of weeks things will settle down a bit. We'll see. If not there's always vodka right?

Time to go cry in the bathroom as today, I'm officially that girl.

Senorita Cranky Pants

Dudes, I am cranky. I am seriously a really snotty 3 year old who is sitting in the corner with her arms crossed, glaring at you. It's REALLY, REALLY charming, be assured.

Part of this cranky has to do with the fact that my cats are assholes. Furry little hell hounds be exact. The other morning I was blissfully asleep when I am woken up by a car DRY HEAVING OVER MY FACE at 5AM. Due to my lightening quick reflexes (read, half asleep zombie like movements) I was able to literally fling my cat through the air just in time. He missed my face but got the other side of the bed. Awesome? On the plus side I now know I am really adept at cat flinging. God help me if I ever have a child who gets sick in the middle of the night. My reflexes are trained now and that kid will be air born more than once. Fun for the whole family.

The other reason I am cranky is a totally girlie reason and that is grief eating. You see due to the heartbreak of the friend dying I have turned to the classic coping mechanism: ingesting large quantities of mac and cheese. But now I have a date for the memorial which gives me 2 weeks to shed the grief weight so I can go put it back on in the form of binge drinking whilst in NY.

You can't say I'm not responsible.

Now excuse me while I go pout in a corner as I am an awesome adult.

Fun Fact

Did you know that the sound of a cat (inexplicably) dragging a paper bag full of trash across a floor at 4AM sounds EXACTLY like someone trying to break in? Because it does.

So there I am, middle of the night thinking I am being robbed and what do I do? I grab a frying pan and run into the living room. Apparently I was going to make the robber an omelet. Or I live in a 1970's sit com. Toss up really. Luckily it was just my really stupid cat with my trash bag between his teeth. I did not make him an omelet but I did shout many curse words and gesticulate wildly, all while holding a frying pan.

Good times.

Just a Tip

Here's a little tip from me to you:

When with a suitor and asked the question 'what do you know about babies' (not by suitor, but by someone else who is holding a baby) it's probably not wise to answer with the following statement: 'They really don't care for vodka.' Then when stared at blankly do not make the following joke: 'They definitely prefer Kaluha. I know my brother did. When he was teething we would rub some on his gums. Sure he now speaks with a lisp, drools uncontrollably and has one leg shorter than the other, but man, did it stop the crying.'

This may be why I'm single.

Side note, my brother is perfectly healthy but yes, we totally dud the Kaluha thing and it worked like a charm. Made the little tyke sleepy as well. Win all around.

The Weekend: A Recap

- As Liz mentioned on her blog this Friday we went to see a Journey cover band. What she neglected to mention were the following facts:
- At the McDonald's where we stopped for directions there was a conference room in the middle of the dining room with as sign encouraging people to rent it out for their next meeting. REALLY? No... really? Because nothing says effective business conferencing like the smell of McMuffins grilling

- At the concert there was a very, very, very drunk chick who kept hopping up on stage and grinding on the lead singer and bass player. When she touched the bass player (whom we were sweating from afar) Liz took off her shoe and threatened to throw it. Before I could encourage her enough to do it the roadie came out and dragged the woman off stage. She hopped back on 3 separate times. She was wearing a turtle neck and no bra, you know, for that touch of class

- A middle aged man with a dunlap (Belly done lapped over his belt) and his wife stood directly in front of us, dry humped and the dude took of his shirt. I contend that due to seeing this I lost an ovary and my left eye went blind for about 30 seconds. I'll never be the same.

- Despite all of these items we had an awesome time and Liz and I have agreed to slow dance with each other to Open Arms at our respective weddings. It'll be magical.

- Yesterday when driving home my Blue Tooth died. I still wanted to talk to Liz about my weekend so I put her on speaker phone. The only place I could think of to stash the phone close to my mouth? In my cleavage. So yes, Liz spoke to me from my breasts for an hour and it was magical. Also apparently around the 405 and 10 junction my breasts become a dead zone and drop calls. Just for your knowledge.

- I got the best massage of my life on Saturday. I am in no way exaggerating when after the massage I considered proposing to the masseuse Angela. I also tried to think of ways to lure her to my car. All I came up with was 'candy' as my brain was fried from the awesomeness of 90 minutes of deep tissue rubbin'. It didn't work but I will plot some more and go back to Angela soon. Oh yes, she will be mine.