Guess who's back..

Update + Disclaimer: Oh.my.Lord, for all of you that have asked me...NO, I didn't do anything with this guy. Geez, I may be a lush but I am not a hoochie!


...back again.
Megan's back....
tell a friend...
guess who's back, guess who's back...

alright, I'll stop now with the Eminem. Who would have thunk that using that reference is somewhat dated already. My how time flies.

And speaking of time flying, geez, what's up with my effin blog? I keep getting 'gentle' reminders that I haven't written in a long time and apparently that's all people like about me. Or maybe I'm exaggerating.

It's not that lots of crazy, wild exciting things haven't happened, I just haven't felt like writing. So instead of subjecting you to toooo many lame-o excuses for posts I decided to wait until I was feeling my mojo again.

Things have been very up and down for me lately. I've had this underlying feeling of stagnation and not being 'satisfied'. I've lost motivation when it comes to certain things...then it comes back, then it goes away again...it's like bi-polar motivation. Work has been taxing mentally, school is going to suck a big donkey dick this summer (sorry, it's true). Dating has been pretty much been a lot of false starts.

I have lots of stories to catch you up on but we'll start with this weekend and work backwards. Just like I read magazines, back to front. Don't ask me why, I just like to start at the end. Maybe this is a profound statement about my life. If you figure out what that means, clue me in.

ANYway...this weekend. After a pretty craptastic week Amber, April and I decide to go out on Saturday to one of our favorite watering holes. They have good live music, it's laid back and you can usually get a confidence booster with a guy or two hitting on you. fab. So we go.

As a side note, I usually have to drive at least part of the way whenever we go out since I inevitably live the furthest away. Saturday April was kind enough to pick me up. I took this opportunity seriously as you will see shortly.

So, we get to the bar and we're just hanging out, scoping out the joint, listening to music. In the first hour or so I down 4 vodka-7's...mama likey. We start walking around, seeing if there's anyone interesting to talk to. Amber and I notice a ginormously tall guy listening to the band. We park near him and I proceed to dance with him behind his back. Ya know, pretending I'm touching him, shaking my butt, all the things that sound like a good idea after 4 drinks. Luckily, he doesn't turn around to see this. We strike up conversation and I'm doing my best to think of a cheesy pick-up line. All in the name of fun. So I ask 'Have you always been this tall?'. That took hm by surprise. 'Nobody's ever asked me that before!'. Damn straight, I'm clever. Anyway, his name was Earl (eww) and he was a pretty nice guy. Somehow we got on the topic of majors. It must be said that this is my second least favorite topic after age. And really? I'm 31 years old, do you need to know my major? anyway, as soon as the word 'Ennnngggiiiiinneeeeerrriinnggg' left my lips, Earl became more rigid than Hugh Hefner on Viagra. My internal eye roll was going big-time. The jokes started coming. Jokes on how I was too smart to talk to him. How he's no good at math. How he's going to give me some engineering problem to solve. Ugh. Guys who don't like smart girls are so annoying.

So we decide to leave and go to the wine bar down the street. I tell Earl we're leaving and he seems disappointed but doesn't ask for my number or anything. For the best. I wouldn't want to beat his ass with my slide rule anyway.

So we go to the wine bar. I'm still only 4 drinks into the night. Amber and I order a bottle of wine and head to the bathroom. When we get back, glasses are poured and April is looking at us like we're insane. 'This is a dessert wine'. Shit. I take a sip. Sure enough it was like drinking sugar-water. None of us are a big fan of the sweet stuff. Because I am hell-bent on binge drinking though, I hold my breath and just start drinking. After I almost finished one glass we figure out we can send the bottle back and get another. So we did. About a glass into that one (drink count = 6) we start talking to two guys at the bar. The are Urologist's from New Zealand and are in town for a conference. This sounds like the beginning of a bad/good porno. So we proceed to talk to them for a while, drink outside and then finish the new bottle off.

We suggest taking them back to the original bar and they agree. Once we get there we get another rounds of drinks (drink count = 8) and start talking. Needless to say I'm starting to get a little 'fuzzy'. I go to order another round (drink count = 9) and this guy starts talking to me. He tells me he's been eyeing me from across the room and planted himself at the bar so he could meet me. In my inebriated state this sounds sweet, not creepy. Suddenly Amber and April and the pee doctors hit the dance floor and I'm talking to this guy. I tell him we need to order a shot (excellent idea...right on track with the binge drinking/talking to a stranger plan). We order shots (drink count = 10). He continues to tell me how beautiful I am and I'm eating it up. Because I'm wasted at this point. I'm having a hard time focusing my eyes on any one thing. I'm SURE I looked hot. He asks me if the fact that he has two kids is a problem. 'Um, we've been talking for 20 minutes, I guess not?' Then he asks if I want children and then answers for me and determines I look like I want children. Do I carry that look on my face? One that says 'please impregnate me I can't wait to have children?' Maybe I'm giving off the vibe that I want septuplets...I'm starting to rethink this strategy. (BTW, YES I do want children). Okay, so after we've determined my love for fertileness he informs me that he wants three more children and how I feel about that. Even in the state I'm in I'm thinking this is strange. THEN he tells me that we would have really good looking children. 'Well, no doubt.' I reply. 'You're really good looking and so am I' Apparently modesty and self-confidence are not lacking when you've have 10 drinks.

He goes on to talk about how he wants to go home with me tonight. Uh huh...buddy, I saw that coming a mile away and if you think you're going home with me, you've got another thing coming. He then informs me that he'll cook me breakfast in bed, we can go to the pool (me, in a bathing suit, around you? I think not) and we can take our dogs to the dog park.

I have to point out that although this is somewhat (ok REALLY) creepy, I kind of enjoy someone being that demonstrative. All the A-holes I dated in the recent (alright, not-so-recent) past have been very 'arms length' away. Which annoys the shit out of me. Tell me you like me! Tell me you can't wait to see me! Tell me I'm pretty! Damn it! Otherwise I will think you're not interested. Sooooo, from that perspective it was a nice change of pace.

I think it also needs to be mentioned that this guy was Hispanic. I find that Hispanic men are aaaaallll about you having their babies and have no trouble telling you that. Just an observation over my bazillion years of dating, I'm sure it's not true for everyone.

Alright...so after one more round of drinks when the pee-pee boys and the A's came back (drink count = 11) the bar is shutting down. We go to the New Zealander's hotel (because this seemed like a good idea??) My friend the 'baby-maker' drives me there (because THAT seemed like a good idea????) Lord, thank goodness I haven't run into any psychos. Baby-Maker didn't even try to touch me in the car. Whew!

So we get to the hotel room...and then that's it. goodnight.










kidding. Actually, nothing really happened, I felt the need to continually ask Amber and April if they were kissing their boys (which I could clearly see two feet from me) and I was attempting to drink a beer (because drink #12 would have really topped off the night). In the state I was in, Baby-Maker was pushing hard core for me to come home with him. At one point I said something to the effect of 'fine, let's go, I'm tired' and we left the room. Amber jumped up with the fury of 1000 best friends and stopped me about 3 feet from the door. 'Megan, you get your ass back here, you're not going anywhere' and told Baby-Maker 'We're leaving, and she's coming with us'. Now ultimately, my senses would have kicked in and I never thought in a million years the girls would let me go, but it was kinda fun seeing their reaction. And truth be told I was tired as shit and kinda just wanted to go to bed. Seriously.

So we left...and left approximately three sets of blue balls that evening. I'm sure they were all quite disappointed. The three of us hastily made our way to IHop and were part of the LATE-LATE crowd. On the way there I laid down in the backseat. I'm a freaking champ...I didn't even feel sick. But I did let out a small, undetectable, lady-like toot. And proceeded to let Amber and April know. Except I had to repeat myself like three times before they heard me and by the third time I was yelling 'I FARTED'. 'Well' April said 'I guess we're even more like family after tonight'. Amen sister.

We stuffed ourselves silly with breakfast food and then made the trek home. I fell asleep in the car. What a night.

So that's about it. The urine doctors contacted Amber and April the next day to go out but they respectfully declined. The Baby-Maker has called me a few times, but I don't see any connection (besides the fact that we'd apparently have good looking children) so I'm going to throw that one back. But damn, I got home at 5:00 in the morning and I had a fabulous time. And to top it all off, no hangover in the morning. How that happened after 11 drinks, I'll never know. But it's just what the doctor ordered and got me out of my funk.

And there you have it...the first of hopefully a long line of stories to entertain you.