Holy Cow...

....sorry guys, I left the 'sad post' up there longer than I intended. Did I say I would post on Friday? Yeah, about that. I chose to go out and have a 'low-key' night instead. Ya know, the kind of low key evening where you hang out with your fellow coworkers, get sloshed, meet up with your old VP, have him buys drinks for everyone all night, dance in a club with no shoes on. Yeah, that might have been what I did instead. Maybe.

Now that school is over for the week I can take a few moments to relax. ahhhhhh. And eat a half of a chicken and lots of watermelon tonight (my 'air' diet isn't going so well, thanks for asking). I also have come to the realization after working out tonight that thongs and running don't mix. When you're wearing baggy-ish pants. And you have to keep pulling them up. And you inadvertently keep pulling up your thong along with your pants. And after enough pulls your thong becomes a thong both in the front and in the back. And let me tell you, there's no graceful way to pick a front wedgie. none.at.all. Then again, the sensation wasn't half bad. I'll leave it at that.

Sooooo, onto the topic I was planning to discuss many moons ago. Settling. I meant to write about it months ago and forgot and thenScotty's post made me think of it again. My mom gave me an article from the paper back in April. It had two different writers discuss the prospect of settling. What's interesting is that these weren't 25 year old twits who really had no concept of what they were talking about, they were both women in their 40's ( think) that are single. Each had their own unique perspective. Lori Gottlieb wrote "Marry Him!" The case for settling for Mr. Good Enough. And Catherine Cuellar wrote "Quit stressing about finding Mr. Right and start enjoying life" You don't need a husband – you need a mirror

Gottlieb writes:

"All I can say is this: If you say you're not worried (about getting married), you're either in denial or you're lying. One of the most complicated, painful and pervasive dilemmas many single women are forced to grapple with nowadays is this: Is it better to be alone or to settle?"

Wow. I read that and I won't lie, 5% of me feels this way, but we'll get to that later. She basically goes on to say that you should want a marriage, not a romance and that halitosis, no passion and no intense connection should not be barriers to getting married. This is a woman who broke up with a guy she probably could have married in her early thirties, went on to not find anyone else over the course of the next 10-ish years and even decided to have a baby on her own before she 'ran out of time'. So she kinda did a 180 on her thinking. Interesting. I read it with mostly disdain, but I understood her perspective. To me though, a marriage is the icing on the cake, it's not the end goal in life. If it were that easy, then yes, I would suggest a partnership with the first decent male that comes along in order to meet the 'requirements' for simply existing on this earth. But wait, nobody says you HAVE to get married. True, most of us do want to find love and would like a family, but again, it should not be the end all be all of your life. Add to that, sentiment that I have a almost allergic reaction to affection from men I do not find attractive. Seriously. There have been a few breakups initiated by me once I realize I was in the relationship just to be in a relationship and that I had forced the 'attraction' (college people, college). I could no longer fathom kissing the guy much less spending the rest of my life with him. Maybe I'm 'lucky' maybe from that perspective. I can't settle for someone I'm not physically attracted to. But what if that's there? How do you define 'settling'? I think this is another major point. If you define 'settling' as not living the fairytale, not having the glass slipper, now waking up every more with lust and passion in your eyes and never thinking you'll ever say a cross word to each other, theeeen I might argue settling is probably okay. Actually, that should fall more along the lines of accepting reality. But what is settling? I do think it's something only you personally can know for sure. I've been in relationships where people thought I was settling (alright one big relationship) but they didn't know everything I knew, they didn't know all the intricacies that made him, him and what made us connect on the deepest level I've ever connected in a relationship. Was it the perfect scenario? Did he come with a lot of baggage? yeah, but I don't necessarily think that's settling...that's life folks, and if you're waiting for a sweet sweet virgin guy who's never seen a naked body and never been in a relationship where there wasn't a little bit of baggage, I'd say you were fooling yourself. So what is settling? If she's Harvard educated and he's a fry cook? If he's the life of the party and she hates social situations but is good in bed? Like I said, I think it's something that can only truly be know personally. From the outside looking in, I'd argue that most times we don't see the big picture.

BACK the the articles. On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Cuellar, who writes:

My worst nightmare about being single was that I'd develop "back cancer" – a mysterious malignancy preventable only if detected by routine visual inspection of the spot between my shoulder blades I can't see. When I shared this phobia with a 37-year-old friend who last December had her first child, she said, "You don't need a husband; you need a mirror."

Alright, THAT made me crack up.

She goes on to make some good points:
Women are not more likely to be killed by terrorists than to marry for the first time after 30 (a story I think we're all heard at one time or another)
Not all women need to have children.
and
Single people aren't inferior to married people -Wedding vows don't magically ward off adultery, immaturity or selfishness.

Hmmmm, she definitely has some good points. And after I read both articles I sat for a while and thought. Which person am I? That's when I came up with the 5% estimation. 5% of me is panicked. 5% of me hears my biological clock ticking (sometime more when I see Jon and Kate plus 8, other times less when a kid whines/cries for 20 minutes while I'm eating sushi and his parents do nothing). The only problem is, there is no 5% in me that wants to settle. I like, dare I say even love at times, my life. I love my friends, my family and I've finally gotten comfortable with who I am and who I want to become. So it's difficult if not impossible, for me to settle at this point. 10 years ago? Quite possibly. Now? No way. Which seems odd since I had more 'time' 10 years ago, but maybe with age ::cough cough:: come some hint of wisdom. Knowing myself well enough to know that if I settle for someone who's not quite right I will never be happy. Does that mean he has to be perfect? Hell no. He just has to be quirky/imperfect in the way that I like 'em. Close minded? Hates animals? No go. Silly? Believes in aliens? Can't cook? No prob. And let's not forget, I think I have a lot to offer...I don't want to be wasting it on someone I don't like all that much but wouldn't mind as a business partner.

Well, I think I've rambled on and on and on and I'm not even sure what my ultimate point is. Maybe it's just to say to the single women out there, listen up! Don't settle! You're never going to find Mr. Perfect, but I can almost guarantee (fingers crossed) that we can find Mr. Perfect For Me whom I love and respect and don't mind if they fart in the car every once in a while. Because hey, who am I to talk? I had a coochie wedgie today.

P.S. I actually have more thoughts on the topic, but it's after midnight so I'll 'settle' for a nice soft bed and some sleep vs. more words.

Lord, I hate it when I think I'm being funny and I'm not.

I realize...

...that the title of this blog is Happygolucky and stuff...so I hate to be a downer. But sometimes, a story touches me so profoundly and makes me cry like a million tears that I feel I must share.

So be prepared, if you don't feel like being sad, whatever you do, don't read this.

Here's the blog.
http://www.mattlogelin.com/

and you should probably start here.
http://www.mattlogelin.com/if-you-havent-been-here-before/

More uplifting stuff tomorrow. In fact, the topic will be 'should you settle'. Until then, send some prayers and good vibes to this new family.

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.

I'm gullible to all marketing

I've been watching Jon and Kate Plus 8 on TLC....and now I would like to have septuplets.

Apparently it's not only shiny objects and glossy ads that make me want things, it's also documentary shows.

I'm crazy, yes? My logic is I'm kinda behind the curve on having kids...so why not just get them all done with at once? Easy cheesy, right?

Yes, I know...I need help.

Sorry dear readers...

...I have some things to share, but don't ya know the writing bug is gone right now. I'd kill for some writing 'ants in my pants'.

Until then, I give you eye candy. Now I admit, for my 2 male readers this will be very not exciting. But hopefully for my 3 female readers it will be exciting.

Mmmmmm, Lenny....

Adrian Grenier - yum

McDreamy
Leo...seriously, I was his first fan...ever. Hi Brad, ur hot...

Christian Bale...he's grown on me

Dave Navarro...shut up, he's dirty hot

he has a funny voice...but he doesn't have to talk

Johnny...I've loved you since 21 Jump Street

And there ya go...eye candy...just for you.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

Because even though you tell me you only read my blog 'every once in a while when you get around to it', I know you read it every day.

I love you. Thanks for being a wonderful mother. I can only hope to be as fabulous as you have been one of these days (of course, at the rate I'm going that will be at age 50).

Oh and this....don't worry, I won't tell Andrea.

Happy Mother's Day

poor with the zoo crew

I picked the wrong profession. I just spent 1 hour at the vet and forked over $460. Make that $463. Why? Are my animals in danger? Tigger lost a limb? Gracie choked on a bone? Nope...just the annual checkup for all the beasts. all three of them. At the SAME TIME.

This is when I most look like the crazy animal lady. I made the error today of wearing dark clothes. Which proceeded to be completely and utterly covered in fur by the time we left.

This was a new vet (I didn't really like my other one). Two cows and a dog greeted us on the way in. Gracie was intrigued by the cows. And by intrigued I mean she saw them as a threat and wanted to kill them. Even though she is 25 pounds. The cows apparently will lick your hands if you let them. Awesome.

One cat carrier in eat hand, a purse over my shoulder and a leash in my hand. "Here comes the crazy lady!" I could almost hear them declare. The woman at the front informed me that low cost vaccines were next week. I told her it wasn't worth any amount of savings to get two cats in two carriers and along with the dog get back over here.

Everyone is fine. Daisy was a malcontent and is currently not speaking to me. In fact, every time I even look at her she hisses at me. So much for me being the only living creature she likes. I think we're down to complete hatred of breathing beings. And her 8 pound self will kick your ass. And now mine too.

Tigger is good. Looked at me like 'what the fuck is going on here' when they took his temperature. Seriously. That cat doesn't have many expressions but this was a new one. Not to mention he pooped in his carrier on the way home. In traffic. While he caterwauled. But you're supposed to be the GOOD cat! Of course, he's back to normal now. All 12 pounds of him.

Gracie was good too. I asked her to estimate her age. She told me four and a half, six tops. Which is what a different vet told me three and a half years ago when I found her. Maybe Gracie has found the fountain of youth? Other than that, the bump on her neck is not terminal cancer as I had suspected, her ears are not massively infected as I expected (due to some head shaking lately) but instead some of the 'cleanest ears she's seen on a dog', and actually weighs a little less than she did last time. All in all everyone's in good shape.

So between the exams, the shots, the tests and the heartworm medication for everyone I spend a cool $460...sigh...just when I wanted to do a little redecorating. Hey, but at least my animals are taken care of. Not that they appreciate it. I've got the malcontent staring at me and a carrier full of poop to prove it too.