The post where Megan feels like a bad dog mom

**not for the squeamish**

Alright, so the Gracie incident didn't go away after last night. Nope...there was a present (and I use the term loosely...get it? loosely?) on the kitchen floor this morning. THANK GOODNESS it was not on the hardwoods or the carpet. Good girl, Gracie.

I called the vet after I let Gracie out and she had another explosion. That makes three in like 12 hours. They couldn't get me in until 3:30 (seriously? on a Tuesday? and I'm calling before 8am?) but give me the hope that they may call me in earlier. So I did what any good mom would do. I stayed home with my kid today. Not to mention I was super-tired and still needed to work on school stuff...but that's a different story entirely.

So I fed her white rice thinking it would help to have something plain. That got puked up about two hours later. Then we had about 4 trips outside which resulted in 'drippy butt furs' So Gracie got 4 baths today. By the fourth one my idiotic brain finally realized the long butt fur and tail fur had to go. So I cut it all off. Well, most of it anyway. Problem solved during future occurrences. It only took 5 total baths to figure that one out.

So no call from the vet and we go in at 3:30. It has to be mentioned that I have a school presentation at 6:00. Pleeeenty of time, right? So we get there and wait for freakin ever. Finally we get in to see the doc and she does her thing. Examines her, asks if she's gotten into any chemicals, eaten anything strange. I am racking my bran and thinking of nothing. I just couldn't figure this one out. She asks if I brought a stool sample. I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind, but the thought of trying to catch projectile diarrhea coming out of my dog's butt did not seem appealing to me. I love her and all, but washing her shitty ass 5 times was enough contact for me.

So the vet does the next best thing. Sticks her gloved finger up Gracie's butt. Gracie looked at me like 'what in the Fuck is going on here?' Poor thing. Anyway, the doc is again gone for a long time and when she comes back she tells me 'well, this is only preliminary until we get a full stool sample, but I'm basically sending you home with a small pharmacy today.' Ummmmm, really? She then proceeds to tell me that she say MANY organisms in poor Gracie's poop. Many. What?? She's an inside dog! I've already felt guilty recently for leaving her outside in the mornings, but there's nothing in my backyard for her to get into (not to mention she loves to be outside). I suddenly feel like they're going to call the equivalent of CPS for animals on my ass. 'We got a code 87609!! Get'er!' Great.

So the doc proceeds to explain about all the little organisms Gracie is harboring or may be harboring. I recognize Giardia...and worms...and there are a few others thrown in for good measure. Good God, she was just at the vet two months ago! Anyway, Gracie got two shots and I got sent home with FOUR different prescriptions and 8 days worth of prescription dog food (which she can't start eating until tomorrow).

So the vet reminds me to bring a stool sample in ASAP. Ick. But as luck would have it as I'm waiting to pay....well, you know the song 'if you're climbing up a ladder and you hear something splatter....' Well, that's exactly what was happening at my feet. Gracie was splattering all over the floor. AND I was having a conversation with another customer. 'Oh sorry, my dog appears to be shitting everywhere' Then of course the smell hits. Embarrassing party of one your table is ready. Actually, make that table of two...at that point Gracie hid under the waiting room chairs. Soooo, the upside was(there's ALWAYS an upside) ...no collection of a stool sample for me! There ya go vet-lady...there it is! And...gross story....the vet did indeed come collect it...with an index card and a vile...I'm shuddering thinking of the scene over again.


Anyway, lab results tomorrow...hopefully it's nothing more serious than what she already discovered (because it can all be treated with medication).

Now it must be pointed out that I was warned that if it IS Giardia that means I can get it too. And although I washed my hands every time I handled her and even though I cleaned up messes with a bleach based cleaner, what do ya wanna bet that I get it too? Although, the upside (remember, always an upside) is that the vet was saying how often it is misdiagnosed. And that her brother in law had it and kept losing weight, losing weight, losing weight and they could not figure out what was wrong with him. Hmmmmmmm, I'm thinking maybe I'll hang on to the Giardia for a few weeks...drop that last 15 pounds and call it a night? Of course, I may then be known as the girl that shits her pants, but we can't all be perfect, now can we? Kidding! (well, at least kinda)

Oh, and about how she got all this stuff. I have two theories. One, the vet said since I found her as a stray, it's totally possible for her to be harboring a lot of this for years...which would explain her random bouts with these kinda of problems (never this bad though). My other theory is that due to Gracie's penchant for cat poop (it pains me to say this) she may have picked it up from a neighborhood cat. I let her off leash in the front yard and every once in a while I'll turn my back. When I turn back around, I occasionally see her eaiting something. 'STOP IT! Drop whatever you're eating! I tend to scream.' But the damage is done, Gracie has eaten the poop of God only knows what kind of hooligan cat. That's my theory, anyhow.

So if Gracie tries to lick you on the face? Respectfully decline.

Cross your fingers that my little girl will be okay. k? thanks.

Oh, and what has my social life come to that all I talk about is dog diarrhea? Think on *that* one for a minute.

Do you want some cheese with that whine?

Ugh...I realize it's late but I just have to vent.

Things that are wrong today by Megan Go-Lucky

1. I spent the better part of 10 hours working on a school project yesterday. There are a few in the group that appear to be slack asses (no, not you Kristi). This makes me angry. I hate having to do twice the work because some fucker is too lazy to do a good job on their part.

2. I went to bed at two last night. I almost needed a crane to get me out of bed today.

3. I'm bloated today (you can see where *this* is headed)

4. I just got home from class.

5. I have class again tomorrow...after that thing I call a job.

6. I came home to an unidentifiable pile of goo on my carpet that had to be taken care of.

7. I also came home to Gracie planted at the back door.

8. The dog mentioned above had her bowls explode into a disgusting, smelly mess once I let her outside.

9. The upside? She desperately held it till I got home (If you've never had the pleasure of cleaning diarrhea out of a carpet, let me tell ya, it's a dream). She always greets me when I come home...she didn't make a peep and was just clamoring to get out in the backyard. poor thing.

10. The downside? She has long, white hair.

11. Had to give Gracie a bath tonight. A very smelly, unpleasant bath...at 10:30 pm

12. My fourth of July weekend will pretty much be tied up with another school project...because we were so busy working on the other class. I've mentioned that I dislike school, right? Happy effen Independence Day bitches.

13. Okay, since 13 is my lucky number I will make this a positive...I have a new, sectional sofa being delivered on Saturday (cross my fingers).

14. Oh Lord, I don't have the strength for 14...I'm bitching too much as it is.

I was laughing with someone today about the irony of when someone gets angry and shouts something completely out of place, like "I AM fun!" or "I AM a happy person you mutherfucker!. It was funny at the time. As I looked in the mirror tonight and see the dark circles, pre-pubescent zits and red eyes, and due to my lack of sleep in general...I'm thinking I'm not that far off from expressing the same thing. Except maybe I won't be ironic. Maybe I'll just yell "A THOUSAND FIREY DEATHS TO YOU LAZY SONS OF BITCHES WHO DON'T PARTICIPATE IN GROUP WORK...BAH!"

See, that wouldn't be ironic...just crazy...but I'm on the edge, people...teetering...tottering...

...oh shit, I just realized it's only Monday.

June has been a month of oddities

Really, it has. But first. Damn you Sarah Mclachlan and your ASPCA commercial! I want to stab my crying eyes out every time your damn commercial comes on. As if it's not bad enough that I already own three, slightly demented, highly neurotic animals, you make me want to run out and adopt every damn at, dog, bird and bunny from all my local shelters. This is not fair. In fact, this kind of advertising should be illegal. I'm just sayin. As if it wasn't already bad enough that I would feel the burn of a thousand hells if I ever dared purchase a dog from a breeder. I just can't do it. My Catholic guilt and strong neuroses won't allow it. And you shouldn't either. so there. That's me imparting my opinions on you, and then telling you that they're better than yours so you better follow them. K? Thxs. And may the ASPCA commercial haunt you forever more. Amen.


So this month has been strange. Just a weird series of events that aren't connected, yet seem cosmically so. First there's the issue of the freaks that get drawn to the triad that is Andrea, Tere and I. About a month ago (okay, so not June, but work with me here) we were all in the parking lot of Tom Thumb (or as Andrea says with her Colombian accent, Tom Tum). Anyway, as we are walking out to the parking lot, this middle aged bagger-dude stops us. "You ladies sure are radiant!" of course, Tere and I, the attention whores, say "why, thank you!" even though this guy is sorta weird. He goes on to tell us that he just got the Jimi Hendrix album 'Electric Ladyland' and that we remind him sooo much of it! Again, while Andrea gives him the stink eye, Tere and I say 'Thank you! that's so sweet!' Later, in the car, Andrea asks if we even know what that means. "No" Tere and I both reply. "so why did you thank him??" she said. Because we're Southern, dammit, and Southern girls are gracious and say 'thank you'. 'Whatever' Andrea said. 'He was creepy'. BUT we all started laughing and saying how we needed to put it on a t-shirt and how it MUST have meant nothing but good things and how from now on that will be our moniker. Fast forward to Monday. We look up said album on Wiki. And find this as inside album art.


















Oh. note to self, don't be so nice to creepy, middle aged baggers dudes.

Fast forward to last night and the three of us are together again. We go eat at a Mexican place and then decide to walk to the 99 cent store afterwards (nothing but class). On our way there we pass a Starbucks (since people who like items that are 99 cents also appreciate coffee that's 4 dollars). We pass a group of foreign (Turkish? maybe Greek?), older guys. They shout out 'Hey! we like your sunglasses!' Tere and I are both wearing sunglasses, hers white, mine brown. 'which ones?' Andrea asks as we continue to walk by. 'Both! We don't discriminate! ha ha ha ha ha!' Ew. Alright, whatever. So after our expedition (FYI, 99 cent store candy is not that great) we pass by them on our way back to the car. 'what did you ladies get???'. 'candy' we reply. 'whoooaaaa, ha ha ha, you like the sweets!' Um yeah. Then one guy pipes in 'Hey, can we suck on YOUR candy?'.
.................................
.................
........
...
.

That's my cue right there to exit stage left. Seriously? I was thinking of punching him in the face, but Tere was wearing uncomfortable shoes and we were really full ao we couldn't have run very fast. ew. ew. and double eeww. We attract the strange ones. I yelled 'Suck It old man!' as we drove away....

Let's see, what else. Oh! I had a few of blasts from the pasts! Remember Funny Guy? I haven't talked to him in months and months (ya know, around the time he stopped asking me out-ish) and out of the blue I get an e-mail from him. We had talked about documentaries on one of our dates and I had sent him a list of the 100 top grossing documentaries (doesn't that just oooze sex appeal??). Anyway, I get an e-mail from him in response to that e-mail (sent from me on Feb freakin 22nd) saying I should check out Morgan Spurlock's new documentary 'Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden' . Um, okay? how does one respond to this? So I simply said thank you and that I'd have to check it out. Haven't heard from him again. THEN, yesterday I got a Facebook request from a guy to be friends with him. I recognized him (his name) as the guy from eHarm who I had dinner plans with and then he backed out at the last minute claiming some kind of double-bookary with his granny. uhhhhh, okay. Anyway, once again, that was months ago and although he asked for a rain check, I never expected to hear from him again. and I didn't. until yesterday. I think I should mention that once I 'friended' him I realized he had just joined facebook. And has no pic. And two days later I am STILL HIS ONLY FRIEND. Does this seem strange to anyone else? I mean, he hasn't e-mailed or posted on my wall or anything else, and I feel like it would be slightly obvious if I 'de-friended' him. My warped sense of reality leads me to believe that this guy is going to show up in the parking lot at school one night and kill me. Since he's seen all my crazy Facebook pics. Because those pics make people want to kill me? Shit, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. My neuroses confuse even me.

Like I said, none of these events seem connected, but somehow they all are. Baby Maker still tries to contact me at odd intervals, very late at night which I think is odd..so I don't answer. Well, I did once and we had a really boring conversation with no mention of going out (which was fine by me, but then why call?). Seriously, I'm half expecting my prom date to show up at my door just to see how I'm doing. Which would really be weird since he lives 3 hours away and is married with two kids. BUT YOU NEVER KNOW.

Well, off to go do a paper for school. It's due tomorrow so of course I wait until tonight. It's my theory of life. just in time. Not just for factories anymore!

It's moments like these...

...that make me want to have kids. Dang they are cute.






See? I CAN hold a baby without damaging it! (although we had a few close calls) But dude! check out our double chins!! Somehow it's cuter on the baby...

Sigh...I just want to pinch their little cheeks....

....the ones on their face, that is.

Happy Saturday!

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.