Whew! Another Halloween down! Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. Yeah yeah, I realize it's really not as important as baby Jesus' birthday or any of that stuff, but when else do you get to be someone else for the night? And who doesn't love people watching that night? I mean, I know Halloween is getting more slutty and I agree that as a culture we're probably over-sexed, but so what? If someone else wants to wear two band-aids and a cork as an outfit, what do I care? As long as it doesn't become mandatory for all women in the US to dress like hoochies, why should you care? ANYway. Back to the story. So I used the same costume as last year (sexy cop) and wore opaque tights under it this year since I was going out in public (to a club for a Halloween/birthday party) and I didn't want my butt cheeks to totally hang out. Also, I feel like maybe I've gained a few l-b-s over the course of the year. Scale-wise it's like 5, but it might as well been 500...when you're wearing not stretchy polyester that's already meant to be form fitting, 5 pounds translated into 'Megan now knows what it feels like to be a sausage.' Seriously. So...it's a short outfit. Amy also wore a short outfit. We were thinking we were a little risque for the night. And then we stepped out of the car and were greeted immediately by butt cheeks. Oh. Well, shit, now I look like a nun. Seriously. This chick was wearing butt shorts, a bra-like contraption and suspenders (to hold her panties up??). Wow. Alright, so into the club we go. At that point we are literally surrounded by butt cheeks and boobs. Everywhere. We are WAY overdressed! There was one chick who was dressed as Wonder Woman. Well, what wonder woman would look like if her career as a crime fighter didn't work out and she was working a new job and the local tit-ay bar. I thought this chick was wearing no clothes, only paint. So I did what any concerned citizen would do. I took a picture of her butt. And upon inspection this morning, I realized she did indeed have clothes on. Well, kinda. (see the oh-so-modest thong?)
So Tere's party was lots of fun...a lot of her friends came out and everyone was dressed up. I drank WAY too much WAY too fast and proceeded to throw up at the house party we went o after that. Nice. A little overboard for someone who's about to be 32, don't cha think? (Oh Lord, typing that number gave me a little heart attack). Enough about that. Everyone looked great. And then I spotted him. And smiled to myself. One of Tere's friends was...how should I say...colorful...an obvious bad boy. Someone I totally would have dated teneight five years ago. (Hey, some of us take a little longer to get out of our bad-boy phase than others) So, I did what any other normal person would do. I asked Tere to take a picture of us even though I hadn't spoken a word to him. ::Hai, will you please take a picture with me so I can prove a point on my blog? kthxs:: I had her take it for two reasons #1 Because hello, our outfits went together and #2 Just as a reminder of how far I've come. I've evolved. I no longer want the unattainable guy, the one that I fear may disappear from my life at any moment, the one that treats me like crap, the dumb but pretty guy, the guy with the criminal record (eek!). I've had that, suffered the consequences and don't want to go there anymore. I want a guy who's kind, funny, is good with kids, makes me feel special, makes me feel safe, good looking (hello, I'm at least a little shallow), rational, and smart.
Well I have been searching all of my days
All of my days
Many a road, you know
I’ve been walking on
All of my days
And I’ve been trying to find
What’s been in my mind
As the days keep turning into night
Well I have been quietly standing in the shade
All of my days
Watch the sky breaking on the promise that we made
All of this rain
And I’ve been trying to find
What’s been in my mind
As the days keep turning into night
Well many a night I found myself with no friends standing near
All of my days
I cried aloud
I shook my hands
What am I doing here
All of these days
For I look around me
And my eyes confound me
And it’s just too bright
As the days keep turning into night
Now I see clearly
It’s you I’m looking for
All of my days
Soon I’ll smile
I know I’ll feel this loneliness no more
All of my days
For I look around me
And it seems he found me
And it’s coming into sight
As the days keep turning into night
As the days keep turning into night
And even breathing feels all right
Yes, even breathing feels all right
Now even breathing feels all right
It’s even breathing
Feels all right
All My Days by Alexi Murdoch
*Sorry for the cheesiness. Regularly scheduled, snarky, neurotic postings to follow :)
California was a dream...it was all beaches and pools and sun and sand and food and dessert and everything you could imagine. it was also a bit hot. Hard to believe, no? I was nothing like here in Dallas, but with most places kinda shy with the a/c it made for some unexpected sweaty times.
But we all know I have some sort of glandular problem when it comes to sweating and this time it started before I even stepped off the plane. Seriously, the plane from Salt Lake to California was hot. Like no a/c was pumping. And I actually didn't think too much of it. I mean, I hate being cold on a plane and I was wearing short sleeves and flip flops, so not much of a problem, right? Wrong. About 15 minutes before landing I get up to use the bathroom. As I'm washing my hands in the coffin-sized bathroom I noticed HUGE sweat rings under my pits o' sweat. Seriously? My eyes got really wide and I broke out into a panic. I am usually pretty resourceful and can fix most problems McGyver style with two paperclips and a toilet seat, but I was at a loss for this one. I try to use the bathroom paper towels to negate the rings. No luck. Not to mention I'm now noticeably starting to sweat because of the panic. "Think on you toes Megan, maybe you can fashion a airplane blanket into a tube top". Except now they charge you for airplane blankets. "Maybe you can steal a blanket for that passenger asleep in 34B, nevermind that it's a frail old lady. Her day has come and gone, you need sweat free clothing." After realizing that I didn't want to get arrested, I made my way back to my seat. Did I mention I'm meeting a GUY in California? I mean, if I was meeting my Grandpa or something I would have totally been, "What's up, I got sweaty pits, did I get them from your side of the family?" But this was a little different.
I scooted back to my seat and saw a young couple on the way back. The guy leaned over and was talking to the girl and he was looking at me. Holy Jesus he's noticed the sweat and is laughing about it with his girlfriend! I will be ridiculed and probably stoned upon Delta's arrival into Gate B14. Sigh. There's nothing to do but wait.
So we landed and I was waiting for my luggage, thinking of new and creative ways to look sexy while keeping my arms rigid and pasted to my sides. I kept looking at my armpits. People started to think I was weird. Figures.
So I gt my bag and make my way out to the outside part of the airport, waiting for my host to pick me up. For reference purposes, let's call him...Cowboy. Makes no sense, but just roll with it, mmmkay? So he picks me up, we hug, I try to keep my arms down while we hug (interesting way to hug, no?), he lugs my 5000 pound bag into his trunk and we're off. And I'm still thinking about my pits. And wondering if the sweat ring has reached my waist yet.
We're off to lunch at that point. We get to the place and decide to sit outside. It's California, I reason. It's wonderful weather! Ummm, I got sat in the sun. And I started drinking a beer. Alcohol makes me sweat more and apparently this area of California was experiencing warmer than usual temps so in conjunction with the panic, it was like being on the surface of the sun.
I am in full panic mode. Think Megan THINK! Ever the girl scout (fine, I didn't actually make it past Brownies) I decided to go to the bathroom to figure out a plan. I was starting to sweat under my boobs now, on my back. The shirt I was wearing was the material of a button up...and it was light blue...and it showed every droplet. So I get to the bathroom and it's like a scene from the Bourne Identity. Frantically searching for a solution. Finally it dawns on me...I have another shirt in my purse! I was worried that I would get cold so at the last minute I had thrown in a few long sleeve shirts into my bag and one into my carry on. Yes, it was black and long sleeved, but it was also thin and cotton. Bingo! So I rip off my current shirt of shame and put on the new one. Now for the explanation. Cowboy is going to think it's weird that I am changing clothes mid-lunch. Then I reckon that he knows me well enough to know that I am nothing if not weird so I head back out.
I come up to the table and yell "surprise! It's outfit number two!" He looks and me strange but asks no questions. Crisis kinda sorta, not really avoided.
Alright, the sweat story took longer than I thought. Part two will have to be tomorrow to keep you from falling asleep on me.
If you remember, earlier this year (or was it last year?) I set a goal to do a triathlon...or wait, was it a half marathon? or maybe a 10k? hell, I don't remember, but in any case, I set it and then totally didn't do it. Apparently having accountability to my blog readers doesn't help. Soooo, the obvious thing to do this time is to...um...well, have accountability to my blog readers. I see now that this may be an issue, but nonetheless, here I go.
::clears throat::
I'm going to train for the Dallas White Rock Marathon, December 14th. Wait, the half-marathon portion of it. Sigh...yes, let me set a goal that will involve the beltsander of death. Oh, and on a sidenote, I'm going to the doctor tomorrow...my hand still hurts, my knee is healing but still hurts and apparently when you get a tetnaus shot it hurts and swells for days on end. WTF? But I digress. I'm using this training guide http://www.halhigdon.com/halfmarathon/novice.htm and seeing what happens. I've never run more than 4 miles so this should be interesting.
Anyway, wish me luck! Or don't! Really just cross you fingers that I don't die at the hands of an out of control treadmill....that'd be greaaaat. thnxs.
On to other news. I never talked about my California trip! I swear to start in the next day or so...some of the stories are too weird not to share. What? I'll only be like three weeks late.
And one more tidbit. I paited my room this weekend. I got a wild hair and decided it *must* be done the very second I thought of it. So I did...broken hand and all. Not the smartest thing ever but it just HAD to be done.
No before pictures..at least on purpose, so here's a random pic of Daisy so you can see the day-glo yellow. And then an after so you can see the calm, soothing blue (Faint Flicker to be exact.)
well, that was the biggest mish-mash of a post I think I've ever done...I think that's a sign I need to go to bed...goodnight!
....you heard it here first! So I went to the doctor this morning. After some poking and prodding, he decided to take x-rays. It must be mentioned that today my hand is less swollen, but now a lovely shade of brown. And the palm had a lovely tinge of black. But overall it feels somewhat better to the point that I was thinking I may not go. But due to the prodding of certain individuals, I decided to bite the bullet.
And what did doc in the box tell me?
Twins!!
Awww, aren't they so cute?? Wish me luck!
Alright, back to reality. So he said he *thinks* I broke my hand. Like the pinkie bone, but in my hand. He showed me the films and I was like....uhhh, I'm not sure what I'm looking for here. I mean, it's not like I have some sort of grotesque compound fracture that is sticking out of the skin and shit. Only one of the x-rays caught it but he is deeming it a fracture and told me I would have to go to an Orthopedic hand specialist to get further treatment. He put me in a pinkie splint and a wrist splint (ya know, one of those carpel tunnel looking wrist things) and sent me on my way. I wore that shit all day. When I left for school it finally dawned on me that the splint was making it hurt worse so I took it off and don't intend to put it back on. In fact, I can type in caps now! woo hoo! don't get me wrong, it still hurts like a bitch if I do certain things. My eyes cross and it takes my breath away (take my breath awaaaaaay a a aaaaaaa, a a aaaaaaaa, a a aaaaaa <--Top Gun, anyone?) so I'll still probably go to the other doc, but at least I don't have to wear that silly split. Ya wanna know what *really* hurts? Like, what started hurting worse and worse as the day progressed? Like, what stopped me from going to class tonight? I got all the way there and almost cried at the thought of walking all the way from the parking lot. What? My freaking knee of death. Wanna see? I've had to tell the story a million more times and have now started responding with 'I got in a fight' just to avoid the inevitable roaring laughter when I tell the treadmill story. Seriously. This was forwarded to me at work today along with all my co-workers.
And they were laughing so hard they were crying. I must admit, I've gotten a pretty good laugh out of it as well. Occasionally though I want to run over their faces with a belt sander....but only sometimes.
My SVP asked me today if I was alright. I had told him the story yesterday. When I showed him my knee (thanks for not shaving today,Megan) and told him my hand was broke, he looked at me with a weird look and said 'and you ran another mile after that?'. Ummm, yeah...but it didn't hurt that bad immediately! and you could hardly notice the blood since I was wearing black pants! He looked at me like I had just told him I arrived yesterday from the moon. Humph.
Well, on the upside, since 2 aleave didn't work wonders for my knee of death tonight, I'm going to attempt to take a vicodin before bed...I've only ever taken one before and I just remember feeling very fuzzy, so I figured I'd write this post first so I wouldn't start writing all tripped out and end up spilling all my deep dark secrets in a vicodin high. I suggest if you want to know the truth about something, call me in 30 minutes. I'll either snore in your ear or tell you that yes, I think your boyfriend is a douche and that pair of pants you wore today was doing you no favors.
Oh, on one other note. If you buy the Johnson and Johnson antiseptic wash and it say something to the effect of 'hurt free' on it, don't believe the hype. That shit is going to burn like you've just poured crazy acid onto your delicate skin (you know, crazy acid, like really strong acid, duh). And when the Neosporin tube says 'with pain reliever'? Take that to mean "we know this already hurts, but would you like it to hurt even more? Great. Put this on it." Is today opposite day or what??Ouch...no more caps...the shift pain is back. and yes, i can only hit 'shift' with my right hand. Let's see what color the knee of death is tomorrow!
....when you combine Me + treadmill + gym at work + lunchtime?
yeah, so it was painful....and maybe even more so mentally than physically. Wanna hear the story? Of course you do! And I'm here to bring it to you even though half of my right hand is rendered useless. I've got about 2 hours to spare until my doctor appointment. One of those doc-in-a-box places. I somehow wanted to brave it through the day, but my knee and mostly my hand are starting to really hurt so I'm going to go get a diagnosis. My prediction? A broken hand...but maybe because I'm a wuss and it hurts and I assume hurt + swollen + kinda crunchy = broken....but we'll see.
So, embarrassment 101...listen up, if you want to make an ass of yourself in front of co-workers while wearing a too-tight sports top for the first time, this is how to do it. So I was on the treadmill and had hit about a mile. I was sweaty as usual. I wanted to take like a 30 second break to go to the water fountain and get a towel. seriously 30 seconds. so I hit pause on the machine. the belt stops. i get off the machine (btw, no caps...my pinkie can't handle it). i get water and a towel. i bound back over to the machine. i do a little 'hop skip' onto the treadmill. oh, btw, note to self...the treadmill is possessed and will TURN BACK ON while you least expect it. oh yeah. and both feet are on the treadmill at this point. and then both promptly go backwards, defecting from my torso...one foot hits the floor, the other hits the belt. next, my hand slams somewhere on the treadmill. then strange things start to happen. my one foot is stationary, but the rest of my body is being shoved back by the belt so i'm kinda totally wonky. it seriously felt like it took 30 seconds to get off the belt sander of death, all the while my one knee is being sanded just about to the bone (alright, not quite, but it hurt!). then it was over...and i almost started to cry....almost. i kept my shit together, dusted myself off. answered that i was fine. felt my pinky throb, saw that the inside of my pants have about two layers of skin on the knee, pull myself together and run another mile. and then say wtf am I doing and stop, shower and go back to work.
at first i thought i jammed my finger...then my hand started to swell, then i had a hard time typing. oh lordy.
andrea was running right next to me at the time and didn't even notice i hit the deck. she said she heard a really loud noise...my heft hitting the belt...and then looked to her left and saw nothing. then she looked to the right and saw nothing...mostly because i was on the floor....then she saw me get up. she did a good job holding it together and not laughing. i think she even turned off the machine for me. ya know...so i didn't lose ALL the skin on my knee.
sigh...want to know the crazy part? the lady who runs the gym told me that she's seen other people have this problem. excuse me? a note on the machine about that MAY be nice. ya think?
anyway, we all got a big kick out of my retelling the story 5000 times at work and everyone laughing that my dumb ass got up and ran another mile (ya know, to show with a quivering lip that i'm okay..sniff sniff) and laughing at how andrea never even noticed i fell like a sack of potatoes. i did get a few e-mails later in the day asking if i was okay...ug...you mean you SAW that atrocity?? so much for being the cool girl at work...
i'll let you know how the doctor goes. i'm kinda assuming that since i'm going to the quack shack they'll tell me i'm pregnant with twins or something. we'll see!
update: well, no pregnancy diagnosis tonight. i called to get an update of when they could see me and it was bordering on 10pm so i cancelled and will call in the morning. i'm kinda exhausted and sore so i think i'm going to take 12 aleave and go to bed. hopefully the swollen hand of death doesn't go crazy while i sleep and quadruple in size. will someone come bring me ice cream? i think that would help. thnxs.
I had her take it for two reasons #1 Because hello, our outfits went together and #2 Just as a reminder of how far I've come. I've evolved. I no longer want the unattainable guy, the one that I fear may disappear from my life at any moment, the one that treats me like crap, the dumb but pretty guy, the guy with the criminal record (eek!). I've had that, suffered the consequences and don't want to go there anymore. I want a guy who's kind, funny, is good with kids, makes me feel special, makes me feel safe, good looking (hello, I'm at least a little shallow), rational, and smart.
