Category Archives: Nada

An Affair That I’m So Glad I Remembered

Last night after slipping in to a food coma via a 6” Tuscan Chicken Melt Subway sandwich and a double chocolate chip cookie (also from Subway), I dreamt a dream…  And not just any dream a beautiful fanciful dream I’ve been suppressing for months.

Right before I feel asleep last night, I completed my 40th hour of “How I Met Your Mother.”  This is irrelevant to the story.  However, the main character, Ted Mosby, is an exact carbon copy of one of my friends from back home.  They look alike.  They sound alike.  Their successes/failures with women are also eerily similar.  It’s kind of beginning to freak me out.  But the looks… they’re uncanny. 

Example A.  Ted Mosby:

ted

Example B.  My friend, Aaron Savoy:

n23402222_42591308_187Photo belongs to my friend Pam

CRAZY, huh.

Anyway.  I was fortunate enough to enjoy a very lovely dream starring Mr. Taylor Kitsch aka Timmy Riggins from “Friday Night Lights.”  

taylor_wall_3

Feel free to draw your own conclusions about this dream.

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Thrust Buckets?

There are days in life that I enjoy the company of this man.  And then there are days like today…

Whirlwind

This past week has been pretty hectic.  Work everyday, playing most every night makes Megan a very lazy girl.  I think I may have about 7 weeks of laundry on the floor in my room.  That’ll get done sometime in the next two or so weeks in the relatively near future.

Last Wednesday, I did get to go to Heather’s book signing and actually get to meet her.  I decided to wear all black (black fitted long sleeve t-shirt; black skinny jeans, tasteful and not to trendy; black pumps, obnoxiously tall ones so that everyone was well aware that I was in fact the youngest woman in the room and have yet to force a large crying naked baby thing out of my cookie; and Katie’s vintage dark camel colored leather jacket, just to punch it up a bit.)  I looked good.  Anyway, come to find out this signing was not in San Francisco, per-say, but in a small town 45 minutes south of the city, Mountain View.  

Not a problem.  I like driving and had already called dibs on the car for the evening.  Large Diet Coke, pack of smokes, and the iPod – I was set for hours.  The signing itself was awesome.  Heather was jovial, endearing and  big as a fucking house.  All seven months preggers… crazy if you ask me, but whatever.  

I had been a little  nervous all day about the potential of actually speaking with her and what I might say.  A few things happen to me and my body when I get nervous.  1. One of my legs will spasm uncontrollably.  2.  My lower back will sweat (this also happens when I’m lying about something important).  3.  I get gassy.

Usually, I only experience one of these symptoms at a time.  Though there have been occasions when all 3 have been combined – not pretty.  Wednesday, I was gassy.  However, I figured there would be at least a dozen pregnant women there so I’d have plenty of people to blame my crop dusting on, if necessary.  Fortunately, my nerves subsided by the time I arrived in Mountain View, thus I didn’t need to utilize my plan.

When the time came for me to walk up and have my book signed I was calm and collected.  Until, it hit me – what the fuck was I going to say to this woman, My Hero?! Instant back sweat.  It was almost my turn.  In my head, I’m repeating, “Don’t say anything stupid, Megan.  Just don’t fucking say anything stupid.”  

My turn.  I stand up there, we are almost eye level even though she’s sitting down – she’s quite a tall woman.  Good thing I wore those goddamned heels that were now killing my aching feat.  At least now she won’t think I’m a scary circus freak midget.  I stand there, smiling.  Still trying not to look like I’m retarded. (epic failure, I’m sure)  She looks up at me and asks, “So where are you from?” Uh oh.  “Oh, I’m from Baton Rouge, well I mean I live in San Francisco now… so I drove here from San Francisco tonight – not Baton Rouge obviously” God damn, Megan.  Could you have been more awkward? So then I say, “That was awkward, I’m really sorry.”  More awkward, nice job asshat – abort mission.  She looks back up smiles and laughs at me.  

Oh well, on the up swing I didn’t fall down.

I Like Vulgarity…

This is a text message conversation I was recently privileged to see:

From our friend Erik to Craig:

“So I’m going to Vegas and I need  playlist, can you make that happen.”

Craig’s semi-intoxicated response:

“I’m good at two things: fucking and making hot playlists.  So I’m either going to fuck you, or make you a hot playlist.  Maybe even both.”

Dear Universe, I’m Sorry

Clearly, I must have seriously pissed off the universe this week.  A series of unfortunate encounters have occurred recently, which were all capped off by me managing losing my cell phone on Sunday night.  In my opinion, losing your cell phone is right up there with Chinese water torture on the annoying scale.  

My Monday afternoon consisted of me driving to Daly City (south San Francisco) to retrieve a new AT&T sim card and figure out if I was in fact eligible for an upgrade.  NEWS FLASH:  The universe definitely hates me…. so, no I was not.  Which meant I needed to either buy a new phone for around $300 – $400 OR drive my ass to Oakland (complete opposite direction) to get to the nearest Wal-Mart and purchase a GO Phone that could support my new sim card.  Fuck me YAY.  This is a diagram of my little journey via Google Maps.

 
View Larger Map

Then…

View Larger Map

So I spent last night trying to make amends with the universe.  Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.

When Is Close, Too Close?

So for the most part I’ve tried maintain this blog without delving too much into my personal life.  But, today shall be different.  

I’ve been exclusively seeing the same guy out in California for several months now.  His name is Craig.  Though he is often referred to as Eric or neighbor boy when he’s not around.  Neither of which make him very happy, I’m sure.  So, two weekends ago we flew down to L.A. together for his brother’s birthday weekend.  Which was a great test of the limits of our relationship for several reasons.

1. The 4 hours of being stuck a car while trying to travel only 12 miles.  Getting lost, not being able to figure out how the open the gas tank of the car we’d borrowed, and there was no booze there!

2. Our sleeping arrangements for later that evening were limited to sharing Nicole and Justin’s couch.  COZY…

3. All the while, this would be the longest consistent/uninterrupted amount of time we’d ever spent together.

Fortunately, we still like each other.

However, while we were gone Craig’s roommate began re-caulking the shower in his apartment.  Which meant he would be staying with me for the next few days until they were able to use the shower again.  This was fine by me.  Due to my only child syndrome, I don’t really need too much alone time.  I had plenty of it growing up.  That is if you don’t count all my imaginary friends and the conversations I had with myself.  I’ll probably need some sort of therapy.  

Later that night he comes over with some of the necessary things he needs to stay at my place.  A change of clothes, toothbrush, deodorant, and his perfect push-ups… you know, the necessities.  The week goes by without any real complaints, just the usual from him.  “Your pillows are too soft”  and “Tap water, if I start growing a tail…”  By the weekend he’s gotten pretty  anxious and misses his bed.  So after his friend Alex’s birthday party at Fireside we decide we’ll stay at his place for the night.  

Now internet, I propose my question… when is close, too close?

Regularly, I’m requested to smell random articles of his clothing to determine whether or not they are dirty.  In his defense his nasal passages are borderline obsolete, the guy can’t smell anything.  And, this doesn’t really bother me.  I mean, I’m going to have to be the one walking around with him if he smells like a moldy gym sock.  But Sunday morning as we were getting ready to get some brunch, I pull out my emergency deodorant from my purse so that I can feel a little clean…  He looks over at me and asks, “Would it be weird if I asked to use that?”  Remember, he’s left his at my place.  So, I ponder this for a second.  Hmm, I do let this person stick his tongue in my mouth, and Lord knows where that’s been… 

“Yeah, I guess that’s not so weird… and before you even ask it doesn’t smell girly”, as I pass it over to him.

While he begins applying after attempting to smell it, he asks, “Is this the one that’s strong enough for a man, but Ph balanced for a woman?” 

“No, Craig… No.”

After he returns the tube to me, I notice a long blonde hair is now attached. Mmm, awesome.  He seems to think this is funny.  Though, oddly enough this doesn’t really bother me.  

Is that weird?

*Update:  This morning I watched an extremely hung over (read: lazy) boyfriend  blow previously stated semi-useless nose in a bath towel.  He’s still cute… just not as cute. 

Photos I’d Never Seen Until Today

These were taken the first time I hung out with Mikey and Rich. Colleen and Brant (other friends that I work with at Town Hall) were also there that evening. Brant is featured in the second photo I found via Mikey’s Flickr account.

Me Looking Kind Of Rough To Say The Least

Me and Brant