Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowgirls

I just got back from Merritt Mountain Musicfest.

Yes, it's a country music festival, and although I can stomach country (what, I grew up in small town B.C. I know how to two step and wear a cowboy hat) I am still a bit green to the whole country music scene and feel a bit old for rocking out at festivals. But when presented with a free weekend ticket complete with camping in an RV (cost over $300 FREE! )I knew it was too good to pass up. Note I can totally understand why people that paid full price hated me when I had to ask who Kenny Chesney and Jo Dee Messina were.

And yeeehaw, it was a hootenany of a good time.I finally made it to Merritt Mountain after rolling my car on the way two years ago. Remember that post? Yeah. I bussed it this time. But the point is, I made it!

It wasn't quite what people were talking about when Merritt Mountain was in it's prime,(where Maxim magazine dubbed it the third most likely place to get laid at, after Mardi Gras and Cancun-Spring Break) but after seventeen years of playing in Merritt they know how to do it right. It was clean, it was organized and it was a a hell of a good time.

It wasn't the place for fashionistas and name dropping it was a place of dirty sandals and cowboys hats. Mullets and redneck flags and plaid shirts by the dozen. Cowboy boots tromped through mud and the every day people dragged beach chairs to the river to do what we all came there to do. Drink beer, listen to country music and get to know each other. It was friendlier than anything else.

I have to say it was fun to embrace my inner cowgirl for the weekend and drink Bud Lime and dance to the Steve Miller Band and give out some whoops and a few woooohooooooos. Maybe age is catching up with me but my clothes stayed firmly attached on my body, the only thing my lips touched was beer and the only fighting I did was with the current when going upstream to meet others. Lesson learned, myself included, before people judge going to a country musicfest I encourage you to try it on for size and you may just like it as I did. Also, fashion aside after seeing a few of these around I think if anything can bring the fanny pack back, Merritt Mountain can!

Let the Goosh Begin

A Fairly Fargone Self Portrait....

What a week. I said I wouldn't have a gooshy post about my birthday but it was bound to happen. I think this one could have been the best. Better than the lapdance from a stripper named Maria with loose morales. Better than the threesome after the box of wine. Better than meeting a past fling at a gas station. Drunk. At eleven a.m.

I've matured since then, obviously.

Sarah Kat and I have perfected the drunky hug


I can assure you I was showered with more love and affection than I think words can describe. And I'm a shitty writer with a lot of words in my pocket. Facebook messages, tweets, blog comments, cell phone texts all reasons I love being a social networking slut because the well wishes rained.

I got flowers not once but twice. Neither from a boyfriend but I wouldn't have had it any other way. Chocolate cake during the lunch hour complete with chocolate frosting (which proved to be a late bar snack)from Jessica the Wondergoddess. Friends coming as far from Kelowna and Vancouver to celebrate with babysitters arranged and work schedules balanced. The cutest purse I've ever laid eyes on (to be seen in future posts) golf clubs, fashion, cards that fit to a "t". Oh and a beach bag that reeks of hilarity. A visit from Bachelor #1 (Bachelor #2 is officially dead to me. Don't ask.) with a personal present (wink wink) and a promise to take me skydiving this summer. Nuts!

Two girls. One t-shirt. Great Canada Day.

A new little black dress courtesy of the best wife ever. A trip down the river and a beer garden and dancing to a drum beat around the solstice circle and fireworks (okay, technically these had more to do with Canada Day, but whatever). The laptop I gave myself as a present after not having a laptop for a week. Due to me giving it a christening with an 2ltr Wendy's iced tea. Oooooops.

Dinner and drinks and sparklers in brownies and iced cream and desserts. Enough Starbucks cards to last me...a month. And feed my Subway addiction. And the drinks. Oh dear god, the drinks. Ceasars and margaritas and shooters I've never heard of in my years of bartending.

Dancing. Flirting. Smoking cuban cigars. Hugs, photos. Hottubing. No swimmies allowed. Guys having a peen measuring contest in the hottub. Not looking at it. Seriously. I thought they just did that in the locker room. And there was almost a Bachelor #2 (#2 the sequel?) but a heads up to bachelors it's best not to hit on a girl and then two seconds later to grab her friends number. That is just bad form.

Yeah, my beach gear has street cred. And bows. Got a problem with that?

Realistically any time I ever complain about being lonely, I need to just turn to this post as I don't know when I've had that much fun in ages and felt so cared for. I have the best friends. I have the best family. I have tons to be grateful for....

The wife got me a plate with dividers so my foods don't have to touch. That's love.

But seriously, what drunkenly possessed me to finish the salmon burger that was left in the car for 7 hrs after dinner is beyond me. Friday was the grossest day of my life.

I Like Birthday Bumps

Guess what Thursday is? July 2nd. Also known as the day that I entered the world 29 years ago aka MY BIRTHDAY! But 29 has an uncomfortable ring to it so this year I am celebrating my 28th birthday Version 2.0. So rather than having a post where I talk about how much I learned over the year and how I'm going to manage the steep decline to 30 without self medication and wine(answer: I'm not), I'm just gonna blabber 'bout 29 random factoids bout myself for you to ponder over and wonder why I'm allowed this little space on the interwebs for myself.

1.) I am a horrible driver to the point that they call me 'Crash' at work. I have to date; ran over a railway crossing sign with my parents new SUV, fender bendered a Mercedes, hit a parked jeep, totalled an ex boyfriends car by hitting his friends car, hit another car that the girl had bought off the lot not only two hours before, rolled my car on the Coquihala and hit the cement stopper for parking every single day.

2.) So would it really be a surprise to see that I have been nominated twice for the show Canada's Worst Drivers?

3.) I love Diet Coke and hate Regular Coke but love Regular Pepsi and hate Diet Pepsi.

4.) Speaking of I live off fake sugar and Splenda is a godsend. I know reports have shown it's horrible for you, can cause early alheimers and pretty much rots your brain. But sugar rots your teeth and I can see my teeth whereas I can't see my brain so fake sugar wins.

5.) I don't like getting it on in the dark. Too dark. Candlelight or lamps, please.

6.) I just played my first ever game of beer pong last week.

7.) I tend to have trust issues with women more than men even though I've been cheated on by men.

8.) If you're a guy and you're cute, I've probably imagined us having sexytime together.

9.) I like porn. There. I said it.

10.) I am the worst singer you'll ever meet. But it doesn't stop me from belting out 'Small Town Girl' any time I ever hear it at a pub Every. Single. Time.

11.) I am fiercely loyal to the friends I have in my life, but I don't make friends easy. I have tons of acquantences but only a handful of really, really close friends.

12.) I only smoke when I drink. A pack of cigarettes will last me months and I'll freeze them or throw them out when they dry up. But will freak out if I don't have cigarettes on me. Cigarettes and beer are like ghetto wine and cheese.

13.) I'm the person people tend to open up to. I'm not sure why but people feel comfortable telling me all sorts of things. Friends. Strangers. It can be odd but also flattering.

14.) I had a stalker in second year college. Like a bonafide stalker, none of this half assed bullshit. He was never convicted and is still out there. I have made sure not not have a landline phone ever since and my address is not easily traceable.

15.) I worked for MTV Canada for one day years ago. I was deemed 'not cool enough' to work there full time. But it's okay. Cause I swiped food that was on the bands rider for the dressing room. Heh. Score one for eating Matt Good's cheese.

16.) I don't care how vulgar and uneducated it makes me sound, I fucken LOVE swearing.

17.) I want to meet one of those people where you stay up all night talking. They may only be in your life for a day but they will make an impact. It's been awhile since I've met one of those people.

18.) I don't floss regularly.

19.) I still can't call guys. Or if I do, I get completely nervous and clam up like I'm in highscool. It's a fear I've never outgrown.

20.) I have one tattoo on my back that is the japanese character for 'dreamer'. I plan on adding the characters for hope and strength this year.

21.) My favourite thing about myself is the fact that I am a natural redhead. I think we're special. Like an endangered species. I finally believe my mom when she says people would pay good money to have my hair.

22.) I would eat almost anything if it had cheese or chocolate on it.

23.) Even in my late twenties I still can't have foods touch each other on a plate. Every food has it's own special area on the plate and they are not friend with each other.

24.) I hate nightclubs. I like pubs. I like open mic sorts of bars or music venues, but hate nightclubs.

25.) I have twelve months to give all the people at 20SB a lapdance as a bribe to be a featured writer (lets be honest here. I'll do it either way).

26.) I never had my first "real" kiss until I was 18.

27.) If I comment on your blog and you don't comment on mine back I'lll take it personally.

28.) I have a knack for naming things. The laptop that died as of Sunday (water+laptops=not friends) was Winston(est 2005-2009). My car is Buzz Lightyear (cause it's an Infiniti). My vibrator was Travis (from blink182). My Blazer was Bessie (for the cow that died for the leather seats), and so forth.

29.) If I'm in an elevator by myself (not glass) I will do a dance but immediately stop when the doors open on any floor and them resume when it's just me again.

So since comments are my crack cocaine go on and give me a hit and throw me some comment love (and I mean you delurkers) to make my (birthday) day! Or just come here and I'll give you a piece of birthday cake.

The Legacy

If you have access to a television, radio, Internet, twitter, blogosphere or facebook you probably know by now that Michael Jackson died today of a heart attack.

Wow. Didn't see that one coming.

It wasn't even ten minutes after TMZ reported it, and http://www.idontlikeyouinthatway.com/, followed that it started to spread like wildfire and for once the rumours appeared to be true.

It wasn't even twenty minutes afterwards that facebook statuses spat out everything from, "MJ, you truly were the king of pop" and "Where were you when Michael Jackson died?" to the more cryptic humour of, "A million little boys can sigh a breath of relief tonight" and "But his nose was so young."

In the last few hours of listening to radio and other news outlets there seems to be a divide in the reaction. Shock by all, but slowly he is shaping as either the hero or the villain.

The boy wonder turned pop star who blew people's minds with his iconic song, dance and sense of entertainment. A man who was beyond his time and courted the public and media better than any coked out starlet now (remember when MJ and Madonna went to the Oscars together? holy publicity batman!).The Elvis for our times. A humanitarian, a confused soul, a man who never knew how to grow up, a father and an icon. A legacy.

The man who mocked us with his face but claimed natural beauty. The man who had children over at his house in inappropriate scenarios. The pedophile. The recluse. The bankrupt shell of what he was. A man with all ego. The self proclaimed victim. Jacko the Wacko. The poor father. The bad example. The eccentric. The crazy.

Why does he have to be one of the other? Why is history trying to typecast his stone so soon? We like our celebrities to be one dimensional as it makes them easier to relate to. The good guy. The bad guy. But people are not built that way, as we all have layers, we all have secrets and love and shame and good days and bad periods.

He spent almost forty-five of his fifty years in the public eye. What will his legacy be? Verdicts out, but I don't think it can be summed up in one sentence even if we wanted to. Suddenly people are talking about him as if he was a high school friend. He was a childhood icon, but just because he died doesn't mean I know any more about him today that I did yesterday. I don't know him. I don't know what his thought were and am in no place to try to summarize him as a person.

But we on the whole are the ones that create his legacy. Who will tell our children one day about the man whose poster was on my wall. The man who created a scary music video and dance that revolutionized all content to come afterwards. The man who once had so much love from the public was castrated by the media and courts and the reputation of a molester never truly went away. A father. A brother. A son. And really at the end of the day, he may have had air in his shoes and glitter on his hand but he was not Invincible.

What do you think Michael Jackson's legacy will be?

*I also say this also in light of Farrah Fawcetts passing today as well. She fought cancer hard and she fought it with class. I suspect her legacy will always be that of one of Charlie's true Angels.

The Post Where I Tried Running and Died

Over the last month or so I've had a couple "gentlemen callers" in my life and it's been a good time (it's not as trampy as it sounds, honestly). But there's been one thing I can help but notice glaringly by having interactions with these men. They're both extremely active. Ugggh. Bachelor#1 just went to the Himalayas/India for three weeks to hike mountains in the snow. For fun! He's obviously insane and not to be trusted. Bachelor #2 also likes to wake up at the crack of dawn to run up mountains for fun. He calls it a 'hobby'. Meh.

The problem is that it draws attention to the fact that not only am I NOT extremely active I am not active at all. I sheepishly admit here that I have been almost proud of my laziness over the years and it's taken a lot of practise at doing nothing. Unfortunately it's also resulted in me having the lungs of an eighty year old crackwhore and the energy of a sloath. Extreme yoga helped with getting a bit back but I've still got a long ways to go before I would be what physicians call 'in shape'.

So with men as my motivation (what, did you think health and well being was going to do it?) I have decided to get into shape. But being poor means not paying a gym fee, so I looked at other means. Namely running.

The first challenge with this is I don't get running. I mean sure, go for it if some one's chasing you with a chainsaw or a bear is on your trail but otherwise I've never understood the appeal. When I see people running by me in the park I tend to give them a sideways glance of w.t.f. which could be translated as, "Why are you running when there are so many funner ways of transportation like sashaying and moseying and driving half a block down the streets in your car just to drop off the movie that's three days late."

But often where there is not understanding, there is curiosity and so I decided to go forth and venture to try this "running" out. First things a runner needs is a cute outfit. Check. Next, running shoes. Unfortunately for someone with over 30 pairs of shoes in the closet these were the closest I got to sneakers and velcro straps weren't just gonna cut it.

So off to Wallyworld I went to get runners that were cooler.There. I don't have a pic so you're going to have to trust me that they're cooler. Not that it would be hard to top the velcro/plastic sneaks. Only thing is it seems odd to wear socks with runners but even odder to not. Do they have to be black and match? What's the fashion etiquette of running?

But the next part in question was where I would keep my stuff? I mean I can't take a purse on a run and I can't not bring my car keys as well as a few dollars (in case I run past the ice cream shop) and ID. And fannypacks are obviously out of the question. I didn't trust leaving my purse in the car my the nice park area as it's not the best area of town ( homeless people like a view too I guess). So I did what any person would do. And shoved the loot down my shirt. With both a workout bra and normal bra it wasn't going to go anywheres.

And then I ran. And it was....odd. Note I run the way Phoebe Buffey does on the infamous Friends episode, so it's quite a sight to be seen.

Maybe I'll get Leanne to do a video feed one day so you can see the trainwreck for yourself. I almost hyperventilated a few times. I didn't. I almost threw up a few times. I didn't. But I didn't I would have shanked anyone for a water bottle by the end and made a mental note to bring one the next time. But all in all it wasn't the worst experience I've had. And may even try it again. But next time I'm going to throw 'Eye of the Tiger' on my MP3 player so I can pretend I'm preparing for a big fight in the end. Or in my case sexy time where I don't have to stop for a breather/glass of water.

Summer Lovin Gal

Things I'm Currently Lovin 'Bout This Sweet Ass Summer

Finally learning to like driving again and feeling comfortable in the driver's seat.

Hot weather=people wearing less clothes=randy folk. Nuff said

Scoops ice cream (with over 50 flavours of ice cream) a block from my work. Coincedence, I think not!

Nom, Nom, Nom Rootbeer Float Iced Cream

Downtown musicians and vendors than make the lunch break so much more enjoyable

Metric- Gimme Sympathy (I have such a girl crush on Emily Haines)

Weekend plans that revolve around maximum time spent outside.

Thundershowers.

Bbq's with firepits and s'mores.

Maxi dresses. Passionfruit iced tea. Cold Stella's & Corona's.

Dinner salads on downtown patios.

Bright colours everywhere!

Everyone becomes more laid back.

Floating the river and pretending to be a pirate. Actually, screw pretending. I'd declare mutiny for beer or bling.

Summering' at the lake every weekend and trips on the boat. Riding on a dolphin, doing flips and shit.

Working on my golf game.

Balls. I gotz them.

Things I'm Currently Hatin Bout This Sweet Ass Summer

Boob sweat. Thigh sweat. There, I said it.

A broken a/c making my place so unbearable I put my Tinkerbell in the freezer (she has a fur jacket in the summer!) for a minute so she could cool off.

Bug bites the size of a loonie from being at the lake.

Date dude saying he was going off to Vancouver for four days which actually meant going around the coast for three weeks before updating his facebook status to say he moved to Edmonton. Guess I'm not getting that kiss.

Feeling out of the blogging loops cause I've either at work or out and about doing summer stuff.

Working long hours and having people come in with iced caps talking about how "it's soooo gorgeous out today, you should see it!". Like I hadn't thought of that. When in the classroom.

Melty makeup face.

People on bicycles that hog up the whole road. It's hard to save the world when I'm running you over!

Still sucking at my golf game.

But, at the end of the day when you look out and see views like this the positive outweighs the negative anyday!

LOVE

Meghan is Funnier on Facebook

First off thanks for all the nice comments regarding the last post, I really appreciate them. I think everyone in this big 'ol blogosphere we gots going on can feel the self induced pressure from trying to be witty/deep/interesting sometimes and it's hard thing to admit when you've lost your blogging mojo. It really is a "it's not you, it's me" situation.

With that in mind, I'm not taking a break but the posts may be a bit scattered til I get the mojo back. And no I am not going to turn into a "writer"* as much I wish to be. Perhaps it was too much sun that made me forget my actual writing is the literary equivalent of lycra induced cameltoe on a hot day. Gross. Save the writing for bloggers like Peter DeWolf** who are good at it. And as Nick pointed out I'm (by blogging) already pretentious enough. Next thing you'll know I'll be posting about drinking oaked chardonnay at quaint Bistro's while reading Faulkner. Except this is me and it's more likely to be a box of the house white while eating day old pizza and reading the comics section of The Province.

But I digress.

Short of an artsy *** photo of my toes or something or an artsy**** poem about my cat don't expect anything big to be coming out of here any time soon. Instead I've just compiled a list of some of my facebook statuses for the last couple months as I find myself to be hilarious on facebook. Most others probably wouldn't agree. But that's why they're blocked and deleted.


Meghan L: sealegs or still drunk?

Meghan L is going on a motherf*&^%ing boat, wearing her flippy floppies....

Meghan L .....so Shenanigans is your name? I'm Hijinks. Charmed I'm sure. Would you like to join my friend Friday in a sexy three way?.....

Meghan L: Hello Friday. You're looking mighty sexy. Would you like anything? A cold beer? A BJ?......

Meghan L 's air conditioner sucks. If anyone needs me I'll be hanging out in the fridge.

Meghan L ...and this headache today is sponsored by wine. Smooth, tasty wine. Pick some up from your liquor store today!

Meghan L admires children for their carefree attitude of swimming in the river with no concerns of duck mites and dead hookers.

Meghan L is too old to be jailbait, too young to be a cougar, so will settle for being a floozy.

Meghan L is bored and playing with superglue and can see no possibility of error in this plan.

Meghan L skipped yoga for pizza and found inner peace with that instead.

Meghan L just realized her neighbour has been staring at her. But rather than being creeped out is upto the challenge of staring back while mouthing "you're dead motherf*CKer"...

Meghan L 's favourite foods are the ones that require no dishes.

Meghan L is getting paid to disrobe in front of students and get massaged. I love my job.

Meghan L feels like Canucks are that token ex that doesn't get better in bed, but she keeps sleeping with anyways just out of hope and desperation.

Meghan L is starting to flex her drunk texting fingers......

Meghan L is going to extreme yoga tonight. Fight club seemed too tame.

Meghan L has a hot date with the sun. Get it? The sun? It's hot. Hah.

Meghan L is going to be reincarnated as an 80's hair band slut.

Meghan L has no voice anymore so will convey her opinions through body language, starting........now.

And as of today...

Meghan L would like to spend all day on her back, in bed. Sleeping. Perverts.

* you totally called my bluff there
**A fellow Canadian blogger/writer who sorta intimidates me.
***drunk
****drunk

For One Day

With people dropping like flies in the blogosphere and a struggle to bring steam to the ol' blogtrain myself it brings forth questions; but not the initial question I first thought of-

Why do I blog?

As that one has many answers. I blog to find community. I blog to feel justified in my feelings, thoughts and actions. I blog to write, to clarify and to entertain. I blog because sometimes I don't even know what I'm feeling before the words come out. I blog because there are some stories that are too good to keep to yourself. I blog to come to terms with my past. I blog to help gain hope and perspective for the future. I blog because I have read stories with tears in my eyes due to laughter and deep sadness. I blog because I have found people that I consider friends. I blog because it makes me feel like a writer. I blog because it makes sense.

And yet despite all this it is still a struggle. It could be the sunshine and the warmer weather, but I have troubles sitting down and getting the words out. The keyboard is not my friend. I always feel behind in commenting on other people's blogs. The person who laughs last at the joke. The person who goes too long between posts to not lose readers. The person who isn't as funny or as clever as the profile write up would imply. The person that dreads coming up with new post ideas.

An so instead I posed a new question to myself:

What if you became a writer for a day?

No site meter. No blog surfing....just....a writer. Someone with no focal point of entertainment. No justification through comments. A writer who writes what they want with no deadline. No formatting. Someone who doesn't bedazzle a story with clip art. Raw. Uncensored. Not trying to find the funny in the mundane. Not trying to find the summary of the lesson. Not aiming to please. Just me. Just writing.

I like this idea. I think it's time to introduce writer Meghan to this blog. Hope you like her.
If not, that's okay too.

The End of the Night

I love first dates. Love them. There's such a nervousness and electricity abut them that I can't help but get off on the nervous energy. A lot of people hate first dates but I figure a good one will have the right amount of laughter and convo and sexual energy and a bad one is good for the blog foddler so either way it's a win-win.

The one last night was good. Someone I have known for awhile now but never gone on an ctual date with. The right amount of laughter was there. Conversation. Manners. All in all a good date and worthy of a second one.

Then he drives me home and as we pull up to my place it's that awkward moment...you know the one....do you kiss or not? So we both did the nervous laughter and the fidgety stuff while saying the prerequisite, "I had a good time" blah blah....and then it's that moment. And we just sit there eyeballing each other to make the move for what had to be a full on thirty seconds ( Do you know how long thirty seconds is to do that? Go on and do it right now, stare down someone down for thirty seconds. Weird, isn't it?).

And he went in for the kiss while I went in for the hug. And he got my hair.

And then to backtrack, I went in for the kiss while he pulled away. So I full on missed.

So I muttered something about calling me and then played with the door handle to unlock it before realizing IT WAS ALREADY UNLOCKED and bolting from the car with a confused and somewhat amused guy waiting behind in it. And then shaking my head all the way to the door.

Goodnight kiss, fail.

Time Heals all Wounds

So, I ran into the one ex a few weeks back. Like, literally almost ran into him. And his reaction was to jump, and give a haphazard smile before turning and running in the other direction.

I love when I have that reaction with men.

And the sad thing is, I was the one to say hello despite the fact that almost six months later (not to mention the fact that I am somewhat involved with someone now) seeing him still makes me feel like throwing up. It literally knocks the wind out of me and my stomach does a fair ride flip.

Not fun.

But then last night, I was driving throughout town when at a stoplight, I saw a familiar face pulled up next to mine. The ex that three years ago ripped out my heart and threw it in a blender. The one that left me for a friend/coworker and was (part of) the reason I ended up on strong antidepressants. The one that made it feel physically ill to go to work every day and see them together and prompted me to leave that job to get the one I have now. The one that lied and manipulated and took advantage of my anxiety to paint a picture of paranoia rather that confess his wandering. The one I hated for embarrassing me publicly and couldn't be in the same room with.

And the thing is when I saw him, he smiled and waved. And I smiled and waved back. No anger. No tears. No nothing. Just a nod of recognition before heading on my way.

One day, down the road I'll get there with G. Not any time soon, but one day.