Truth or Truth

I'm going to steal this one from Angela over at My Quiet Testimony (just call me Miss Musings) and am going to use this post to open the platform to you guys to ask any questions at all; none too private, embarrassing or silly and I'll open up wide and spill the beans. You have til Sunday and they'll all be answered. Go ahead.

I dare you.

My Mouth is My Weapon and I'm All Outta Ammo.

So, as noticed by the highly astute Lanette I am infact a dirty liar with pants set ablaze on fire as I failed to meet my self imposed deadline. But that's not to say I am not chock full of good excuses for my lack of fun-ness and overall shenanigans.

1.) The TMI Story; yeah I just chickened out. Plain and simple. I'll talk about my encounters with vibrators on here, bad dates, grilled cheese sex and my love for sodomy but there are some stories that even I can't bring myself to share here. The boundaries I have may stretch as far as the naked eye can see but they are out there somewhere just like the force. And when I cannot be certain of family friends/coworkers and others possibly reading my blog I just can't open up the deepest darkest corners into my hall of shame. At least not this week.

2.) Health hell. Plain and simple. Remember how in the last post I explained that this is the busiest time of year for work up until later next week? Well, I thought it would be a little better if I could pull off event coordinator hell with a few challenges thrown in. So I promptly lost my voice for three days. Now although it doesn't excuse the lack of blog postage as blogs involve writing not speaking, it is tiring to want to blog after you have been typing your message to your coworkers all day (CAP LOCKS MEANS I'M YELLING AT YOU! ALTHOUGH LESS SCARY, IT STILL MEANS SOMTHING!) and conversing through lewd body language. It's surprising I don't have more sexual harrassment suits against me. I'll have to start trying harder.


But that's not the icing to the sweet week of hell cupcake, the sugary buttercream frosting involved massive dental surgery yesterday.


Wheeeeeeee!

See, once upon a time I got my wisdoms/2nd molars out ( I hve a very tiny mouth and they don't fit. That's what she said.) Turns out the nice dentist lady didn't take it all out (that's not what she said). Namely chunks o' leftover teeth (feel free to cringe and vomit now). After meeting with my current very nice dentist who is as generous with drugs as she is with compliments it was decided they were coming out once and for all as well as one tooth that was damaged in my massive car wreck last year that involved a mouth full of glass. It's a shoddy deal to realize via x-ray that you have to get stuff taken out of your face, but it could be worse. I could be this gal.

Talk about paying out the ass for your cell phone bill.

Anyhoozle, back to the story. So after getting proked, prodded and pulled yesterday it was upto my bestie Leanne to take care of the drugged out mess that was me. Being that I was on Ativan. novocaine, T3's, ibuprophen, antibiotics and more; I am currently a walking pharmacy plug that would make Lindsay Lohan cream her panties. Needless to say yesterday was a complete blur and I don't even remember being in the Superstore to pick up my prescriptions. And it doesn't explain why my ass is sore today. Leanne? I'm looking at you.

So today I am puffy, can't talk, drugged out and drooling. I think it's safe to say I'm finally getting closer to being "the marrying kind". At least right now I can constitute puddings and T3 as breakkie with any feelings ouf guilt. That guilt shit just ruins everything. So if you don't see me for a few more days that's the reason why; I'm going to be running around and coordinating events as all good event coordinators do, but this time with the added bonus of chipmunk face and a menagerie of antibiotic good times.

This is Meghan, With Your News Update

In the news this week...

• I'm way too busy with work right now. Like waaaay too busy. In my job there are roughly 2 periods (spring and fall) where for 3 weeks I am running off my feet. I'm halfway through the stretch and burning out fast. Yes, the last two weekends I have brought work home. Add the fact that anything that can go wrong has gone wrong, a cold, and a cranky staff and you have one stressed out Meghan.
• Susan Boyle is great and all, but she's no Paul Potts. Even so, I do love a good underdog story.
• I am about to have my third date with the Vancouver Canucks this week and let me tell you it's getting serious. I suspect matching outfits by next week. I've never known anyone to make me scream louder. And they go hand in hand with beer and pizza. Luongo, you make a mouthguard sexy. Cheering for the Canucks during playoffs (because Canuck fans are some of the most loyal in the world. Disagree and I'll shank you). Playoffs always make me think of a bittersweet story I have to share;

When I was sixteen my Scottish grandpa was in the hospital dying of lung cancer and it was at the end stage. We had his hospital room filled with pictures of family and friends, Scottish candies and a Canucks magazine. When my family immigrated in the late 60's and early 70's from Scotland one thing they embraced of Canadiana is hockey. We were Canucks fans all the way. Ever since it's been in my bloodstream. There was a moment of silence in the hospital room where tears had dried and words had been spoken and an emotional exhaustion left us all waiting for the next step. It's then when my uncle turned to my Grandpa and with tears in his eyes, said,

"Dad, I just wish that you could have lived to see the Canucks win the Cup."

He was silent and with tears in his eyes struggled to get his breath and his speech. And said slowly and audibly for all of us,

"Son, with their track record, I don't know if You'll be alive to see the Canucks win the Cup."

It was the perfect moment, as any good Canuck fan can tell you although we've been close to winning the Cup (1994 anyone?) we can admit that we have not always been the strongest team in the series, but we are loyal and determined. Every year I pray that this is the year we prove Grandpa wrong.

• I updated the good ol' blergroll to the right, so if I haven't added you yet or you want an add just let me know in the comments. I did it while before my first cup of coffee so it's no wonder I know how to sign into blogger, muchless add to the roll.
• Oh and my bff and facebook wife Leannimal has started her own little spot on the interwebs so lets give her a nice warm welcome.

Alright, I'm out but expect a post later this week having to do with my bad gag reflex and a walk home without shoes. Stay Classy World

To the Batcave, Robin!

So, I had sex this weekend in a Robin costume, while making a grilled cheese by a man wearing a Robin cape.

And I didn't even burn the grilled cheese.

But lets back up a minute.....

It was with a man I have been crushing on for 3 years. Three motherfucking years of sexual tension built up. All because I was having a dance off with a guy at the bar (I lost purely on a technicality) at the bar when blindly drunk and this disgustingly hot stranger offered to judge. However since I saw his talking to the acquaintance earlier I figured him to be an impartial judge so decided to tell him his judging would be unnecessary.

By telling him to go fuck himself and go away. And that just cause he was hot doesn't mean I give a shit.

We ran into each other one week later at the same bar. I laughed, he pursued even harder. He's bad news; too witty and he knows it. Good looking and he knows that too. Charisma and charm in one package. Within four minutes of conversation I knew I'd sleep with him. Within five minutes, I knew his name. One problem though, he had a girlfriend. Almost three years later, problem solved. They broke up. Slight problem, I had a boyfriend. Problem solved, break up via text. A good friendship developed along the way over the years, with no apologies for a flirtation underneath.

He's a man I don't know whether to kiss or punch half the time, and I don't apologize for that either. We don't talk often but when we do, it's for hours on end. We both dressed up as Robin for Halloween. My costume was superior. He disagreed.

And then it lead to Friday....

Where does it go from here? I don't know, and I don't really care. But I do know that I'm never going to look at grilled cheeses in the same way again.

Baby Got Back

So it's back.


My mojo.


Or if not back, its peeking at me tepidly from around a corner.


Except by mojo I don't mean the lusty Meghan who trots around hornier than a nun at a dildo factory. Or even the Meghan that eyeballs public places as potential mating sites, but just a general zsa zsa zu is back. My joy de vie, the swagger in my step, the sideways smile that says more than words, its all starting to come back to me.


And the funny thing, nothing I thought would bring it back, brought it back.


Not the trip to Cuba even though the white washed beaches and heavy handed mojitos made it the perfect scenery to find one's mojo. And not my spiffy new haircut complete with bangs for the first time since 1992. It wasn't my newfound love for red lipstick and the fact that I suddenly seem to not only LIKE the colour yellow, I can't get enough of it. It hasn't been any clothes purchased or shoe stepped in, and although my new twice weekly meeting with the tanning booths are making my skin a lesser shade of pale, it's not really that either. The yoga classes and daily sit ups have meet slowly shaping my physique to that of a less skinny, more toned woman and I do have to say I like it, but that's not quite it either. A progressive date this week with undertones of flirting was lovely, but did not make or break my new found mojo.


The truth of the matter is that none of these things and all of these things have done it all at the same time. It's just finding that general sense of comfort with who I am that had been lost ever since the break up, as well as really *gasp* opening my eyes up to things around me.


It sounds so simple, but in the day to day life I get very trapped in the comforts provided by routine. And slowly that starts to spread into routine of diet, clothes, physique and life choices. It's as simple as questioning the fact of how redheads are not supposed to wear yellow or red and deciding for myself to do both, at the same time. It's not talking about how I'd like to exercise but making the choice to do so. It's deciding that whether or not my date progresses into a second or third, I'm alright with the outcome either way.


It's realizing how little I really know and how much is based on the hole I have boxed perception in. I'm finding in my later twenties that my preconceived notions can often be the reason I feel stagnant in the first place. I have experienced a lot of life for my age, but that is not to say I can't go forward and learn and experience a million more. Something as simple as my new years challenge has opened the door for this new experience, and with it is suddenly a rush of excitement that makes my senses feel alive again.


That, in essense, is my mojo.


Feeling comfortable with who I am all the while feeling open and excited for what I am learning, and what I can do. It's about looking at dating as a fun adventure, not a chore and that mojo is not about sex it's about feeling comfortable in your own skin which then equates to sexiness. It's not glossed lips and painted fingernails, designer labels and stilettos. *


It's all me baby, and I'm back!



*That's not to say that bangs, red lipstick and a new outfit hurt either ;) And thought I'd post a pic to show off my spiffy new bangs.

The Yoga Class

The Yogi, and The Student:

This is a time for love, for peace for showing love to those who are close in your heart. To your family. To your friends. To the people in your life. To the people that need love. To the people you do not like. Do not harbour negative energy, show them love. Feel deep down in your centre, the love you have and think about who and what you love.

I love Subway.

And relax. Take yourself to the floor. Breathe in and out. Breathe deep from inside and feel yourself stretching and relaxing all points. Close your eyes and let your mind and your body relax....

I have to fart. PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT. K, better now.

......

Yoga is still a work in process.