Don't Share Chapstick Kids

Even if your lips hurt real bad. You could get sick.

Right now I've been hibernating at home sick as hell for the last 3 days. I've boiled it down to either 1) H1N1 2.) The Death Flu or 3.) Lung Herpes but you know I'm sick when I get winded going to the get the mail and I haven't even read any blogs. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest and not in the good way. More like I got bitchslapped with snot and a fever. Might I just add that the flu does nothing for looks. Stringy hair, blotchy skin and a wheeze that no one should ever experience.

So I'm just gonna post a few 'sick' videos to tide you over til a real post this weekend. And and Happy Wedding Day to Maxie and Lilu this weekend, have a blast and report back with stories.



Also let this be a reminder to get your flu shot this season...



Also as much as I am the most pitiful, bitchy version of myself when sick at least it's not the dreaded Man-Flu. Then again if I had a bell can't say I wouldn't do the same.

It's Like Warm Pumpkin Pie

I'm not big on the Grace in Small Things movement, because I'm far better with complaining about stuff than recognizing the good. The glass is half empty because I drank it down and I'll take another while we're at it.

But this weekend marks festivities of Thanksgiving in Canadaland and so I'm feeling the need to bring attention to all the things I'm thankful for including those things that really don't get the recognition they deserve.

I'm thankful for my parents, first off. If they knew their little 5pound preemie bundle of joy would have brought them tampered liquor cabinets, college pregnancy scares, a totalled SUV that they just bought and hours upon hours of stupid questions, I'm sure they would have placed me in a dumpster long ago. But they didn't. Instead you ate the food I've created over the years, burned bits and all. You wheeled the tv into my bedroom when I was sick so I'd be able to watch soapies and didn't complain. You have taken every accident, incident and encounter with stride offering wisdom rather than lectures, and have always addressed me as an adult. You have given me guidance but allowed me to make the mistakes I needed to make in order to grow and I look forward to your call every Sunday morning. Over the years I've come to terms that you're not perfect, but you're human and you're the best parents I could ask for. I am proud of the threads of mannerisms and flecks of personality that have been passed down. For that and a million other things, I thank you.



I'm thankful for my brother. Even though we may not be close and we don't really understand each other, I've never actually thanked him for being such a bad ass delinquent in highschool that I looked like the good kid by comparison. And then switching the roles once we hit college age so I could experience my own rebellion later in life and not give my parents cardiac arrests for having two bad apples in the family photo. For that and teaching me self defense, countless pranks and how to jack the parents liquor cabinet, I say thank you. I don't know if we'll ever be as close as we once were but I thank you for interviewing potential boyfriends, offering to beat up the ones that hurt me, and allowing me to tag along with you and your friends to build forts when you were at an age where you wanted little to do with your little sister. To date I don't think we can ever watch UFC without crying with laughter.



I have to say thanks to my best friend, Leanne (who just got back from Europe)and all my other friends that have put up with me over the years. Helping me find my pants in the morning, piecing together the night, letting me have the last toke, and more with little to no judgement. Helping to pick me up when I'm down physically and metaphorically and being awesome enough to laugh at me about it and come back for more. You're all sadists ,and for that I thank you. There are tons of acquaintances you have in life, but with a select few they are more than friends they are family. They are the people on your emergency list, the people you go to for advice, the ones that will love you no matter what shoes you're wearing and even when you're pmsing and cranky. Cause that is what family does. They don't make fun of you for pmsing and feeling bloated, they're the ones with you at the local DQ eating blizzards and talking you through it. I'm lucky to have a handful of those people and a soulmate in Leanne. Our friendship has been stronger than any relationship I've had to date and I don't see that changing. We're married on facebook and really I think it's a testament of our friendship as there are the ups and downs, the good periods and bad patches, but through out everything there is loyalty and laughter and commitment and and love.

And thanks for all of you in bloggerland, who make me laugh and reflect week after week. You put up with the crap posts, comment on the bad ones and make me feel good about things like new haircuts. You've been there when I've confessed my sins and just laughed along when I've done yet another stupid wine induced antic. You have brought me a sense of belonging. For the first time in my life through blogging I feel like all of the different cliques don't matter. we're all here with different stories, lives and perspectives to share.

So with enough mush out there, I just have to say I don't feel to document the small things I am thankful for because every day all around me it is shown in a large way even though sometimes a holiday surrounding a turkey and stuffing can make you take a step back and really recognize all the things you have going for you.

What are you thankful for this weekend?

It's Not All Tinfoil Hats and Wraparound Jackets

Okay. I lied. But my tinfoil hat is cute and goes with my new haircut, so work with me here.



But in all seriously, my apologies for the lack of blogging/commenting the last couple weeks. My new noggin pills gave me a bad ass case of the sleepies and the yawnies for the first couple weeks whilst kicking in and so I went all hibernatey on your ass, that and I'm working on getting my winter white Twilightesque palour back. So you just get a hot mess of an update. With lust.

First off I'm loving Vampire Diaries right now and don't even wanna type it out. Sooo bad and good. I figure after this weeks episode I'm going to the highschool across from my place (no, really there is one) so I can find thirteen year old girls to discuss it with. Except I have more street cred as I've been stalking Ian Somerhalder ever since he graced his baby blues in The Rules of Attraction and I blame him for getting me hooked on Lost. He died on the show. I stopped watching. That's how tight we are. Speaking of tight...

I want to work on getting a tight ass? TMI. Too bad. My vanity has reached new peaks when I was approached by a lovely later middle aged man who followed me to my car yesterday and after realizing that he wasn't there to jack my car he handed me his business card. Not to try to sell me something, but as a pickup. And I realized that even though grossed out, I'm at an age where this is becoming a more common place practise and even socially appropriate? I handed back the card. What does this have to do with having a tight ass? Nothing. I just wanted to complain about it.

Although taking tai chi has something to do with getting buns of steel (flex your quarter hands). I know nothing about tai chi. I think it's like Japanese yoga/zen/martial arts. But the truth is that not many people know about it, yet it sounds all mysterious. That way I can look all graceful while kicking ass. I'm the youngest person in the class by roughly fifteen years. That and fight club was full.

Since my life has taken on boringness like never before (what, the best friend has been in Europe and I'm trying to save money) I've taken to trolling dating websites again. But suspect that guys don't like it when you give them helpful tips for spellchecking their profiles and edit and send back the sent messages. Would it surprise you that I'm not getting laid any more frequently since joining up?

Oh and since I've become queen of bad video links, here's one. Of a cat! In a jacket! Trying to play with a string! Oh the shenanigans of it all!

Just look at it.

Ohmigod. I finally accidentally just learned to embed videos. How exciting. And you're all here for this moment. Golf clap anyone?

And that's all I got tonight. Peace out, lovelies and studs.

Text Message Slut

I'm a text message slut. And I make no apologies for such promiscuity. Some of the better received texts I have saved from my text log...

"I just just got my test results and I have the HIV, herpes and the clap, wanna come over for some unprotected sex?"
"I don't think I'm hungover so much as I'm so awesome my body is trying to clone itself."
"So frki druk."
"You should put me on your bucket list of things to do"
"Did you lose your panties again last night?"
I'm currently on a yacht drinking scotch and just traded a days labour for bondage gear."

Those are only a few of the jems as I kill cell phones frequently. And I thought I had a knack for sending/receiving weird texts but last night I found the website...

Texts From Last Night

So since it's always good to find another way to kill time at work go ahead and take a looksee for yourself and try not to pee a little from the laughing. A collection of my personal fav's so far..

(915): I hate it when hot girls behave. It's so anticlimactic
(412): I have big tits. Rules don't apply to me.
(954): a hangover this bad deserves a feeding tube
(270): I do regret it. But I can't unfuck her
(919): his penis is like a homeless cat. ever since I've satisfied him he keeps showing up on my doorstep ask for more.
(317): Just looked at my call log. I called Planned Parenthood at 3am.
(231): i don't care what she did to you. we are not having sex in front of your sister.
(305): i made the cop pinkie-promise not to arrest me if i failed the Breathalyzer.
(215): her orgasm sounded like a fucking walrus crying.
(641): I ate one of your animal crackers. just one. ok four. but no frosting. ok frosting.

There are a lot more that I like but don't want to ruin the experience for you. Your welcome. And let this be a lesson that NO BAD can come from drunk texting. None. Unless you're this guy....

(816): I accidentally asked my mom for a blowjob because 'mom' and 'molly' are next to each other in my address book.

Its Time To Face The Problem

As I've documented on this blog before I was diagnosed four years ago with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. If we've ever spent time together you would know why. If we haven't met you'll just have to make a visual for yourself. Think high strung and times it by ten and add a lot of coffee and nervous energy.

I don't see myself as someone with a mental disorder or disease, when in fact that is exactly what is it. Which is part of the reason I have eschewed medication in the past. The antidepressants prescribed at one point were enough to make me comatose and a life filled with worry is better than a life filled without emotion or reaction. Then about four years ago I went through a bad bout of anxiety, hopefully one of the worst I'll ever write about. Insomnia, panic attacks, and just the will to stop eating and socializing. I withdrew from everything and everyone. And with the right pills I started feeling like me again. Not drugged, and not like the medication solved the problems in my life, but that it just felt like I was able to deal with the problems at hand without a cloud over my head of doubt and insecurity.

I went to my doctor today to discuss a few things happening in my life, none of them anxiety related. She has been my doctor for roughly the past year and I've had mixed opinions of her. She is very "to the point", but can also seem cold and distant. I wasn't certain if it was the right fit. After discussing the problems at hand she blurted out that we need to deal with my anxiety. I was honestly shocked as I've never told her about my anxiety, as it's something I just deal with. It's like breathing, you just do it. It's just part of me.

She explained that I definately have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and she could tell within the first five minutes of our first visit. And she wanted to sit down and talk to me about it and was glad I came in. She then with sudden caring in her voice she asked me the the hard questions. I couldn't look her in the eyes but started to sob as we both knew the answers.

Yes, I feel a loss of control in my life and have control issues because of it.
Yes, I stay awake at night worrying about everything from finance to friendships to if I said the right thing in the conversation earlier that day.
Yes, I have obsessive compulsive tendencies.
Yes, I tend to snap at people and get irritated easily.
Yes, I often feel on edge and nervous all the time.
Yes, I hate social situations and sometimes drink to feel comfort.
Yes, I worry all the time.
Yes it affects my relationships, friendships, work and day to day life.
Yes, its something I deal with every single day.

And I'm not talking the anxiety you feel before a test or that feeling that people are talking about you in social situations or when you feel overwhelmed by everything. I'm talking about an overall sense of unease about most factors in my life every single day. This is life with anxiety disorder.

For example so far this evening one of my worries is: I haven't ate dinner yet because I'm stressed about what to make and so I ate a container of peanut m&m's which is horrible cause I keep eating sweets lately and what does that mean and it could lead to diabetes which would mean needles and I hate needles and also dinner means dishes and I hate doing dishes but would have to do them but I have to eat dinner cause what kind of freak doesn't eat dinner after work and I should prob drink more fluids even though I hate fluids but I'm sure not drinking enough fluids will lead to adverse health too so I should find something, but not water cause I hate water, and not too sweet cause sugar isn't good for you....

Still with me? This is one of my worries. About food. One of many I have had tonight. And this is what I deal with all day long. No, I am not crazy. In fact, I have to look outside myself like I am doing tonight to find it even weird cause this is the thought process I know. this is the only thought process I know. It's normal to me.

And so finally after going over everything she looked at me with sad eyes and mentioned medication. And so the cycle begins. I'm smart enough to know that the right medication can and will help. I'm just terrified of the process that I need a daily pill to feel like me. I'm scared of side effects, I'm scared that maybe just a little bit of ME won't show anymore, I'm scared that if I go on them then I'll just quit the pills after six months like last time when I "felt better".I'm scared that by taking pills people will see me differently. That I'll see me differently. Lets not try to pretend that people don't often still get judged for mental disease. I'm scared that by taking the medication I am losing the control I so sorely crave when really I am not in control in the first place. I am an intelligent woman and it's a hard thing to realize that I am not in control of my emotions I am driven by them, and the control I have is with the reaction to those emotions and even that can be altered by medication.

But then again this is neurosis and the narcissism of feeling like I am capable of handling this.If I cut my leg deep, I would go to the doctor to get the stitches neccesary. But when dealing with mental problems it becomes a whole other ballgame. After talking to my mom on the phone tonight who has never been a fan of taking pills admitted that I've been on edge for about the last six months and it's like some days she doesn't know what will set me off and it can be straining. And that maybe it's time to consider it again.

And so it brings me to the conversation with my doctor and how I'm scared about the thought of medication. Apparently it's normal to feel anxiety about treating anxiety and that's part of the cruel irony of it all. But it can get better. It is possible to live a life without worrying all the time. She wants me to try medication for a year. And after asking if my anxiety has affected my work, friendships and relationships and getting a solid yes to all three she posed to me,

"What have you got to lose by trying this?"

And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think she may be onto something. Even if it is a hard pill to swallow. .

The VMA Wrap-Up Report

I don't know how to embed videos (seriously, a monkey chained to a laptop would probably have a better blogger skin, a more organized reader and VIDEOS) so there will be none of the VMA's but I'm sure many other bloggers will have them out and about. Or just go to Youtube and type in :Kanyne is a fucking twat. Or watch this...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdcY_3PdzBc

But to summarize...

• Madonna's tribute to Michael Jackson was a class act and I think this brought Janet Jackson closer to a comeback than she has seen in years. There were tears and I won't apologize for any of them. You forget about the days when Madonna, Michael and Janet ruled the stage based on choreography not gimmicks. Oh and now that I have the basics of Thriller down my new life goal is to learn the choreography for 'Scream'.




• Kate Perry+Joe Perry intro. Perry. PERRY! Get it? Get it? Yeah, Katie Perry and a Queen cover go together like shit and a blender.




• Russel Brand. 2ND year hosting. Still waiting for the funny.




• Lady Gaga, there is fashion, there is art and then there is looking like a damn fool. You crossed than line with your second outfit. A face mask? Meh, bad but if Slipknot can do it. why not you. But looking like the dominoes guy on purpose? That's not art. That's just bad form. And a feather face do-hickey? That's one step away from stapling a damned live duck to a headband and acting as it it's just another day with a duck stapled to your head for fashion. But you were fierce and creepy during your performance and god knows I respect creepy.




• Kayne is dead to me. If I was Taylor Swift I would have said something when he was being a drunk cunt. And by said something I mean punched him in the head. It would have been worth any night spent in jail. His opinion is not the only one that matter and in fact it doesn't matter at all as you can see by the booing his name brought the rest of the night. I still swear his mother would be ashamed if she saw the way he acted. It was not the time nor the place and he proved his character. It placed a shadow over the rest of the eve.




• Green Day aren't relevant anymore. They just aren't.




• Is it just me or does Eminem look like he aged about ten years in the last two, but finally grew up in a good way?




• Kirsten Stewart looked good. And like she showered. Coincidence? I think not.




• Speaking of Kirsten's, is Kirsten Cavallari not dead yet? Really? Oh.




• New Moon Trailer=instant female boner




• Wearing a stupid outfit doesn't make you look younger, hipper, or like less of a bitch. Yes, I'm talking to you J-lo.




• Muse is sex.




• I've never been a Beyonce fan but her performance was stunning and giving up her speech at the end of the night so Taylor Swift could have her moment was a classy move.




• Ooops. Repeat outfit alert. Think if either Pink of Shakira asked nicely they could borrow a headpiece from Lady Gaga and make a tube dress out of it?




• Jay-z is like a fine wine of hip hop that keeps getting better with age and I just wanna chug a quart of him. The man has charisma during his live shows but I could feel this one through the tele.

And that's all. This is Meghan, your VMA 2009 correspondent signing off.

Two Weeks Late....

...with posting wedding photos. Wait, what did you think I was gonna say? ;).....

This is Vassy. She was Jessica's bridesmaid. She's all sorts of awesome and even carried the wedding cake on her lap on the plane from Saskatoon. That's loyalty and skill. Oh, and she's hot.

This is Mare. She's Jess's Maid of Shining Honour and is all sorts of hot too. And great at planning surprise Bridal Showers/Stagettes.

This Is Jessica (aka Pirate Jess, aka Emma) walking down the aisle with her Dad. Ten seconds after I told Maureen I never cry at weddings. Then saw Jess and proceeded to bawl.

Jess and Brad make strutting down the aisle look goooooooooood!

Me and my date.

The first dance.

Congrats to Jess and Brad on your happy life and marriage together. I have no real experience with marriage so really cannot merit giving advice. I remember visiting Jessica when she went to BCIT and her and Brad had only recently started dating. They were chock full of infatuation and the giddiness of new love, but it ran deeper. In the three months they had been dating Jessica knew he would be the one she hoped to marry. And seeing the constant grin she had when around him, I hoped she would too. And a couple weekends ago I got to witness such an event. So in retrospect I raise my glass of gingerale to you and just say,

"To one of the warmest and most earnest couples I know, I wish you love, loyalty laughter and good sex. And may all your ups and downs be in the bedroom."

Klassy.

Terminal Velocity

So, remember that list I have of completing 101 things to do in 1001 days? Yeah I haven't forgotten about it and have been slowly crossing things off....and managed to cross off #31 yesterday.

# 31:Do An Extreme Sport (click on the link to see photos)

So my one friend is a skydiving instructor. The one I have had Grilled cheese & costume/bondage sex with. And from the first time we met I have harassed him to take me falling from the sky and he has agreed to do so. But circumstance has always prevented us from doing so, and honestly I have always been relieved as to not have to actually go through with it. It sounds badass to say "I want to go but we just haven't managed to find a date that works."

But earlier this summer perhaps in drunk (post coital) bliss, I insisted that this is the summer we should go. Unfortunately he set a date around my schedule and held me to it. As any normal person would do to someone asking them. Well played. I'm not sure why I am surprised but when I got the text on Monday to say "Plane booked see you on the airfield Sat at 9am" it suddenly struck me in a peal of nervous crying and laughter how absurd it is.

I'm scared of heights. Always have been. And I'm a nervous flyer. With anxiety disorder. And so why not pay good money to jump out of a plane at 3000 feet all my myself (screw tandem) hurling towards the ground at terminal velocity. It was at this point that I questioned if anyone had ever peed in the jumpsuit before and said goodbye to all the guys I never had a chance to make out with before death. And made a will leaving it all to my cat including the shoes. No lie.

And yesterday.......................I did it. I fucken did it.

It was the hardest thing I think I've ever done physically and mentally. First off having "known" the instructor for other reasons made me really nervous as well as the fact that I was the freaking remedial kid in the class and kept freaking out and forgetting the steps. At least ten times I thought of backing out. Seriously. But while the others kicked back and chatted and waited for their turn, all day long in the hot sun I practised my jump. The course lasted all day going through everything from what to do if the plane goes down to emergency procedures to what to do if you go off course and hit a building. We went through best case and worst case scenarios. It was around lunch that K asked me how I was feeling and I gave him my most honest answer.

"I'm terrified. Absolutely terrified. I'm scared of heights. I'm scared. But not doing it is not an option."

He smiled and said it a great answer as real courage isn't not being scared. You should be scared when you jump out of a plane. Courage is being scared and doing it anyways. I've never been called courageous before but you wanna know what? I'm gonna take that compliment.

And so I practised. And kept practising. And kept practising. And finally it was time to suit up and jump. The parachute weighed about as much as me, the jumpsuit was stifling hot when in a dusty and insanely hot airfield. And we went up in the plane. The two other jumpers jumped and suddenly it was just the two of us in the plane, jumping at sunset. I was almost crying, I forgot to breathe (sounds ridiculous, but it happens) and almost hyperventilated, but we just looked into each others eyes and slowed breathing and held hands for what seemed like an eternity and then the door opened.....

And as much as they tell you in the class that it's an insanely strong wind, nothing will prepare you for it. It's like standing up in a convertible going 100+km an hour with a 40 (?) lb backpack and nerves. And you climb out on the wing, taking every ounce of brute strength to a certain point and on the cue, you let go. Except I didn't want to let go. So I ignored the command. Again on the second time. Sorry, but gut instinct told me not to let go and I was quite okay with keeping a death grip on the plane wing. I finally did let go, but found out afterwards he was about to pry my hands off anyways.

And then I forgot the proper arching procedure so almost flipped which would have screwed up my lines, but didn't and because of my screw up I actually got to see the moment my parachute opened. And after that, the view. It was hard to steer as it takes tons of strength to do so, and it takes a lot of trust in your flight coordinator as it seems like you're going way off target. But with no wind to help I managed to glide down and had what is considered a 'soft' landing despite faceplanting in the end.

And the feeling.......like nothing I can describe, despite the fact that over 12 hours later I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my body. It was scary, but I did it. It was terrifying, but I did it. I almost chickened out, but I didn't and I fucken did it.

And it got me a thinking yesterday....I'm not the same person I was a five years ago. I'm not even the same person I was a year ago. Honestly I doubt I would have gone through with the jump at either points. Getting suddenly dumped was soul crushing in a way that has stung for longer than words can get into. But I built back up even stronger. If not for that I wouldn't have jumped on a plane with my best friend on a sudden trip across the globe. If not for that I wouldn't have dated some of the weird and wonderful men that have come in my life this past year. Honestly, if not for that I don't know if I would have jumped out of a plane yesterday.

But I did it. And it was amazing, and I am changed because of it. I feel scrappy and I don't feel like I can do anything right now. I know I can. The feeling of independence and power that I have right now is ethereal.

Oh and this totally gives me Bad Ass credibility too, right? Thought so.

Don't Call It A Comeback

So my blogging minibreak turned out to be a little bit longer than expected, but you know what? I don't regret one single moment of it. The last few weeks I managed to spend time with friends, family, see the facebook wife before she took off to Europe for two months ( her Europe number is now in my phone under "The Whore That Left Me") and going back up northwest for almost a week expedition to see one of my closest gals Pirate Jessica get married.



I was super stoked when there about the post I was going to have about the wedding and all the adventures of the week up north; seeing old friends, the stagette, reconnecting with the town where I grew up, etc. But as with all things ME things have a way or going awry. Horribly, horribly awry. So I'm going to break the story up into two posts. The one I'm going to tell here about the trip from hell and another one to come later with pics to show just how amazing the wedding was complete with happy tears, a radiant bride and groom and amazing, wonderful people.

So. The Story.
(warning, this is gonna be a long one)

My trip up north started a couple weeks ago when I went to the local greyhound to purchase my ticket. I have taken the greyhound travelling numerous times and although gross it is the cheapest way to get from A to B. So I booked my trip to take off the Wed at 1:30 in the morn (blech) to go to Smithers which would arrive there at 2:35 in the afternoon. enough time to have a quick nap and get ready for the bachelorette.

Being riddled with anxiety I went to the bus at 10pm last Tuesday night beforehand to check that the bus was on schedule to leave at 1:30am. The woman announced my ticket was wrong and printed me a new one. Which stated my bus left in exactly fifteen minutes. I panicked and convinced a taxi to follow me home where I threw together a suitcase in record time and ran out the door with the lights still making it on the bus with moments to spare. Whew. That was an exciting time but I made it onto the bus and even managed to doze on the seven hour trip to Prince George where I would have a layover of two hours before continuing my journey the rest of the way to Smithers.

Except when I got to the terminal at 6 in the morning and the driver asked where I was going and I stated Smithers. and he said there must have been a mix up with my ticket. You see, there are no Wednesday buses that go to Smithers.

Oh?

After a bit of panic of waiting for the station to open its ticket counter I did get the confirmation that there was indeed no bus that travels to Smithers on Wednesday.And there was no flight I would have made to Smithers and no trains running that day. I was officially marooned in Prince George-the halfway point- for nineteen hours minimum. And then they lost my luggage. And then I became the crazy person in the greyhound crying and yelling.

Didn't matter, I wasn't going anywheres.

At that point I received a text from the Maid of Shining Honour, Mare saying that she was trying to hook me up with a ride with the groomsmen. And a couple hours later of drinking coffee in a coffee shop it was confirmed that they would be passing through and would pick me up. Knowing that I wasn't going to be stranded forever made it a lot more bearable. After my luggage was found, I even found solace in playing with my makeup kit and giving myself a manicure in the greyhound washroom (I'm ghetto, no?) and finding an internet cafe nearby that allowed me to surf facebook and eat sushi. By the time the groomsmen showed up I had turned my frown upside down and was sitting on patio furniture outside of a department store enjoying the sunshine. I ended up waiting nine hours but nine is better than nineteen. (Math is fun isn't it?)

The groomsmen were amazing for men that had just picked up a stranger off the side of the highway to take on a five hour drive to a wedding. Jessica had been telling me for months she could see me getting along with them swimmingly, one in particular, Brett( with a wink wink nudge nudge) and I can see why. They were hilarious and charming and easy to get along with. We were already making plans of defacing the town mountain goat statue with funny pictures when suddenly I started to feel.......off?

And ten minutes later I felt even....worse?

And ten minutes later I threw up in the backseat of Brett's SUV. And again ten minutes after that. I was grabbing at any bag I could find to ensure not a drop would get on the backseat. But at one point I ran out of bags, so did the next best thing. I rolled down the window and puked all over the Jeep.

Being mortified by my behavior and starting to realize that sushi from an internet cafe was probably not the best of idea I popped gravol like candy only to recycle them at a rapid pace. But some of it did eventually hit my system not stopping my stomach from heaving but leading to an overall high and slight hallucination and tracers and a slur.Meanwhile Jess is texting me to see if Brett and I are getting along yet (wink wink nudge nudge).

Yes, we were getting along as swimmingly as two people can for guys that picked up a woman on the side of the highway only to have her start violently throwing up on his jeep and then slurring gibberish. Did I mention he has a weak stomach too so every time I threw up he slammed it into park and had to run out of the truck to avoid the chain. This went on.

Every.Ten.Minutes.For.Five.Hours.

At that point I had puke on my jacket, in my hair and found myself defeated to writing the text saying I would not be at the bachelorette party while ignoring texts back that I might still make it. Eventually we made it to Smithers where I went to the B&B to sleep and puke the night away.

The next day I eventually made the bridal shower with a bottle of gingerale in tow which happened to be my date for the next three days that I could not eat food. I did not eat food for almost 4 full days. Meaning I was not chock full of hot at the wedding, I'm scrawny to begin with and I looked emancipated in my dress and everyone refered to me at that girl that got stuck in Prince George and was barfing everywhere. Even if I wanted to avoid that title the fact that I could only stomach gingerale at a wedding with free drink tickets would have been a very cruel tip off. I ended up spending a lot of the days eithering sleeping or drinking gingerale and I only felt alive again ON THE GREYHOUND RIDE HOME this last Sunday.

Oh, and sorry Jess that the set up didn't work out. I thank you for trying as I know how you thought Brett and I would go well together, but I don't blame him one bit for politely avoiding me for the remainder of trip. Even if i did try to do the right thing and gave him money to clean his SUV the damage was done.

Oh and after work today I am on my way to try to get the woman fired from Greyhound who sold me the ticket for the bus that doesn't exist and caused the chain reaction in the first place. No joke.

running behind the pack

I need a week off. Maybe two. I'm burnt out, big time.

Work is starting to eclipse into the personal life and I could almost make a full blackberry schedule out of the personal. Family deciding to surprise visit for over a week was amazing and stressful and time consuming all at once. Laundry and food in the fridge aren't givens and it seems I'm falling behind in my personal life. Coffee dates missed. Friends I don't see as much anymore, some I don't see at all.

I'm sorry but my toothache and vagina are going to have to get a place in line because I don't have time for a dentist appt/pap smear much less a haircut. Someone please tell me where this summer is going?

I can barely find time to upload pics to the new computer before I kill a cell phone and have to find out how to use the next one as well. At this point I'm going to throw fashion aside and wrap everything in bubblewrap as there's no way for finance to keep up with my vengeance for all things expensive and breakable.

Oh and anxiety has reared his ugly head again. How I missed you, you ugly prick.

And then the blog. Sigh. Feeling a week behind all posts. The last to comment. An equally shotty friend on the interworld. Sorry. I suck. And of course that's the one that is stressing me out almost the most.

Which is why I'm going away for a week. Maybe two. And when I come back I'm going to mark all as read, take a deep breath and try to pick up where we left off. For sanity's sake.

Or for the sake of not going postal on the office fax machine, hitting the cell phone with the hammer, crying while uploading pics on the computer, rambling on the blog with random words relating to "fucking split ends.....fucking marking....fucking heat wave" and doing a vlog of drunk crying to Alanis Morisette.