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.

The Hypocrite

So I had a date last night. A blind date. And it went surprisingly well. We met for drinks at 6 and found ourselves chatting til past 10. He's really smart and funny and charming. He's good looking and a great conversationalist and there was a huge connection. We laughed and bonded and I'm going to kiss and tell when I say that the night ended with a very sweet kiss. All in all first date solid gold.

So last night I went home and (okay I was a little bit drunk) started to tell friends about it. But then rather than say about how funny he is and smart I did what I normally do. I started picking him apart. "yeah i know he just moved here from Toronto but he doesn't have a car"..."yeah but he's in his 30's and just getting his career together"...suddenly there were a million faults and flaws. My swoony date feeling turned into grimace.

It wasn't until I was saying this to my bestie this morning that I got the wake up call I needed, mainly in the form of her ripping me a new asshole (as only a bestie can). "You're going to fault him on not having a car? That's stuck up. And shallow. How many guys have you dated that mind fuck you and treat you like shit that have cars. And this guy seems great and you're going to fault him on transportation?"

Ouch. Harsh.

Ouch...true?

This was a bit of a slap in the face. But albeit maybe one that's needed. I've picked apart men before and had scraps of remains I've found undateable. I've dated men who look great on paper and could have made my hair curl with the horror stories I have. And this guy is honest and witty and charming and I rake through him to try to find reasons not to date him. Maybe I am a little more fucked up than realized. Also, it's not like I'm an ideal person to date. I can be insecure and jealous, I can be clingy and aloof all at the same time. Good times.

Last night I threw out a menagerie of things that one should NEVER bring up on a date. Ex boyfriends-check. One night stands- check. How I get falling down drunk-check. How I got an STI once from a one night stand*- check (seriously who says that on a date? seriously?). And yet he was sweet enough to leave me an email last night just saying how much fun he had with me and how I seem 'real' when the evidence is quite contrary.

Point taken. I think I may invite him out to the lake this weekend. I'll drive of course.

*which was cleared up in one week with antibiotics and is a hard thing to admit on a blog so please be nice.

ALSO: For more proof of what an epic ass I am, go to Paula's blog today where I am doing a guest post :)

Diagnosis

If you're a borderline hypochondriac *points at self* with a lot of natural health issues *finger still pointed* then the worst thing you can do is google your symptoms. Especially if you have a titchy bit of the crazy. It won't help. I have been feeling a general grossness all day long. Nauseated, dizzy, exhausted, achy, and an oddly tingly tongue. So far google has me convinced I have:

Anemia ( I don't eat meat/poultry and live off diet coke and fries. It's probable anyways)

Diabetes ( I'm severely hypoglycemic so maybe the pancreas decided to do a 180 for kicks)

Mono ( I do kiss a lot of boys)

MS ( What, like it couldn't happen)

The H1V1 virus formerly known as Swine Flu (it's trendy right now)

AIDS (I was promiscuous first year college, what can I say)

I accidentally inhaled meth from the crackheads that stand outside my workplace (it's not weed in their pipes and second hand smoke is serious business)

Immaculate conception (not so slutty now and very very safe)

Syphilis (apparently it's on the rise in BC and in Alberta)

Delayed nerve damage to my tongue from a root canal I got weeks ago.

An allergic reaction to :air/water/coffee/sun......

An unexplained disease that will merit a full chapter in a medical textbook and be named after me one day. "Meghanitis burns like brothel pee and has no known cure"....

This is why I'm going to the doctor tomorrow morning to get blood work done. Because lord knows it can't be something like the flu or just a general run down feeling. That would make too much sense.

Oh and did I mention the irony that I'm terrified of blood test and they make me nauseated and faint and woozy? Yup, it's hard work being this nuts.

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!