Only cause this is the greatest picture ever

Things that suck:

1. When Such Great Heights (Postal Service version, not Iron and Wine) comes on my ipod, I get a shock (really) through my brain when my headphones alternate that catchy gameboy-esque sound between the left and right ears. follow that?
2. Annoying co-workers who just lightly knock on my cube while I am listening to my headphones rather than doing this thing us humans like to call SPEAKING
3. Trying to bid on Jon Stewart tickets through your company's United Way Silent Auction on only to be outbid by some ANONYMOUS DICKWAD CUNTY MEATSTICK LITTLE BITCH.

Note to self:

Best not to use "KY" when referring to last year (LY) numbers on reports that VP's will receive.

Now I know why I voted for this man....

Who are these bitches though? My beer bong had more of a "kicking ass" quality to it. These kids today just don't know how to do it right....

Where's the Biff?

Because life just would clearly be more awesome if we all just went Back to the Future (II)

Thanks, Sarah.



(read the comments)

It's a nice day, for a white wedding

I wanted to take this post to congratulate my good friends Ria and Chris on their impending nuptials on Saturday. Bring the horrible friend I am, I will be in NYC toasting them from afar while they are in St. Louis.

Chris-you really are #150.

I never was the kind of girl to dream about her wedding growing up. Now that I am at the over-the-hill age of 26, I still do not dream of my future wedding. And no, it's not because I don't have a boyfriend right now. I did have a boyfriend for over 6 years (yikes) and I can honestly say that I just didn't care about a wedding.

There is one thing that I do think about, and that is the song I will dance to with my future husband. Song choice is critical to me. It dictates who you are as a couple. Pick something too sentimental and people will laugh. Pick something too edgy, and well, people will laugh. And by people, I mean me. Now that I have a public forum for the crap that comes out of my mouth, this is a bad thing. (FYI-Ria and Chris are dancing to Sam Cooke)

Case in point. I have two sisters, both of whom are married and with children. The middle sister got married in the year 1999. She picked solid choices--Harvest Moon by Neil Young, and Little Miss Magic by Jimmy Buffett to dance with my dad. Relevant, but still original and a reflection of her music taste. No Butterfly Kisses or This I Promise You by N'Sync.

Now the other sister, the eldest of the 3 of us, got married in 1995 (she is 10 years older than me). Now considering my top choice for a wedding song for myself was released in 1969 (Helplessly Hoping by CSN, but still in the running is Gimme That Nut by Eazy-E), she had plenty of good solid choices for a wedding song. Right? Well, not quite. She danced to my brother-in-law to.....wait for it.....

yeah. Everything I'd Do (I'd Do It For You) by Bryan Adams. Now don't get me wrong, I love me a little Summer of '69 and Cuts Like a Knife, but come on. My innocence is lost. I can never appreciate the greatness that is Robin Hood Prince of Thieves again--well, except when I pick up a spoon and yell in my best British accent, "Cause it's dull you twit! It'll hurt more!"


Oh but wait. It gets better. What's the song she danced to with my dad? Let's wait for it again, shall we?
......
......
......
The Circle of Life by Elton John.



[crickets]


Now although I was only 14 at the time, you don't know how difficult it was to restrain myself from interrupting the whole thing with a little Hakuna Matada song and dance. Really really really really restrain myself. Like Hannibal Lector in that freaky looking mask restrained.

Is there a lesson to be learned from all this? Hmmm tough call, but I would say the lesson is that one of my sisters has absolutely no taste in music whatsoever, and my brother-in-law has no balls for not telling her no. Her wedding was the first time I ever got drunk, so for that, I will always be grateful.

My DV-R can't handle all of this delicious TV goodness.

If any of my friends plan on trying to contact me Monday through Thursday, forget about it. I'm completely booked watching hours upon hours of television this fall. Well, Sunday there is football (and re-runs of Entourage), but being a chick and all, you can probably drag me from the tv long enough to have a decent conversation with me--unless it's the Vikings playing, and they finally decided to stop having sex with women on boats on Lake Minnetonka and try to actually play football. I hate Desparate Housewives, and you couldn't pay me enough to watch Calista Flockhart in Ally McBeal 2 or whatever show that's called.






Monday Night
8-9 PM: I don't watch Prison Break, so this hour is free until 24 starts.
9-10 PM: Heroes. duh.
10-11 PM: Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
*then there is Monday night football

Tuesday Night
8-9 PM: free hour until American Idol starts.
9-10 PM: House
10-11 PM: Nip/Tuck. I'm calling it now. Julia is having sex with the midget nanny.

Wednesday Night
8-9 PM: Jericho. Not sure about this one, but I'm giving it a chance. The guy from Scream is in it who looks like the lead singer of Bush. It can't be all that bad.
9-10 PM: LOST!!!!!!!!!!!! (with commercial breaks watching the Biggest Loser and American Idol)
10-11 PM: Kidnapped and Project Runway/Top Chef

Thursday Night
8:30-9 PM: The Office
9-10 PM: Grey's Anatomy
10-11 PM: Six Degrees

First off, I need a fucking life. Second, we are all forgetting the Seinfeld, Friends, CSI, Sex and the City re-runs on TBS that everyone watches. Not to mention Flavor of Love and Laguna Beach, but they are on re-runs all the time. AND I need to go buy Weeds Season 1 on DVD. Shit, dawg. Please, no more suggestions for shows I have to watch people. My intelligence is rapidly decreasing. (who am i kidding? Like there was intelligence there to begin with. Like ending a sentence with a preposition.)

I can be your hero, baby

I apologize for the lack of a post today. I was in an all day meeting that was a complete an utter waste of my time. Time that would have been better well spent, for example, eating grapes. Or freestyle walking. Or perhaps creating a completely irrelevant to actual life blog post about the senseless crap that goes through my head. Oh, well look at that!

Now hopefully all of you know that the Minnesota Twins clinched a playoff spot today. This makes Megan very happy. What makes Megan even happier? Having the Minnesota Twins win the division. What makes Megan the happiest? Having the Twins win the division, and having a new tv show debut with a plethora of hot men for me to gawk at.

Did anyone else watch Heroes on NBC last night? So.Fucking.Good. Ok ok I know the similarities to X-Men, but I don't care. Most of you know I am about two steps away from playing Dungeons and Dragons in my basement, so I'll take any show like this I can get.







And why don't any of my cab drivers look like this?

















And why don't any of my male nurses look like this? (Not to mention he is in one of my favorite TBS movies.)















Did you also know that I am somewhat of a hero myself? What is my power you may ask? Flying? No. Teleportation? For sissies. Exponentially fast cell regeneration? Haha no, even better. I, my friends, can stand anywhere on the subway platform and have the subway doors stop exactly in front of where I am standing. Not sure what use this superpower can be used for, but you better believe I am never the douche throwing every appendage available into the train trying to push the doors back open.

Happy Birthday to my dear friend Heather

Congrats. You made it on the internet.

Hello. My name is Megan and I am an alcoholic.

This weekend my friend's and I were talking about my behavior last Thursday. Clearly one of the more intoxicated times in my 20's (I am excluding all college experiences considering I was drunk through pretty much all of them). This got me thinking to times when I have actually been more drunk since graduating college. Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you the TOP 5 times where Megan had a blood alcohol level of about 1000 since the year 2002 (in no particular order).

1. In the summer of 2002, I was living upstate with my then boyfriend while we both worked at restaurants at night, and played on the lake behind his house during the day. It was the life. One night, while he was tending bar and I was off, I stopped by his restaurant to eat some dinner and have a couple of glasses of wine. The wine kept on coming as he never let me see the bottom of my glass. This is when it gets hazy. Apparently I kept on asking people I have never met if my "teeth were red", and began yelling at my boyfriend "snaaaakkkkkeeee biiiiittttttteeeee!". Once he took me home, I begged him to kill me now by throwing me in the lake. He didn't, but he did leave me topless (waiting for the day where I end up completely naked in the bathroom since bottomless has just been covered) in his bathroom. He said it was so I didn't puke all over my clothes, but I secretly think he was just trying to cop a feel and got bored.
2. New Years Eve 2002. I went out with Widmoyer and some high school people for NYE. It started out pleasant enough with bottles of Bud Light. It then slowly progressed into rum and cokes, then to me taking straight swigs out of the bottle of rum. What I do remember, is trying to light an old cigarette off the ground that someone else had smoked, yelling at random people from my HS that I "will not make out with them" (Widmoyer, you were no better off than me!), and finally falling and almost passing outin a snowbank. Yes, you heard me correctly. I almost passed out in a snowbank. I do remember thinking these were my last moments on earth since I could barely breath, and being totally ok with it. Finally, a hand from God, or more likely one of the guys I was with, pulled me out single handedly and probably saved me from either frostbite or death. Either way, thank you, whoever you are.
3. Once again, with Widmoyer. This time I was in Dusseldorf, Germany in June 2005. Widmoyer and I met up with some crazy German guy who we called "D". He was cute, and kind of fun, so we let him lead us around Dusseldorf for the night. He led us into this "American" nightclub which in no way shape or form resembled anything American--with the exception of the random cowboy shit around the bar. This place was a monstrocity. 3 levels of sweaty Germans wearing capri pants dancing to Rammstein or whatever. That's when I saw it. A beacon of hope for me to have a good time that night......A CAGE. I left Widmoyer on the third floor, and went down to the cage on the second floor (the two floors were open so the 3rd floor had visibilty to the second). I get in the cage which is flanked with handcuffs and whips, and of course, start doing the robot.....cause that's what I do. Two sweaty German guys without shirts jump in and try and grind on me. Instead of reciprocating, I give one guy a wedgy. Apparently the whole bar was taking pictures of me doing this, but unfortunately I never saw one of them. Damn you Widmoyer, damn you.
4. Number 4 occured on my last trip to Chicago in December of 2005. I really don't remember much of this night except for trying to pick up one of Megan's friends on the dance floor. No, not pick up like trying to hit on someone, but literally try and pick this grown man off the floor. I managed to get him about 2 inches off the ground before we fell over. I also lost my purse--and did I mention my id was in it? That would have made the whole flying home bit a little difficult. Luckily, the bartender found it, and it was returned to me. Cut to the next morning where Megan had to drive me to O'Hare aiport in a snowstorm as we are both trying not to vomit. I have a like a 4 hour layover in Minneapolis where I proceed to try and take a nap. Luckily I found a section of seats where the armrests were removed so I was able to pass out relatively comfortably only to be awoken with small children poking me with sticks to make sure I am alive. Did I mention I wore a lot of hats that night that weren't mine? Well, I did.

5. The last, and probably most drunk I have been, occured just last May of 2006 when Megan (of course) and Herbster were in town. Lucky for you dear reader, the night was well documented. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. They depict clearly how disgustingly wasted I got throughout the night.

Starting out with a little vino at my apt, no harm in that, right? Is Herbster giving herself a breast exam?

Still smiling and coherent.

Just cutting a rug. What?

Smile is getting a little bigger. Strange poses ensue.

Shots anyone? Apparently on me due to that rather large wad of cash in my hand. When I start buying shots for everyone and/or start trying to smoke cigarettes, it's all downhill. There is no stopping me. Gates looks a little unsure.

And now the drunk toilet shots.

My friends thought it would be a good idea to get me some pizza and water. Little did they know...


Notice the errant hand trying to get me to drink water. Also notice the spice container right in front of me. A normal person would drink the water and use the spices on their pizza. Not me--I decide it's better to pour the water (it was raining all that night as well) AND the spices over my head. But wait...is Herbster again checking out her breasts?


Ladies and gentlemen, I leave you with this (moments before I run home on the streets of Manhattan WITHOUT SHOES).

Corn fields and football. That's what Iowa does...and now, a montage of Hawkeye imagery.

Pancheros. I still have wet dreams about it

Old Capitol. The site of many a class for me. Also the site of many a skipped class for me.

Burge Hall. The site of many a possession of alcohol under the legal age. (aka "paula's")

Carver-Hawkeye Arena. The site of basketball games, RHCP/Foo Fighters concerts, and graduation.

The legend himself, Hayden Fry.



Kinnick Stadium. The site where I threw a turkey leg at Megan Gates, and it hit her in the head. Bullseye.


Brother's Bar and Grill. Where I spent my entire senior year.


wait, what?

Go Hawkeyes.

I'm calling it now. Big 10 champions. (Sorry Michigan, OSU, Penn State)

Oh sweet Jesus

I have discovered religion, and it goes by the name THERE IS A FUCKING ARBY'S IN MANHATTAN.

Apparently tequila and not eating gets you drunk

Last night I went to a Grey's Anatomy party--i know, i know. But I am a chick first and foremost so give me a break. How good was last night's episode though!?

But last night I went for a run, then figured I would eat dinner at this little shindig. Wine and margaritas were served, which I happily imbibed. One little thing, I forgot to eat dinner. Needless to say, the tequila hit me a little harder than usual. Cut to about 4 hours later where I wake up with no underwear on (WTF?) passed out on my bathroom floor.

Oh McDreamy, you seem to always know how to cut to the heart of me.

UPDATE: apparently trying to pole dance on the 6 train is not the coolest thing I have ever done. Nor is asking strange people in Union Square for cigarettes when I don't even smoke.

Missed the boat on that one.

Not very much going on at work today, which lets me focus on my procrastination. I have been using wikipedia to look up everything.

Finally I stumbed on Edina High School. Scroll down to "notable alumni". Paris Bennett? Really????? And then I notice that my junior year Sweetheart date is listed--Adam Goldberg (yes, he really is/was 6'7", and yes, we did slow dance--ie me swaying back and forth with my arms straight up in the air). What's the NFL league minimum now, like $275K? Dammit.

With tonsils the size of golf balls....

It's amazing that I have gotten anything done this week. Yes folks, the lack of posts means I have yet again been stuck with strep throat. That is 3 times in about 5 months I have been afflicted with this infection. I'm on my way to Florida this afternoon (after taking 2 days off from work for being sick) to help my dad move stuff into my parents new FL house, but next week I should be back on my posting regimen. Here's to hoping my ears don't explode on the flight down. Have a good weekend everyone!

Things I tripped over this morning: the iron, the rug under the coffee table, a pile of clothes, my dignity.

Dear Mr Hot Bartender,
I must apologize to you for my drunken behavior last night. I'm sorry for calling the drink you gave me for free a "pussy ass drink that tastes like a Fuzzy Navel". I'm for taking incessant pictures of you and screaming "you're going to be on the internet!". I'm sorry for then begging you for more free drinks. I'm sorry for making fun of your very sexy British accent. I'm just sorry for being an overall drunk, obnoxious, asshole. Please forgive me?
XOXO,
Megan


Thanks to my girls for making #26 one to remember! Pictures on Flickr.

You say it's your birthday....

It's my birthday too!!! So as I see my age turn from 25 to 26 on my blogger profile, I think back to one of my greatest birthday's ever. My 21st birthday. From the beer mug and FAC at Brother's, to 21 pitchers for $21 (can you even imagine that in NYC? Sigh.), from Mel puking over the side of the stairwell onto a bouncer at Jakes (one of the greatest moments of my life. the bouncer? not so much), to having it rain as we are walking home while wearing a white shirt with nothing underneath, to Kate screaming "it's not acid, people!" at all the people trying to run for shelter, and to finally being able to buy my first bottle of tequila legally, it was truly a great, great birthday.

While not to be outdone, my 26th birthday should be pretty fabulous in it's own right. First off we are having dinner at Yuca Bar, then possibly heading over to The Sunburnt Cow to pick up some Aussies and Kiwi's (mainly for Meghan). So cheers, everyone! To my next 26 years being as fabulous as the first! (Holy shit I'll be 52).

When you gotta go, you gotta motherfucking GO!

There are times at work when you just gotta go. You know. At one of my old jobs, my friends and I discussed how on earth you take a shit without pulling a Harry Dunne. For guys, taking a shit is more acceptable than for girls. I’m not exactly sure why, since you know, being part of the same species, but whatever. I’ll go with it. So ladies, if you read this, here are some helpful hints to follow if you’ve got an explosive case of diarrhea coming at ya. Ri-I’m talking to you! Wink wink.

Side note: for those who don’t already know, I have and will never utter the “P” word. And I don’t mean pussy--I love that word.

1) Check and make sure no one is in the bathroom. Easy enough right? Well no. First you have to check underneath to make sure no one’s feet are showing. THEN check if each door is securely shut. It’s essential to do a combination of the two. Once I only checked the feet and not the doors, and lets just say it ended disastrously. Her feet must have been hiding in the shadows. If clear, you’re free to go.
2) If you have the time, and no sense of urgency, you can possibly go to another bathroom on your floor and/or check a different floor. A few places I have worked definitely have a bathroom that people don’t use as frequently.
3) If you do not have the options mentioned above and are not the only one in the bathroom, you have the choice of waiting the other person out. This is like a shitting showdown. Most of the time, the person is just peeing. In that case, they’ll be out of the bathroom in like 2 minutes. But when the person in the bathroom with you has the same thing on her mind as you? The waiting game begins. There are several waiting techniques that I highly suggest. The first being “I’m just in here for a really long time cause I am changing my tampon”. Just jiggle around that metal container used for leftovers. Yes, this does require you to touch the damn thing. Second, play around with the toilet paper dispenser for a while. It gives the women the impression that you’re not actually taking a shit, but just a really slow pee-er or wiping a stain off your pants from lunch. Third, you can just take a while pulling your pants on. Pretend you have a complicated belt or something. Or if you really feel like pushing the envelope, you can combine all 3. If the bitch, still isn’t out of the stall, she fucking sucks. This is when I start cursing her unborn children.
4) That leaves me with the 4th and final option for going at work. I don’t know about any of you, but I get SERIOUS stage fright. So here is the trick. If you put toilet paper in the bowl before you go, it doesn’t make a sound when you drop the deuce. If you’re ripping ass like crazy while you are doing it though, well, I can’t help you there. Just make sure you bring in a match so there person who goes in after you doesn’t die of asphyxiation.

Make it work, ladies. Make it fucking work.

So tired. So very tired.

Last night was one of those nights that I couldn't fall asleep. You think it might be due to the fact that I live right next to a fire station and they feel the need to incessantly honk their horn every two minutes? Maybe. I mean, come on fellas. That cat in the tree is not going anywhere, so no need to lay on your horn and disrupt my beauty sleep.

Anyways, since my brain hurts and I am too tired to post something witty and clever, I'm just going to tell you all how excited I am to pick up Nip/Tuck Season 3 and watch it all tonight. Ticket for one, please.

Everyone have a kick ass Labor Day weekend. Hopefully you Eastcoasters aren't too affected by Ernesto. Wait, I take that back since no one invited me to go anywhere with them. I now hope everyone has as shitty a weekend as I am going to have--with the only exception being the Twins/Yankees game I am going to on Sunday. Adios suckers!