The Adventures of Me

Greetings from 37,000 Feet Above New Mexico

Do you know what's stupid? Booking a 7am flight in a state that is 2 hours ahead of the state that your internal clock runs on. Ergo, I have a big ol' sleepy. I have learned that not only am I am idiot but that I do not do well on 2 hours of sleep. At all. I am mostly staring at people when they talk to me, blinking and then walking away. So, really, not much different then when I'm fully rested but this time I'm unshowered.

Why am I not sleeping on said bumpy flight? Well, again, I'm an idiot and decided it would be much, much wiser to do all of my work while exhausted and caught in turbulence so that when I land I can go home, tuck a cat under each arm and dive into my bed with wild abandon. I make fantastic life decisions and while doing so post meaningless blog posts on the internet. You're welcome.

Welcome to Texas, Enjoy the Nudity

Yesterday I flew in to Texas for a day long meeting. I arrived late and was dragging serious ass by the time I got to my hotel at 11pm. You see, I have the world's worst cold and was solely held upright by the shocking amount of over the counter drugs pumping through my veins. I contend that if you cut me open all you'll see is orange juice and DayQuil. The front desk at the hotel must have taken pity on my poor, sniffling self, as they upgraded me to a penthouse suite. I gratefully took my keys for room 2681 and headed upstairs to pass out.

I got to my room, put the key card in and saw the little green light flash. As I pushed open the door I noticed there was some resistance. I pushed harder because, like, bed, now. The door opens and I look down to realize that there are clothes on the floor and that's what had been causing the resistance. Weird, I thought. BUT NOT WEIRD ENOUGH TO TURN AROUND. Oh no. That'd be silly. I took a step in and that's when the naked man who was asleep in the bed leaped up and screamed 'WHO ARE YOU?' and in return I screamed 'PENIS'.

Yeah. I did.

He covered himself with a pillow and asked how I'd gotten in.

Me: They checked me in to this room!

Him: I've been staying here for two days.

And that's when finally my brain connected to my feet and I fled. In the hallway I called the front desk and the very shocked, very lovely Texan man explained that he had meant to put me in 2691 not 2681 and would be delivering the keys shortly. And he'd be giving me a $50 bar credit for my trouble. I laughed and thanked him and suggested they also do the same for the poor, poor naked man who I hope was just very cold and shocked and not also just unfortunate.

Moral of the story: deadbolt your hotel room doors.

 

That Was Awkward

Gentlemen, you may not want to read this post.

So, two weeks ago I had to go to the lady doctor. It was a follow up appointment and I had just seen her a week before. I'm on the table and she's on her wheeley little chair prepping things.

Her: So how have things been the last two weeks?

Me: Pretty much the same. Oh, except I booked a trip to Bali!

Her: Oh! (Wheeling into position, ahem) (Pause)

And then, from in between my legs I hear:

Her: That's beautiful!

Me: Um... excuse me?

Her: (Peering out from around my leg) Bali, that's going to be beautiful.

And then I laughed for a long, long time.

And Then I Kicked Myself in the Face

This weekend I was all stressed out about health stuff and not feeling great so I figured the solution was to over work out. Logic, I haz it. So, after a pole class on Saturday wherein I pulled the muscle in my arm (skills!) I woke up on Sunday to go play kickball. Fun times, right?

First off, I saw the greatest injury in the history of sports during the game right before mine. The dude up to kick really overpowered and sent the ball sailing, hard and fast, into foul territory. Where was foul territory you ask? Oh, it was into the other dugout where the very fast, very strongly kicked ball, nailed a dude who was next up to kick right in the nuts. He immediately went down on all fours and every person in a mile radius simultaneously screamed OW and then, laughed. I, having been brought up on America's Funniest Home Videos and knowing that when a person gets nailed in their bathing suit area by an object is high comedy, laughed for a really, really long time. Karma, I also haz it.

So, cut to an hour later and I am last up to kick, bases loaded, 2 outs and we're down by 2 runs. NO PRESSURE SICK GIRL. I take all my power, channel it in to my leg and kick. Hard. The ball somehow, magically, goes straight up into the air. I have already started to lunge forward to run and the ball on its magically trajectory nails me straight in the hat which then forces the ball, which is still moving rather quickly, directly into my nose. I saw stars. Others saw yet another AFHV moment and laughed. Bastards didn't even give me a base, so we lost as the ball had technically tagged me out. So yeah. I kicked myself in the face AND got myself out. World's best athlete? Oh I do think so.

And Then I Broke Down

Internet, it has been a really rough few days. Really, really rough. Today I went to yet another doctor (my third in a week) to be taken off the medication doctor number 2 put me on as I was having a severe, negative reaction. Instead of helping me it was making me much, much sicker. This was shocking as for the first two days it made everything ok. Then suddenly, it wasn't. Then my doctor and I discussed my health problems at large and it seems that my body is not adapting well to not having a gallbladder. It's been a year, I said. I know, my doctor said. This happens from time to time. It could go away in a month, it could take another year, I could have issues for the rest of my life. Then we discussed my biopsy from the other day (doctor number 1, results still pending) and I was hit by a wave of panic so large it knocked me sideways.

I wouldn't cry in his office. I couldn't do it. I just wrapped things up as quickly as possible and left. I am just so scared. With my family history the words 'biopsy' and 'concerned' make my head swim. Combine that with a personal life that is in shambles and you have a mess that is kind of shaped like Meghan. So I fell apart. In an epic, epic way. It was the opposite of pretty. Generally crying it out helps. It clears my head and calms my nerves. Right now I am so wound up, tied in too many knots, that it didn't. It made it worse. So here I sit, trying to figure out my next course of action on too many fronts. And I am really, really scared. I hoping things calm down in the next few days as I have stories of kickball and bruises and adventures I want to write about, so I don't forget them. But right now I can't. And that makes me even more sad. Fun cycle, huh?

Hippie Tent

 I was given a ticket to a yoga festival to be held early Saturday morning. Not just a yoga festival mind you, but a yoga festival held in a tent on the beach. How could I turn that down? Simple answer: I could not.

Friday night I went out to celebrate my Galliversary and may, allegedly, have had more than a few adult beverages. So many, in fact, that when my alarm went off at 6am I, out loud, said 'that's adorable', threw the alarm across the room and went back to sleep until almost 10. This made me ever so slightly late for said festival. Ahem. Upon waking and realizing this I threw on pants and ran out of my house like a bat on fire. It wasn't until I got there that I realized that A) I didn't bring my yoga mat B) I was intensely hung over and C) I was wearing and carrying Marc Jacobs. So, I stood out a little in a not great way. Panicked I bought a new mat and picked a class at random to attend. The class I found out, as I was seated in the tent, was called 'Heal Yourself, Heal the World' and would be a mixture of three types of yoga and 'expression through joyful movement.'

Have you ever been hung over in a tent and been told you need to move joyfully with a bunch of people who smell like patchouli? It's an interesting type of panic that makes one want to flee as fast as humanly possible. However, I decided to stay as I had just purchased a mat and dammit, I wanted it to be worthwhile. We started and it was kind of awesome. Yoga, sound of the waves, drum circle. I could do this, I thought. This was no problem! Then an hour into the class the joyful movement started. At first I stood there in open mouthed shock. I generally lack all shame but every so often I revert to my 13 year old self wherein I am petrified of looking like an idiot in public. And here I was not only faced with looking like a raging, insane person, but I was going to do it with a bunch of strangers. So I refused. I would watch them dance and I would stand in judgement, which is the way of my people.

Then I noticed another woman who was doing the same. The look on her face was disdain and snooty. I realized I looked the same and in doing so, I was the one out of place, I was the only one who looked like an idiot. It was oddly enlightening. And so I started to jump, wave my arms and scream like everyone around me. Internet, it was incredible. It was weird and liberating and kind of like being 3 years old again. I didn't care about anything. When I met the eyes of people around me they were so happy, so full of joy and, oddly, innocence. I think they were experiencing the same thing I was and it then made everything so magnified it was almost overwhelming. It went on for 30 minutes. When we were done I was lightheaded and giddy...and thanks to the tent, I now also smelled like patchouli. And I didn't even care.

So in short, if given the chance to hop around like an asshole in a tent full of hippies, just do it.

A Year Ago Today

Today is my one year Galliversary. That's right! One year ago on this very day I had an internal organ forcibly removed through my bellybutton, talked about pole dancing naked on a table and tried to barter urine for morphine. Ah, memories.

I like milestones and I like to celebrate. Ergo, tonight I'm making my friends drink beer and eat cake with me in honor of my fallen internal organ. Drinking with me for the past year is extra amusing as I now get drunk very quickly, sometimes after 2 to 3 sips, and then occasionally, fall asleep. In other words I am your 85 year old uncle Sal. Mazel Tov.

Internet, it has been a really weird year and looking back I can say that very few things are the same as they were a year ago. Sometimes for the worse, mostly for the better. Kind of. Ok, it's like 50/50. But hey, I'll take it.

Perhaps the best email I've ever gotten

Verbatim from a friend:

 

This shit was too fucking weird and good and FUCKING I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT

http://jezebel.com/5903296/turn-yourself-into-a-puppy-with-this-entrancing-makeup-tutorial

Happy Birthday, may this haunt your dreams.

*note, it's not my birthday

Bali? Yes. Bali.

So, yesteday I bought a ticket to Bali. You know, the country located on the other side of the world. Where I'm going. Alone. For 10 days. I am alternately excited and terrified.

On the plus side one of the areas I'm staying in has a monkey forest. Ergo, monkeys for everyone! Best 'I went on a trip and you didn't' return gift ever.

This is going to be short and sweet but just know that every so often I'm walking around doing my normal day to day stuff and suddenly I'll stop and go 'holy shit, Bali', have a moment of panic, a moment of wheeeeee! and then return to my life as normal.

Giddyup.

Wherein Everything I Own is Damp

Yesterday I was due to go to a make up pole class. I was feeling pretty sick so I decided to be a responsible adult and instead stay home, do my laundry, and sleep. Livin' the life!

I get home and I go to the laundry room, there's one machine open. I figure ok, whatevs, I'll put in my colors as those are most important and do the rest later. (I swear this gets infinitely more exciting). I go to go back down 45 minutes later to move my clothes to the drier and noticed the elevator is out. Lame, I thought, and then walked down the stairs, out my building, down my giant sloping driveway and towards the laundry room. On my way I passed my building manager. Seeing my laundry basket she says: "you can't do laundry."

Me: Um, my laundry is already in the washer.

Her: Did you use the last washer on the right?

Me: Yes.

Her: Oh. It caught on fire. That's the reason the elevator is out, from the smoke. You'll need to remove your clothes. The room is closed for the rest of the day.

AND THEN SHE WALKED AWAY.

I run to the laundry room and there is my machine. Moved the the middle of the room. Smoking. With all of my clothes in it. Apparently as soon as the machine filled with water the engine exploded. Thankfully someone was in the room at the time and she, being smart, unplugged the machine immediately thus saving my clothes and more than likely, the entire apartment building.

So yeah, my clothes. They are there, soaking in a machine full of smoke filled water. The air in the room was full of fumes so I needed to get out of there fast. Have you ever tried to move fast with a laundry basket full of soaking wet clothes? I mean, dripping down your entire body soaking wet? Leaving trails of water with every step? Yeah. It's DIFFICULT. Also, towels and jeans when soaked are very heavy. Ergo, my basket weighed about 150 lbs. I am a strong girl but I am NOT THAT STRONG. Every 5 steps I had to stop, put the basket down, ring out my shirt as I was soaked to the bone, catch my breathe and move again.

Please remember, the elevator is out. Yeah. FUN ADDED BONUS.

It took 30 minutes but I got the clothes back to my apartment with this method. Fun fact: 2 dudes were watching me the whole time. It wasn't until I got the basket up the stairs that they asked if they could help. I melted them with my eyes and said no. Then I got to wash all of my clothes in my tub. Then I got to lay them all around in hopes they would dry. And then? Then I laughed. As I said to my mom on the phone between moments of hysterical laughter 'I'm pretty sure I'm on a secret reality show. But haha, joke's on you universe, this is far and away not the worst thing happening in my life right now.'

Then I ate peeps for dinner and booked a trip to Bali.