Thanksgiving

I was pretty proud of myself this year - minus a slight brownie binge at night's end, I managed not to make myself disgustingly full this Thanksgiving.

But just when you think you might escape a McQ holdiay dinner without any funny business, this manages to find it's way into my ears, via a whisper from one of my sisters.

"Yeah, so I was just going to the bathroom, and blowing my nose at the same time, and I think I must have blew to hard, because a poop just shot right out of my butt."

Of course, that was matched later by my other sister reminiscing about sex (or rather, no sex) while pregnant.

It was all pretty awesome.

And speaking of awesome - while some of us were banditing our Turkey Trots (see previous post), others of us were creating her own!! Check it out!

So without further delay, here are the second set of holiday pictures.

Momma Q, Ellie and the Mayor, Me, Cheese, Devin, and Patrick.

The Mayor, showing me his new kitchen set, complete with "beers" (little black plastic bottles - where on earth could he have gotten that word?), and "cossie" (coffee, which he is making me in this picture). Does anyone else think its weird that, even in an imaginary kitchen, I still won't cook? The best part of the picture was when he tried to actually eat the plastic hotdog. Eh, he's still learning.

This is his new "Cheese!" face he makes when you take his picture.

Aww, sweetness. After my mom cooked for two straight days (the most amazing meal I have ever eaten, I might add), she then postpones her own plate to watch the Mayor while the rest of us stuff our faces.

Nat, Patrick, and Cheese - would you beleive me if I told you they were sitting like that to watch the Jonas Brothers perform at halftime of the Dallas game? I shit you not.

Devin and the Mayor. He's taken to chewing his fingers - I think it has to do with his molars coming in or something.

The host and hostess. Thanks you two!!

Wait for it....

YAY!!!!

Here he is, in all his Elf-Mayor-of-Whoville glory!!!!

Now the Christmas season can officially begin!!

It's a Start

Yeah, yeah - so it's been a week - but honestly, I didn't really have a ton to talk about. My life has become, well, boring.

Well, ecept for the discovery that Cheese cries at movies. That was pretty cool.

But otherwise, it's been a pretty slow news week over here.

So here are the start of some holiday pictures (the actual Thanksgiving ones will have to wait because I need to get them from my sister). We kicked it off here in Chicago last weekend with the Lights parade downtown. It's this huge parade where they do the official lighting of Michigan Avenue (Magnificant Mile). It was stupid cold, and I pissed and moaned all day about not going, but Cheese was insistant that we do something different that night, so I lost.

Popsicle Megan in her bank-robbing hat.

Corner of Wacker and Wabash. right along the Chicago river.

After the parade, there was a fireworks show. Chicago LOVES their fireworks.

Cheese and I after discovering that it cost $27 to park for two hours.

It's the Turkey Trot bitches!!! In our annual traditional, Devin and I headed down to the Lincoln Park Turkey Trot. This was BY FAR the warmest day we have had down there (I think last year it was about 25 degrees). We ended up running it bandit, though. See, even though we made it plenty of time to register, they has already run out chips and tee-shirts. So basically, we would have been paying money to run five miles on the same public running path we use every week. And while I do not usually support banditing, I justified it by not taking any water or food at the end - I figured I didn't pay for it, so I can't eat it. Besides that, it was just like running on my regular route.

/

But let me say this - this is the 31st year they have run this event, and EVERY YEAR its the same thing with the ass long lines and the running out of shit. Whoever organizes this race better get their heads out of their asses, or we are going to start hightailing it over the Edison Park Trot from here on out.

Devin's action shot - She blazed it in something like 39 minutes. Me? I was a bit slower, turning in my slowest Trot time ever at 44:09. I don't know what happened, but I was pretty zapped after Mile 2, and just praying to get it over.

/

Hey, see that girl in front of Devin, the one with the black tights on under the shorts? We saw a lot of this - girls with shorts over their tights. Why do they do this? Is it becuase they think they're ass looks big in tights? Because who cares, you know? And moreover, the girls that were doing it were all these really skinny girls - I mean, look at the girl in the picture - Devin weighs about NOTHING, and that girl is about her size, if not smaller.

/

I think this is weird.

/

For the record.

Post race. Turkey Trot 2008 in the books, if not officially.

Our lone spectator, Cheese. He stood out there in the cold to take pictures. What a sweetie!

I was oddly sick for the rest of the day. It was weird. But it didn't stop me from eating three pieces of cake and three large frosted brownies. But more on that later....

End of the Weekend

Okay - so I have pictures from this weekend to post (just fun stuff) - but first things first:

CONGRATS MOMO!!!

Our little Momo, darling of the blogophere and super bad-ass chick, just put in a sub 12-hour Ironman finish in her home state of Arizona this weekend. I actually got to see her face cross that line, and I had tears in my eyes. I am so proud of her, and how hard she has worked this year - this was her SECOND Ironman this season!

Also, before you do anything else today, stop and head over to Stronger's blog - she's got another Super Secret Fund happening, and trust it - it's so worth it! There's a set donation of five dollars, so if you got a spare fiver laying around, please send it her way.

And for anyone who knows Stronger, there's always a spectacular recipiant of the Super Secret Fund...just asked Duane!

And while you are in the process of checking out blogs, how about you check out a new chicky on the scene - T. You gotta read her race report on this monster race she did in Costa Rica. Please read along as she shows you her life, her passions, herself - trust it, she worth getting to know.

I also wanted to give a massive shout-out to my friend Bridget, the super mom of Hammer, and basass wife of The Fire. We just had dinner with her and the family tonight, and she is just days away from the birth of her second child. But beleive me when I say, man, does she make being pregnant look good!

(I hope they ask me to baby sit when she goes into labor...hint, hint)

And before I go through my pictures for the weekend, I just wanted to say how much I love my family -I got to spend the afternoon with my sister and nephew, and then dinner with the family, Hammer's family, and my man, and I will tell you this:

For as much bitching as I can do at time, I really am blessed. I really am surrounded by the best of the best. No lie.

Okay, now go read, and I will see you shortly.

Sneak Peek

Scene: Our apartment.

Cheese, in the kitchen, cooking asparagus, chicken, and stuffing.

Me, sitting at my desk in the dining room/office. Working. Still.

Cheese (walking up to me with a full plate of deliciousness): Here you go, dinner is ready.

Me (shoveling food into my mouth): Uhnk u.

Five minutes pass.

Cheese (coming back in, taking my plate): Honey are you done?

Me: Yup.

Cheese : Rice pudding for dessert?

Me: Okay.

Cheese (from the kitchen): Oh, and so you know, there is still another chicken breast left, no bones, I cut it up and put it in the fridge, you know, so you can have it for lunch tomorrow.

Me: (stunned silence)

Cheese: What?

Me (smiling): Nothin.

Cheese turns back to start washing dishes.

I return to the computer screen.

End Scene.

Reality Check

Biggest Head-In-The-Ass
Is it me, or is Vicky from The Biggest Loser actually The Biggest Bitch?

Let me explain this – IT IS A GAME. You have chosen to go on a program where the goal is to beat your competitors by losing the most weight.

And if you are a threat to the person that stands to win it all, your fat, bitchy, complaining ass (or your husband) will be voted off.

Honestly, there is a ton of money at stake, and The Biggest Loser title, and Vicky thinks that people should still be loyal to their team color?

Give me a big heaping cream-filled fucking break.

And to say that if she gets kicked off, “it’s all Amy’s fault?”

Perhaps she should think about placing blame on herself and the fact that she did not lose more weight.

And my favorite Vicky line of the night:

“If I go home, how much weight do you think I am going to lose? I have two kids and work 60 hours a week!”

Correct me if I wrong, but isn’t this whole thing about lifestyle change?

Did Vicky eat that memo?

I would have sent her ass a-packin' with that statement alone, if for no other reason then to see her recapture her Burger King crown once back to real life.

I mean, I am not trying to be a bitch, but that it the EPITOME of how she got in this situation in the first place. Excuses, excuses, excuses - but no taking of responsibility for her own actions.

Fuck, as I sit here and struggle with my own bad habits, I know how hard it is to correct them, to get back on track, and to take an honest but tough look at what I did to put myself here, now 15 pounds heavier then I was just a few months ago.

No one to blame but myself.

And popcorn.

But I digress.

And what is wrong with Amy?!?!?!?!

Voting Coleen off?!?!

God help her because next week, if she’s below the line, Vicky is going for the choke.

Trust it.


Weave-alicious
In other bat-shit crazy yet-too-good-to-pull-your-eyes-from news, the Real Housewives of Atlanta finale was last night.

And for the most part, those weave-wearing, collagen-lip-plumping, fake-boob-heaving broads didn’t disappoint.

But the real treat will be next week, at the reunion – where I swear NeNe is about to tear the horse mane off of Kim’s evil ass head (spoiler: She tells Kim to keep her legs shut to marry men [Big Poppa is a married man], and calls her a hooker).

Oh, SNAP!

It’s pure reality genius, people.

Or as my sister Devin said, “It’s disgusting, yet something about it makes me feel like a better person.”

X-actly.

IM AZ Part II

So I hear there's a little race going on in Tempe this weekend....

It's IM AZ in November!!!

So before everyone starts to sign in, do a test swim, pack their special needs bags, and all the exciting stuff that comes with the honor of racing this race, I just want to say:

GOOD LUCK EVERYONE!!!!

Right now, I know Andy and Momo are racing - anyone else?

And while I wish I could be down there standing over TTL and waiting for that cannon to shoot you off, I will have to be satisfied with sitting in front of my computer and anxiously awaiting the finishes on Sunday.

So race hard and race smart - know your limits, and push them if its safe.

Now go become Ironmen - or for Momo, time to add the hometown medal to your collection!

The Ramblings Continue

An Open Letter to a Friend:

Hey Jenny Aniston –

Let it go.

No, seriously.

Brad left, like, 20 Botox sessions ago.

Two years ago would have been a good time to stop talking about it.

Sour grapes makes for bad Whine.

I don't care how much Oprah prods or what movie you need to promote - have some self respect and lock it up.

Besides, good old Brad's saddled with a broad who's bat-shit crazy and six kids – who lost that bet, yeah?

So snap it up, and move on.

Love,
Me


Injustice and Principle
Why are all the things I hate good for me?

1. Swimming
2. Cauliflower
3. Pap smears

Right now, I am mostly concerned with #1. I think we are all aware of my disdain for that particular discipline. But lately, I am coming to terms with the fact that, no matter how much I bike or run, it will never give me the overall tone that swimming does.

And though I am working out almost every day of the week at this point, I continue to gain weight and loss muscle mass. My diet has even improved, though it was never all that bad to begin with. I truly do not understand it. It is BEYOND frustrating at this point, so much so that I am convinced I need to see doctor because something in me in malfunctioning. My final straw was the newly formed dimple at the top of my back left thigh. Like, not on my ass (though they exist there too) but on the thigh part.

When I saw it, it was all I could do to bite back the tears. Call me shallow – whatever – but I truly believe that if I am going to break a sweat working out everyday, I DESERVE not to have dimpled thighs.

And just to beat this pity party to death, I was in the 7-Eleven getting coffee this morning before my appointment, and all these people were buying up crap foods that I would NEVER think about eating – like frosted honey buns – and I thought, “Now how can you eat that stuff and not gain weight, but simply standing two feet from it just added another chin and three dimples to my ass?”

I wanted to choke some innocent people out…and all for a pastry.

Good thing that appointment I was heading to was therapy….


All Night Long
Recently, I have struggled with a nagging bout of insomnia. It’s like I lay my head down at the appropriate hour, but three hours later, there I am tossing and turning.

Like right now.

Its 2am.

The worst part is that I will eventually feel sleepy at 3am, which is way too late to wake up at a respectable time, but also not late enough to just stay awake and get up for the morning swim at 5.

I have toyed with the idea of raiding my medicine cabinet and tossing back a few painkillers left over from the kidney surgery, but I can’t bring myself to take them.

So awake it is.

Housewives and Husbands

Thanks to all those who have checked for a pulse in the last few days - got a little sidetracked with my piles of work and stuff. Seems I don't have a lot to say when I can barely breath under all the papers.


Shame Alert!
Okay, so while I have been holed up on Seward Street swimming in self-pity, child abuse cases, and bitch-ass reception sites that think it’s acceptable to charge $3000 just to rent the space between their four walls (three words – eat a dick), I have found myself taking time-outs to watch my new favorite brain-suck.

What is it?

Hold on…wait for it….

Real Housewives of Atlanta.

Gasp!

I know!

Not only is it uber-trashy (like watching 30-minute episodes of my high school life all over again, well… minus the millionaires and pro ball players….but with extra doses of hard-core bitches) but it is (gasp again!) reality tv at its FINEST.

Trust it, bitches.

This is IT.

And the biggest laugh of them all is the broke-ass fraud, Kim. She is essentially the only one on the show who does nothing for income (except apparently give it up to “big poppa” who in turn funds her lifestyle), she’s supposedly 29 but looks 59, drives a different luxury car each episode, thinks she can sing (but sounds freakishly like that karaoke video of me…if you didn’t find it, I’m not telling where it is), and basically spoils her children ROTTEN.

And she’s drunk starting at, oh, 8am.

Watch, cringe, laugh, love.

And then let's chat....


Facebook
Is it rude and conceited to ask: Why is everyone else I graduated with aging so poorly?

I mean, I’m no spring chicken myself, but self-esteem boosters seem to be coming in the form of Friend Requests by fellow Class of 94-ers that are 5-10 years into a marriage with three babies strapped to their asses.

For a while I considered: Huh, maybe I look that old and gross too.

But I have since realized: No.

Thank you running, triathlon and (mostly) healthy living.

In fact, I am healthier and in far better shape then I was in high school, a far away time when I favored oversized sweaters and khakis (to hide a body I hated), ate Marlboro Lights for breakfast and dinner, took up bulimia as my sole extra curricular, and mostly walked with my head down, so as not to attract unwanted and often negative attention.

I mean, sure, there are many a day when I myself can't find a brush for my hair, but overall, I think I held it together fairly well (of course, this is relative to some of my cohorts, and NOT, for example, to Cindy Crawford - 'cause that's one ageless bitch, yeah? Yes, please!)

My personal gems are the profiles of those douche bag guys (that made my life HELL) who are now bald alcoholics – the ones where, at age 32, have their entire Photo application section dedicated to current pictures of themselves, still shit-faced, still with their high school friends, and always at some football game/on a boat/at wedding, just yukking it up, like it was graduation night 1994, and the Black Crowes were blaring from some background speaker.

WHOO HOO!

Apparently, you CAN go home again, especially if you never left (your parents basement), and the bar closes at 4.

It's like a modern day version of a John Hughes "Where are they now?" movie - you know, the one where everyone starts out like the Emilio Estavez character in Breakfast Club, but ends up more like the Molly Ringwald's dad in Pretty in Pink?

Thank you Facebook – you have both eliminated my need to attend any other reunion EVER, and given me the solid knowledge that, should I decide to participate in such a function, I'd win a fat karma victory.

Really? It's Friday?

Odd, I thought I would be much happier about it being Friday.


I think I am just really quite exhausted with this week.


It feels weird how the events have completely wiped me out.


And I am not just referring to the election, either.


Though thanks to Borsch and his challenge, I have still managed a workout everyday (except for the day after the Megathon - can I get a break on that?)


So I guess that's something.


Here's to a relaxing weekend for everyone - I suspect mine will include some dinner-for-one sushi, and take-home movies.


Later.

The Aftermath

Believe it or not, my absence today was not because I was in some sort of mourning for the events of last night. While the elections may not have gone the way I voted, I can still respect the historical significance of what happened.

I did, however, think about the ways in which this post would go. I thought about a lot of things that I can’t yet write about here because with emotions still so raw I would be inviting misinterpretations.

I thought about how McCain’s concession speech made me more sure of my choice for President – that he is the epitome of humility, grace and honor. And that even though Oprah chided those “not on the right side of history,” I nonetheless took part in the most historical election in history and made my voice heard.

And yes – to those that commented – I take back my comment that my vote didn’t count – my vote will always count. I was just overwhelmed in the moment with these last few months coming to a head – but I absolutely agree with you.

I thought about how curious (and sad) it was that people were oddly still shit talking McCain and Palin (and families) on Facebook, at the very moment Obama was calling on us as Americans to put aside our differences and unite.

I wondered if we would all be holding hands and swaying to a warm and fuzzy folk song if the election had gone the other way, or if we would instead be hearing screams of racism and voter fraud.

And while I listened to (celebratory?) gun shots go off, I was appreciative, in that moment, that I wouldn’t have to find out the answer to that question.

But – as I mentioned on Comm’s FB page - for all the things I saw and thought, I also saw many McCain and Obama supporters (many of whom I have gone toe-to-toe with) pause and reflect on the impact of last night, and truly take to heart the belief that we are witnessing something huge.

And I can appreciate their Hope. And hope, clearly, is a powerful thing.

And for all the debate in the last few months (and anxiety, and sleepless nights), in my heart of hearts, I truly hope– regardless of who won last night - that for the good of this country, things will start to turn around – not just in terms of the economy, but in terms of how we treat each other, how we see and overcome our perceived obstacles, how we far we push ourselves to dig down and “be better.”

After all, we constantly push ourselves to be better triathletes/runners, and now is our wake up call to be better Americans – keep paying attention, keep challenging, keep asking and expecting MORE of the people we elect.

I know for me personally – my education has just begun. I, like many, started to care this year. I started to rid myself of the belief that “ignorance is bliss.” I wanted to know about things like tax cuts and capital gains – I started to care about the direction of my future.

I hope that Obama's words stick with and inspire people longer than the Grant Park rally, and that if he can run a campaign based on Unity, then we as Americans can behave in ways that represent that.

After all, Obama is one man, and we are a nation of millions. Obama alone can't eradicate racism, he can't eliminate hate, he can't increase ethnic/racial/gender/sexual tolerance.

We, as Americans, can.

So while Obama may sign the bills into laws, we as citizens own the responsibility to "change" ourselves.

Just Another Tuesday

World of Hurt
Three days later, and I still struggled to get out of bed. My quads just don't want to get with the program.

Maybe it's because I have one kidney, or maybe it's because I am not 25 anymore, but gosh, it sure is taking me considerably longer to recover from these little events.


Go Bother Someone Else
Knock- knock.

Who’s there?

Wedding.

Wedding? Fuck you, no one’s home.

And so goes the planning….


My Voice
So I rocked the vote today – P. Diddy would be proud.

But I have to admit that I was oddly emotional.

Maybe it was because today was one of the most (weather-wise) beautiful days, and those always make me a little more sappy.

Or because my polling place is next door (literally) to the house I grew up in, called home for 30 years, and haven’t seen since we sold it last year. And it looks so different…

Or because I forgot how truly breathtakingly beautiful my old neighborhood is, more so with all the colorful leaves.

Or because when the officials pulled my name, it was right next to my dad’s name, and I had to tell the polling people he was dead (and yes, I stood there and made sure they wrote "deceased" and his death date on it - I may be emotional but I am no fool).

Or because as I cast my vote, I knew that, in the state of Illinois, it didn’t really matter.

Or because all of this is really happening, and on the day I should feel so powerful a US citizen, I feel so powerless.

Whatever it was, I certainly had a reaction today.

And as I drove away (only after I peeked in the backyard of my old home), I took comfort in the fact that at least I cared this year, at least I paid attention, at least I didn’t just sit on my ass and let everyone else make the decision for me, and then complain afterwards.

My right as a US citizen is to vote, and I used it today.

And THAT, my friends, is Patriotic.

(UPDATE: I am really quite disturbed that the Chicago media - and a lot of national media- have already declared Obama a victor - and it's only 430pm here in Chicago, with several hours left to go before polls close. Moreover, they refer to his Grant Park rally as his victory celebration. But yeah, I mean, the media hasn't really been in the tank at all so I am sure this is a just a slip of the tongue).

I Overslept For My Own Marathon

(AKA, "Why Some Ideas Are Better Left In My Head")

Designated Megathon Starting Time: 8AM
Time Megan Couldn't Be Bothered to Wake Up Until: 7:52
Official Start Time: Who Knows? In my rush, I also forgot my watch....but we think it was 8:20.

Also note - I do not live on the running path - rather, I live several miles away, by car. So an 8:20 start time meant a breakfast of a Powerbar and coffee in the car, both of which I belched up for the first three miles.

And we're off!

(click to expand all pictures)
Megathon Team Leader, Devin. Her mouth was saying, "Ready, Set, Go!" but her face was saying, "Seriously, bitch? No watch? Overslept? Did you at least brush your teeth? Damn, and to think I've been out here since 630AM putting up signs AT EVERY MILE. IF you didn't need my ass like like I need Reeces Pieces, I would peace out this bitch - go get myself a donut."
Yeah, I wore my iPod, because at the Megathon, no one disqualifies you if you do.

At Mile 3 - I was actually listening to this rap song by M.I.A. where she goes, "All I wanna do is - bang!-bang!-bang!-bang! - and take your money." And the bang-bang is actually gun shots, so I was showing my guns.

This little move is also - coincidently - Cheese's primary (read: only) dance move. We call it "Two Thumbs up."

I forgot to mention that the Chicago Ultra was also today - and they were running south of Solider Field, which also happened to be my miles 8-18 (we looped at the 13.1). And between my neon mile signs at every miles, and Devin's bike with her bike sign that said, "Official Race Vehicle," I think we might have confused from people...sorry. No, really, I am...

Coming up to 16, where I saw Nugget (Nolan), Ellie, Dev and my mom, all freezing their butts off. But darn were they cute in their shirts..

He was saying "Cheese!!!" Check out his "Aunt Megathon" shirt over his puff jacket. Oh yeah, and he also calls everyone "Megan" now apparently. Or rather, I think it sounds something like, "May-jen." But whatev.

The crew!

.

Thoughts during the last 10 miles:

1. What the f--?

2. Marathoning is hard.

3. Next time I should just keep my fat mouth shut with these ideas.

4. Thank you Chicago Park District - it is nothing short of a miracle that I don't have diareha running down my leg thanks to all the closed bathrooms. What? Do you think kpeople stop running after the Chicago Marathon ends? Oh contrare. I mean, all I need is one along the path - I'm not greedy, I just don't want doo-doo pants.

5. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle......

6. I could do without this north head wind for the second half.

7. Baby Nolan in his puffy jacket....heee heee.....

And the finish!!!! (that's a unbroken string of papertowels by the way) The official finisher time was 4:59. Slowest marathon yet. But it also include a 7-minute potty detour, some time to talk to my family at 16, and a five-week taper. So a slight disappointment, but glad to have finished. In fact, my sister said to me afterwards, "You know, on the out leg (first half) of the race, I was a little worried that you might decide not to do the whole thing, like turn around early." I responded, "Never. Because then I couldn't wear my medal."

I am so, so, so grateful to have this family. I mean, seriously. Who would spend their Saturday morning supporting me making an ass of myself? And Dev rode her bike the entire course, a lot with me to talk and keep me comapny, and then to put up and take down all the signs. She made all the shirt, and finish banner.

But I made this.....

.
I was laughing because Ellen kept saying, "You made a medal. No really. You made a medal." Not like a question - more like a statement. And then she actually saw it......

Yeah, it's a rainbow and hearts sun catcher that you put all the little crystals in and bake in your oven. After I finished it last night, I busted out the Easy Bake Overn and whipped up a small dessert, played with my collection of My Little Pony horses, and brushed my Barbie's hair.

And now to the real treat of the day - as we were walking back to the car, my mom tried to ride my sister's bike.

And she's off!

And she can't stop!

And she rides into traffic!

And her asshole daughters are literally on the ground laughing and taking pictures!

Awww. All's good, but then she couldn't get off.

.

So there you have it. Word on the street is that Amy won the overall in the Women's 10 Miler Vancouver, and Captian Cactus sprinted to a 1st place finish at the Men's 1/2 Megathon Vancouver. Betcha didn't know I have such elite runners for friends, didja?

.

(Update: Just checked out their site and it is really funny - please check it out and give props!)

.

I wanted to thank my family again for everything they did. It was really nice having them out there. And Devin for going the millions of extra miles for this. And Amy and CC for being such awesome sports. And to Jenny who also ran a 20-miler to prep for her race and Borsch on his 5k - THANK YOU EVERYBODY!!!!

High

Happy Halloween!

Man, how awesome was trick-or-treating?

Sigh.

Reason #321 Why It Sucks To Grow Up:

You have to buy your own candy.

Thumbs down.

But on a completely seperate note:

Can you feel it?

(cue "Eye of the Tiger")

Rising up,
Back on the street....

You know what time it is, bitches?

It's marathon time!!!!!!!!!!!

At 8am on Saturday morning, I will be acting a fool by running my own personal marathon along the brisk shores of Lake Michigan.

Rumor has it that Baby Nolan and his donuts might make an appearance - powdered sugar all over his Whoville mug - and perhaps I may see some car cushions or lawn chairs bobbing along the shores.

Ahh, ain't nothing like the lake in fall!

I have a really good feeling about this race this year - now, don't quote me on this, but I think (gasp!) I might be able to pull out a win this year.

I know, I know!

But hey, when you dream big, you can acheive anything!

Go big or go home, right?

I mean, sure, I'm the only peson in the race.

And sure, there is no official time.

And sure, my training has been sub par these last two weeks (except for the carbo-loading part - I just reached pro status on that, yo).

But hey, I got heart, y'all. And that'll get me across that (imaginary) line, first (only) place medal (I made myself) around my neck.

I'm gonna make my momma proud.

First place.

I can smell it.

And I won't be alone - Amy and Captian Cactus (Love.Them.) will be showing some love up north with the half-marathon.

Word on the street is that afterwards, while they go get shitfaced, I get to go wedding dress shopping.

Hmmmmm....methinks I need a better reward........

So I hope everyone has an awesome weekend, and I will see you all on Sunday!

Moving Along

I am fighting some really bad burnout right now (read: did no work today).

So how about we all talk about fluff, m'kay?

I am the anti-bride.

And I apparently am marrying the world's most traditional man.

Who actually wants to participate in this mess.

Like, with his own ideas and everything.

*eye rolling*

And if there is one thing I learned right-quick is that this whole wedding this is a RACKET.

Forget the mafia – the World of Wedding has cornered the market on shake downs.

And I am having none of it.

Tack on the word “wedding,” to the dress or the reception or the flowers and – BAM! – watch the prices go through the roof.

If I read one more article about how “the perfect flowers will make or break the day,” I will choke myself with calla lilies.

This is what I know for sure at this point:

1. It will be SMALL – not much more than immediate family.
2. Homemade invites
3. If I had to pick a style, it would be rustic country (which I sort of gravitated towards for my personal style even before Cheese popped his country self into my life)
4. Wedding and ceremony in same place
5. Minimal (if any) flowers – mostly candles, lanterns, and button lights
6. At least 3 DIY projects, and likely no more
7. No cake – instead, we are having homemade cupcakes
8. I would like it to be in a barn, but alas, barns are hard to come by in Chicago, so I am still looking for the right (read: cheap and outdoorsy) place.
9. Food for both the rehearsal dinner and wedding will be fun, Chicago-style, and casual (think Chicago hot dogs, Italian beef, sliders and pizza for the welcome dinner)
10. Use of area graduate art students for photography and instrumental ceremony and dinner music

As for the things I am forgoing:

1. Wedding planner – I have both an enthusiastic mom (whose about to see her last kid get married) and a FMIL (who is about to see her last child and only son get married) – so I think I can get most of my bases covered
2. Flowers and cake – as noted above
3. Having to take out a loan to pay for this
4. Obsessing over colors (?), bridesmaid dresses (picking their own), and Cheese’s attire.
5. Save-the-dates – with this few people, it doesn’t matter.
6. RSVP cards – save on paper by having them RSVP to out wedding website (yet to be established)

I guess the things we really want to spend our money on is good fun food, great music, and an awesome party. 90% of our budget will swing that way. All that other stuff is insignificant to us.

Literally.

I mean, the things that could not matter any less would be stuff like centerpieces and invitations. I can barely shower and dress myself on a daily basis, much less try to multitask details like that.

And seriously. When’s the last time you attended a wedding, and then a year later reminisced, “Wow, those were some great invitations they had! And killer centerpieces!” No, right? You remember the party, the dancing, the music, the good time. And maybe the food, but that depends of how much alcohol is consumed.

While I have managed to keep myself relatively calm about all this (‘cause it’s a wedding shit storm out there!), I find myself surprisingly obsessed with all things Melissa Sweet or Claire Pettibone.

Sigh.

Yes, those would be dress designers.

I heart the “Hallie” by Ms. Sweet, and I swoon over the “Marguerite” courtesy of Ms. Pettibone.

These two dresses actually squeeze my heart a bit when I see them, their girly beauty almost overwhelming to my otherwise tomboyish senses.

I suspect should I ever have the glory of trying one of these one, I just may never take it off.

Kinda like my pajamas right now.

Red

Today was one of those days where my rage far surpassed any type of rage I may have ever had towards anybody.

Ever.

I mean, there was probably not a single person I didn't hate today for some reason or another.

(okay fine, except for the girl I interviewed that just came into foster care - I just wanted to give her a big hug, and hi-five the foster mom who just loves the pants off this kid)

But then it was right back to rage.

Blood red.

And to make it worse, every turn I made in my car, every decision I made about things as insignficant as where to get my next cup of coffee - EVERY SINGLE thing- just was wrong.

Things I Hate Today:

My clothes that don't fit
The traffic I spent four hours in
Parents that can't take care of children and fuck them up
This election
People that think they are the Pope
The food damage I did over the last few weeks
Swimming
The fact that I am doing everything I can to waste all those months of fitness
Ignorant people
Bad skin
People that don't do their work or half-ass it because they have a supervisor (me) to clean up
Having to work twice as hard because of those people, and thus working until 3am every night, but yet still making the same shitty pay
The fact that this isn't going to change anytime soon
That I had to actually think about it when the foster mother asked me today if my degree was worth the money put into it

Yeah, I know I should be counting my blessings and making lists of all the things I love - blah, blah, blah. But I can't. Not today.

And at the heart of this anger isn't really anger at all - it the snowball effect of a lot of a things to just really make me feel hopelessness.

Fucking hopeless.

Sobbing-from-worry-and-anger-type hopeless.

The kind of hopeless where it seems that - no matter how much I stick with it, no matter how hard I work, I am simply never going to move forward.

That we collectively aren't moving forward.

And the feeling that I have very little control over that.

Well, on that happy note, I'm off to make some more coffee. It's 10:54pm, I am about to embark on my 14th hour of work, and will be up through tomorrow morning, just to turn around and do it all again.

This Is What It Looks Like When Your Life Is Boring

Don't have a lot to say, except this:

1. My hands smell like maple syrup, but I didn’t eat any pancakes today. Hmmm…but me likey.

2. Since I didn’t mention it, it was probably assumed that Megathon was put on hold. True, it did not happen this weekend. With vacation, and then being consumed by work, I didn’t have time to make my medal (but alas! It will be made this week!). Also, and more importantly, I was a wee bit delinquent on my runs while on vacation (what with all the potential muggings by naked people, I simply couldn’t take that risk – I mean, the last thing I needed was to be just running along, and get bopped over the head by a rogue boobie). So Megathon will be in full effect on Sunday. More info coming soon….(and yes, Captain Cactus, I am holding you to your promise of running the half, my friend of the north)

3. I don’t know what it looks like where you live, but gas here is 3.08, and to us Chicagoans, that’s just as good as FREE at this point. Good thing too, because the gas hike was really cramping all the drive-bys, cruisings, and joy riding that I was so fond of doing. Guess I can put those Vespa plans on hold. Let’s start wasting some gas, people!

4. On tonight’s news, I saw that today in Chicago, people dressed their pets in costumes and had a parade. See! I didn’t even have to stay in Key West to see dogs in a parade! (ba dum bum!)

5. My man’s gone back on the road until mid-November, and you know what that means, right? Yeah, me neither. But it is awfully quiet here, and I have finally managed to air the fart stink out of the couch and bed sheets. Wish.I.Was.Kidding.

6. Why do people who have plastic surgery think that no one can tell? I have that show, "Dr. 90210" on in the background while I work right now, and this really young girl with HUGE new boobs, was all like, "I think it looks really natural, like, if you didn't know me before, you would never know I had a boob job."

Uuuhh...

Yeah.

Yeah, we would.

Because if your a natural girl and have boobs the size of a small child swinging from your chest, those things are going to hang LOW. And they bounce when you run, too.

Fake boobs?

Not so much.

Or at least hers didn't when she was running around the pool.

Man, boobs have been making quite an appearance on this blog lately, yeah?

Okay, for the next few days we are going boob-free.

That's that. Back to work.

Yeah, Yeah, I Already Know I Blog-Suck

I know I promised these pictures like 100 years ago, but funny how work and wedding get in the way of just about everything. Geesh. And boy, I can't wait to let loose about the wedding already. But alas, to be saved for the next post.

And let me preface this entire post by saying that this trip was arranged (date and place) through Cheese's work, so I had no previous knoweldge of the world we were about to enter into.

Having said that, let's begin.


First night there - we noticed that there were few regular cars and lots of tiny electric cars or bikes or vespas to transport around the island. We were lucky enough to get bikes through Cheese's company, but I thought this little car was cute.

First night, after dinner, at the bar - at this point, we had started to notice something was up with this place...lots of...um...interesting characters at this bar (not referring to the couple - Demi and June - behind us - they were part of our group).

Cheese getting his buzz on, me wondering how much longer I have to inhale cigarette smoke...

Having left the bar, we made our way back to the car, stopping for a portriat along the way. It was just moments after this that we noticed two couples walking across the street, both appearing to be in their mid-50s (we have pictures taken with Demi's camera, but I am waiting for this particular beauty to be forwarded to me because my words will never do the event justice). One of these women was wearing a pink low-cut dress that road up so high as she walked, it sat almost at her waist, thus exposing her...lady bits. On the street. Just hanging out.

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For all to see.

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Makes sense though - why wear a dress that short if you're only going to keep the bits covered with panties? Or maybe in these tough economical times, she was forced to forgo the panties, and could only afford a ill-fitting shirt. Hmmm.....

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June from our group ran over for a picture and as the foursome and June posed, the husband...wait for it....hold on....it's good...PULLED HIS WIFE'S TOP DOWN TO EXPOSE HER BOOBIE.

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LIKE, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET. TO STRANGERS.

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JUST A BIG FLAPPIN' BOOBIE.

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And just like that, the tone for the weekend was set.

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It's on film. Horrifyingly so. I told Cheese the if he ever did that to me in public, I would cut his twig and berries right off then and there with my car key.

Next day, at the beach.

My favorite part of the trip - tooling around on our cruising bikes. WIth my little basket. Love it!

Cheese and his set of wheels.

Last full day - we did this thing where we spent the whole day doing activites like parasailing, wave running, and snorkeling. We were on this boat for most of the day.

Us, and another couple we were with - man, trust me when I say the group we were with could DRINK! I pussed out each night after two beers (hey, I was on vacation, and this was cutting loose for me!) but our group shut it down every night.

Waiting our turn to parasail.

Almost up.....

That's us!

Post-snorkling, on our way back to shore.

And here ya go - Nekkid Pic #1 (you won't seem much more then this though - despite the weirdness being no deterant to Cheese, I had trouble digesting the 70-year-old bare breasts, so I will withhold those pictures). This particular gal has no actual clothes on - just paint. And she was like a local celebrity, and just walked the streets while people took pictures. Cheese looks bored, yeah?

Ah, the natural beauty of the island. Sweet girls.
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Oh, let me tell you this - moments after this, a 70-year-old woman in a mascarade mask (as if to be modest), nipple pasties (!), and a mini skirt (that was more like a belt and less like a skirt, as evidenced by her lady bits exposed) explained to us this whole idea of Fanstasy Fest. Again, I appear to be the only person in the world to not know this. Frankly, I appreciated her take on the week's event of "An Adult Halloween," but I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a touch queasy as her flappy boobies brush my arm.

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As if this wasn't enought, Cheese, I and our group went to another bar, only to witness two 65-year-old ladies with GINORMOUS exposed boobies flashing for pictures. Like, yeah - someone's grandmothers.

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And the night's topper? A lovely upstanding gentlman apporach Granny #1 AND LICKED HER BOOBIE. ON THE STREET!!!! LICKED IT!!!! AND SHE WAS OLD!!!!!!
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Cripes.

Last stop - Kareoke. I was the last of our group to go, and so terribly unwillingly that I was actually ambushed into it - here is a look of my "I will fucking kill you Cheese in the privacy of our room, but right now I will put on a happy face for our group so that they don't see the Devil Megan." There is actually video of this - I debated posting it, because it's truly horrid...but yet oddly laughable.....

Moments before we took off for the airport - this was actually half a block from our hotel, so we really were out there in the middle of the ocean. I am still expecting some pictures from our group, so as they come in, I will post!