Celebrating the Holidays: Always Remembarrrrgh the Reason for the Season....

My feeble attempt at convincing Jakedogg to attend......

I'd like to help you answer an age old question.  I will consider this blog to be in the writing style of "persuasive". The question to be answered: Pirates or ninjas? My position: please read on folks.

I've always been a big proponent of holidays and festivals.  I was able to experience a part of a SATX festival, Fiesta, last year.  This "fiesta" is a 10 day celebration of Mexican culture, tradition and heritage.  It's a nonstop list of fun things to do as well as a culturally enlightening expereince.  Well, Tampa Bay has a similar tradition, one that I've been celebrating now for seven years strong.  This festival is called "Gasparilla"  It's a month long celebration of the culture, tradition and heritage of.....pirates. Now, it's very important to understand this culture, especially if you come from pirate lineage.  For this reason, I celebrate Gasparilla.  And I do it with all possible effort I am able to afford.  It's always fun to be responsible for de-flowering a Gasparilla virgin.  This year we had a few who lost their G-card.  Miriam being one.  Because of the number of non-Floridians in attendance, the main 'rilla weekend is always approximately 4 days long.  This year we had kick off on Thursday night, at, where else?  CHEAP! DUH! Thursday being a school night, Miriam and I were going to head in as soon as our Midget, Candice arrived after being re-routed through Nashville.  As we were waiting for her, we indulged in a supper club box of treats and re-wrote the entire "Group of Huge Girls" script (will be explained later). Candice arrived, shots were consumed, and Miriam and I split back to the 'View (not before a halt in the street, questioned about the box I was carrying clearly marked "pizza", if it were chocolate chip, what. the. dick). I needed ample rest so my girl T and I could scoop my most valued associate, Jakedogg from the airport in the AM. We collect our precious cargo, Jake the next morning after much build up and anticipation.  Toya is not disappointed. Jake is everything I've described him as and more, and as T stated "Megan in male form". Friday, we may or may not have started the night lost on Bayshore in search of a certain Asian's birthday party, and ended the night back at Cheap.....so?

Dang straight that's how we roll.......matching shirts like a GD family reunion 

The real action doesn't begin until Saturday morning, right? I had set my alarm for 8am as instructed by LisaLove, AKA the Gasparilla drill sergeant.  Yeah fucking right, I didn't need that shit.  This is better than Christmas gang raped by Disney World and Elvis.  I'm up and at 'em dancing around the house in an attempt to rally the troops. Once we finally board the Altima and embark on our SoHo bound journey, I am over the moon with excitement. Mind you, we are running approximately 2 hours behind our pre-determined arrival time of 9am; however, this works in our favor as it allows anticipation of our entrance to the tailgate to reach a record high. Our arrival is met with much excitement and elation and booze of course. The next few hours goes as follows: drink, eat, Andre champs chugging with my spring break crew, bean bags, flip cup, drink, eat, music, drink and in preparation to depart for the parade, an obligatory tandem bathroom trip (me on the toilet, Pas in the bathtub- results= Pas falling ass first, miraculously hitting the water to on position, subsequently soaking herself and her pirate attire). Fast forward, walk to parade, Seth and Meg Busta Rhymes walk to Outkast "Slump". Arrive at parade. Someone buys illicit drugs from a 12 year old, Mollz challenges shirtless man to sword fight, wins, I save a few lives, bite Kens corn dog, watch parade, get a hickey, walk home. Somehow I find myself separated from the 5+ people I started the day with and I only have T and Mollz. Now the three of us are the creative types, so we decided to make a game of our walk. Rules: declare "happy stepchild" to all passers-by and whoever can get a "happy stepchild" response gets a point. Now this was very amusing until a certain redhead with a "fiery" temper decided that we were targeting only her. Molly's invitation to come to our party to dye our hair red didn't help. Somehow make it back to Lisa's, back to Riverview, get a bit out of hand with Casper, Dizzle and Jakedogg playing ping pong......invent a more time efficient way of travel from Michigan via a hummus luge and pita suit.......wake up, go to Waffle House.......BOOM, where did that weekend go? Holy balls, there was a multitude of other amazingness that transpired, I can't remember for the life of me.  Thank Jack Sparrow this shit happens annually.  Until next year, pirates.  Better luck next time, Ninjas.......

Our reenactment of the Ninja Turtle Face....

So many requests for me to blog, I must please the masses.....so what I'mma do is....

Blog tomorrow.

Untouchablog.......in search of the 5th wife

This is how our minds work,
and we are unapologetic.

When you hear the word "lifetime", it may evoke thoughts of inspiration, accomplishments, the duration of one's existence and how limited and fleeting it is.  Perhaps this word makes you pensive, and longing for days of the past so that you may have an opportunity to change the course of your own life, as there is only, in fact, a limited time in which to live it.  Lifetime can also instill fear of the unknown, as when this lifetime ends, then what?

Well in my world, Lifetime will never end as long as it keeps producing ratings gold mines like "Untouchable: the Drew Peterson Story". That's right, on Planet Megz, the word Lifetime immediately sparks thoughts of a cable TV station overflowing with made for TV movies which are underestimated by so much of the population.  While "Sexting in Suburbia" was a game-changer indeed, the one that really touched me, ironically enough, was Untouchable. One Miss Molly Reade determined the atrociousness that was the lack of marketing and hype that went into promoting this movie.  Being the creative problem-solver (a MacGyver of parties if you will) that she is, decided to host a movie premiere party for this once in a "Lifetime" cinematic adventure. I choose to refer to my group of friends as "shirt people". I don't mean that we always wear shirts, because if you've ever knocked on Mollz' door in the middle of her nap, you know this to be untrue. What I intend to communicate to you is that we really get off on making shirts for any and every occasion we possibly can. What better time for a theme shirt than a Lifetime movie starring Rob Lowe? That is a rhetorical question, so refrain from seeking answers, obvi. A trip to Walmart yielded all the necessary supplies: blank shirts, iron on transfers, a printer and of course ninja turtle pants. This particular evening I explored a new career path, graphic design for t-shirts, amateur level of course. I took such pride in my work; Rob Lowe portraying Drew Peterson in full police uniform on the front of the shirt, various quotes from the movie including, but not limited to, "I like chocolate, and I like being married", "he has a right to know why they call me big daddy", "I'm fine, Drew just threw me into the TV, let's go make some more margaritas" and a multitude of other one-line gems. Mollz and I were lucky to have been able to commission ironing assistance from one of my most domestically gifted friends, Shad. After a minor struggle with the transfers, we proceeded to get our iron on. All transfers had been printed, so you can imagine my horror when I came to the realization that I had failed to utilize the "mirror printing" option, so all words on the t-shirts were, that's right, backwards. Fuck it, so are we, so it's fitting right? Well, fitting is a stretch for CJ, no pun intended. The solo Y chromosome in our cohort (a football player, mind you) was lucky enough to receive a shirt, a very tight, very inappropriately sized shirt. After the viewing of what I would consider to be an award-winning display of artistic reenactment of true events, we decided to wander down to our favorite watering hole, Cheap. Adorned with Rob Lowe's face and words that could only be read in a mirror (and only on your own shirt if you had the neck of an owl), we packed up our roll of tickets (which served to be quite the source of confusion to all at Cheap, employees and patrons alike) and hit the bar......well most of us, Carla decided to hit something else......the South Howard asphalt, hard. A night of celebrating the lesser-known homicidal Peterson went off without a hitch. Another successful, seemingly meaningless (to the general population) party was in the books. Now if you know us, you know the night certainly didn't end at Cheap.  It ended where it began, with the addition of a few associates to include our favorite bartender/enabler, D. But, anything that happens after 3 am is relegated to exist only in our minds, definitely not on the interwebs. 

Now, a final thought, I hope this blog entry has allowed you to become a bit more open-minded when it comes to word definitions and how you interpret them. I want you to have a takeaway lesson here.  The next time someone offers you, perhaps, "an opportunity of a lifetime", and prefaces it with the aforementioned figure of speech, I hope it immediately conjures images, not of a successful life endeavor, or a Eurotrip rivaled by none, or a phobia-combating skydiving adventure. No, I hope when you are approached with "an opportunity of a lifetime", your mind immediately pulls up images of Rob Lowe and when the offerer of said opportunity asks you if it's something you may be interested in, please respond simply with, "I'm untouchable, bitch". 

Please exercise extreme caution when approaching 

Drew Peterson......or CJ

What are the tickets for?

A proud moment for all of us......

Birthdays we get thirstaaaay

TWO birthdays were celebrated this weekend.  After the amazingness of Trimble's Friday celebration, who thought I could go for round 2? Surprises, they're not just for birthdays anymore. Tucked away in a corner of Hyde Park, is a little Irish pub called the Dubliner. On peaceful, sunny, temperate days of the lord, places like this are host to a multitude of sinners and saints. Lucky for me, apropos of last weeks' NFL playoff game, I no longer associate with anyone who still utilizes "saint" as part of their vocabulary. (totally j/k D, Marc and CJ). So I only come into contact with the sinners of this joint. The reason why I find myself here. And I'm not mad at this realization. Good friends are hard to come by. I came by them, so step the fuck off they're mine. We throw birthday parties, ok? We utilize glow sticks. Even during daylight hours. It's ok, know why? If you can't see the glow of our sticks, our personalities will shine far brighter, day or night. And also, we have ring pops, and tiaras. either way, we are "those" people. The people you want to be hanging out with, or the people who's sanity you question. Both, I hope. Surprises, planned for weeks, go off without a hitch. Houdini acts, by yours truly, to witness another good friend wreck and/or permanently disable the mic, go only temporarily recognized. But the triumphant return of aforementioned associate, still receives accolades. (In regards to the Temp show, simply awesome Caro, and also awesome to spend some QT with Joey D and Seeeeejh, these times are too infrequent fellas). Misunderstandings of no rhyme or reason are ironed out better than Jeffery could for Master Will, aka. the Fresh Prince. If one piece of advice could be given for the night, it would be to allow me to give you more than one piece of advice. Wear a shirt with one or more superheroes on it. That's not the advice. Be kind to everyone and apologize for mistakes that may have hurt someone inadvertently, but make sure they are willing to accept the apology before trying to walk on water facilitating the impossible. Take plenty of pictures, and videos if you're brave. Always carry a koozie and beer salt.  Keep an air mattress in your car. Give your family regular updates as to your well-being. Make sure you live within an easy drive of a Dollar Tree, they sell the best glow sticks.  If you're anything like me, buy stock in glow sticks. Give compliments, genuine ones, as often as you are able. Support everyone's decisions in every aspect of their lives, their choose your own adventure isn't yours, it's not supposed to be. Allow yourself to accept their support as well. You will need it. Someday.

My friends (and family, when I get the opportunity to see them), throw killer parties.  My friends (and family) care about their friends (and family), that's amazing.  My friends love glow sticks and super heros, even more amazing.  I wish I would have written this all in Dragon Dictation because it would have been so awesome to attempt to translate.  Maybe next time.  Until that next time, I'd like to make a request that everyone I know change their birthday to Leap Day, because is it just me, or do we celebrate like two birthdays a week? MUAH! Love you all who were there Sunday, and those of you who I would love to see every Sunday and don't(aka Mom, Dad, Drew, Shell).

Friends, fried food and the BCS....I will let you decide what it stands for.

If you're wondering what happens when a group of close friends go out to watch the #1 and #2 teams battle it out for the BCS title, you should just stop. Nothing good comes of it. And I am in no way referring to the game, because I am comfortable with that outcome. My husband made a valid point when he stated "They are so even yet miles ahead of everybody else. These kids would have beat NFL teams 30 years ago." I digress. This isn't actually about the game. It's about the hands down best group of friends on the planet. And our possible need to enter some sort of texting/social networking rehab facility. Not a moment of the game went unseen, especially by D; however, many moments were spent looking at the TV and a phone simultaneously. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say a minimum of 300 collective texts/Facebook posts were exchanged by the small group of us. Who were sitting within 3 feet of each other. I feel as if I should be embarrassed by these occurrences, but if you knew us, and were privy to even a small percentage of the iBanter, nothing about it sucked. I went into the evening an Alabama supporter and fully aware that I was meeting a good friend who is a die hard LSU fan. So I wore a Green Lantern shirt. You can't go wrong supporting a super hero. And no, a superhero Honey Badger is not. As the evening progressed, it was brought to Pas' attention that 'Bama is the Crimson Tide. She took great pleasure in dubbing UA "Pas' Period" for some time, to be followed by the revelation that they are called that because "an elephants period is so heavy it may be compared to a tidal wave". This progressed into an entirely different and inappropriate Twilight conversation. I'll let you use your imagination. She also put tabasco sauce on her salad and exclaimed "this salad is hot, not unlike the block!" and had a mimosa for dessert. You do the math. We left the Brickhouse, our initial site of spectatorship, and decided to live dangerously by stopping by the hot zone of recent terrorist activity, Macdintons. This is where the social exchanges took a downturn, if there was any further down to turn. The resident speak and spell, Molly, after a few notable spelling mistakes, determined that she was only good at math and a three letter activity that shall not be named on this post. A pic text attachment attack from Pas, following one simple SWAG picture was what really made me realize how ridiculous my friends are. And if you look up the definition for ridiculous in the megtionary, it will sate: amazingly hilarious, funmazing, supportive, intelligent, beautiful inside and out, awesome and rivaled by none. My friends are scarecrows. Outstanding in their field.

In-what? Oh yeah, Inspiration......

Dubs and Malibu, obviously so hood before our time.....

Middle School friends......STILL friends, tight like vice grips

The Parker girls and Woodrow kids on Spring Break, also still friends!

A little yearbook sig from Jakedogg, yep, talking about GL.

Ok ok, so I know I said the blog was going to be present/future-centric from now on, I fucking lied. Honesty was NOT a part of my new years resolution, so I DGAF. Inspiration is the fuel that feeds the human soul and it can come in so many different forms. Without inspiration, what would push you to get out of bed in the morning.  Are you inspired to make money, to find love and happiness, to change the course of humanity as a whole, or simply change the life of one other person, to make someone proud, to have no regrets, to eat food (that's a big yes for me), it doesn't really matter what it is, everything you do every second is perpetuated by inspiration for an accomplishment small or large, hopefully something better, an improvement on the current situation. As a bad ass party rapper and truly incredible lyricist, possibly the most influential of our time (please note the overt sarcasm), I find inspiration for my writing in so many things, mostly Gun Lake obvi. In the interest of full disclosure on the reason for this "blog", which I know seems pretty friggin lame and ridiculous, let me give you some idea for the inspiration. Back to my MI trip. One cold day during my vacation, I decided to take a trip (and I mean like, two fucking checked bags long ass trip) down memory lane. Let me tell you, I turned my childhood house upside down looking for relics from my past to include pictures, yearbooks, old notes and Christmas cards. I laughed, cried, smiled, got mad and longed for days past. Then, I found a diary. One word, YIKES. I was embarrassed for myself reading the crap that went into that thing, but holy shit was it so fun to have in physical form play by plays from middle and high school. I was so happy to have preserved (well happy that my parents, love them so dearly, preserved) so much of my past, but also disappointed that there was a gap, right smack dab where college was. I decided that despite bad decisions and regrets, I want to remember everything. So here we are, watching Thor and blogging. 17 years from now I will read this and be embarrassed once again, but you know what? I DGAF. 

Well, if the Mayans are right, might as well try something new for 2012

GL Masters, sooooo eccentric 

GL Masters NYE Show

Goodbye Mate :-(