AHAHAHAHA

Just HAD to share this one... I died laughing...

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all of my loyal (if not very many) readers!

No funny stories yet... I'm working on that for you... I do have a few from the last few days that I do need to update you on.  I'll make myself some reminders.

Until then, here's a Christmas picture of me to please all of you... since I know you so need to see me and often...

Giving Back

Disclaimer: This is NOT a funny blog.  I rarely do something other than funny on this blog, but every so often, I feel the need to share something serious.  As my readership is different on this blog from my others, I figured I would post this up here as well.

This morning I was packing and whatnot (yes, at the last minute), cleaning my place up (it's mostly clean... there's walking room...), and thinking about my health/weight loss this year.  We're coming up on the end of 2011 and I've made some healthy changes, yes, but overall, I'm still just not hitting the mark.  There have been some massive changes this year.  I'm finally done with school, I've been in and out of work, I broke up with a man I had thought I might marry, I took a few blows to the ego and self-confidence somewhere in there, and I made new friends and created stronger friendships with the ones I have.

One thing I haven't done this year is volunteer.  I have spent the bulk of my life volunteering for a multitude of reasons.  I let the fact that I had essentially two full time jobs stop me from giving back.  I'm doing my best to realize I'm human and can't do it all, so therefore not to be disappointed in myself.  It's only semi working :P.

This being said, while thinking about all of this, I was cleaning up my kitchen and putting away cans of soup (P.s. I seriously need to clean out the cupboards).  And then I had this really cool idea - well I think it's cool anyways.  It's based on the idea of giving back and I'm jumping off of a WeightWatchers campaign (for a period of a week or two every year, they have a drive where members are encouraged to donate the amount of food per pound loss - or just donate period!).

I'm going to weigh myself on January 1, 2012.  I'm going to weigh myself again on December 20, 2012.  Clearly, there will be weighing in between those two dates, but for the purposes of this idea - these are the two dates that matter.  For every pound lost, whether it's five or 50, I am going to donate that amount of food to a homeless shelter in the area.  This is, of course, assuming I, myself, am not homeless at that point in time.  This is not a point in saying I have a goal of how much weight I have to lose, because that's not what matters here.  The two numbers.  Right there in black and white.

This is not to say I can't do other forms of volunteering throughout the year or donations of some sort.  This is simply to say that we often forget where we "start" and connecting giving back and losing could be a fun way to mark that journey.  We all know it's hard to lose pounds - we wouldn't be here if it wasn't.  But for as hard as it is for us, there are a lot of people who have it harder or worse of than we do (and this is coming from the girl who sometimes doesn't know where the money to buy food is going to come from).

So, feel free to join me.  You can either do it yourself, or email me (mytrainermorgan@gmail.com) and I'll keep your weight in my special file and check in on you on December 20th of next year, reminding you where you "started", as in started the year.  Maybe you don't have a lot of weight to lose or you're in maintenance.  If you still want to join in, email me your literal starting weight and your "ending" weight.  Whatever amount of weight loss you maintain, donate that! 

Feel free to jump on in this with me.  I've already set a calendar date for December 20, 2012 to weigh in and calculate :).

Oh Mo

There are times when I really do have just the most epic life ever.  I don't even know where to begin.  I remember that there have been many stories this week I've wanted to share, gotten to lazy to type, and now I don't remember them.  See?!  This is why this blog comes in handy.  It gives me the opportunity to revel in my own wacky ass life.

I will say this.  I have some amazing friends.  I have had more to drink this month than I have this year.  We are talking hellooooo drunky skunky Morgan.  Ok, no, it hasn't been THAT bad.  Just frequent.  So the other night I went out with Sara, a fabulous friend of mine from spark and my fellow single girl food blogger.  That's right, I officially have another blog.  Ok, moving on.  So I left her with my stuff, read my two phones, and went to the bathroom.  I come back to find her with sheepish face.  I asked her what's up, she giggled and said, "I emailed M."  Wait, what?!  So I read the email, she noted it was from her, so from there I was fine.  I mean really, I can't not love a friend who wants to stick up for me.  She may or may not have noted how entirely fabulous I am and what a dipshit he is for not realizing that.  Then again, I've been saying that about a lot of men lately.

Why?  Because I yanked my head out of my ass, grew my spine (and self-confidence) back, and realized that I never meant anything to him, so what am I waiting for?  Life is meant to be LIVED.  Which means, in these terms, it's time to be dating.  I know, I know.  It's been a long while yet since the fated break-up.  But see, (1) I didn't want to be THAT asshole who uses everybody and their mothers as a rebound (read: I didn't want to become a slut like SOME people) and (2) School and teaching combined made for a hell schedule and it just wasn't fair to myself or someone else to try to beautify and look pretty and put on the happy go lucky show we all know I'm so good at.

Well, this does mean for some really interesting times.  I was speaking to a young man on the computer (he's 25, not 19, so no, I'm not being a cradle robber), and I said something about my computer being wacked out and how I own all these toys and can't really seem to use them very well.

His response?  You won't need your toys when I'm around.

Ok, yeah.  I have a raunchy sense of humor too, but REALLY?!  Can't you wait until even halfway through the first date (if there was ever going to be one), before starting that?!  Mother of...   And people wonder why I pretty much refuse to talk to men in their 20's anymore?  I'M NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER HERE PEOPLE!  I just lost two years of my life to somebody who was playing games with me and never had any intention of a future with me (when did I become the sap who would fall for somebody like that?!), I don't need sex jokes right now.  Although, I'm pretty sure some of my guys friends would be saying I need to get rid of some of this frustration...

Oh man.  I'll try to do a better job of keeping you guys updated on the fun parts of my life.  Especially as the dating ramps up... or fizzles out...

The Girls

I have FANTASTIC news.

I have been scared spitless I was going to have to have a chit chat with my gyno come my appointment in December.  My lower back has been hurting far more than it should.  Which would generally mean either (1) I get yelled at for being too fat or (2) I've got to get some of tits hacked off.

But today!  I spoke to what is now my all-time favorite person.  I have a posture imbalance, that with mucho hard work can be fixed.  So my lower back is probably massively hurting because I'm not standing/working out correctly. 

Which means my girls are safe!!!  Well, at least for the moment.  I make no promises for the future.  But for the moment.

My girls are safe!  Halle-freaking-luia!

Well, this was good news to me... if not to you...

Folger's

There's a Folger's Coffee commercial out right now.  The doorbell rings, young girl opens the door, and it's her brother.  They go to the kitchen and he sniffs the coffee bit like a crack whore.  He gets his cup o' joe and hands his sister a present, saying "I got you a present", all while sniffing at his coffee and drinking it like an alchie coming off a five day bender.  The sister stick the bow on his shirt, he looks confused, and she says, "You're my present."

So what happens when I see this commercial last night?  For the first time in its entirety? 

I cried.  No joke.  Cried.

Then couldn't sleep because I couldn't get that stupid ass jingle out of my head.

"The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup!"

Birthday Laughs

We'll get to the giving thanks part in a few minutes, I'd prefer to talk about me first.  Because, clearly, I give an awesome amount of thanks for myself.

Last night, one of mom's and my cousins came into town.  To protect her identity, I shall call her Coco and call her husband P-Diddy.  Well, Coco is an animal fiend and has bunches upon bunches of animals, including horses and goats.

We have heard numerous stories over the years of the horses needing to be... milked... shall we say?  I.e. The jizz needs to come out in a bottle to stick into a mare (cause things are just not done the old fashioned way anymore...).  Last night there was a new variation to the story.

Coco mentioned they have recently acquired a goal.  A male goat.  Apparently the male goat is a horny little goat.  Mom happened to ask why Coco and P-Diddy don't get a female goat to make the male goat happy.  Apparently breeding goats is not a good time, so no having fun for the male goat.  So what does the male goat do?  Hump himself.  And then get a little dirty as a result.

P-Diddy may or may not have said one day... "Should we give him a bath?"  I died.  Especially since my beloved mother followed up with, "I just have to ask, is a goat's ballsac bigger proportionally than other animals?"  See?  I'm not JUST a product of dear old pops.

Then I went to dinner with some friends.  For whatever reason, they started talking about penis pumps.  I missed pretty much the entirety of the conversation and managed to clue in when they said penis pump.  I was then told I only hear what I want to hear.  I've heard this before...

I've been single for a good long while now.  It is of my friends opinion that it is high time I went back to my old ways.  My folks read this blog.  We won't discuss those ways...  But whoo to 20 pounds down from when the ex saw me last.  Too fat for you?  Suck it.  Boo-ya.

Ok, ok, ok.  I guess I'll be a good girl and end this on a sappy note of thanks.  Clearly, I give mucho thanks for my family.  They provide not only tons of laughs (which are spread far and wide by virtue of this blog), but tons of support.  A gal can't ask for much better than my folks.  I was allowed to fledge and leave home and as a result, I'm always happy to come home.  It's not an obligation, but a pleasure.  Moving on.  I clearly have a great many friends that I'd need about an hour to talk about and breakfast is in three minutes.  So I'll pop on at some point and give my massive amount of thanks to my brilliant, beautiful, and frankly, weird, friends.  I'm pretty sure they know they're weird.  Either that, or I'm just so weird that I rub off on them.  Lastly, I'm thankful to all of those who may no longer be in my life for whatever reason, but taught me life lessons that I can't and won't forget.  Lessons I needed to learn and lessons that have made me a better person.

So people.  Go gorge, go do something active for yourself, and give thanks for the joy that is your life.

“God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today.  Have you used one to say ‘thank you’?  ~ William A. Ward

Hard to Soft

I'm home.  I'm home with no bed because the guest room bed is going to be used to mom's cousin and I no longer have a room because my bedroom got turned into the everything else room.  So my fantabulous rents got me a blow up bed.

*Insert blow up jokes here* - Such as, can I have a blow up man too?

This morning dad asked me how it was, or if it was too hard.

I responded, "Well yeah, cause the hard goes soft."

Dad just looks up at me from his newspaper and says, absolutely deadpanned, "Yeeaahhaaa, that's how it works!"

So for those of you who wonder where I get my raunchiness from... re-read that conversation and then your question will be brilliantly answered.

And now onto a picture I feel I need to share with the coming of the end of my program...

Not Again...

Remember that story... waaaaaay back when... about my question about One-A-Day multivitamins?  The question was: how many times a day do I take the one-a-day multivitamin?  Yeah...

Well, I stopped taking it because it gave me heartburn, but then I realized I may have been taking the wrong kind.  So I got a different kind of the One-A-Day's.  I woke up this morning, took my five billion meds for the sickness that I STILL have, then promptly asked myself how many times a day and how many in a day of the One-A-Day's I should be taking.

Apparently I don't always learn the first time around...

Speed Dating + Pics

Last night was my first real foray back into the world of dating after getting my suckered heart broken to smithereens.  It was a doozy of a night.

I purposefully chose a Sunday night and a joint in Rockville, as I assumed it wouldn't have quite as many people.  Then I got myself all into a dither about what I would wear, like it's really all that particularly difficult (as in it's not for those of you who don't get my sarcasm).

So let's start with picture one.

Because you can't see, those shoes are high heeled TEAL pumps.  And can we note the skinny?  I SWORE I'd be one of those exes who just gets hotter post break-up.  Let's take a vote.  How am I looking?

Oh, I see.  You're not convinced.  Here's another before the stories of the evening.

I managed to use my stellar powers of persuasion and convinced Mare to go with me.  And thank you Jesus I managed to do this, otherwise I wouldn't have proof or a witness to this particular evening.

We walked in and were surrounded by women.  Uh oh.  This can't be good.  We fought our way to the bar and started chatting with a couple of guys.  The only young one there and a dude who was at least 50 years old, white hair and balding.  I couldn't tell you their names, because, really?  Are these people I truly need to remember?  One - the young one split not even halfway through.  The old one managed to find a girl.  I mean, woman.  I think.  I really kind of just stopped looking.  Since Mare and I were clearly the youngest ones there.

Or should I mention the Bill Maher look alike?  Only a lil chunkier and with longer hair?  And drunk as a flaming skunk?

Or how about the uni-brow guy with greasy hair who responded to the question of, "how are you tonight?" with "I'm out of the house, so that's something."

Or the guy who didn't know how to speak his plurals?

Or that every man has been to California and LOVES it?  I mean, really, LOVES it?  Man, I'm from there and even I don't love it that much, so I really want some of what they're all smoking.

Or what about the guy who kept poking his forehead?  Like he needed help remembering things?  He too was balding.

Or the short dude from Chicago with the high-pitched voice that I totally thought was gay?

Or or or the ones that just flowed together because they were all way too old for me?  Gray, balding, probably divorced with children?  I'm sorry, I want a family, but not a ready made one.  Sorry folks - I am just SO not ready for that.

I'm thinking that the next one will be a little better.  Not quite in Suburbia, not on a Sunday night, and it has a specific age range.  I.e. one I'd date in.  I've learned my lesson - I won't speak to men in their 20's. 

Now let me show you just how out of touch I am and just how long it has been.  This was supposed to be my sexy pucker.

Is it just me or do I (a) look confused?  (b) have bumpy hair?  and (c) have my mouth looking just deformed?

Sushi???

I am SO upset.  I am so in the mood for sushi and since I'll be in Bethesda getting my hairs did tomorrow, I figured I'd get some sushi.

Problem is this: The boy toy took me to a sushi joint in Bethesda during one of his times of actually deigning to be seen in public with me.  It was good, it was cheap, and I really want it.

Hell if I know where it is.  I think I know, but we all know me and my directional sense.  I am directionally challenged and this is charming at times, but currently a total negative.

Remind me next time, before I break up with whoever comes next, if I break up that is, to collect all the information of restaurants I loved.  Oh and remind me to put the handyman services to use too.  Oh and if they owe me for being their chauffeur service, remind me to collect payment.  Oh and remind me not to spend so much money if I'm pretty sure I'm never getting my Christmas present.

Ok, all of that being said... damnit!  I am DYING to know where this place is.  Gggggrrrr.

Nibblers

My feet have been nibbled on.

I know, sounds kind of hot, right?  I mean, really now.  Except for two minor things.

1)  I'm just not into feet.  Unless they're being massaged after a full body deal.

2)  It wasn't male related.  It was bugs.

And scratching those suckers hurts so good.

Random Fun

• I posted a random survey to one of my five billion blog sites... I figured the readers here would thoroughly enjoy an insight into my life... like they don't get one daily...
• ✂: Share one of the hardest moments in your life. 
• I'll share one of the most recent - having to ask my mother for 11k so I can finish this stupid degree that I'll maybe be able to get a job from.  Man, that sucked.
• æ: Post a picture of yourself 
• Um, look left.  It's right there.  
• ✌: Share a childhood memory 
• So there was this time, that Lo said something or other, and I totally thought she'd said cheesehead.  And was calling me a cheesehead.  So I asked her why I'm a cheesehead.  She was really confused.  I really wouldn't ask about our relationship.  It's special.  And no, I'm not referring to the sappy, music fills the air, flowers scent the air special.  I'm referencing the OTHER kind, you know, the totally un-pc kind, of special.
• ♡: Make a confession 
• I almost e-mailed Thou Who Shalt Not Be Named last night.  I have no idea what I would have said.  I have no idea what would have come out.  I do know that it would have been pathetic and weak.  But yeah, almost did it.  Whew to NOT being pathetic and weak.
• ❁: Share one of your insecurities 
• It wasn't an insecurity before Thou Who Shalt Not Be Named, but it became one.  I'm too loud, obnoxious, and fat.  But I'm really not.  But I worry that I am.  This is what happens when I'm stuffed into a closet like a pair of last seasons heels.
• ✓: Share something about yourself others might think is weird. 
• Everybody thinks everything is weird about me. Um, toilet paper needs to go OVER, not under.  I can't stand when your/you're or their/there/they're is mis-used.  Let's see what else...I have absolutely no shame.  Clearly.  If you didn't note that one already, I'm kind of worried about you.
• ☹: Share a turn off 
• Smoking.  Disgusting.  Put it out peeps.  Save your, and my, lungs.
• ☀: Share a turn on 
• Do I even remember what a turn on is?!  Um... um... um... well crap.  I have absolutely no recollection of what a turn on is for me.  That and my father reads this blog - in his world, I don't even know what sex is.
• ♬: Share a song that takes you to a certain memory in the past. 
• Ridin' Solo.  Thou... TWSNBN is easier.  It was one of his favorite songs for a while.  I remember looking at him going, excuse you?  Gee, how auspicious.
• ☆: Share one thing you think about before you you go to bed at night 
• OMG.  It's a school day tomorrow.  OMG.  I have NO clothes.  OMG.  I have to get up to workout.  Wait - who am I kidding?  OMG.  My legs really itch.  *Scratch scratch*  Oh, that explains it - they're really hairy.  (Note the proper usage of they're). That gives you the general gist of my nightly thoughts.  I know, SO boring.  It should really be... OMG.  Those pecs are SO hot.  How did I end up with this fine piece of ass?... Yeah, in my dreams.  We should all be that lucky.

Biker Babe

We all know how my Thursday went. I would love to report that yesterday and today I feel better, but alas, I would be lying. Yesterday I had to go into school for something, which is a change because I don't teach on Fridays due to class.

I'm at Starbucks waiting in line. I gave my order and the guy came back to ask me a question, which I didn't hear because my already crappy hearing is now being further impeded by this delightful illness. So the guy in line behind me lets me know I'm being hailed, smiles at me, and I crack some sort of joke. When I go to pay with the wonderful Starbs app on my iPhone (have I mentioned I love that thing?), the guy and I take a moment to chat about that.

He's not bad looking, although a wee bit old and a wee bit skinny. Then my brilliant powers of observation notices that he has a bike helmet. Not the pump your legs and get exercise kind, but the vroom vroom kind. I'm already a bitch, so there is just mo need to make me a biker bitch. Hell will have come to Earth if that ever happens.

Then I go out and he's smoking. That's on the list of big fat no no's. So he was clearly not meant to be at the outset. But it was nice to have somebody show some kind of interest, especially when disgustingly ill.

That's the funny story - now for the one that made me happy. While at school for the jtiny bit I was there, I talked to the para-educator in mky first period class. She said that this girl who I always thought hated me was asking after me and bummed that I wasn't going to be coming to class. Yay! It is SO nice to know that somebody actually gives a rat's ass. Other than creepy student that is.

A Special Student

Today was an interesting day on the ol' teaching front.  The teacher I work with was gone today, so I was the one teaching.  Of course, today is the day that I'm sneezy, coughy, runny nosey, and sore throaty.  Did I forget to mention standing upright was an interesting task?  All I could say to a friend of mine when I got home was, "I'm sick, cranky, and there's nobody here to take care of me."  And then all I could do was feel sorry for myself because I haven't been taken care of in forever.  So this is an idea of my feelings throughout the day.

Because, for the first time EVER when working with students, I was creeped out.  This is not to say that random students walking down the hallways haven't weirded me out, but I'm talking about MY students to ME.

A young man walks up to me to hand something in and says, "Your hairs are soft."  Ok, so I happen to be wearing my hair curly today.  But wait, what?!  Is that supposed to be a compliment when you've never touched my hairs?  So all those times I've felt like this kid is watching me has now been verified.  As it gets better.

He comes up to me to turn something else in.  Makes sure his hand touches mine.  Makes sure to make hardcore eye contact.  Then says to me, "You have really pretty eyes."  UM?!  I'm old kid!  And your teacher!  And and and, eeeewwww!  So now I'm creeped out.

But I'm pretty sure y'all are laughing.

Thanks.  Really.

Honorable Life

Today is clearly a day for reflection. We have many days that we are supposed to do this, based on various bad happenings that have happened in this country. In some ways this is different, in others, not so much.

I turned on my tv this morning after grabbing coffee and newspapers. I wanted to see today's headlines and stories. The stories that ultimately broke my heart were the ones of the children who were old enough to remember their fallen parents. Well, I suppose they're not so young now, but my heart broke for them none the less. The son who's father wouldn't live to teach him baseball. The daughter who's mother didn't live to celebrate her wedding. The children who are no longer children are having children now, many without the blessing presence and experience of their parents.

I can't imagine being a teacher of a child who has lived through tragedy. I can imagine teaching a drugged up child though, so I'm not sure what any of that says about me. Irrespective, I was accused about a month ago of drifting, of not knowing where I am going or how I will get there.

I believe once this could absolutely be true of me. I do have one worthless Masters under my belt after all. But now? I don't believe it. Because today reminded what I'm doing and why I'm doing it.

When I was in the fifth grade, I was quite depressed. Ever since then I wanted to help others, so their lives could be fulfilled. This want has taken many different forms for my future, transferring from wanting to be a shrink, to wanting to be a drug counselor, to now becoming a teacher. This has been where my strange and circuitous path has been leading all my life.

Will I always be a teacher? Maybe not. Probably not, knowing my penchant four loving to learn new things. But I will always be helping people and hopefully I find a partner who supports this drive to learn use what skills I do have for others. I haven't done enough of that since I moved here, always placing it on the back burner. No wonder I'm so often dissatisfied. I was raised to give back, using my hands and feet. Or in high school, my ears. Feel free - take a moment to laugh. I do.

The other thing that struck me today were the brave voices of the survivors who are living without their life partners. Some have remarried, others have not. But in each circumstance, a life of love was talked about. Ok, granted, who's going to speak ill of the dead? But still! I want that too. A partner who I am with for 30 plus years, who wants to live life's joys and sorrows with me. It was a cruel twist of fate to realize I'd dreamed of having that with someone to finally realize he had never felt the same. But today helped because I deserve that life. I deserve the partner, the service, the roller coaster. I deserve a rich and full life with people who want to spend it with me.

All of this thought happened as I was returning items. I walked down the street contemplating my life that is anything but drifting and I tripped.

I then thought, "I also deserve to learn to pick up my feet when I walk."

Shocking Day

Oh where to begin...

The biggest shocker is that there is a team I officially hate more than the farm (which is Stanford for those of you who I have not yet converted to Cal-isms).  Yes, that is right.  I will root for Stanford before... that's right... USC.  The condoms have broken all over the place and I am one sticky mess because of those latex wieners.

On that note.  I called financial aid today to ask about what looks like yet another charge, this one 8k.  The woman could NOT or would NOT answer the question, i.e. am I really being charged this amount?  Finally I got to the point where I dropped the f-bomb.  To which she replied in a really snotty tone of voice, "This is a private university.  That kind of language is not condoned."  Well then answer the fucking question you piece of fucking shit.  Excuse me?  Wait?  Condoned?  Do I look like I give a rat's ass what a bunch of dipshits who don't know how to answer a question think?  Oy.  So I hung up on her... no, I said good bye and hung up on her.  I was that "polite".  Then I contacted my normal person in the department and made what I call, an excuse apology.  "I'm sorry, BUT".  I learned it from the boy, it was the only kind of apology he ever gave.  "I'm sorry, but it's still all your fault and you're still a bitch."  Oh right.  Yes.  Bitch central - how may I direct your call?  (1) If you need to hear you're ugly, (2) If you need to hear you're a pathetic numbskull, (3) If you need to hear that you have a tiny dick, or (4) If you need to hear that you're a worthless sack of beans. 

Speaking of men, I'm starting to think I should have women for companionship and men just to get laid.  Because I came to the realization today that men really don't want to spend a lot of time with me.  We all know the boy did everything he could to make sure he didn't and even my own father doesn't want to.  He'll spend hours talking to friends, but it's a red letter day if I get 10 minutes.  So I'm starting to scratch the idea of good old fashioned male friendships and hang outs.  I'm clearly just completely incapable.  Shoulda been a lesbian.  The big guy upstairs f'd that one up big time.

And speaking of the boy, funny story.  I looked like utter crap tonight, as I didn't exactly expect to be doing anything.  So I head down to Friendship Heights to do a little shopping with Christina.  I park up on a side street, so I don't have to pay for parking.  I'm walking down the street and realize that this is the street boy and I used to walk down to get to FH.  I literally dove behind a bush and poked my head out, looking all over the place to make sure he wasn't walking down the street with his new girl (because we're all already sure he has one).  I mean, I really don't mind him seeing me... when I look good.  Looking like I did tonight?  Oh hell to the no.  Homeboy does not get to see this.

Talk about a crazy day I tell you.  It's days like this that remind me just how oh so special I am.

Vanity

For those of you who forgot... I'm really quite vain.  So if you don't want to look at a bunch of pictures of me, then I'd recommend not continuing.

Today I wore the dress that I wore to prom with thou who shalt not be named.  Might I note that I looked a billion times better in it today?  Positively svelte! 

 What's that thing in my hair?  Well, a friend of mine really wanted to buy the teal version, but was too embarrassed/shy to wear it in public alone.  You know me, making an ass out of myself???  No big deal!  So I got one too.  And I got tons of compliments.  Go figure.

And here's me having a grand old time.  How did I end up having such a good time?  Well, after brunch, I found thou who shalt not be named and his family were heading to my place to fix something.  I did NOT want to be there as my emotional state remains a bit fragile, so I suggested we go into Old Town and shop.  I had just shopped and drank some sangria.  Are you really questioning this laughter now?












Last night was the first game of the season for Cal.  We kicked butt.  Want to see me smirk?  Check for a win...  GO BEARS!

 I really am a hot beast, not gonna lie.  I rock the aviators like they were made for me.

 And last, but not least, a better view of the new hair.  I think I'm going to have to keep it like this for a while.  I am IN LOVE with it.  Ain't nobody stopping me now!

P.s. Want a hot, cheap date?  Call 555-BRING IT

P.p.s.  What did I buy?  A hot bustier (no, nobody to wear it for YET... maybe this time I'll finally find a guy who likes this stuff???  Whoops, forgot to warn dad not to read...), a dress that is SUPER cute, shoes that are fun, and a few knick knacks.  Oh, and because I'm not only a cheap date and stunning, but a wonderful daughter, I got my mommy three gifts.  You heard me right.  I'm all about keeping my loved ones rolling in it.

Oh Ex-Boyfriends...

I suppose I should say, "Oh most recent-should be groveling because he misses me so much, but isn't-ex boyfriend"... Regardless...

So today was one of THOSE days on the ol' ex front.  Before we even get to that part of it, let me preface this with: at school, there was a fire drill.  I happened to be wearing wedges and we happen to have to go down a grassy knoll.  Guess who ate grass?  Got that right.

Then it was off to the bank to be able to fund two happy hours.  Yeah, I got a life somewhere in there. 

Where was happy hour one?  Guapo's.  Bethesda.  Location of the first "real" date of ex and I.  Honey pie and I sat by the window at the front, shared ceviche and guac.  He had a beer and I had an iced tea.  Yeah, I'm a cheap date.  You'd think for that alone, he'd have wanted to fight for me, cause he like cheap.  I remember to this day how nervous I was for it - maybe that was a sign.  I should really listen to my stomach when it decides it wants to shit on me.  Lesson learned.

Is it any wonder I downed a particularly strong margarita damn quick?  I think not.  Who am I meeting at this first happy hour?  A bunch of teachers from the high school I student taught at last semester.  All of whom I haven't seen in a few months.  All of whom had no idea what happened between the boy and I.  All of whom asked.  Three times I had to explain.  Three times I had to endure looks of pity.  Three times I about banged my head against the table.  Yes, I deserve someone who wants to show me off.  Yes, I really am that good looking.  Yes, I have more fun as a blonde.  Yes, battery operated toys are necessary in these times.  Oooppsss, wasn't supposed to say that last one aloud.

Is it any wonder I downed a second particularly strong margarita damn quick?  Lest we forget... I rarely drink.  So two margaritas in and I was feeling pretty damn good.  Reference cheap date.  Maybe I should put that on the Positives of Mo sign - cheap date.  Think a man will stick around for that?  I kid, I kid.

Ok, off to happy hour two considerably lighter in the pocket.  Read no money on me and seven bucks in my bank account.  USC - hurry the fuck up!  This girl's got things to do!  So I go do my thang and roll on out fairly early.  There's a game on Saturday, so I'll see these peeps soon.  I've got things to get done and it's a school night.

On my drive home, through the park, I end up behind the porker of the century.  PORKER.  Could we go any damn slower?  I think not.  It's a blonde.  It's a female.  Then she turns on the street where I found those monster dogs a few months back.  And I remember a certain female telling me she lives around there; then I remember same said female saying she owns this particular type of car.  Who is this female?  Most likely the confirmed gf of the youngest brother of my ex.  Yes, confirmed.  No, I was never confirmed. 

Did I mention I have a full bottle of wine handy?

The universe was clearly being mean to me today.  So I have this to say to karma and the universe.

1)  I'm hot.

2)  I'm a fucking bad ass.

3)  Did I mention I'm hot?

4)  I'm loyal and honest.  Have I had a date yet?  Nope.  We broke up on a Thursday, did he have a date that Friday night?  I'd lay down $100 of money I don't have to say YES.  Why is this making the list?  Because I have moral fiber and actually take time to mourn the loss of something good, even if it was fake.  Clearly, this makes me Mother Teresa status.  Or Virgin Mary.  Whatever.  It's all the same.  I am the rockstar that is Godly.  Bring it.

5)  Again, if you didn't get it the first two times, I'm hot.

6)  My car and apartment are still in PERFECT shape.

7)  Ok, I'll use another adjective.  I'm stunning, sexy, delightful, blah blah blah, yak yak yak.  If you didn't already know all this, you're blind.

So universe, karma, and dipshit - BITE ME.

(No, he'll never read this, but it still felt really good to send that out there his way)

And with that, off to workout (not swim in the verrrrry large bottle - make that two - of wine I have), then watch a movie.  I'm thinking "He's Just Not That Into You" is apropos right about now...

Master Ass Kicker

USC cannot seem to find a way to unstick their heads from their asses.

Now they've lost my paperwork, with my social security number all over it, to finish getting the loans to cover this semester.  After they told me I was paid up.  Don't get me started again.

Let's just say... I am a master writer.  In a very specific context.  I can kick some royal ass with my words alone.

Hey, we all gotta have one talent in life.  It appears I know what mine is!

Middle School X 2

I am back in middle school.  Yes, really.

Teaching it is really not all that different than being in it.  Minus the getting teased... oh wait, no, that'll probably happen too.

Let me sum up my first day back in middle school for you, specifically the 8th grade.  Hormonal, emotional, loud, racous, immature, and just plain nutty.  And the middle schoolers were worse!  It was fascinating to watch the kids wage battle within themselves on how they want to act, plus the differences between acting one way with your own gender and another with the other gender.  They're still learning the by-play.  Granted, I know adults who still haven't figured it out, so I suppose I don't have much hope for these youngsters.

Do I wish I were back in high school?  I never thought I'd be saying this, but the answer is a resounding YES.  That being said, I will learn a lot.  Namely, patience.  And a lot of it.

Ask a few people and they'll tell you that's just what I need.

My only response to said people is this...

Bite me.

Phone(s)

I have become an iPhone addict.  Yes, it is true.

How do I know this you ask?  Because I am now the obsessed owner of one.

Wait... what about my blackberry?

I still have that too.

Technologically nutty.  Only with phones though.  Both have their purposes and it's only costing me 20 more bucks a month.  So really.  Why WOULDN'T I keep both?  Ok, that and my bb contract isn't up until May, but really no need to mention that!!!

Really now.  The iPhone is the new love of my life. 

And speaking of loves of life, if you're not totally committed, do NOT change your passwords to anything having to do with that person.  I did and it is a hell of a process trying to change all of my passwords.  Ugh.  So take it from me.  Men just aren't worth that kind of hassle!  Or women if you happen to be a  man reading this...

Curves

I read this on one of my sites...

"Women are like roads... the more curves they have, the more dangerous they are"

Guess I better find myself a man who loves danger and loves to drive!

Maybe I should wear a warning sign... Danger ahead...

Earthquake!!!

You can take the girl out of California, but not the California out of the girl.

We just had an earthquake, a fairly long one, here in DC.  Go fucking figure.

Mom didn't believe me when I shouted we're having an earthquake.  I'm like, dude you've been through enough of these!  Next thing you know, she's running around asking if the buildings are built to withstand earthquakes.

Probably not.  We're not exactly in earthquake country.

Regardless, HOW COOL.  To my easties - aren't they fun?!

Garden Hose

Mom and I were driving down Wisconsin last night when I saw the Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac building.  I wondered if it had shut down yet and mom said, no it hadn't.  Then she said, "See, there's a man with a garden hose."

I couldn't figure out for the life of me what she was talking about and why a man with a garden hose would be indicative of anything.

It turns out she said, "There's a man in the guard post."

Another win for the hearing.

A Voice

I talked to a loooooooooooong time friend of mine, think from 10th grade on, last night.  This is the second time in three days we've talked, so that alone was shocking.  When we talked last, he had three girls on tap that he was semi, sort of, kinda interested in.  All to hell and gone might I add.  He was going to be heading home to see one of the girls and visit his family. 

He was worried that this particular girl might be more interested in him, i.e. long term, than he into her.  To which I told him that he can do whatever he feels is right, but leading her on is an asshole thing to do.  Believe me, I'd know.  I told him that if he knows he's not into that lifestyle right now, to own up to it and let go.  It's not worth hurting her in the end.  Uh oh, I'm about to head out on the drama express.  Time to come to a screeching halt and go another direction.

Chugga chugga choo choo!

So he goes on the date.  She's inching closer.  Angling for a kiss.

And he doesn't kiss her.

Why not?  Because he heard the Morgan Voice of Reason in his head telling him to not be an asshole.

I always figured I'd be a voice in someone's head, a male's head specifically, but the Voice of Love clearly did not compute to said male.  So I guess I'll settle for being the Voice of Reason.

I mean, really, being a Voice is being a Voice.  Who doesn't want to be thought of in the throws of passion?  Oooorrrrrr, when diving out of the way of a big smooch?

I really am just THAT awesome clearly.  It's not my fault the people of the world do not get a taste of this wonderfulness.

Foooooooooood

Normally I don't discuss weight on this bad boy.  It never comes out funny in my head, so I don't type it because what's the use if it's not funny?

Well... for the second of now, that will change.  I am down 3.4 pounds this week.  Lately?  This is unheard of.

Once upon a time, breaking up, seeing boy post break-up and falling apart, finding out I owe 11k NOW, not being able to register, facing a tornado hit apartment, a broken dishwasher, and God knows what else would have driven me to EAT.  I would have eaten my hands and feet if I could have.  It's called emotional eating.  Look it up in the dictionary, it has my picture next to it.

I did NOT do this this week.  Maybe my picture has been erased?!  I did not eat my hands.  I did not eat my feet.  I did not put my face first into a pizza - I just daintily ate a few pieces (the seeing the boy tripped me up badly).  Ok, sheesh.  Make me confess.  I also had one of those little thingys of ice cream.  So sue me why don't you?!

But the week has clearly been a success.  So food?  I have only one thing to say to you. 

BITE ME.

Technology...

It is SO easy to mis-send something these days!  I mean, the horror stories are rife with... well... horror.

I had a harsh afternoon and wrote an e-mail that I'm pretty sure, mostly sure, kind sure (are we sensing my sureness?) I never intended to send to the person I saw, it was meant as a release for me and to come to terms with things.  Well... I may or may not have sent it... just not to him... I love my life.  Luckily I have girlfriends who understand.

I would also like to note at this juncture that I have the best parents in the world.  Hands down.  People - loving your family is a virtue.  Respect the bond - note I said bond, not umbilical cork - yes, cork.  Cause those slimy things hold your guts in til you can hold them in yourself.  Thanks mommy and daddy for teaching me to hold it in myself, but still providing assistance when things start to get squishy.  I hope I'm lucky enough to meet, and keep, someone as amazing as the two of you.

Air and Space Museum

Yesterday I went with the almost four year old to the Air and Space Museum.  I need to go back soon and actually read everything - children are not exactly patient for such matters.  But there were two moments that were something more than simply rolling through a museum.

One: I had to go to the bathroom.  No surprises there.  And because he is a young, distractable child and you just can't trust people in this world, he had to come into the stall with me.  I told him to face the door.  He did... for all of two seconds, then turned around and asked, "why?!"  Ummm... child.  Dealing with questions about my vag just did not seem like a good idea at the time... correct me if I'm wrong...

Later on, we were looking at the airplanes.  Of course, planes from wartime have insignias on the tail.  The child then asks, "What's that?"  He was looking at the swastika.  This was another thing on the I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who should explain to the child who Hitler was and why we don't like him.

So there is now a list of things not to talk about with children that are not my own.  My vag and Hitler are now on this list.  I'm not going to lie, it's a little disconcerting to have these two things encompass any kind of list together...

But me being me, I had to (a) get raunchy and (b) make myself laugh.  What did I do?

Thought about the hairs downstairs shall we say.  In an out there, not my own or any specific woman's sense, but rather the esoteric, general one.  Are "landing strips" just for women who have pilots for boyfriends or husbands?  And women who were Hitler sympathizers and loved those who were Nazis, did they have the "Hitler mustache" shaved right above their lips?

USC

USC is being a problem again.  A biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig problem.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised, because hey now, condoms.

So I've been reminded why I am not a condom (Trojan variety) and will always be a Golden Bear.  My blood runs blue and gold and always will because I am full of roar and sass, not spunk.

Sad, But Funny

Since my funniness this morning, my day has taken a little bit of a turn.  I'm sad.  I don't take personal loss very well, even when it might have been necessary or it comes as the result of not being shown that I matter.  Either way, I'm sad and I'm missing.  Ok, and a little pissed off that I spent so much dang money on Christmas and Birthday when I've got so very little to spare, but we won't discuss that :P.  For whatever reason, I'm doing yet ANOTHER organization task for myself, just so I make sure I don't contact him, because I know what I want and others simply don't, or they do and I'm not it.  So yeah, it's that bad.  Me?  Organizing?  Just to avoid something else?  Clearly, I'm having a rough morning.

So where is the silver lining in all of this you ask?  Or the funny moment?

The person whom I miss, his family is coming over today to check out my dishwasher.  Yes, his family is my landlord.  Crappy situation much?  Let me also mention that these are very proper people, rather conservative.  Keep this in mind as you read on.

What will they see when they get here?  A massive pole dancing pole in my living room.  To see it in pictures is one thing, to see it in person... well... the pole is really quite apparent.  It's smack dab in the middle of my living room.  It's hard to miss and it's very silver.

Even funnier?  Sitting, RIGHT THERE, on my entertainment stand is my special dvd collection for pole.  There are five dvd's in this collection.  On the spine of each dvd, it says, clear as day, "The Art of Pole".

Maybe I'm finding this funnier than it really is because I'm sad.  But I'm personally dying with laughter just thinking about it.

Bed Head

It has been a very long time since I have slept over at a man's place or have had one sleep over at mine.  (Or in my father's world - never to both of those situations).

I woke up this morning.  For whatever reason, I decided to take stock of my "morning sexiness".

I almost ran in the other direction screaming.

Well... to say I'm f**ked would be to put that nicely.  I particularly like the alfafa sprout sticking out the back.

The only time this is "attractive" is when it's been earned.  It wasn't last night.  That head?  All my doing.

Apparently I will never be getting, much less keeping, a man.  Maybe he'll need to be blind?

16

Today... I wogged 16 miles.  You heard me.  I could take you along the scenic route with me, but let's just say it was technically pretty, saw some monuments, saw some water, saw some trees.  What more do you need?

It took me approximately 16 minutes to get out of my car.  One toe at a time.  To which I then needed the door for support to actually hoist myself up.  The remainder of that time?  Bent over laughing at myself, trying not to pee my pants.

It took me approximately 16 minutes to get up to my apartment.  Every step was a waddle in the right direction.  One - my legs hurt.  Two - did I mention I drank a lot of water???

It took me approximately 16 minutes to get my pants down.  Have YOU ever tried getting insanely sweaty tight pants off your body?  Mmmhhhmm, don't knock it til you try it.  The rest of that time was, yet again, spent bent over laughing trying not to pee my pants.  Yes, the toilet was RIGHT THERE.

It took me approximately 16 minutes to get all the stuff together for my chocolate shake I was so excited about yesterday.  It took me all of 16 seconds to find out my blender doesn't work.  And now that I don't have a handy man to fix these things for me... well... I'm f**ked.

On the yesterday blog notes: I'm pretty sure my grandmother rolled in her grave when I said penis in my blog.  I'm pretty sure my mother dropped her head to her desk in shame and said to herself, "it's all her father's fault - she gets it from THAT side of the family."  I'm pretty sure my dad said, "how in the hell does she know what a penis is?!" 

"Courage is the power to let go of the familiar." ~Raymond Lundquist
(A: I'm a Lundquist on the passed grandmother side.  B: I've had lots of courage this week.  C: Do I have the courage to attempt to fix my blender myself?  Or is that just a massive accident waiting to happen?)

Old Men

Today I was in the elevator after running a multitude of errands - all of which revolved around running.  I know, you probably think that's the funny story right there.  Morgan?  Do multiple errands that have to do with activity?  Much less RUNNING?  Go figure.  Yes, it involves chocolate syrup.  I managed to find a coach who is a fan of chocolate shakes post run.  Do I know how to pick them or what?!

Ok, moving on.  So I'm in the elevator and a man in his late 60's/early 70's pops on.  He's wearing a white untucked button up over a pair of neatly pressed khakis, and boaters with a pair of sunglasses on his head.  I'm pretty sure he's thinking he's looking suave.  I'll give him this, he had a full head of hair (albeit entirely white and gray).  He was also carrying a Lord & Taylor small bag (probably a fancy gift for his honey of whatever age... no judgment there...) and not wearing a ring.  It's truly amazing what I happen to notice out of the corner of my eye, right?  All of these judgments have to do with what I call the "Penis Theory", which goes hand in hand with the "Tits Theory" or the "Double T" versus the "Peeee T".  Remind me to tell you one day about these theories.  And to make a note to whet your interest, clearly the Tits Theory ALWAYS beats out the Penis Theory because (a) women are simply better and (b) tits are closer to God than the penis.  Just saying.  MOVING ON after that little detour.

His sunglasses fall off the top of his head onto his nose and he tries to make cool and readjust them on his face.  Right.  In the elevator.  At night.  Wearing sunglasses.  Yes.  You are truly the epitome of cool my friend.  Remember that judgment previously passed?  It's hardcore now.  Poor old man.  Love the ones that think they're hot shit.

I waited until the elevator doors closed.  Then... I snickered.  Then... I snorted.  Who in the motherfing hell SNORTS anymore?  Apparently this girl.  What did I do then?  Died laughing.  At myself.  In an elevator.  Alone.

I proceeded to make the best brownies EVER (don't worry mom, I only had one).  Because, clearly, recent events have me so cracked up that I'm dying laughing... at myself... in an elevator... alone.  Therefore, again clearly, chocolate is needed.

Whoever says that food doesn't fill holes is on crack.  Because that chocolate made my day better.  And perked me up with all of 4 hours of sleep last night.

Let's hope for better tonight or that 16 mile run tomorrow is going to be UGLY.  Which I'm sure you'd all love because you'd get a story out of it.  I know how you think.  That's not nice!  :P

Blonde

I have been blonde for a few weeks now and I have noticed a multitude of different reactions than I am accustomed to from people.

*Women: Normally when I smile at women, just to be friendly, they smile back.  Apparently, they don't do that anymore.

*Men: I get REALLY BIG smiles back now.  Even from old men.  It was nuts, I had some young man hit on me after I'd gone blonde.  I was confused.  Either I look so much younger, I look 16 or I look so much older, I look like a cougar.

Now the question is: do people respond differently to shacked up blondes or single ones?  I'll keep you apprised of my studies...

Tired...

So yesterday I took the kid to the zoo with a couple of nannies and their respective charges.  My charge proceeded to sleep like the dead for most of the afternoon after zoo morning (literally and figuratively).  I told his mother, noting, "the zoo wore him out!"  Her response?  "Are you sure it's not the company?"

Welcome to my friends.  I clearly have kind and loving ones.  Ha!  Although I am tiring, so I guess I can't complain tooooo much... but shhh, we won't tell her that!

I took a walk this morning to clear my head.  Apparently I've gone back to not picking up my feet when I walk.  We won't discuss how many times I tripped...

Oh and Lauren?  My backseat is free and clear now.  You can begin breathing again.

For Lauren...

To my longest term, long distance relationship... i.e. bestie Cali style...

This is for you...

In case you didn't recognize it... that is my car... with a car seat in it...

Teach you to cheat on me with DSW in SaMo!!! 

Irony

The Definition of "Irony": Being UBER hungry and not being allowed to eat

Picture Next to Definition: Morgan Ashley

Weight Loss

I have found the ultimate secret to weight loss.  Overnight I lost 3.4 pounds.  Did I eat crazy weird?  Nope.  I actually ate crap.  Did I workout crazy much?  Nope.  I actually did nothing.  So what did I do?!  Cried buckets.

I swear it works!  3.4 pounds.  Overnight!

I'm going to patent this and become a multi-billionaire!

I'm going to have a whole program.  Starting out with bits of animals dying working up to multiple movies of sob stories.  Clearly, chocoalte and the like must not be turned to and a few crunches throughout would be helpful.

But... YES.  The answer to all of my problems have been solved.  All because the male species have their heads up their asses.

Thank you men!

Now I gotta figure out how to cry every dang day like that.  Losing 3 pounds a night would be AWESOME.

Clothing

Yet again... I have two stories for you.  The first, merely a little humorous; you may just crack a smile.  The second?  Epic.

Sunday, I was a friend's house.  I thought I looked halfway cute, I mean, not perfect, but cute enough.  I was wearing a light blue tank with black bermudas and flip flops.  What could be bad about this?  Right???  Until I go to the bathroom.  And look in the mirror when washing my hands.  Guess what else I was a wearing?  A hot pink bra.  Apparently not only I knew this, but everybody who saw me.  Including mom.  Go figure.


Two warnings about today:
1. I will admit, going into this story, that this afternoon has not been particularly wonderful.  Yeah yeah, cry me a river Justin.  So I decide I need to go back to my roots and write.  Just write all of the resentment and other assorted crap out.  I decide to go to Barnes and Noble to get a journal, thinking I looked like I had pulled myself together, that I hadn't been crying at all.
2. You know those ladies you see when you're that you wonder what they were thinking when they walked out of the house that day.  You know... the ones we all bash on?  Keep that in mind.

I also thought I looked halfway put together again.  Vicki's Secret black yoga pants, a Berks shirt (who can look bad in this?!) and flops again.

Well, people were giving me kinda strange looks.  I wiped my nose, hoping there were no boogers.  Nope, no boogers.  I checked to make sure no tp under my shoe.  Nope, no tp.  I looked down at the girls, see if I'd pulled a dirty shirt rather than a clean shirt.  Nope, it's clean.  I go to pay and the salesperson was especially nice to me.  Hhhhmmm.  So I go to Starbs for an emotional eating (or drinking that isn't booze) treat and the barista had been particularly rude to the person before me, yet was nice and docile with me, repeating what I'd ordered and saying thank you more than once.  Hhhmmm.

So I get home with my treats.  I decide to see what's up and go look in the full length mirror.

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.

I have become one of THOSE women.  My toenails were about the only things on me that looked good (they're green...).  My calves also looked ok.  Now... the thighs.  Cottage cheese.  The abdomen.  Hanging out - literally, it was either round or a tiny bit of flesh on the side showing.  The girls?  Uni-boob.  And with tits like mine, that is TOUGH to do.  Yet, I have succeeded in creating the uni-boob.  I have a random stray hair sticking out of my neck (of all places...).  Parts of my hair were sticking up, my nails are chipping and my eyes were still BRIGHT red.  I looked like a motherfreaking wreck.  I have become one of THOSE women.  Hell has frozen over.  You know that Armageddon that was supposed to hit a few months ago?  Well, it's coming now.  Not because the Bible says so, but because I became THAT woman who walks out of the house and nobody can figure out why.

Feel free to laugh at me.  I know I am.  While I hang my head in ever loving shame.

A Story or Two

Story 1: Funny


I was outside of Baja Fresh yesterday after a tracked and in points lunch, doing a new rewards deal for myself. The old one ain't gonna fly - to put it nicely. Some man in his late 40's/early 50's comes up to me and asks what I'm doing. Uumm, making a weight chart? The man proceeds to seat himself and start talking. Wait - WHAT?! Reminder: I'm 26. Soo... I won't bore you with all the details, but let's get to why he sat himself down. He was smart enough to note at the forefront I'm "gorgeous". Yeah, keep sucking up. Then he gets around to his point, now that he's lost 100 pounds, chunkier girls are no longer interested in him and that's what he's attracted to... so I got hit on cause I'm fat. No, no, in his words... "Fat is spelled two ways, the normal one and p-h-a-t." Hahahahaha



Story 2: Get Checked

One of my dad's cousins/good friends from childhood has been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I met him at grandpa's birthday dash and dad had a great time reconnecting. And mom loved the wife. Long story short - it doesn't look good for him. Having a father who is perpetually in pain, or in the hospital, or in a surgical room, or whatever else, makes that hit even closer to home. So people, go get your nuts checked, your heinies checked, your boobies checked, and all of the myriad of body parts that can be checked.



Both of these stories happened yesterday or told to me yesterday. It really inspired me to get back on track and get serious. I have a life to live and it needs to be a healthy one, where treats aren't the norm, but exactly that, a treat. I know in general what I want out of my future and it's time to get me where I need to go, plus all the riff raff of figuring out the school/job front and the people I want to be surrounded with as I move forward.



So reminder... go get checked.

Update on the Farm

So not every egg you eat is an embryo.  They have to be fertilized.  So my next question was: well how do chickys have sex?  Or chickys and roosters I guesss, since if chickys did it, there'd be no fertilization.  But first, most eggs in the store are not embryos.  If you happen across an egg that has what looks like a string in it and you cut it out, that's a fertilized one.  Go figure.  Chances of you finding one of those if you're a suburbanite is slim.  If you buy directly from a farm, well maybe homegirl chicky got out for a while and got some action.

Chicken Sex
They don't last long, do they?  Who woulda thunk it?

And now... one last thing to leave you with.  Something I died laughing at and just couldn't stop, even in totally inappropriate.

Farm Life

I called my mother on my way home from the boy's house... who, by the way, was kind enough to escort me to a party.

So I see something out of the corner of my eye and say out loud: I think it's a cow!

My mother responds: I'm pretty sure there are not cows in Rock Creek Park Morgan.

Me: Ok, then, it was a really fat deer!

This then leads into a conversation about cows.  I asked about wild cows, to which my mother noted there is no such thing.  I wondered how cows came to be then.  Mom mentions God and that didn't they have to put two of each animal on the ark?  To which I then noted: Yeah, so they could fuck like bunnies and procreate.  Wait, how did the term fuck like bunnies come about?

Mom had bunnies.  That procreated.  A lot.  As such, she assumes the gestation period for a bunny is quite short.  You see, she claims she knows these things because she grew up in a farm town.  I happened to look this up.  The gestation period for a bunny is about 31 days.

Then we were back to the cows.  And how there is no such thing as a wild cow.  Mom says this is true because who would milk the udders?  And if the udders are milked, then they burst.  I demanded she go ask dad if this is true.  Why in the world I thought my father would know, don't ask me.  But it turned out he did.  Udders don't burst, they just dry up.  So now... do wild cows exist?  Then mom and I couldn't figure out what copulates with cows.  I began to doubt mama's farm knowledge.

This doubt only increased with the discussion about chickens.  She asked about eggs, etc.  I then pointed out to her that when she eats eggs, she's essentially eating chicken embryos.  Wait... what?!  Mama was a little grossed out and asked how this could be.  So I explained that this is why the eggs must be collected as they're made, because if they're kept warm enough by the hen for long enough, then a chicky is made!  Mom asked dad if this was true, to which he replied, yup!  Mom remains grossed out that she eats embryos...

So mom's farm knowledge?  Needs some work.  Dad's random fount of knowledge?  Solid.  Although, not knowing the gestation period of bunnies works against him.  And yes, he knew what copulates with cows.

Or in my world...

BOVINE!

Wide Load

So I'm definitely not going to mention who I've been speaking to this morning, as this conversation is hilarious, but I'd get my ass kicked from here to next Tuesday if I noted who was conversing with me.  I will say it is a working to get healthy friend.

Person: These shorts make my ass large and in charge

Me: a totally derogatory compliment about how certain peoples love such asses

Person: Lol, it's wide... I need a wide load sign

Me: I don't mean to laugh, cause I really shouldn't, cause put the two of us together and we need a double wide sign!

Person: Leakage!

Person: Ewww!  Mwahahahaha.  I meant LOL!

Best.

Conversation.

EVER.

Cougar

I was just in Starbs to waste some time before an interview.  I'm wearing a dress that hits below the knee and a little sweater on top, plus a pair of black flats.  My make-up is simple, as is my jewelry.

I just got hit on by two 21 year olds.

So either I look young ad hot (let's add skinny for the hell of it) or... I look like a cougar.

Did I forget to mention the rocking grey hair?!

Let's bet which type they were going for...

Chix

Yesterday, it was suggested that some friends and I go to dinner at a place called "Chix" in DC, as tomorrow I run 8 miles and I do not want to be eating foods that will make me regret going two feet.

So this morning I went to chix.com... let's just say... that wasn't the restaurant page.  In fact, it was a porno page.

Maybe I should be checking in with certain men in my life to see what they're up to in their spare time?!

Only I would somehow stumble on porno.  Good morning Morgan!

Chix=Chicks.  Ha.  That's funny.

Pretty Girl

A "friend" (i.e. some random chick I don't know, but I "know" because we follow each other online... follow me?) of mine wrote this on her tumblr:
I wish I was one of those pretty girls. The ones who get all the guys looking at her as she walks past. The one who could get any guy she wanted. The one who wakes up looking beautiful, effortlessly. The one with the flawless skin, the pretty eyes, the gorgeous hair and the perfect figure. One of those girls who live their life with confidence. I wish I was one of those girls, but I'm not. I'm just me.

I stopped and considered.  I've never been pretty.... ok, we all know my ego is a little bigger than that, I consider myself stuffing... I mean... stunning.  I mean, I get guys who look at me when I walk past, it's just generally because I have toilet paper under my shoe, a booger hanging out my nose, or my thong poking out like a hick in a WalMart.  I definitely don't get any guy I want... but that's cause I got the one I want (ok honeypie, I paid you lip service, cough up something shiny).  I wake up flawless... flawless in my knowledge that my hair is a rat's nest, my boobs have sweated through the night and probably smell, and again, that booger thing (I'm pretty sure honeypie is now re-thinking this relationship).  I've never had perfect skin, but that's what make-up is for, I do have pretty eyes, so woohoo, I got one on the list, hair that's a little strange and a little out of the blue, and a figure that puts in the wrong time period - I was MADE to be a Renaissance gal.  In those days, a little extra was a sign of wealth.  Ho boy, in some time period, I would be RICH.  As for the confidence deal... well, um... me?  Confident?  NEVER.  Don't know what you talking about.

Really.

But I am just me.

Love me anyways?

Not My Usual Funny

Today has been one of "those" days, where the morning started crappy and the day just got progressively worse.

I've been feeling lonely lately and not much has been changed to make that otherwise.  So I struck out today, because that's easier than admitting to being lonely.

I then got called moody in the process.  Lauren, what would your response be to this?  I'm going to guess Lauren's response: no fucking shit, you just figured this out about her?!

So I was sitting on my porch after lots of brouhaha, thinking about what's next.  My life is pretty prime right now.  I'm figuring out summer plans, school's almost out (for the moment), and I'm training.  Honestly?  I haven't felt, overall, this good in a while.  I'm actually working to accomplish something.  I realized sitting there I don't give my brain quite enough credit, or the accomplishments in schooling that I have made.  It comes fairly easily to me and I don't give the successes enough credit.  But... I'm doing something now that I do give myself credit for.  Every run I do, every day that I workout, is a step toward the end.  So I'll keep raising money because I want this.  I want to finally finish something I start.

I wrote this blog sitting on my porch, feeling out of sorts.  An email comes in and my little heart goes pitter patter, but it was not to be (there are others in this world as stubborn as I).  It was an email from facebook that I almost did not read.

But I did read it.  It was a post on a page of a group I belong to.  Frank wrote the post, a young man I knew in college.  His son was killed in a tragic accident a couple years back, crossing a street when a car hit him.  The post was a memory Frank had written of his young child, a memory of eating a hot dog and going to the movies.  My heart broke for Frank the day I heard the news of the tragedy and my heart broke again for him today.

Life is too short and this was a solid slap in the face as a reminder of that.  How I've been feeling won't necessarily change, in fact will probably get worse, but how I deal with it can change.  I'm lucky.  I have a wonderful family, who's mostly healthy.  I have friends who step up to the bat for me everyday of the week, including folks like Lauren who have never given up on me, no matter what I do or how I express my feelings.

Do you have a memory of someone, a moment in time that didn't seem all that special to you right then, but that you remember in clarity now?  It doesn't have to be just those that have passed away, but anybody.  I've got a few that I thought of off the bat and want to share them here.

*I remember sitting in an old school, big ass car and having my papa (mom's father) teach me to knit

*I remember being sick as a dog in Berks, so sick I tried to catch a bus going up the hill on the one street going down the hill.  My folks came up to see me, make sure I got better, and my mom and I sat on the couch, me laying against her, both of us reading

*My dad showing up to every single one of my sporting events

*There are a great many memories of Lauren... most that I cannot mention... I kid, I kid!  One of our special places is El Som, where we generally order the same thing, and just catch up.  Or that I'm always late to her house, when I'm never late to anywhere else.

*Christina is another long-termer from back in the day.  She and I have often gotten ready for big events together, the most recent being a Howard thing.  I was worried my butt looked fat and she gave me this look, then said: you forget, these are my people, we loooooooooooooove big butts.  She also lent me an orchid clip, one of those clippies to hold an orchid upright, to put in my hair.  I still have it and still wear it.

*Meghan, whom I rarely speak to anymore, baking me a quiche for my birthday.  It drove her nuts because she couldn't cook with two of her staples, onions and peppers.

*Kerry who cries with me.  What more needs to be said?

*Christine who always gets the weight loss (and gain...) journey and reminds me to take it easy on myself... this has needed to happen on more than one occasion.

*Joe who always reminds me, especially in my time of need like today, that I do my best to live my life with integrity.  I may not always hit the mark, but that I do try.

*Derrick... oh the memories there.  Cracking teeth, driving to Pennsyltucky, him being a hotter woman than I on Halloween... you name it, we have it

*Sena who's always loved me, no matter what fights we've gotten into or how different we are

*Lynn, my donut friend (it's time Lynn...) who always gets me when I'm having boy troubles and is always up late with an ear

*People who won't be named, but the memories exist:
-Trying to learn to drive stick.  I made it to second.  Enough said.
-Friday night Shabbat dinners with granny who didn't speak a lick of English and was of the opinion I speak too fast
-Sitting around the table at TeenLine talking about our life problems and pants being around ankles (I've always been a raunchy soul)
-Hiking through the forest and sharing the first "real" kiss

Have you ever had that experience where you have five billion memories floating around your head and you wish you could just get it down on paper, but they won't sort themselves out?

Regardless, there are many memories and many people I did not mention in this blog and I will spend this week reaching out to them and letting them know that they will always hold a place in my heart. 

I sincerely hope I never have to go through the heartbreak that Frank has, the kind where the world stops and getting it to start again seems a ridiculous proposition.  Because, as it stands for me, life does go on.  I'm going to be me and I'm going to continue to spend my life making me the best version of me that I can.  I'm not always going to hit the mark and I'm going to make mistakes, but...

I'm luck enough to have people who love and care about me, who stand by me through bitch and saint.

(If somebody cracks a joke about that halo being held up by horns... so help me God... oh well, who am I kidding?  You'd be well within your right)

Life does go on and we are meant to live it.  Things happen and all we can do is learn from them and experience them to the max.  Not everything works out and some things do.  All we can do is enjoy the ride.

And tell some raunchy jokes along the way ;).

Running

So today was the first day of marathon training.  This was simply a pace run, to see who we should be training with in groups and what our goal pace should be.

We were told to follow the folks in the red shirts... same said shirts happen to say "Team to End AIDS" on them.  Easy enough, right? 

Then there's me.  Who's jogging along and oh!  There's a red shirt person.  So I head that direction.  Yeah, guess what?  I managed to find the ONE red-shirt person who is NOT a part of the training crew.

Only I can find a way to get lost doing whatever I do.  So proud, I remain so proud.

Glass Doors

You know those lovely, tall, sliding glass doors?

The ones that are really obvious?

I walked into one.  I led with my feet, so I did not break a nose.  I know, shocker of all shocker.  This happened a few weeks ago, and I meant to share then, but life did as life does.l

So today... aaahhh... lovely day... I bought all sorts of wonderful running gear, was sitting and enjoying some Starbs while grading and bam, there's a double rainbow.  I was stoked, so I, being me, start busting out some photos.

And my phone dies.

The world ended today.  I do not have my blackberry.

Please.  Take a minute to have a moment of silence with me.

Excuse me, I said, silence.

I'm not kidding!!!  A moment of silence for the lost blackberry and Morgan's inability to communicate with the free world.

Shhhhh.

Travel Day

First of all, Reagan is SLOW. Second of all, Delta is just confused. But no, these are not my funny stories.

On the way to the airport, I may or may not have been flipping out. I like to be early. I was most definitely due to a whole host if issues. I was kindly told that I should relax and/or calm down. For those of you who have known me for five billion years, knows that (a) that probably won't happen and (b) you may have just been asked to get your ass kicked.

I was kind. I simply made note of this fact on the "Getting to Know Morgan" list; when I am hungry, have to pee like a maniac, stressed out, not had the best couple of days AND having a period, I am generally borderline homicidal. I.e. Letting me vent is probably a solidly good idea.

So I get to the airport of idiots and FINALLY get through. I head for the potty to FINALLY be nice to my bladder. I'm waiting to walk into the bathroom, texting somebody or other, when I almost head in, look up and go...

"Whoops!"

I'd almost walked into the men's bathroom... Since I so clearly look like a man.

P.s. I'm actually wearing a dress. Who thinks I look pretty?!

Busted?

Well... someone or other had the misfortune to leave my blog up on their screen... at work... and I was found out.  *GASP*

Except when I got yelled at for having this wackadoodle blog, I was told it was "found" by this person, by my name.  Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait a minute.  My real name is not attached to this blog... even I'm not that insane...

All I can figure is the finder outer MUST be jealous of my friend to have such a fabulous person as me in their lives.

On that note, I googled myself.  It is always so much fun to see myself as an English man, who has the exact same name as me.  Whoa!  I can't imagine me without tits and with a penis.  And with an accent!  How COOL would that be?!  Although I always get asked what country I come from...  So close enough!

Today was hilarious when I was teaching.  We're having the students write about a favorite memory, so both my "Master Teacher" and I shared ours.  First of all, the MT is freaking awesome.  She busted out singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame".  So I felt I just HAD to keep up.  I told a fun little poem about the days of the hair.  You know... the hair.  For those of you who didn't know me when... ha!  Way to miss out.  Let me preface this with:  it looks big here, but it looks even bigger on a projector screen.

First there were the looks of shock.  The looks at the picture and looks at me, the ass-whitest person known to man.  The same one who BURNED after ONE minute in a tanning bed.  Then came the best question ever.

"Are you BLACK?!"

Trojans

Mom and I were discussing last night the need to get Grandpa a birthday present from USC, seeing as how his birthday is a short three weeks away and he's so proud that I'm going to school at SC.

(Reminder: Mom went to UCLA... this is a big rivalry folks.  And no, mom and I are not rivals.  Reminder: I am, and will forever be, a Golden Bear.  Not a small, dickless one like the poor stepchild to the south.  Just had to remind people.)

(More reminder: USC's mascot or "name" is the Trojan.  So folks who go to school there are the Trojans.)

Mom: The little stuffed animal idea, that says "Somebody from USC Loves Me" is cute.  I mean, unless you can find any Trojan condoms lying around.

Me: Greaaaaaaaaaat idea mom!  I'll get GRANDPA some condoms for this birthday!  I bet he'll know what to do with them!

And you all thought it was my dad who passed down the raunchy gene.  Clearly, I was screwed from the start since I got TWO genes of fun passed down.

I mean, who couldn't love my family?  They're hilarious!  And fun!  Sticks up their asses would never happen - unless of course you dicked with me, in which case... maybe a stick up your ass?  I seriously need to make sure that whatever man is my future is as fun as these people.  Good times abound in my home.

Seriously though.  Best mom EVER.  And one who knows her daughter so well.  No joke!  This may be a "funny" blog, but no joke!  She bribed to keep living where I'm living now.  I kid you not.  What did she bribe me with you ask?

A pole.  Yes, you saw that right.  A "stripping" pole.  Granted, I'll be using mine for fitness (insert laugh track here), but still. 

I CANNOT WAIT FOR IT TO COME!

Now that I've interrupted myself with that bit of necessary information, I'll get back to the point.  And another story.  One of my bestest friends since the dawn of time, ok, maybe not the dawn, texted me to tell me she's going with her boyfriend to check out ring sizes.  Thank God the dirtiness above had yet to ensue, otherwise my dirty little head would have said,

"They make specific sizes for THOSE kinds of rings???"

Bada-bing, bada-bang.

Spanked!

Well, I'm already on track of screwing up young minds.  Luckily, it was only the 12th graders today.

"The Irish got spanked by the Brits in taxes".

Looking at the bright side, the not native English speaker actually understood what I was saying.  The other bright side is the teacher I work with is also that... open minded.

The non bright side?  Let's hope I'm not observed by a professor who has a stick up his ass.