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...