Archive | June, 2010

I am NOBODY’S bitch.

24 Jun

Just saying.

Stand up for yourselves, friends. It’s not always pleasant, but rewarding in the end.


dear internet

20 Jun

Today I found geocaches, talked to my friends, tweeted, commented on dailybooth, uploaded photos, vid chatted, uploaded a youtube video, and watched streaming web videos online entirely from hacked mobile web and stolen wifi. I’m not sure if that makes me an epic winner or a huge loser, but either way, win! I also boated, swam, jumped from the swinging tarzan rope, geocached, vlogged, bbq’d, drank, watched a movie (sorta),and went out for breakfast and am now sleeping in a tent. So… add blogging to that list above of greased internet activities.
In anycase, my tent mates are asleep so I shall join them in their endeavor. Ciao bellas.


PS – according to my spell checker, uploaded is not a word. Wtf?

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The tale of an ex.

17 Jun

Disclaimer: Apologies for the likely plentiful errors. I really don’t feel like proofing right now.

So Lydia mentioned in her comment on my last post that she’d like to hear more about my ex, Curtis. I laugh when I think about that relationship, so I thought I would share a few stories and hopefully you’ll find them humorous as well.

I met Curtis in the ninth grade. We went to the same church, and his dad was the leader of the youth rock band …thinger there. Most of the teenagers that I was friends with there were in the band, so I decided to join. We practiced every Sunday afternoon, but it was quite a large group (about 3-4 guitarists, a bassist, keys, two drummers, and a shit ton of vocalists, including yours truly) so Curtis and I didn’t really talk that much, him being two years older than me, and rather busy with his PTS (perpetual tuning syndrome).

However, Curtis’ father got busy with some serious writing, and up and wrote an entire rock opera based on the biblical book of John (sounds lame but seriously, it was pretty impressive). This meant a lot more rehearsals and working together for promotion, tightening all the little details, costumes, set construction, audio production, etc, etc, etc. And as many of you know, you become quite close with people when working on a project with them (<3 Guide staff).

We actually ended up taking this show on the road for a few performances out of province, which meant long bus rides. School bus style. With the whole band, the set, the instruments, the actors… yeah. Tight squeeze. Obviously, Curtis and I ended up sharing a seat for these trips. Obviously we flirted. Obviously it was all super-cute and butterflies and cheek-ache smiles and being coy and disgusting. Yep. It was love, my friends.

Soon after he asked me to the movies. Three times. In one week. We went to a lot of movies. And for some reason we kept all our ticket stubs as souvenirs. Lol. Who am I? It was one of those really disgusting relationships. We had a “Curt & Meg Forever” logo that he put on all kinds of things. He gave me flowers all the time and opened every door. He was the archetypal gentleman. We had a secret code that we wrote in that only we could read. Our song was “Hero” by Enrique Iglesias. He would make me cds of him doing covers of love songs (helps when you’re musically inclined and your dad has a home studio in his bedroom). He was uber polite, never said anything bad about anyone, always just smiled and politely exited when anyone harassed him for being uber conservative and christian. And he was. Very much so.

I remember thinking it was cute at first. Knowing he’d NEVER pressure me into doing anything I might be uncomfortable with, and that he was super sensitive and sweet and like a puppy (yet was still two years older, had a job and a car. Win! Right?). Things went quite smoothly for the first year and a half. I got a homemade card on every monthaversary and flowers on the more significant ones, and lots of little surprises and romantic quirks and it was very much a cinematic romance. We knew we were going to be together forever. And we certainly weren’t going to have sex until we were married.

Now, you have to keep in mind that I was in the ninth grade when we started started going out. A couple years later, we’re still together, and I’m not in the eleventh grade. I’m sure you can imagine how much a person can change over two years at that age. I was growing up. I was discovering who I was. I wanted to rebel. I wanted to be bad. I wanted to be crazy. I wanted to party like LiLo. With an uber-conservative, uber-christian boyfriend that was by my side 24/7, that wasn’t really possible. I started to feel a little smothered. But I was very much immersed in religion at the time, so I figured it was a good thing that I had someone so committed to their faith to keep me in check. Lawl.

Now, this brings up a few of my favorite stories from this relationship. Because they’re embarrassing. Mostly for him, but for me by proxy. One day, we were walking by the school at lunch time, and an old friend of mine that eventually got sucked into the drugs-n-fights-n-teenage-moms crew came out of the school “Ugh. She’s such a slut now.” I said. His response: “Did…. did you just say what I think you said?” “Uh… I don’t know, I said she’s a slut.” “Megan. I’m disappointed. I can’t believe you would use a word like that.” “Excuse me??” “That word!” “Slut?” “Megan, it’s not okay to swear.” No jokes. This was for real. I laughed at the time, and I still shake my head and chuckle when I recall this funny little incident.

Story the second. I was in my senior year, making him 19 or 20 years old. We were out to the movies, but made a detour on the way home for some back-seat lovin’.  No, not that. Marriage first, remember? We were in the back seat, kissing. There may have been some leaning, I don’t recall, but definitely nothing horizontal. And no fondling. Or other intimate touching. Just making out. With tongue. After we decided it was time to head home (curfews! yay!) he said, and I quote, verbatim, “Wow. We just went as far as we’re going to until we get married.” Yep. Not kidding. I sucked in my lips and bit down on them, trying not to laugh, and just replied with an “Mm.” HAHAHAHAH. Okay, now I can openly l-m-a-o about the scenario. I don’t tell that story often because it’s just so damned embarrassing to say out loud. What a kid. How many 20 year old virgin males can you imagine saying that to a more-than-willing girl in the back seat of their car?? Hahha.

We didn’t last much longer as a couple after that. I felt like I couldn’t be myself with him. I couldn’t swear, I couldn’t even admit that I had the desire to drink, let alone have a beer. And I couldn’t experiment with general teenage things like sexuality. I definitely never told him that I had a girlfriend in junior high with whom I went much, much “farther”. Heh.

We broke up halfway through my senior year, but remained good friends. After all, we were in a band together with 4 other friends and had to play gigs and rehearse and hang out anyway. And it was fine. My friends told me he had planned to propose to me after my high school graduation that year. He would. He was basically planning out our life together, and I guess for the most part I was too. We lost touch when I moved away to university, but I still say hi and make small talk when I run into him and his wife and kids (yep.) on my visits home.

I didn’t expect this to be such a long post, it’s not something I’ve ever written about, or talk much about, but I suppose it’s an important part of my past. We were together for three years. Three very important years, from the middle of my first year of high school, to the middle of my last year of high school. But somehow, when I think back to high school, I don’t really think of him. I think of my friends and the activites and events we worked on, I think about academics and dances, and I think about how awesome senior year was. It’s strange that something that was so much a part of my life isn’t one of the first things that comes to mind. I guess I mostly remember the parts of high school that I would still be into, as the person I have become since those days. I guess I really knew who I was all along, I just had to take the long route to figure it out. And I didn’t really fully figure it out until I met Randall. But that’s definitely another post for another day.

Walking with a ghost.

15 Jun

So the other night I was watching ghost/demon movies with some friends and I was getting really creeped out. Like, really spooked. And I think there was more to it than the visual effects or cleverly-placed minor-key notes. Obviously, those were a big part of it, as well as my jumpy/’fraidy-cat nature, but I was lying in bed afterwards actually afraid to be next to the door. Scared to the point of making Randall switch sides with me. I was picturing some entity invisibly approaching me and not even really doing anything other than scaring the shit out of me. I think the reason for this is because on some level, I believe in ghosts.

Not that I ever really didn’t believe in them in some capacity. Ghosts of the dead, angels, spirits, whatever. I only say “on some level” because I don’t feel that I am well enough informed to come to a conclusive decision on the subject. I’ve been really into shows like “Ghost Hunters” and “Unexplained” lately and while I laugh at a lot of it, I generally believe what some people ( ❤ TAPS ) are qualifying, debunking, discovering, and verifying when it comes to ghosts.

I’m not really afraid of the idea of ghosts. I’m only spooked because of the presentation/reputation of ghosts I’m so fond of in horror films. As I sit here typing this I imagine that I’m sharing this room with other entities who reside here, and I’d be okay with that. Although I should probably tidy up since my room isn’t really prepared for guests at the moment. How embarrassing if there are ghosts here. Sorry my pale friends.

I’ve only ever had one major situation of unexplained phenomenon that I can recall. I was in high school and I was home alone. I was hanging out in the kitchen, which had windows everywhere, and it was after dark so I knew that everything outside the windows could see me, but I couldn’t see out because of the reflection. This set a creepy tone to being with. Anyway, I don’t remember exactly what I was doing but I remember that I was standing right next to the telephone when I heard what sounded like boxes being thrown around in the basement. I froze, terrified, and immediately dropped to the floor to avoid the creepy window situation. I sat there, cross-legged, unable to move, and a few minutes later, I heard more banging and crashing. It sounded like someone was really going nuts and throwing heavy boxes all around the basement.

I sat frozen in my cross-legged position with my arms tucked in and my shoulders hunched for about ten minutes, terrified and listening for more sounds. I didn’t hear any so I reached up and called my boyfriend, Curtis, to tell him to get his ass over here because I was fucking terrified. Okay, I didn’t say “fucking” because he didn’t allow swearing. Or fucking. But that’s another story for another day.

Anyway. He showed up about twenty minute later and I still hadn’t moved (and when  finally did I couldn’t go too far anyway because I couldn’t feel my legs and tried walking on my feet while they we folded under, on their side, curled, basically, I sucked). We went for a drive because I needed to get out of the house, and when I calmed down we came back and checked the basement. Nothing was out of place. I thought maybe it could have been an intruder (of the living human variety) but there was only one window in the basement, on the back site of the house, under a short patio, and blocked my overgrown grass and weeds, so unless someone know the window was there, it was unlikely. Also, nothing was missing.

I’ve had a few other experiences in my life that have made me wonder if I was witnessing paranormal activity. Randall has had quite a few unexplainable-by-normal-physics-etc experiences and I believe what he thinks he saw/heard/felt in each situation.  What about you? Have you experienced anything paranormal? Do you believe in ghosts, demons, spirits, angels, whatever you want to cell them?

I love this shit. I’d love to hear your stories if you have them 🙂



13 Jun

So. I missed my first daily post yesterday. And this won’t be much of a post either as I type it on my phone from the back of my friend’s SUV while we wait for it to get dark so we can take the photos we’re here to take. I don’t have any reason to feel the need to post daily other than my own stubbornness. Hmm. There are a lot of double letters in that word.
I had a fun day yesterday. I woke up in a tent with 4 boys, we went out for breakfast, returned to the lake, I wore a bikini for the first time in years, soaked up some sun, and enjoyed my saturday morning. Last night we watched some horror movies and I was a pussy about it. It was amusing.
Then today I was a lazy ass all day. Testing out live streamed show sites with Chels for the Guide was definitely the only productive part of the day. I enjoy the weekends where I don’t have responsibilities, even if I do feel I’ve wasted the day if I’ve accomplished nothing. Am I the only person who feels like that? Guilty for being lazy and doing nothing of significance? I don’t think I’m the only one, am I?

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Loneliness and drinking ‘alone’.

11 Jun
They’re sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it’s better than drinking alone. –Billy Joel
This quote brings two aspects of my life to mind. Both relating to the lovely realm of you, my interfriends. You’ve guessed it: loneliness and drinking alone.
I know that some of you have shared my experience of moving to a new city where you know almost no one. If you haven’t had this experience, it sounds like a yeah-that-sucks-but-you’ll-make-new-friends situation. And it is. But it is much more than that. For me, I moved from a city where I was constantly surrounded by people in the same situation as me. A HUGE group of friends and always someone to call, bumping into acquaintances at the cafe, seeing lots of friends at school, living with some of your  best friends. Essentially, not ever having to feel lonely.
When I moved to where I am now, I thought it would be okay at first. I was living with my boyfriend’s two best friends, who I have also been friends with since he moved, and it seemed like it was going to be a fun year. It soon became the regular thing that my roommates spent all their time on their computers, talking to each other through their Xbox headsets, if at all, which meant I began spending more and more time on my computer for lack of anything else to do. This situation became exponentially more true even up until the present. There are days, many , many days, when I don’t even speak to anyone out loud until my boyfriend calls me after work. It is extremely lonely at times. When you have NO ONE (irl) who really understands you. But this whole ordeal led me to meet so many of my best friends. I only started vlogging in September because the situation of no longer having a social life afforded me the opportunity. I only found out about the Guide to Nerdfighting because I had nothing better to do than stumble around the Ning occasionally. I made some of the best friends I could imagine because they stopped existing IRL. So while extreme feelings of loneliness have meant many nights of tears, it has allowed me some of the most cherished aspects of my life that I wouldn’t trade.
Drinking Alone
Now. Because I now have lots of friends online, and love to drink socially, I often find myself drinking (usually more than just one or two) in my room, while having skype chats or watching blogtv. I don’t know if that still counts as drinking alone, or if it means I’m an alcoholic, but again… I don’t think friends IRL would understand. My closest IRL friends do. All two of them, lol. To be quite honest though, I don’t care. I consider socializing with you lot online just as or more fulfilling than having a drink and catching up with my IRL mates 😛
Love you all. xx

Life is a series of to-do lists. Or it would seem. I dislike this.

9 Jun

To do lists for school.

To do lists for finances.

To do lists for socializing.

To do lists for fandoms.

To do lists for home.

To do lists for school. (Okay I accidentally put that twice. I’m not fixing it.)

To do lists for friends.

To do lists for family.

To do lists for the internet.

To do lists for personal things that no one else would understand but you must do them. Like blogging.

Sometimes this means that you are busy watching blogTV but are too stubborn to go without posting one day so you write this piece of shit.

But seriously, does anyone else feel like sometimes life turns into this monster that is a million things you must do and you hardly have time and you don’t know how you manage and you always end up not doing a few things that you would have liked to? I don’t think it’s just me. Or maybe it is. But I doubt it.

Anyhoo… yeah. Love y’all!


More is more. Trust me.

8 Jun

So the other day I was having a conversation with friends about awkward situations and one of the first things brought up was watching a movie with your parents when, lo! on cometh the dreaded sex scene. Now, I have to wonder how often these scenes are elaborate enough to become awkward. Most movies that I would agree to watching with my parents that also have sex scenes really leave the majority to your imagination. This is usually how hollywood films present sex scenes because, well, they want to make money, and the higher the audience rating, the smaller the audience, the less money it can make.

Now, if I were watching a film with my parents and suddenly there was explicit sexual content, yes, that would be awkward, and I would probably pretend to be distracted by a thousand convenient texts and tweets, and read a funny one out loud so as to distract them as well. Sorry, tangent. Where was I? Right. Explicit sexual content in movies. There is an industry for this. A rather successful one. You may have heard of pornography. I’m about to educate you all, okay? Are you ready? Porn does not leave anything to the imagination. Whoa. I know. Shocker. Take a few minutes, grab a tea, you’ll be fine.

The movies are kind of a magical place. Wow, I really just said that. You’re following the characters, investing emotions into the story line, and being transported to a (usually) unrealistic depiction of the world. Now imagine they throw in some triple x. It just would not flow. I love porn as much as the next person, but it is not magical. In my opinion, not being explicit, and not putting it all out there is far sexier and even more arousing than pornographic material (although it may lead to a trip to the wank bank =P).  I think leaving something to the imagination is the key to sex appeal.

And that doesn’t just go for movies. I think where this comes into play the most is in female attire. It pisses me off SO MUCH when I see a teenager walking down the street with her midriff showing, a plunging neckline, and a skirt that most definitely does not meet the middle finger rule (sorry guys, the girls know what I’m talking about here). Every single time I see this happen, I want to pull the car over, get out, and start yelling “It’s girls like you that give women a bad reputation! So many brilliant women work hard at proving that there is more appeal to women than their ability to rack up attention, but noooo! You walk around looking like a whore and saying ‘Screw you, progressive women of thought, I’m going to settle for attracting neanderthals and perpetuating stereotypes!‘ Now unless you’re the next Erin Brokovich, go put some fucking clothes on and read some Wollstonecraft!”

Wow, sorry, I really didn’t mean to go off on one there. It just sort of happens. Randall has to hear this rant every time we drive by one of these girls. Sorry Ran, thanks for putting up with me, love you. In any case, what I would like to do after being pissed off at these girls, is teach them that they can be sexy without being so god damned indecent. That less is not more when it comes to clothing. Seriously. There’s an unwritten rule (okay it’s probably written a million times in fashion magazines somewhere) that you can show skin in one area and be sexy,but any more and you cross the line into slutty. For example, cleavage is okay (God is cleavage ok! ;] ) but add in midriff or a super-mini and… ugh. It doesn’t say “sexy” anymore, it just says “desperate”, “lack of self-esteem”, “nothing else to offer”, “flagrantly accessible.”

Basically, I like to have some things left to the imagination. Most of the time. Obviously there are times when porn is so the answer, I am human after all. But I don’t really think it’s sexy. It just, you know, appeals to the inner ape. Hinting at sexuality and being confident is far more appealing than flaunting a hot body or realistic sex-scenes. But maybe that’s just me.


PS – Thanks for continuing to put up with my observations, incomplete thought processes, and rants. Love you guys.

I am not incapable.

7 Jun

There is a fine line between worry and lack of confidence.

By now we probably all know that I’m in a shitty situation with no income, piling bills, and no luck finding employment. I am well aware of this fact. I think and stress about it approximately every 2.5 minutes. And it’s not as though I am sitting idly and just waiting for things to happen. I am applying for jobs, going to interviews, following up on my applications, and for some reason, not getting hired.

I have this problem every summer. I don’t know why. I have a little bit of experience in a wide variety of fields, my communication and technology skills are above average, I’m a very quick learner and speak both official languages. I don’t understand why I can’t land a job. But that is another issue that I didn’t really mean to get into today.

Every day, my mom has been calling at least once or twice to check in, basically. The conversation generally starts with “What are you up to?” then almost immediately progresses to “So did you hear back from any of those jobs yet? Did you call back the people who interviewed you? Have you been looking for other jobs? What are you going to do? We (yes, “we”) need to get you a job or you’ll have to move home.” Now. Maybe I am perceiving this differently because a) my mom and I love each other dearly but have never gotten along well and b) I am too immersed in the stress of the situation, but when I hear her say these things, I get the feeling that she doesn’t think I’m capable of accomplishing what I need to without her help.

Don’t get me wrong, she cares very much, and has always had the hamartia of taking on others’ problems as her own (which, yes, creates an insatiable stress monster you do not want to experience).  But there is a thin line that divides being concerned about someone you love, and feeling as though said person isn’t going to work at resolving their problems unless you constantly remind them to. There is a fine line between worry and lack of faith. In my opinion, my mother unadmittedly crosses this line from time to time.

Today I finally lost my patience with her. I yelled at her. I told her that I didn’t require her to call me daily and remind me of how much of a failure I am right now. That if she suddenly stopped nagging me about these things, I wouldn’t die. That I am responsible enough to take care of myself and my situation, and that I don’t need her to remind me of the things I need to get done.  That I am not a child, and that I am acutely aware of my situation, and what I need to do. That despite what she thinks, I have been trying. That just because I don’t update her on my hourly activities doesn’t mean that I am sitting on my ass, wasting time, and accomplishing absolutely nothing. That I am not incapable of accomplishing something on my own. Apparently the fact that I have survived the last five years living on my own means nothing.

But I know I’ll never get through to her. I will never be able to defeat her need to have some aspect of control in my life. I know that the reason she feels this way is because for a million reasons she feels that she doesn’t have control in her own life. I know that it will be a very, very long time before she gets over the parent-child relationship and moves on to the mother-daughter relationship.

This is obviously not the first time I have had this argument with her. Perhaps it’s because I have little confidence in my own abilities that I am projecting the same onto her reason for concern. But I don’t really think so. I reiterate again that I love my mother very much, and I appreciate how concerned and willing to help she has been my whole life, it just becomes rather overwhelming and overbearing at times. I feel that there are about three people in the world who both know me inside out, and have complete confidence in me. “And” being the key word there. That’s not a lot, but I think it is enough. I’m not in that list, most days, but it helps to have people who are.

I don’t really know what this post is all about or where I planned on going with it. I just hung up with my mom and needed to get it out. If you’re reading this, thanks for listening to this rather meta ramble. I really do appreciate logging into my stats and seeing that, for some reason, people have actually viewed my posts. And I really appreciate your comments as well, but don’t worry, I don’t expect them. Tomorrow I promise something fun and upbeat. In the meantime, I’m off to apply for more jobs.

Love you all.


A birthday, a bass, and a new website underway!

6 Jun

So today’s post comes to you in three brief parts:

1) Today is my birthday. I turned twenty-three. I woke up on a friend’s living room floor with my boyfriend, Randall, and rolled over to my computer/phone to see countless birthday wishes which was lovely. We had a pancake breakfast and played some Rock Band, then we were off the the Museum of Natural History. My choice. It was lovely. The current exhibition is VENOM and I got to see lots of snakes and frogs and arachnids and got to hold a very beautiful king snake.

The four of us (myself, Randall, our friend Adam, and my aunt (which is a misleading term as she is the same age as me) went for lunch at a pub that is in the old home of one of the city’s founders. Then we departed ways, I picked up a mini-cake at the grocery store, and spent the rest of the day geeking out and pigging out in my pyjamas. Nom.

2) Today I got a bass. Well, that’s a half-truth. I didn’t get it physically, the bass is in England, but I have a bass to call my own! Sam got me a bass for my birthday and customized it with personal touches. The catch: I have to go to England to get it! Haha.  I appreciate the time and thought that went into it as well and I still can’t believe he did that for me. Thank you Sam.

3) Today I also received the sweet gift of web hosting! Yay! Thanks Randall! This is something that I have wanted for a while. Well, at least since back in March when I purchased my domain. But now that I have a hosting subscription, I can actually have a website published on the interwebz! I was trying to decide whether I just wanted to use that domain name for this website or create something new, and Randall reminded me that I have my own domain that I can do whatever I want with so why not go for that? Good point babe. For now the site is just a place holder until I develop the rest of it, and I can’t wait. If you have any suggestions on content, pages, theme, anything really, let me know! Or if you know of any websites that might be helpful in giving me tips or ideas. I’m really looking forward to this!

Well, that’s that. I appreciate very much some other lovely ladies *coughlydiaandcharliecough* who are apparently sending me something as well. Post is late and rushed and poopy tonight because it’s been a busy day. I didn’t think any of you would mind.

Now, for my own personal birthday gift… 😉

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