Hawiian Luau

The Hawaiian Luau. A must if one ever has a chance to visit an island. I think once is enough, but I have been to one on Maui, Kauai, and Oahu and I can assume it is much of the same on the other islands. You have the food, some good, some I will advise to pass on (poi…yuck). The hula and fire dancers, the tropical refreshments, and the crowd participation. I wish I had taken shameless pictures of the outfits I will mention, but I’m not sure those wearing them would appreciate the mocking.

It was a very nice Luau, the one I attended last week, and it was Thanksgiving…one of the Hyatt in Kauai’s biggest of the entire year with locals and tourists alike. I was there for the free mai tai’s, if you call $75 per person reasonable it was a good time. But I digress from the fashion show that kept me entertained most of the evening. It was literally the worst Hawaiian shirt contest, or dress for the women. Everything from neon, that’s right the color neon green that I thought disappeared and rightfully so with the 80’s was in full effect. You also had the entire families in the same pattern, grandparents, mom and dad, kids…all wearing the same tropical print. Throw in the Euros with the black sock and sandal combo added to the hula look and you see why I was amused, that and the mai tai effect could have made it more fascinating to me. Please don't catch that island fever. The one where you think all that print is suddenly "pretty" and wear it...only to return home, develop the pictures and say to yourself "what was I thinking?"

I’m no fan of crowd participation (flashback to most embarrassing moment in life) so when they start walking around and looking for people I recommend ducking, or taking a well timed trip to the bathroom. I was successful in avoiding having to go on stage, but I must give a shout out to one participant from the evening. No clue his name, but he was getting married the next day and all the friends and family were there as well. He was supposed to imitate this hula dance…poor guy couldn’t find the rhythm to save himself. So he decided to forgo the hula and start ghetto booty dancing between to dancers, then started jumping up and down waving his Hawaiian pom poms. They let him go on like this for the rest of the entire song! It was the most hilarious point in the evening. I was dying laughing, and not with the poor guy. I have a feeling that those darn mai tais contributed to his total confidence on stage, but the family had a video camrea, so lucky for him he can relive the moment anytime he wants to. If it were my family, probably several times you don't want to as well.

So here’s to you drunk groom at the luau on stage guy, thanks for making the show well worth the price of admission. Have I mentioned how much I love vacations?

Tiger and tipping...

Ok sorry it’s been a while but I have been absent for a good reason. VACATION!! Love those. I was in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai for a little over a week. While there we usually go to the Grand Slam to see the players etc at least one day. Well I am a non golfer, so this tournament has never been a must because I would rather be scuba diving of course. I think I would like more, except for a few small things:

1) No talking, just like in fishing. Lame. I mean if every other sport has to learn to adjust to crowd noise, golf should also. I don’t see how silence helps a ball roll near a hole.
2) Hand Eye coordination, of which I have none. Well I have no coordination but that’s another blog entirely. Given that one of my eyes is near sighted, and the other is far sighted (no I’m not kidding) my hand eye is totally lacking. So my ball goes everywhere if I even hit it and the divots are something to see.
3) Length of time to play. I think golf was developed by men as a way to disappear for hours at a time and be “unavailable”. I mean if you have a delay because of groups in front of you it can take well over 4 hours. 4 hours or more of hit the ball, walk to the ball, hit the ball, walk to the ball etc. This is why I love hockey faster paces and the possibility of bloodshed.

So this year the boyfriend went, and to say he is into golf would be an understatement. He of course wanted to go every day all day. I like to watch, but one day of walking the course for 5+ hours was enough. I don’t care how close I was to Tiger (5 feet) or that his hot wife Elian was walking the course in front of me. But I also am a celeb gossip addict so I had to hang in there in case anything was Perez worthy. The only news to report…Tigers trainer has bigger diamond earrings that any woman I have ever seen in person, his wife is more than gorgeous, and the only juicy tidbit is that they are cheap! The most famous athlete in the world DOES NOT believe in tipping. That’s right, several sources, and stories all over the island re confirmed this unfortunate issue. Example, a $3,800 spa service bill and $0 tip. Sad but true. I understand not wanting to be hounded or stalked, or even approached. But not to tip the people that massage your cheap ass is unbelievable. He is an amazing athlete and a beautiful golfer, but I think generosity is a skill that might need some fine tuning. Just a thought.

Now that's a hill!!

Many of you are familiar with the hills of San Francisco, but have you ever walked all the way up one? I would have to advise against it unless you frequently walk at an incline of 20% at the gym treadmill or hike Kilimanjaro on vacation. I say this because while on a weekend vacation my friend Jen who is training for a marathon in a few weeks didn’t want to get off her "schedule" to be on target. Being the pal that I am I agreed to run (and I use that term as loosely as possible) while we were all in San Francisco celebrating her birthday. We woke early to take on the City by the Bay. I quickly remembered that California, and this city in particular, were not flat like our lovely state of Texas. The saying here is "Everything's bigger in Texas". Perhaps usually that’s true (hair, jewelry, belly's) but what they call Hill Country I and other Californian's would call a speed bump. So Jen and I were a little unprepared for the hill that presented itself to us. Some might call it Hyde Street; we will call it What the hell were we thinking street, and as we started up I knew right away my idea was not genius as I had originally thought, but moronic. I was laughing and Jen was cursing me as we were literally hiking this hill, but we pressed forward. We did manage to make it to the top, but getting there wasn't pretty and on the way back down our muscles were noticeably shaking. I'm sure people thought I was some poor girl off her seizure medication, but no....it was from walking up a hill. Jen and I survived, but took the cable car the next time we felt like conquering the hills of the beautiful city. Please see above how Jen and I chose to celebrate, it was her birthday after all.

My dance moves are phenominal

I've heard some interesting pick up lines in my day but over the weekend there was one that I won't be forgetting soon. My girlfriends and I were enjoying a weekend away celebrating my friend Jen's 30th birthday (I mean 25th birthday). While there we went out for dinner followed by going to a club and dancing. Of course being 7 attractive ladies we did receive some male attention. As we were sitting at the bar a young man we will call Barney (think how I met your mother) approached my friend and announced "I've been waiting for you to come dance with me". She replied with a laugh and asked him his name....his response "my name doesn't matter because my dance moves are phenomenal". Seriously?? He backed up and demonstrated the moves, and I have to say they were seriously not phenomenal. But laughter and some Tokyo tea later we were all on the dance floor with him. I'll have to remember that one, because I happen to think my dance moves are phenomenal. I have attached a photo of "Barney" in his prime dancing mode...need I say more?

B is for Bailey and I'm a big sucker

I didn't always want a dog. I wasn't one of those kids that begged their parents for one, but we had family dogs that I would walks when I felt like it. Things changed when I became an adult, well actually things changed when I changed. They say when you have a traumatic experience there are 3 things that are natural therapy for your soul. 1) Being by the ocean 2) exercise and 3) getting an animal. In 2001 when I had a very traumatic experience that caused a crisis of self really I moved to San Diego (check off #1). With that amazing weather you can be outside every day of the year so exercise followed (check off #2) but the animal...I wasn't ready to love something at that time, or be loved unconditionally in return. My heart was too broken for that then.
5 years later, heart mended and a full recovery from the trauma leads me to now. Last February around my birthday someone I know found a small mutt wandering in her neighborhood. I took one look at this little mess and had to have him. His name is Kona and he is now the most spoiled 11lb poodle shi-tzu mix you will ever meet. My brother Robert likes to tell everyone Kona is a shit poo...funny guy my brother. So Kona and I have been cohabitating for a few months now and I adore him. Getting up at 5am to take him out, and finding the best groomer (the perky poodle) or vet has been a joy. I even bought a house so I could have him, and I like to call him the most expensive dog because of it. So who is Bailey you ask?
I was shopping this past weekend at a local mall and the Boxer Rescue Society was there with some adoptable dogs. The faces and stories are heartbreaking. I try to put on a front like I'm fine on my own, very practical and rarely emotional. That is a big sham folks, but those of you who know me already know that. I seem to be the only one slow on the uptake. So this beautiful 4 year old boxer named Bailey took one look at me and I was done. I walked around and thought about it for a few hours but of course took her home. It was a little impulsive and not well thought out, but who could say no?? My boyfriend shook his head in total disapproval because of course he thinks of all the things I don't (double the vet and boarding bills, will Kona like her etc). Every dog whisperer in America would tell you not to do it the way I did, and I know that. I of course forge ahead because she was meant for me.
Here we are 3 days later and our little family of 3 has some adjustment issues. One might have separation anxiety, and another might not want to share his toys but over all we're doing alright. I think with a little time andsome training classes we will be like every other functional/dysfunctional family. As I sit here now they are both sleeping soundly on the living room floor and I think life is pretty darn good. (check off #3)

I'm not in college anymore

Last weekend my college roommates Scott and Kerri, who happen to be married to each other, came to town for a visit. They live in Costa Rica so I rarely get to see them unless they are passing thru Dallas on one of their many travel adventures. As you can imagine we met and knew each other when life was simple and we majored in sleeping in. Kerri is this amazing fun little ball of energy and whenever she visits somehow I manage to get totally hammered. I'm not talking 2 glasses of wine at dinner feeling good, I'm talking 21st birthday falling out of a cab hammered. After a Kerri visit we say that it won’t happen again, but clearly we think we’re 21 all over again and it seems like a good idea.
Last time she came for a visit we decided running in the rain, getting soaked to the bone, and drinking warm white wine when we got home at 2am was a great idea. I don’t even like white wine let alone warm so you can see we were beyond help. I even left a voice mail for a friend of ours and said it was “Mary and Kegan”…um yes because in drinking language that is Kerri and Megan. I don't drink very often. I mean I don't have any issues...its just I'm finding with every birthday the recovery time is significantly longer than the year before. At this point one night takes the entire weekend, and I feel like a lazy looser....so I usually pass. But on the rare occasion that I put a few away my alter ego "party Meg" comes along as well. I have no idea who created the name but it has stuck. I become a walking party and invite everyone in on the fun with me. I sing in a bar, I dance with strangers, and am slightly obnoxious to a more sober individual.
My boyfriend is almost always sober for these events and has witnessed many things I'm sure he would like to forget. On this occasion however he became one of us. He earned a new nickname "Fiesta Chris". Well I should start by telling you he is a finance guy. Given that statement one could assume that he is very practical, big on planning ahead, always on time, conservative, and not prone to display of emotion. Some might say a bit of a "glass half empty" perspective of life. I on the other hand am the total opposite, but I digress.
So the college roommates came to town and the 4 of us went to dinner, had a few cocktails beforehand, had a few bottles of wine with dinner...at that point knew we needed a cab. Usually this is where sober Chris would say we were going home, but "Fiesta Chris" was ready to party, and we decided to oblige him. Where on earth in Dallas do you think 4 almost 30 year old intoxicated persons would end up...a type of club that shall remain nameless in case my parents or my pastor decide to ever use the world wide web and find me. (Odds are small but they do exist) but the club has dancers and you get the idea. So the bottles at dinner were followed at “the club” by rounds of shots, of what we have no idea. By the time we were ready to call it a night, the bar tab required Kerri's thumbprint. 4x to be exact. Now Sober Megan and Chris would never be here at this club, especially not together...but party Meg and fiesta Chris had a fantastic time. Fantastic until the morning, and we have never felt worse. The recovery did last most of the weekend for all of us, and I think the bruise on Kerri's ass from falling out of the Van cab leaving the club is healing quite nicely.
Note to self...college ended 8 years ago and usually I'm happy it did (so is my liver) but occasionally and for the special few...party Meg will make an appearance, but I have a feeling that was the first and last night of Fiesta Chris.

Panic at the disco folks

"Oh My God this can't be happening" I plopped down on the couch after a long happy hour and late dinner out and flipped on the Tivo. I was anxious to see the best show of all time; Greys Anatomy; that had been recorded earlier of course. What was life before Tivo? I can no longer remember. I stared at the menu list...NO GREYS! Panic sets in, I'm flipping thru the TV, text messaging people and calling all my girlfriends because I was sure I missed it but praying it was a rerun. WHY IS NO ONE ANSWERING?? How could my beloved Tivo skip the only night of TV I live for?

Now I am joking of course, I mean not watching TV won't literally kill me but I look forward to Greys from the minute the last episode ended. I don't refer to the actors by their real names but their screen names, and yes my girlfriends and I do talk about them and the show as if we know them all personally. We analyze their relationships as if they can hear us. We are disappointed in Burke for having anger management issues and saying terrible things about sweet George, and almost (gasp) hurting McDreamy!! I mean does he really think he's going to win a PR war with that?? Not happening. Anyway you can see why I would be so distressed. Finally it was my boyfriend who cleared it all up for me. He had been concerned that it would interfere with the World Series so he checked before meeting me at happy hour; he just forgot to tell me about it.

He thinks women’s obsession with a TV show is odd. He couldn't believe how upset every woman he knew was over the death of Denny who he liked to point out was a "fictional character", but than again he doesn't understand the joy that is Perez Hilton either. Guys, well straight guys just don't understand. I tell him it's like the Masters, or NBA Playoffs...it's important not to be missed or disturbed during events like that. I respect his 48 weekend hours of consecutive college and NFL games. My little piece of heaven is 1 hour, 1 hour a week! Men have events that take up months and hours on end. I have watched it all, I have oohed and ahhed at Tigers amazing year, or our embarrassing show at the Ryder cup. I have cheered on Lance and wanted to spit on the French officials, and I have even been in the room when he is watching the Texas Aggies...anyone that is a Longhorn understands why I almost throw up a little in my mouth while doing that.

In summary my panic at the disco was nothing more than the genius Tivo not re-recording an already aired episode. Disaster averted, whew. I will have to savor the new episode next week twice as much. I also learned that men just don't get it. So to the men I say don't try to stop it, because you can only hope to contain it. Unless you're Denny.

Me..a blogger...

Welcome to my blog! I'm totally new to this blog business and am terrified that I will disappoint. I am assuming that only people I know will read this and they have to love me, so all I have to say is...suck it!

My friends have been urging me to start one of these blog things, but these are the same people that told me my ass didn't look big in leggings so seriously...I'm not sure what I think of this. Lets start with a few things about me.

I am TERRIBLE with spelling and grammar. You would think that the years of high school and college would have fixed that, but like the song says...Its a hard habit to break :)

I love my friends and family, but not enough to save them from the funny things they do. No one will be safe from the blog, but names and places might be changed to spare excessive humiliation.

I am not a native of Dallas or Texas. So some may say I don't have the privilege of making fun of the stuff that goes on here, but I think its gives me an interesting point of view. Because really where else do you find mac and cheese listed under the veggies or people using the term "fixin to"?

I am the oldest child, and therefore bossy. I have tried to contain it, manage it but as the oldest sister...I am bossy and I can own it.

I am not graceful, in fact I'm so not graceful its a joke. I fall down regularly, spill on myself often, laugh in innappropriate situations, and tend to be brutally honest. All this but hopefully lovable as well. Stay tuned and we'll see how this blog thing goes.