Okay, so believe it or not, I do actually have some rules for myself and this blog. These somewhat random (and often made up as I go along) rules include, but are not limited to: Being only as honest in writing here as I could bear to be in speech in real life. This means I don't intend to use this space as a place to whine and complain and criticise specific people in my life. (Because I have a telephone and the trusted ears of my best friends for that kind of stuff, thankyouverymuch). I'm pretty sure that I've also never mentioned any place where I work by name, which has been intentional. Furthermore, when I do venture in to "complaining" territory, especially about work, I attempt to accept ownership for my feelings of frustration. Because really, I don't think anyone really does anything to us that we don't let them do... to a certain extent. (You gotta take that one with a grain of salt, because there ARE manipulative people out there to whom some of us really are powerless and susceptible. Okay, moving on.)
So, I guess that's the bottom line of my rules really: whatever I write on here, it is about me - the events of my life and my thoughts and feelings about them. And a very big part of this blog is me sharing these anecdotes with the intention of accepting total responsibility for the shape and feel of my own life, when it is awesome as well as when it is not so awesome.
But I have to say I think my life is pretty awesome right now. I'm love, love, LOVING my new living sitch. "Baby" Henry and I are definitely becoming buddies, and I'm also totally loving my adult roomies. (After I typed that sentence I just took a sip of the hot chocolate with Khalua that my roomie Laura just made me. Yes folks, I have moved to heaven. It's in The Junction. On Vine Avenue. Sigh.) I've also been spending quite a bit of time lately enjoying the company of many of my super fantastic friends, with whom I'd fallen out of touch over the past few months/years/etc (for some reason or another).
In fact, just last night, I went out with some girls I used to work with at The Restaurant. It has been months since I've seen most of them! It was soooo great! It was the lovely Beverly's birthday, and my friend Laura (not roomie Laura) had a group of us over to her place before we hit the bar. Now, another one of my rules for this here blog is not to record anything to "incriminating" about myself, or to make myself seem like some great big out-of-control party girl. Which I am not. Really and truly. So far from it. However, I do know how to have a good time, and sometimes a little gin helps the fun move along... ya know what I mean? Anyhow, so here I am, throwing caution to wind, and about to tell you about some of the ridiculousness that I perpetrated last night...
Originally, I didn't intend to join the girls at the bar, but of course, after a few "pre-drinks" at Laura's I was easily coerced into joining the bar festivities. And I brought the fun. Big time. Somehow I also brought the drunkeness. Alas, also big time. Now, I wasn't such a mess that I don't remember what a dancing fool I made of myself, so I guess that's a good sign.
Anyhow, once the night at the bar ended, Laura and Beverly decided to put me in a cab and send me on my merry way home. But just before they did that, the noticed that I had pulled my phone out of my pocket...
"Meghan, who are you calling? Meghan? Meghan? What are you doing?!?!"
Imagine them reaching towards me in slow motion to grab the phone from my hands, in a last-ditch, good friend attempt at preventing a drunk dial.
"Meghan - Nooooooooooo!"
They were too late. I made the call. I totally called the boy that I like right now. Oh. My. Gawd.
(Yep, here's another blog rule-breaker - making reference to my romantic life, which yes my dear readers, I do have! I've just made a pointed effort up until now not to write about it here on the interweb for everyone and their dog to read about. Ugh, as if.)
Ok, so I drunk dialed the boy that I like. (Um, actually I called him twice. Oh my, oh my, oh my...) And then I got home. Finally. Unfortunately, I had told Laura & Louis that I would be staying at friend Laura's place, so they had put this security latch thingy on the door (my friend Kevin called it "the old lady door lock" when I told him the story today). Being the drunken genius that I am, I tried sticking my hand through the door to unlock it... Obviously, if it were actually possible to unlock the door that way, there would be no market for these latches and no one would have them. Duh.
The next thing I know, my hand is stuck.
My hand is stuck in the front door of my house, where my roomates are sleeping (one of whom is under the age of two years) and it's after 3:00am. OH MY.
I ended up having to call the house and thank god Louis had fallen asleep on the couch and so was downstairs to hear the phone ring and let me in.
Yes, it was hilarity. And yes, oh yes, I am so un-cool!
But at least I'm entertaining, no?
Showing posts with label partying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label partying. Show all posts
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
These Were A Few Of My Favorite Things...
Riding the subway this afternoon, my thoughts drifted... to clothes. Yes, admittedly this is where my thoughts tend to wander when I am most bored & tired (not that public transit is boring to me, there is often a lot of good people watching to be done, but today... well, I guess I am still pretty tired.) Anyone who knows me well knows that if I walk out of a movie and have my outfits picked out for the next week or so, this means the movie was B-O-R-I-N-G. (Sorry to say this but "Gladiator" comes to mind as an example of this.) Anyhow, this afternoon I was thinking about clothes. But more specifically, I was thinking about some of my favorite items... that I no longer possess. And for some very, uh, not-so-respectable(?) reasons. Boo!
First I was thinking about the excellent black jersey shrug that I purchased for a mere $11 from H&M last spring, when I really didn't have $$$ to spare on clothes, or even shampoo for that matter. Oh yes, I was broke then. But Devon was in town from H-fax and wanted to hit up H&M and when I saw this perfect, simple, little black shrug, I knew it would be a staple item in my wardrobe. Indeed, that was the best $11 that I ever spent. This shrug performed perfectly throughout the spring and summer, as I paired it with all my little black dresses (both fancy and casual). It served me and my typically hot-temperatured self equally well throughout the fall and winter, as an added little bit of warmth over my always short-sleeved shirts, that sometimes just didn't cut it when the temperature dropped, like it still does every now and then.
Alas, the perfect little black shrug was a casuality lost in New York earlier this year, the night of the FRIGID Festival Party. (Avid blog readers might recall me writing about the events of this, uh, jovial night... When I had all of the festival organisers running around every 20 minutes searching for my "lost" coat & purse. "Lost" in such covert places as hanging over the back of a chair in the centre of a room. Oh my.) Sadly, I was so into the party (and clearly not really into keeping track of my belongings) that my dear little shrug got left behind that night. And inherited by someone else, I guess. Because although I searched the lost and found the next day (for both my dignity and my shrug), nothing turned up. Woe is me.
As my thoughts wandered this afternoon to lamenting the loss of this excellent wardrobe item, I remembered my hot pink pashmina scarf. Again, anyone who knows me well these days, knows that these pashmina scarves have also become a bit of a staple in my wardrobe, at least 3 seasons of the year (summer in Toronto is a little too hot to rock any kind of scarf, if you ask me)! And this hot pink one, well, it was Hott. And also perfect. Not too dark, not too red, not too fluorescent, not too baby. Just a perfect, bright, bold, Pink. Sigh... That one was lost about a year and a half ago, on a glorious night that was my ex-boyfriend's birthday. Poor guy had me accompany him to his friend's band's secret concert in an empty warehouse or something (a concert organised to celebrate someone else's b-day - no joke) and he ended up babysitting his way too drunk (that's what happens when you have to BYOB, and you bring a mickey of vodka and end up drinking the whole thing straight because you forgot to stop at the store and buy mix!) ex-girlfriend. Oh Happy Day. While he did manage to get my stubborn self into a taxi home at the end of the night, he did not manage to send me on my way with my beloved hot pink pashmina. I guess it's understandable. I can be quite a case sometimes.
Now, not to make it seem like I get wasted and irresponsible all the time... 'Cause I really don't. I swear, I am the responsible one, often times!!! Really! But back in the day, when I really wasn't all that responsible (but c'mon, I was 17 and attending my first year of university all the way over in England!) I experienced my very first alcohol-related wardrobe loss. It was an excellent black skirt and shell/vest/top thing. Fantastic. Stylish. Classic. I miss it to this day. The short version of this story is that there was a wine tasting event at my school, I sampled a little too generously, ended up in pool of my own vomit (ooh, classy, I know!) in my bed. Still fully (though perhaps not so stylishly) clothed at this point. I don't even know what brave, angelic soul got down and dirty and dressed me in my PJ's and threw away my soiled bed linens and clothes, but I shall remain eternally grateful. Even if they did throw out one of my favorite outfits in the process. It probably would've never been the same anyhow.
But yes, these were a a few of my favorite things, and the things that I was thinking about today on the subway. I guess the moral of these stories is... "Don't drink and dress"??? Or maybe, don't drink so much you forget that you love what you're wearing??? I'm sure there's a lesson here... somewhere... But I don't have time to properly ruminate on it, I'm meeting an old friend for drinks in less than an hour, and I've got to go pick out an outfit!
First I was thinking about the excellent black jersey shrug that I purchased for a mere $11 from H&M last spring, when I really didn't have $$$ to spare on clothes, or even shampoo for that matter. Oh yes, I was broke then. But Devon was in town from H-fax and wanted to hit up H&M and when I saw this perfect, simple, little black shrug, I knew it would be a staple item in my wardrobe. Indeed, that was the best $11 that I ever spent. This shrug performed perfectly throughout the spring and summer, as I paired it with all my little black dresses (both fancy and casual). It served me and my typically hot-temperatured self equally well throughout the fall and winter, as an added little bit of warmth over my always short-sleeved shirts, that sometimes just didn't cut it when the temperature dropped, like it still does every now and then.
Alas, the perfect little black shrug was a casuality lost in New York earlier this year, the night of the FRIGID Festival Party. (Avid blog readers might recall me writing about the events of this, uh, jovial night... When I had all of the festival organisers running around every 20 minutes searching for my "lost" coat & purse. "Lost" in such covert places as hanging over the back of a chair in the centre of a room. Oh my.) Sadly, I was so into the party (and clearly not really into keeping track of my belongings) that my dear little shrug got left behind that night. And inherited by someone else, I guess. Because although I searched the lost and found the next day (for both my dignity and my shrug), nothing turned up. Woe is me.
As my thoughts wandered this afternoon to lamenting the loss of this excellent wardrobe item, I remembered my hot pink pashmina scarf. Again, anyone who knows me well these days, knows that these pashmina scarves have also become a bit of a staple in my wardrobe, at least 3 seasons of the year (summer in Toronto is a little too hot to rock any kind of scarf, if you ask me)! And this hot pink one, well, it was Hott. And also perfect. Not too dark, not too red, not too fluorescent, not too baby. Just a perfect, bright, bold, Pink. Sigh... That one was lost about a year and a half ago, on a glorious night that was my ex-boyfriend's birthday. Poor guy had me accompany him to his friend's band's secret concert in an empty warehouse or something (a concert organised to celebrate someone else's b-day - no joke) and he ended up babysitting his way too drunk (that's what happens when you have to BYOB, and you bring a mickey of vodka and end up drinking the whole thing straight because you forgot to stop at the store and buy mix!) ex-girlfriend. Oh Happy Day. While he did manage to get my stubborn self into a taxi home at the end of the night, he did not manage to send me on my way with my beloved hot pink pashmina. I guess it's understandable. I can be quite a case sometimes.
Now, not to make it seem like I get wasted and irresponsible all the time... 'Cause I really don't. I swear, I am the responsible one, often times!!! Really! But back in the day, when I really wasn't all that responsible (but c'mon, I was 17 and attending my first year of university all the way over in England!) I experienced my very first alcohol-related wardrobe loss. It was an excellent black skirt and shell/vest/top thing. Fantastic. Stylish. Classic. I miss it to this day. The short version of this story is that there was a wine tasting event at my school, I sampled a little too generously, ended up in pool of my own vomit (ooh, classy, I know!) in my bed. Still fully (though perhaps not so stylishly) clothed at this point. I don't even know what brave, angelic soul got down and dirty and dressed me in my PJ's and threw away my soiled bed linens and clothes, but I shall remain eternally grateful. Even if they did throw out one of my favorite outfits in the process. It probably would've never been the same anyhow.
But yes, these were a a few of my favorite things, and the things that I was thinking about today on the subway. I guess the moral of these stories is... "Don't drink and dress"??? Or maybe, don't drink so much you forget that you love what you're wearing??? I'm sure there's a lesson here... somewhere... But I don't have time to properly ruminate on it, I'm meeting an old friend for drinks in less than an hour, and I've got to go pick out an outfit!
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