Dear Stranger,
There were 2 of you yesterday. One was an excellent, attentive friendly nurse. Another came off that way, but then appeared to run screaming in the opposite direction for forty minutes while I was vomiting. It’s a good thing my mom and fiancé were there because I would’ve been by myself, covered in vomit, unable to sit up , clean up or take a shower for at the very least forty minutes. That’s kind of a scary thought because I couldn’t even move without shaking or feeling like I was going to fall over so I would have been stuck. I realize you have other patients to care for, but I was stuck. Literally. And when you came back forty minutes later, your nails were a different color. You looked shocked that I noticed it, even with me so ridiculously hyped up on Demerol. You wouldn’t write down your name and number and acted very put out when my mom did. Your supervisor wouldn’t get new bed linens or give us the code to GET new bed linens so when I was finished showering (once again, while you weren’t there, my mom literally held me up), I was stuck sitting in a bathroom full of vomit covered linens, and I couldn’t get up by myself and I could barely sit up. This isn’t to be mean or anything, it’s just to say that it was kind of scary, especially to a person who has never been in a hospital before. It was lonely and while I was very glad my mom and fiancé were there, it would’ve been nice to be able to count on the person that I was supposed to be able to. Thank God my mom’s a nurse, otherwise that might’ve ruined the whole nursing thing for me.
Nurse number one, though? Practically perfect in every way.
Megan
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Oh, half of my heart.
Oh dear, I probably shouldn’t be watching more True Blood. It’s bad for me but it’s soooo delicious. Seasons two and three, you have been SOO good to me with Lafayette’s character development. Take a look at this quote
“"'Scuse me. Who ordered the hamburger... with AIDS? In this restaurant, a hamburger deluxe comes with french fries, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and AIDS! Do anyone got a problem wit dat? Aw baby, it's too late for that. Faggots been breeding your cows, raisin' your chickens, even brewin' your beer long before I walked my sexy ass up in this motherfucker. Everything on your God damn table got aids. Well all you gots to do is say hold the aids here. Eat it! Bitch, you come into my house ,you gonna eat the food THE WAY I FUCKIN' MAKE IT! Do you understand me? Tip your waitress."”
That was season one. It only gets better.
"Don't get it twisted hunny, I'm a survivor first, a capitalist second, and a whooole bunch-a otha' shit after that, but a hooka' dead last, so if I got even a Jew at an Al Qaeda pep rally shot at gettin' my black-ass outta this mutha' fucka', I'm takin' it; Now whatch' you wanna know?"
Sookie: "He's your maker, isn't he?"
Eric: "Don't use words you don't understand."
Sookie: "You have a lot of love for him."
Eric: "Don't use words I don't understand."
"Did you know your boyfriend hit me over the head with a 52 inch plasma television earlier tonight? Everyone says they're so thin and light, but let me tell you, when wielded properly, they're quite a weapon."
"Now Jesus and I agree to see other people that doesn't mean we don't still talk from time to time."
I’m not kidding, it’s just delicious. Sweet and sassy and southern as apple pie with a healthy dose of witchcraft, vampirism, Catholicism, sex and enough swearing to make a sailor blush. Not me, though, because I can singlehandedly bring a sailor to his knees. With my swearing, you perv!
In other news, I am officially the size of someone with a full term baby. With TWO more months to go. I’ve been reading a blog about a woman with triplets and I’m sitting here going “holy shit, how is my tummy going to expand THAT much more in the next two months???” With that said, I’d also like to say how blessed I am feeling, having gone this far with absolutely no problems, besides random agonizing joint pain and whatnot. And the doctors say I’m doing well. Which is great. Also, I’m weighing in at 171 which is RIDICULOUS. I was walking up the stairs today and trying to figure out why the hell everything hurt so much when WHAM! It hit me. I’m basically carrying around a huge fucking bag of dog food everywhere. No kidding, everything is hurting. *facepalm* I’m not proud at how often this fact surprises the hell out of me.
On a less positive note, I am so SO over this pregnant with twins thing. I have to pee every twenty minutes, my hips are KILLING me, my two boys like to shove my ribcage and headbang my vagina, I’ve developed strange cravings for tuna fish po boys with cheese, mayo and pickles from Antone’s (if you knew me, you’d know how completely creepy THAT request has been to my family), leaky boobs, ridiculously swollen feet and constantly being dehydrated. Not that anyone needs to know this but GOODBYE sex drive. Wow, even I get that was an overshare. HI DAD! Grrr, this makes me so angry. I am the quintessential hungry hungry hippo. Not cool. Beating the shit out of someone sounds delicious.
Mike proposed. I’m sure y’all figured that out by now, what with the crush/fiancé letter, but he did! And it still kind of blows my mind, looking at this ring. Which is now hanging around my fucking NECK because my hands are swelling. That fact all by itself makes me want to cry hysterically. The swollen feet thing I can sort of handle….but not wearing my shiny engagement ring? What the fucking fuck? At least Mike gets it, so I don’t feel guilty about not wearing it, but I’m kind of frustrated anyway. And at this point, I mean in tears frustrated, not baseball bat frustrated. Although my body does make me feel baseball bat frustrated. So do my ankles. I promise to rave and rant about the proposal and the ring sometime soon, at a time when I’m not feeling so depressed. Soon soon soon.
“"'Scuse me. Who ordered the hamburger... with AIDS? In this restaurant, a hamburger deluxe comes with french fries, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and AIDS! Do anyone got a problem wit dat? Aw baby, it's too late for that. Faggots been breeding your cows, raisin' your chickens, even brewin' your beer long before I walked my sexy ass up in this motherfucker. Everything on your God damn table got aids. Well all you gots to do is say hold the aids here. Eat it! Bitch, you come into my house ,you gonna eat the food THE WAY I FUCKIN' MAKE IT! Do you understand me? Tip your waitress."”
That was season one. It only gets better.
"Don't get it twisted hunny, I'm a survivor first, a capitalist second, and a whooole bunch-a otha' shit after that, but a hooka' dead last, so if I got even a Jew at an Al Qaeda pep rally shot at gettin' my black-ass outta this mutha' fucka', I'm takin' it; Now whatch' you wanna know?"
Sookie: "He's your maker, isn't he?"
Eric: "Don't use words you don't understand."
Sookie: "You have a lot of love for him."
Eric: "Don't use words I don't understand."
"Did you know your boyfriend hit me over the head with a 52 inch plasma television earlier tonight? Everyone says they're so thin and light, but let me tell you, when wielded properly, they're quite a weapon."
"Now Jesus and I agree to see other people that doesn't mean we don't still talk from time to time."
I’m not kidding, it’s just delicious. Sweet and sassy and southern as apple pie with a healthy dose of witchcraft, vampirism, Catholicism, sex and enough swearing to make a sailor blush. Not me, though, because I can singlehandedly bring a sailor to his knees. With my swearing, you perv!
In other news, I am officially the size of someone with a full term baby. With TWO more months to go. I’ve been reading a blog about a woman with triplets and I’m sitting here going “holy shit, how is my tummy going to expand THAT much more in the next two months???” With that said, I’d also like to say how blessed I am feeling, having gone this far with absolutely no problems, besides random agonizing joint pain and whatnot. And the doctors say I’m doing well. Which is great. Also, I’m weighing in at 171 which is RIDICULOUS. I was walking up the stairs today and trying to figure out why the hell everything hurt so much when WHAM! It hit me. I’m basically carrying around a huge fucking bag of dog food everywhere. No kidding, everything is hurting. *facepalm* I’m not proud at how often this fact surprises the hell out of me.
On a less positive note, I am so SO over this pregnant with twins thing. I have to pee every twenty minutes, my hips are KILLING me, my two boys like to shove my ribcage and headbang my vagina, I’ve developed strange cravings for tuna fish po boys with cheese, mayo and pickles from Antone’s (if you knew me, you’d know how completely creepy THAT request has been to my family), leaky boobs, ridiculously swollen feet and constantly being dehydrated. Not that anyone needs to know this but GOODBYE sex drive. Wow, even I get that was an overshare. HI DAD! Grrr, this makes me so angry. I am the quintessential hungry hungry hippo. Not cool. Beating the shit out of someone sounds delicious.
Mike proposed. I’m sure y’all figured that out by now, what with the crush/fiancé letter, but he did! And it still kind of blows my mind, looking at this ring. Which is now hanging around my fucking NECK because my hands are swelling. That fact all by itself makes me want to cry hysterically. The swollen feet thing I can sort of handle….but not wearing my shiny engagement ring? What the fucking fuck? At least Mike gets it, so I don’t feel guilty about not wearing it, but I’m kind of frustrated anyway. And at this point, I mean in tears frustrated, not baseball bat frustrated. Although my body does make me feel baseball bat frustrated. So do my ankles. I promise to rave and rant about the proposal and the ring sometime soon, at a time when I’m not feeling so depressed. Soon soon soon.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Day Five- To my Dreams
Dear Dreams,
Um, can we please please PLEASE get cheaper? I can’t afford you, fucking dreams! Well, I can, if I get an Associate’s Degree in nursing at a community college. But I’m not sure I can afford being a wife and a mommy AND get a degree in nursing. So if all y’all could say a prayer to whatever god you believe in to keep Megan strong in her dreams, she’d really appreciate it. It’s hard feeling like my dreams don’t matter any more. And they should. So stay alive, dreams. You are what I hold on to when life gets rough.
Megan
Um, can we please please PLEASE get cheaper? I can’t afford you, fucking dreams! Well, I can, if I get an Associate’s Degree in nursing at a community college. But I’m not sure I can afford being a wife and a mommy AND get a degree in nursing. So if all y’all could say a prayer to whatever god you believe in to keep Megan strong in her dreams, she’d really appreciate it. It’s hard feeling like my dreams don’t matter any more. And they should. So stay alive, dreams. You are what I hold on to when life gets rough.
Megan
Day Four- To My brother
Dear Little brother,
I love you. And I can’t WAIT until you get old enough. Welcome to years and years of therapy.
That’s what I’m doing,
Megan
I love you. And I can’t WAIT until you get old enough. Welcome to years and years of therapy.
That’s what I’m doing,
Megan
Monday, August 30, 2010
Day Three- To My Parents
Dear Parents,
A new era has arrived, kind of. I am the daughter and the soon to be mother and for the first time, I see us turning into friends. Adult-y friend. That is, by far, the best present I could ever hope for while being in this house. I love that I can ask you for help or talk to you about whatever pops into my mind and not feel embarrassed, or even when I DO feel embarrassed, to get past it, because it has led to some amazing conversations.
Mom, you show me what a good mother-daughter relationship looks like. It involves fights, good books, the occasional movie, tears, dates, talks about boys, hand holding, cuddling, laughing hysterically, therapy, church and respect. Parental perfection is NOT included, but no one cares, because it’s too much fun anyway. I love that I can walk into your office and you make time for me. I love that you support my relationship with my fiancé even when it’s hard to and you always give me the mommy perspective that I need. You have taught me how to cook (I swear, I know more than just noodles) and you share your clothes with me now that I’m all pregnant and whatnot. You don’t make fun of my fat feet and you held my hand during my first ultrasound. I laugh like crazy when I’m around you. I love sharing my favorite books with you because I know you’ll enjoy them as much as I have. You taught me how to slice a mango the right way, how to make the best chamomile tea and that curly hair is ALWAYS better then straight hair. You gave me your tool box. I didn’t inherit your organizational skills, but you help me out with them anyway. I always remember that if your around, my situation become 100% less stressful. I learned to love my body from you. I learned to use contacts instead of glasses from you. I learned to play nice with my little brother from you and I guarantee that the first time I ‘mama bear’ at someone, I’ll have learned it from you.
Dad, you taught me how to sing. My funniest memory of us is me putting my hand over your mouth. I had so much fun driving to school with you my junior and senior year. We’ve had fun exchanging music and Stephen King books. I love how we have a mutual affection for Constantine and Hellboy. Thanks for permanently spawning a lifelong hatred of talk radio in my early years and for teaching me to research and read about politics, not just settle for what the general media tells me. I can’t wait to see you rock my boys to sleep and I can’t wait to go and get my CHL with you when I turn 21. I love how you converted to Catholicism and how that makes you a stronger Catholic. I love how we can get together and bitch and feel better because of it. I love how you gave me my sense of humor, albeit a somewhat morbid one and my ability to defend myself and my love of a good creepy novel.
I love you
A new era has arrived, kind of. I am the daughter and the soon to be mother and for the first time, I see us turning into friends. Adult-y friend. That is, by far, the best present I could ever hope for while being in this house. I love that I can ask you for help or talk to you about whatever pops into my mind and not feel embarrassed, or even when I DO feel embarrassed, to get past it, because it has led to some amazing conversations.
Mom, you show me what a good mother-daughter relationship looks like. It involves fights, good books, the occasional movie, tears, dates, talks about boys, hand holding, cuddling, laughing hysterically, therapy, church and respect. Parental perfection is NOT included, but no one cares, because it’s too much fun anyway. I love that I can walk into your office and you make time for me. I love that you support my relationship with my fiancé even when it’s hard to and you always give me the mommy perspective that I need. You have taught me how to cook (I swear, I know more than just noodles) and you share your clothes with me now that I’m all pregnant and whatnot. You don’t make fun of my fat feet and you held my hand during my first ultrasound. I laugh like crazy when I’m around you. I love sharing my favorite books with you because I know you’ll enjoy them as much as I have. You taught me how to slice a mango the right way, how to make the best chamomile tea and that curly hair is ALWAYS better then straight hair. You gave me your tool box. I didn’t inherit your organizational skills, but you help me out with them anyway. I always remember that if your around, my situation become 100% less stressful. I learned to love my body from you. I learned to use contacts instead of glasses from you. I learned to play nice with my little brother from you and I guarantee that the first time I ‘mama bear’ at someone, I’ll have learned it from you.
Dad, you taught me how to sing. My funniest memory of us is me putting my hand over your mouth. I had so much fun driving to school with you my junior and senior year. We’ve had fun exchanging music and Stephen King books. I love how we have a mutual affection for Constantine and Hellboy. Thanks for permanently spawning a lifelong hatred of talk radio in my early years and for teaching me to research and read about politics, not just settle for what the general media tells me. I can’t wait to see you rock my boys to sleep and I can’t wait to go and get my CHL with you when I turn 21. I love how you converted to Catholicism and how that makes you a stronger Catholic. I love how we can get together and bitch and feel better because of it. I love how you gave me my sense of humor, albeit a somewhat morbid one and my ability to defend myself and my love of a good creepy novel.
I love you
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Day Two- To a Crush
Dear Crush (now fiancé),
Wow. It’s been over a year and my ability to write a warm fuzzy note to you is still sub-par. I find expressing my feelings to you in any way difficult because they are such a myriad of intense emotion. And if that statement wasn’t ridiculously gay, I don’t know what is.
You are my closest friend and the person I trust most in the world. You bring out the best in me (regardless of how I claim the opposite) and I cannot WAIT to see you become a dad on top of the man I see you becoming each day. You can always make me smile and laugh and that is the best gift you could ever give me. I love that we never run out of things to talk about and I love how I can be completely pissed off at you and you still make me laugh and smile even as I’m shrieking. I love how you always are there for me, even when I’m trying to shove you away. I don’t have to pretend when I’m around you. I love how we don’t get along 100 % and that’s okay. I even find your inability to eat tuna endearing. I love how you proposed to me at church (dream come true) and how you get me to accept help and even try new things once in a while. I also like how you DON’T try to make me eat new things when we’re at Olive Garden. Some classics just shouldn’t be messed with. I love how I can talk to you about everything and how you can make me laugh even during my ridiculously awkward moments. I miss my week and a half with you.
I am so excited for our future together because when I’m with you, I see it as a bright one. One that I will love and enjoy and can’t wait to get started on. 2 MORE MONTHS!
I love you
Wow. It’s been over a year and my ability to write a warm fuzzy note to you is still sub-par. I find expressing my feelings to you in any way difficult because they are such a myriad of intense emotion. And if that statement wasn’t ridiculously gay, I don’t know what is.
You are my closest friend and the person I trust most in the world. You bring out the best in me (regardless of how I claim the opposite) and I cannot WAIT to see you become a dad on top of the man I see you becoming each day. You can always make me smile and laugh and that is the best gift you could ever give me. I love that we never run out of things to talk about and I love how I can be completely pissed off at you and you still make me laugh and smile even as I’m shrieking. I love how you always are there for me, even when I’m trying to shove you away. I don’t have to pretend when I’m around you. I love how we don’t get along 100 % and that’s okay. I even find your inability to eat tuna endearing. I love how you proposed to me at church (dream come true) and how you get me to accept help and even try new things once in a while. I also like how you DON’T try to make me eat new things when we’re at Olive Garden. Some classics just shouldn’t be messed with. I love how I can talk to you about everything and how you can make me laugh even during my ridiculously awkward moments. I miss my week and a half with you.
I am so excited for our future together because when I’m with you, I see it as a bright one. One that I will love and enjoy and can’t wait to get started on. 2 MORE MONTHS!
I love you
Day One- To a best friend
Dear Best Friend,
I think you are the first real true friend I had in high school. It’s easy to like people, but it’s harder to follow through on a daily basis, and I can’t believe that I’ve only known you for 3 years! It feels like we’ve known each other for ages. Thanks for putting up with CrazyLoveSickMegan and HyperCocaColaMegan and ANGRYMEGAN and InLoveMegan and finally, PregnantMegan (aka Godzilla). My best memory from high school is psychology class. Because nothing makes a horribly boring class fun like a can of coke, a purple notebook that we TOTALLY would have been expelled for if anyone could actually read what we wrote and pretzels. And hot cheetoes. You shared your love of huge colorful earrings with me and I shared my violent tendencies with you. You have helped me systematically eliminate the psycho exes that I seem to acquire with awkward regularity. We sat in chapel and laughed at the most inappropriate times and made awkward turtles and threatened each others boyfriends constantly. If I ever go bungee jumping (which will be never in a million fucking years), I want you holding my hand and screaming with me on the way down.
I have been proven right that COUNTRY MUSIC ROCKS. Ha. I went home the day I found out you listened to country music and screamed my brains out, I was so happy. You don’t judge me, even through you have every right to and I get angry for you when you can’t say how angry you really feel. I love how we can sit and rave in total agreement about everything. I love how we both have crazy families and how we always ALWAYS call our moms to tell them we are okay. You have no idea how much less lonely I feel, now that I know I’m not the only girl who does that. I love how every picture we take involves us either making model faces or our tongues out in some way. I can’t WAIT to turn 21 with you and celebrate like crazy. I know you will be the best godmother/aunt that my boys will ever have.
We are the perfect pair, and I consider you the sister I never had (which is probably best for both our mothers’ sanities). It PISSES ME OFF that you go to college so far away and that I don’t get to see you every day like I should, but I love you whether you are 9 hours away or right next to me. We’ve been through some insane stuff together and I feel so blessed that we took the time to get to know each other because I doubt I could’ve made it through all the craziness that is love and pain and high school without you. I love love love you and you are my bestest friend. I miss you like crazy already and I can’t wait for you to get home.
I think you are the first real true friend I had in high school. It’s easy to like people, but it’s harder to follow through on a daily basis, and I can’t believe that I’ve only known you for 3 years! It feels like we’ve known each other for ages. Thanks for putting up with CrazyLoveSickMegan and HyperCocaColaMegan and ANGRYMEGAN and InLoveMegan and finally, PregnantMegan (aka Godzilla). My best memory from high school is psychology class. Because nothing makes a horribly boring class fun like a can of coke, a purple notebook that we TOTALLY would have been expelled for if anyone could actually read what we wrote and pretzels. And hot cheetoes. You shared your love of huge colorful earrings with me and I shared my violent tendencies with you. You have helped me systematically eliminate the psycho exes that I seem to acquire with awkward regularity. We sat in chapel and laughed at the most inappropriate times and made awkward turtles and threatened each others boyfriends constantly. If I ever go bungee jumping (which will be never in a million fucking years), I want you holding my hand and screaming with me on the way down.
I have been proven right that COUNTRY MUSIC ROCKS. Ha. I went home the day I found out you listened to country music and screamed my brains out, I was so happy. You don’t judge me, even through you have every right to and I get angry for you when you can’t say how angry you really feel. I love how we can sit and rave in total agreement about everything. I love how we both have crazy families and how we always ALWAYS call our moms to tell them we are okay. You have no idea how much less lonely I feel, now that I know I’m not the only girl who does that. I love how every picture we take involves us either making model faces or our tongues out in some way. I can’t WAIT to turn 21 with you and celebrate like crazy. I know you will be the best godmother/aunt that my boys will ever have.
We are the perfect pair, and I consider you the sister I never had (which is probably best for both our mothers’ sanities). It PISSES ME OFF that you go to college so far away and that I don’t get to see you every day like I should, but I love you whether you are 9 hours away or right next to me. We’ve been through some insane stuff together and I feel so blessed that we took the time to get to know each other because I doubt I could’ve made it through all the craziness that is love and pain and high school without you. I love love love you and you are my bestest friend. I miss you like crazy already and I can’t wait for you to get home.
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