This Weekend, I Kicked Adversity Square In The Face.

You know, because adversity has a face, and it’s most definitely square.

Sometimes life hands you lemons, and if you’re me, you grab a glass of wine and make some bangin’ sangria.

But sometimes, life hands you presents neatly wrapped with pretty packaging and bows on top.  You know, like the ones you’re thinking about the entire time your grandmother is talking about pickling olives or how she’s trying a new foot cream.

So innocent.

So innocent.

That’s how I feel when I’m at work and I know there’s a big, fat bottle of wine waiting for me when I get home.

Among other things, like food and water, I think that wine is a necessary part of my diet.  It’s just that one little slice (okay, it’s like two slices, and they’re pretty big) that makes up the pizza of sanity I need while I’m here on earth.

I was minding my own business, ready to indulge in Pinot Noir bliss, when disaster struck.

Using my mustache wine opener, because I’m trendy as hell, I attempted to open the bottle.  Right when I’m about to remove the cork, the mustache part of the corkscrew popped off.

And suddenly, I was left with this obstacle to overcome.

#HELP

#HELP

True to form, I am not one to step away from a challenge.

First I tried using my sheer, brute strength to open the bottle, but my fingers can’t grip tight enough, and frankly, I’m weaker than a newborn baby, so my efforts failed.

I know what you’re thinking, “Hey Meg, why don’t you just give up and not drink the wine tonight?  Maybe have a glass of ice water and go to bed?”

And to that I say, “Shame on you.”  I never leave the scene of a crime.

CHA-CHING.

CHA-CHING.

I struggled with my decision to continue my attempt at opening the Elusive Yellowtail until I realized that I had pliers and a brain.

I took the pliers, and reversed the corkscrew out of the bottle.

Instead of going to bed by 830pm, I was up a little longer.  But what I learned through this entire ordeal, is that if you want something, you may just have to use the toolset your father gave you for Christmas that you bitched about because it was a manly gift and you’re a woman who would prefer to not be lumped into group gifts just because you have three brothers.

So, thank you, Father.  Thank you for that majestic tool set.  I will never complain again.  (Don’t quote me on that.)

Cheers.

 

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It’s Friday… CHILL OUT.

It’s Friday. Here’s a list of all the things you can do tonight to unwind from that bitch of a work week.

  • Drink a glass bottle of wine
  • Go on a Netflix binge
  • Read an entire book
  • Take a long nap that actually ends up being an entire night’s sleep so you wake up at 6am on Saturday
  • Reorganize your closet
  • Watch Dateline NBC so you can fall asleep until tomorrow
  • Have a dance party in your apartment
  • Have a dance party at a bar
  • Have a dance party in the street
  • Put a $20 bill in a random pair of pants so when you go to wash them in three months you’ll get a present from yourself
  • Do your laundry
  • Eat your weight in Chinese food
  • Take a pregnancy test (this is only a good idea if you know there’s not a chance in hell you can be pregnant, otherwise this will just ADD to the stress)
  • Play the games on the back of a cereal box
  • Talk to another human being – scientists have done studies proving that talking about your problems sometimes results in relief of stressmash-21
  • Go for a run… not really though.
  • Drink another bottle of wine
  • Talk to a stranger(make sure he/she’s harmless first)
  • Try to adopt telekinesis with your television remote
  • Organize your closet by color
  • Drink a margarita
  • Drink a martini
  • Drink a vodka soda
  • Drink anything in your apartment
  • Stretch
  • Q-Tip your ears
  • Talk about your feelings on social media
  • Take your temperature
  • Paint your nails
  • Count the rats outside your apartment window (just me?)
  • Make a list of all the things you hate then light your gas stovetop and burn it responsibly
  • Make a fortune teller like you did when you were in third grade and have only good fortunes on it
  • Play MASH with all the hotties in your life
  • Think of a new way to insult someone
  • Don’t listen to any of these suggestions because they’re coming from a girl who was blacklisted by Chipotle and has already eaten her weight in Chinese food before 4pm

March Madness: How to Stay Sane for the Next Month

If you don’t know anything about basketball, that sucks for you because you’re going to surrounded by it for the next couple of weeks.  It will haunt your dreams, your social life will revolve around it, and you will see normally sane people spiral into a complete and utter mental state to the point where you may actually have to commit them to an asylum.

But there’s good news!  You don’t have to sit and be miserable for the next three weeks, because even you, non-sports liking human, can have fun with March Madness.  Because like it or not, basketball is going to be broadcasted nationwide on every television in every restaurant and apartment, so you may as well get used to it.

Here are some survival tips for anyone who doesn’t want to actually go mad this March:

(yes, I know, my puns are some next level stuff, BACK OFF)

  1. Even if you know nothing about basketball, fill out a bracket.  It will give you someone to root for each game, and you’ll get the satisfaction of picking a winning team and rubbing it in that kid’s face who tracks college players from birth til graduation when his bracket sucks more than yours does.
  2. Use this as an excuse to hang out with a kid you have a crush on.  Have that hot kid you like help you fill out a bracket, maybe meet up with him at a bar for some beers.  All you have to do is cheer when lots of people cheer, and boo when people boo.  Look excited. Take a shot.  Ask a question. Wait refrain from asking questions, boys hate explaining things to girls. Actually, just show up and have a good time, it’s not that difficult.
  3. Make up a drinking game.  Shot for shot, literally.
  4. Use this to determine whether or not your potential life-long partner is insane.  The great news about March Madness is that you get to see people in their primal state.  Winning and losing brackets reduce human beings to their cores.  There is no better time than now to rule out potential crazies.  If he knocks over a lamp, kicks through a door, or threatens to punch a baby due to a loss, there’s a good chance he won’t do the dishes or take out the trash after a tiff later in life. 
  5. Read a book. If you don’t like sports, that is not a problem.  How about expanding your vocabulary with a good book?  Think about all the new words and phrases you’ll pick up because your significant other is hogging the television.  You’re pretty much guaranteed to surpass him or her in intelligence, so why not start now?  You’ll be the most sophisticated insulter this side of the Mississippi.  Or that side.  Depending where you live. 
  6. Go work out.  If you’re stressed out because you’re missing this week’s episode of Pretty Little Liars, have no fear, the gym has televisions and treadmills.  Kill two birds with one stone by running out your aggression and simultaneously still wondering why in the hell these four girls are still getting tormented and no one is doing anything about it.  It is shocking. Really.
  7. Suck it up.  If you’re a problem solver, or a generally easy going human being, you’ll realize that this is a time of the year that isn’t going away.  Much like football season, baseball season, and hockey season, the playoffs create a cutthroat atmosphere and you can either adapt or die.  If you’re going to get pissed off and mope because you can’t watch the finale of Cupcake Wars, you have bigger fish to fry.  Invest in DVR, sit down with a drink, and make a sacrifice like guys do when you make them go shopping or eat vegetarian options for a week.

Cheers to you, to me, to you, and back to me again, and then you, and then me.

Irish or not, you know about St. Patrick’s Day.

Seeing as Monday is one of the most glorified drinking holidays on the planet, I figured I’d give you a little something to think about going into the weekend.  There’s going to be beer, there’s going to be drinking, there’s going to be parades, and most of all, there are going to be, “CHEERS!”

Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard them all, “To good friends! – To good times!” yadda, yadda, yadda.  BOOOORING.

If you stick with the run of the mill drink clinks, you’ll quickly run out of things to say and simultaneously raise your glass.  That’s why I’m here to help you.

The following is a list of things you can, “Cheers!” to this weekend in honor of Saint Patrick:

  • To money
  • To your bank account
  • To your parents, because without them you would not be alive and drinking today
  • To not falling down
  • To the Pilgrims and Indians getting along splendidly
  • To the military and the USA
  • To falling down and getting back up
  • To that kid not wearing green because “he isn’t Irish”
  • To that kid peeing on the sidewalk
  • To your friends because, “OH MY GAHHH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH”
  • To not using public restrooms
  • To finally getting to use the public restroom
  • To airplanes and automobiles that will bring you home
  • To candy hearts that express emotions so you don’t have to
  • To being single and not running into your ex
  • To not being single and running into your ex
  • To Tinder when there’s a surplus of hot drunk individuals in one concentrated area
  • To seeing eye dogs – because they’re the shit
  • To Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinski (he did not have sexual relations with that woman)
  • To not wearing heels
  • To bacon, eggs, and cheese, and bread.  So much bread.
  • To live music and uncomfortably swaying and calling it ‘dancing’
  • To Outkast reuniting
  • To free alcohol
  • To stealing alcohol
  • To making fast friends on the streets that you have absolutely no intention of ever talking to again
  • To sleep number beds for always knowing what you want
  • To McDonald’s for giving us the Happy Meal when you’re ordering over 18 years of age
  • To wearing sunglasses when it’s not sunny because you’re too hungover to be in public
  • To the one time of the year wear corn beef and cabbage is a fun thing to eat
  • To castles and royalty
  • TO POTATOES!
  • To infinity and beyond
  • To street meat
  • To Janet Jackson’s nip slip
  • To Leo DeCaps and Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”
  • To finding out all your socks matching up after laundry
  • To cooking something that isn’t poisonous
  • To haircuts and looking so fresh and so clean, clean
  • To creating resolutions and breaking them
  • To giving up beer for Lent…… then taking it back because St. Patrick’s day is during Lent
  • To the world’s largest ball of yarn
  • TO POTATOES!
  • To tear-away Adidas sweats and white high top sneakers
  • To snap bracelets and snap backs and Snap, Crackle, Pop
  • To Ramen noodles and drinking like you’re in college again
  • To day drinking and passing out before 9pm
  • To having an excuse to drunk dial your mom and dad just to , “Say hey.”
  • To Ireland and the people from it who immigrated here because there were no potatoes, without whom we would not be the population of drunk people we are today, and we have to salute you the only way we know how, by getting drunk

Go forth, my sons, into the land of inebriation. 

Why Girls Buy Other Girls Drinks

  • Because they’re bored
  • Because it’s 5pm
  • Because it’s 9pm
  • Because it’s last call
  • Because it’s happy hour
  • Because there are jello shots
  • Because there is Fireball
  • Because, “You’re just, like, my best friend and I love you, so much. Like really.  To the moon and back, girlfran.”
  • Because it’s my turn
  • Because it’s their turn
  • Because she’s new to the group
  • Because she’s not in the group
  • Because she’s a better wingwoman when she’s drunk
  • Because she took one for the team
  • Because she needs it
  • Because I need it
  • Because it will make us dance
  • Because I’m an enabler
  • Because we’re easily persuaded
  • Because you know she won’t say no
  • Because she got promoted
  • Because we got fired
  • Because we’re single
  • Because her boyfriend is gone
  • Because we got dumped
  • Because we dumped someone
  • Because it’s a holiday
  • Because we’re on vacation
  • Because tropical drinks will make you think you’re on vacation
  • Because she’s not pregnant
  • Because there’s a snowstorm
  • Because we’re hungover
  • Because it’s cold outside and drinks make us warm
  • Because it’s pay day
  • Because we’re the only people at the bar
  • Because my job sucks
  • Because our feet hurt
  • Because, “You look like you need a drink.”
  • Because we look good
  • Because we feel like shit
  • Because when we don’t eat dinner we get drunk faster
  • Because wine is good for our heart
  • Because, “WE NEED TO CHEERS!”
  • Because we need to toast to random events
  • Because we need to look interesting
  • Because I showered today
  • Because I need to ask you something important and/or horrible
  • Because I’m going to guilt you into doing something you don’t want to do but will do it anyways cause I bought you that drink in your hand
  • Because you got a haircut
  • Because it’s Sunday Funday
  • Because it’s brunch
  • Because it’s an open bar and I’m not really buying it
  • Because it’s relaxing
  • Because I had a bad day at work
  • Because you had a great day at work
  • Because you got laid
  • Because we’re trying to get laid
  • Because it’s a weekday
  • Because it’s the weekend
  • Because I need to unwind
  • Because any excuse to buy a drink is a good excuse to buy a drink

Proof that exercising is dangerous.

The following story is a recountance of true events.  Emotions, time frames, and dialogue are potentially misconstrued and over exaggerated due to the fact that there was alcohol involved. 

It started with a paddleboard.

Yup, you know, one of these things.  They’re supposed to be fun, a good way to exercise, a tool to relax on the open water.

Only it wasn’t.  It was a plank of desolation, inconvenience, and misery.

Well, wait. Let’s backtrack a little bit.  I was on vacation.  Minnesota. July 2013. The purpose: a bi-annual reunion with my best friends with whom I studied abroad in Dublin back in 2009.  We have had about six reunions prior to this one, the most recent summer event was at this exact lake house.

heaven, paradise, whatever you call it.

heaven, paradise, whatever you call it.

We agreed that this was the only spot to spend our summer reunions from there on out, so we returned with anticipation and a thirst that only a multitude of beers, margaritas, and shots could quench.

The day started as most days did, on the boat, in the sun, drinking beverages of the adult variety.  Friends were seen jumping off the stern, or port, or whatever you call it, into the lake, floating on noodles and crushing beers.  Others were seen riding a jetski at high speeds.  Some were tanning on the lawn.  It was a great day.  And it remained that way until everyone had their fill of each activity that was offered.

As the sun transitioned to set, Audrey* and I decided we wanted to take one last trip out on the paddleboard before dinner – you know, because we needed exercise and stuff.

** Name has been changed to protect Audrey's identity.

We float/don’t do much at all but sit/paddle out into the lake, singing songs in what I’m positive was completely off key, laughing, and trying to balance enough to both stand up on the board at the same time.  It was only a short time later that we both realized the current was a lot stronger than we thought, and we had drifted quite a bit away from the dock, safety, and our friends.

“Audrey, we’re really far away.  What are we supposed to do?”

“Get off the paddle board, start swimming and pull us like you’re in a dog sled race.” She responded.

trying to dance... or something

trying to dance… or something

I tried my best, but to no avail, we ended up floating farther and farther away, but at a rapid pace.

“Let’s signal for them,” I suggested, “they’ll hear us if we yell loud enough.  I heard that sound travels on water.”

We both screamed for help, and a man with a jetski came to our rescue.  “Here,” he said as he motioned to jump, “you two climb on the jetski, I’ll paddle the board back to the dock.  I left the keys in the ignition.”

It seemed fool proof.  Only it wasn’t.  I lost my sunglasses in the transition from the water to the platform, the second pair of the day.  Audrey was grabbing my arm like you would a toy on black Friday so that I wouldn’t fall back into the water.  It was a complete disaster.  We looked like we had just learned that we each had limbs, only had no idea how to maneuver them.

We looked off into the distance and the lad who had helped us was already halfway back to the dock. “What the hell did he do that we didn’t do?” I asked. “He probably didn’t have eight margaritas today.”  Audrey answered.  She was probably right.

We’re both (almost) securely on the jetski when Audrey reaches for the key and turns right to activate the ignition.  It chuggs.  She turns again.  It sounds almost like the noise someone makes before they sneeze; just heavy, mechanic, wheezing.  I don’t know a lot about motors, but I know that when there is fuel inside them, and you turn the key, they turn on.

Then the red light of death starts blinking.  “FUEL GAUGE ERROR.  PLEASE CHECK ENGINE.” I read in complete dismay.

We’re drifting fast towards a set of docks on the opposite side of the lake.  No one is around us, the kid who rescued us has since rescued the paddle board and himself, and has now safely returned to land.

We were stranded.

struggles.

struggles.

I have no threshold for sanity or patience in these types of dilemmas so I immediately start freaking out.  “HOLY SHIT, WE’RE LOST. AUDREY, HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET BACK.?!?!”  I’m frantic.  Audrey starts to feel it as well.  She jumps out, and starts to pull the jetski towards the closet dock.

“Jump out and grab the rope, tie us to this dock.”  She instructs me.  I followed the directions.  We had landed on this empty dock.  Audrey was sandwiched between the Ski-Doo and the dock pole, a place I like to call, Barnacle City. Once tied, we looked up at the house the dock belonged to, and noticed a woman on the balcony, just staring at us.

She was drinking a margarita. I can only imagine what her view was like from up there.  Two drunk girls in bathing suits, a broken jetski, and no sense of direction just tacking up on her property.

Audrey and I made our way up the steps, crossing her lawn, and eventually made awkward eye contact. “Hi!  Excuse us, we’re like lost. And our jetski has no gas.  We’re just trying to get back home.” I explain to this woman.

“Well, my husband isn’t going to be home for a while, and I’ve just had extensive back surgery.  I’m on multiple pain medications, and I can’t really think or see straight at the moment.” She explains her situation to us.  It seemed like… a little bit of an overshare. But we had no choice.  Audrey and I looked at each other, thinking about what our next move would be, when suddenly she interrupts our thoughts, “Would you guys like a sandwich? You can use my telephone, too.”

so happy after the jetski debacle.

so happy after the jetski debacle.

A telephone sounded great.  A sandwich sounded amazing.  We had worked up a serious appetite, and I was hoping to the high heavens that she had bacon, lettuce, and tomato in that house.  An avocado wouldn’t hurt either, but I wasn’t banking on it. We started to walk towards the basement door when we heard the honking of a boat horn.

Audrey and I turned around and saw all of our friends on the boat, honking at us, laughing at us, and most importantly, rescuing us.  They took a rope and towed the jetski back to the dock. We turned and thanked the woman for her almost-hospitality, and promptly ran back to the boat, and grabbed a towel to dry off.

It had been a long day. On the safety of land, I pondered to myself.  I know I don’t like to exercise, but this incident damn near proved me right.  Exercising is dangerous.  It’s better to stay stationary and enjoy all the things the lake house has to offer – and that’s what I did for the next two days.

With beers, shots, and margaritas, of course.

rtt-new