UnabashedlyMeggie

How to Spot a D-bag.

2009-07-10T12:02:00.006-05:00

Now that I am blissfully married to the most perfect man in the world for me - not to brag, it is simply a fact - I have thrown away and crushed those rose colored glasses I used to wear in the world of singlehood. Now when I talk to men what I used to see as cute and flirty, I see as juvenile and annoying.

Being single was a blast and there are a lot of great guys out there. They're the ones that are kind, respectful boyfriends that may turn into amazing husbands or just a fabulous memory of your youth. But there are a lot of losers out there and I am amazed at what my friends and I were willing to look past to see that good guy "underneath it all." The truth is, most men in their late teens, early twenties don't have much going on underneath. Most of the time, what you see is what you get.

So why are women able to see a bad thing until that bad thing is right next to them whispering sweet-nothings? I failed to see the red flags a lot. In fact, I wasted two years of college not seeing these red flags. Then I realized these men are wonderful friends and horrible partners. I saved myself from a lot of wasted time and hurt feelings. And when I stopped putting up with the bullshit guess what happened? I stumbled upon Mr. Right.

So I have gathered tips purely from observation and a little from personal experience. Thank God I managed to dodge most of these bullets. But unfortunately many a friend have been hit. My sister started college a few days ago, and if there's anything I can do to fade those rose-colored glasses down for her and save her from these fools, well then here are some pointers for her and anyone else still settling for less-than-spectacular. Here are six surefire red flags.

1. He has a conversation with himself. You can bench press twice what I weigh? Really? Wow. NOT. You drank 20 beers at a kick-ass party the other night and didn't even feel buzzed. Wow, I can't control this incredible urge to jump in your manly arms and let you carry me off into the sunset. You have a jacked up huge truck that could totally maul that dude's sports car? Making up for something else, perhaps? Stop trying to make yourself look cool. Girls don't think it's cool when you brag about your accomplishments. Especially accomplishments that are, in fact, only accomplishments in the world of douchebaggery.

2. Talking about ex-girlfriends. Is this seriously supposed to impress us? Every girl has been there. A guy has honed in on you. He is totally into you. So into you, in fact, that after beer number seven he decides to spill EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL. of his last relationship. He makes sure to add, "but she was a total psycho" at the end of every sentence. Obviously this is total reassurance for us that you no longer harbor any feelings. Then after an hour long drunken soliloquy, he goes in for a sloppy kiss. Please do what I always did ladies. As soon as you hear, "You're so much different than the last girl I dated. God she ruined my life. Well, how do I explain her?" For the love of God, ruuuuuuuuun. Or introduce him to your frenemy at the other end of the bar (I am guilty of this one).

3. He disrespects his Mama. If you have never had the pleasure of meeting one these gems, let's take an example form my personal dating diary. I dated this awesome guy in college. He was so sweet to me. He never had a wandering eye. He was a totally hot, tall and thin "personal trainer." Now take everything I just said and say it in the most sarcastic of voices. He was a Grade-A Loser. He was an only child who's Mom was a mother hen. She loved her boy and she was a very sweet woman (no sarcasm here). He treated her horribly. He would tell her to "shut up woman." He would hang up on her. He would call her a "bitch." I learned quickly men like that are NEVER going to make it work with any self-respecting woman. EVER. If you're dating a man like that. Run. Seriously. Because guess how those men end up treating their wives? Bada bing, bada boom. There are always a few exceptions in this world but most men with a sweet mother, who disrespect them for no apparent reason other than being total spoiled brats, end up being wife-beating alcoholics. At least they have those cute little beer bellies you can rub like a Buddha. Oh the joys. A man who disrespects his Mama is a no-go.

4. He swears he doesn't cry - and really doesn't. A lot of men I have met, my husband included, have proclaimed this. It's a cute guy thing, but if they carry it out and really don't cry? Come on! It's not the 1950s anymore, it's OK for guys to cry. Seriously. I think it is so endearing and makes a man more of a man to be able to show emotion. And I have seen every man in my life (dad, grandfather, etc.) cry at least once - even if they have to put their sunglasses on to hide it. And Lord knows my husband is a cryer. And you know what? It is absolutely one of my most favorite things about him. Hiding your emotions is so old school. Girls want the real deal, boys. And we know God didn't make you sans tear ducts. So quit frontin'.

5. He plans your life together the first night you meet. To any woman sick of the dating scene and ready to settle down, a man like this seems too good to be true. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he is. He tells you excitedly he can't wait to take you to his favorite fishing hole. He can't wait for you to taste his Mom's secret, homemade apple pie recipe - she's going to love you by the way. He loves New York City and wants to take you there - what are you doing next weekend? He swears! He'll prove it! So what do most self-respecting women do? Well, by the end of the night she has confirmed that this is her future husband, so use your imaginations. The morning after he kisses her goodbye and makes plans for later in the day. She anxiously awaits his call. In the meantime she has probably perused Expedia.com checking to see which flight he might book. She's probably googled his hometown and envisioned their long ride in his car down there, windows down, stopping for soft-serve ice cream and naming their future dogs and children. She has definitely stalked his Facebook. But he never calls. She tells her friends he's probably just doing the "three day" rule. Yea, right. Fast forward to six months later. You five vodka/sodas into the night see him intensely conversing in the corner of the bar with another sucker-punched girl with stars in her eyes. You may or may not follow the girl to the ladies room and whisper in her ear that he has The Clap and spreads it like wildfire. All's fair in love and war, right? Ladies, please see past this bullshit. Because underneath that pile of poo is an insecure jerk who will say ANYTHING for a roll in the hay.

6. Frosted tips in their hair. No. Just run. Enough said.

Red flags my friends. Watch out.

July 4, 2007

2009-07-03T10:08:00.005-05:00

The best Independence Day weekend I have ever had was spent in Minneapolis, Minnesota. This song takes me back to that weekend every time and a montage of images runs through my head. I only find it fitting that the album's version of the song ends with a clip of my favorite George Jones song.

Matt and I were four months into our relationship and I flew up there for a whole week to visit him. We were both so deliriously happy it was sick.

He wined and dined me. We played hours of Monopoly. We had a Tom Hanks movie marathon. We toured the Twin Cities. We rode rollercoasters. We sunbathed. We partied with his friends. We soaked up every precious second of that visit.

Independence day was on a Thursday if I remember correctly. It was nearing the end of our time together, but neither of us could stand the thought of saying goodbye. So we ignored it and tried to pretend we didn't live 1,174 miles away from each other. We packed up a blanket and playfully argued about parking. He wanted to park far away, I didn't want to walk seven and half miles to see fireworks. Anyway, we made it to the baseball field we had chosen to watch Eden Prairie's (suburb of Minneapolis) fireworks display. We admired the adorable kids running around and talked about how we both knew we were born to be parents, allowing the conversation to dance around the mutual desperation we had to play that role together one day. We talked about being a Americans, both proud to live in a country where we could sit on a picnic blanket and banter about politics. We reminisced about our childhood memories of Independence Day - catching fireflies in mason jars, letting Sparklers burn down a little too close to our tiny fingers, eating fresh Iowa Corn with his family in Hampton, and me eating homemade ice cream with my family in Omaha.

Resting my head on Matt, I never took my eyes off that 30-minute fireworks display (except to steal a quick kiss or two or twenty). I remember my heart beating out of my chest and I could hear his doing the same thing. I remember that moment being the moment I realized I was seriously in love with this guy. Every feeling of love toward other men that preceded that moment seemed so infantile and petty. I felt like my heart was about to burst. For thirty minutes tears slid down my cheeks, soaking Matt's shirt. As cheesy as it sounds, so much was said in that thirty minutes, although no words were spoken. He kept kissing my head and holding me so tight, as if I was going to get up and run away from him.

See, we both knew it was that point in our relationship when we had gone too far. We knew we couldn't just turn back or "get over" the deepest, most intense feelings either of us had ever felt. But there were so many obstacles in the way of making our relationship work. It was heartbreaking to think about. We hated goodbyes, because we always thought is this the last time I'm going to see them? We knew we needed to make it happen, we just couldn't fathom how.

But I believe that July 4, 2007 was the day we chose to fight those obstacles.

That was the day we realized that together, we are unstoppable.

And we all know the story from there.

Independence Day will always hold a special place in my heart. And every Fourth of July when I hold my sweetheart's hand, I'll smile and remember July 4, 2007. That day two head-over-heels kids knew one thing, the only thing in the entire world that mattered to them that day: they were madly and irrevocably in love.

Happy Fourth of July. God Bless America!

Weekend Anticipation

2009-06-26T11:40:00.002-05:00

It's been a long week back in the grind. Wednesday night happy hour at some friends' house made it go by faster. And a delicious dinner by my favorite chef - Matt - for my sweet grandparents' 54th wedding anniversary. Fifty-four years? I know - amazing!!!

Our first weekend back in the real world is set to be a good one. I'm so excited to have wedding planning behind us and to fall into the boring married couple routine. And by boring I mean...

Appetizers galore, strong margaritas and innapproriate conversations with fabulous friends tonight.

Another adventure in Austin tonight. Where to go, where to go, where to go?

OMG, OMG - one of my favorite cover bands is playing at one of my favorite places tonight!!!

The perfect hangover breakfast and a lazy Saturday.

No longer eating like a bride. A little more of this, a little less of that. But definitely still keeping it up.

Seeing a manly movie with my sweetie and a girly movie (amazing book too!) with the girls.

Having a spalshtastic time Sunday evening with our sweet youth group.

Grocery shopping and picking up more of my new obsession. What can I say? The microwave is my best friend, much to Matt's disgust.

Picking up a new book or two.

I love our life and I love this city!!!

Team Mabs

2009-06-25T10:44:00.007-05:00

I am returning from my long blogging hiatus. I know you have long-awaited my return. Cry no more my thousands upon thousands of readers. She's back. Sorry for the long absence. Blame it on the writer's block. Or blame it on Matt...

I married the love of my life a week and a half ago. My sweet Matt. My best friend. My soul mate. Everyone knows we met in the coolest city in the world during Spring Break 07' and haven't looked back. People always say when you meet the person you're going to marry you just KNOW. Pre-Matt I always thought that was the most infuriating thing to hear - like being in true love was a secret club. But I will testify and say that it kind of does hit you out of nowhere. I assure you, however, it is no secret club. I believe two people destined to be together must each completely be the person they are meant to be before they fall in love. Life has to mold you to be that perfect person for your perfect person, or vice versa.

You see, I had my life plan figured out when I was still wearing Mossimo shirts, Vans, and knee-high Nike socks. I was supposed to graduate college, get a great job, live the crazy, fun life of a 20-something single girl, be the free spirit I was born to be. I was going to date cute cowboys and nomadic adventurers with no life plan. I had a lot more hearts to break before I got married. No sir, this girl was not getting married until the age of 30. I had it all figured out.

Insert foot into mouth.

At the ripe age of 21, that serendiptious night under the glowing lights of a classy establishment, my whole life plan was turned upside down when my future appeared in the form of a tall, handsome Iowa Gentlemen with a cute behind and heart of gold. He called coke "pop," his nickname was "Abs" in honor of his six-pack, he lied by telling me he had Mafia ties in New Jersey, and was shameless about his eagerness to impress me. He broke all the rules. I was in love.

I always thought when you decided to settle down with someone, it meant letting go of pieces of yourself. But Matt again broke that ridiculous preconceieved notion. Not only did he fully accept me as I was, he loved things about me that I had never noticed myself. Together we have become the best versions of ourselves. We even call ourselves "Team Mabs." Sweet life.

I think back to that chubby girl with a bad perm, announcing to her parents that she wasn't getting married until she was 30, and I laugh. Not because she thought she had it figured out, but because she has it so much better than she could have ever dreamed.

All those love cliches? Yea, I am living those and I don't care how cheesy it is. I love him so much it hurts sometimes. I get lost in those big hazel/brown eyes. I get butterflies when we kiss. I can't take my eyes off of him when he has his shirt off. I miss him when I'm at work. I pretend to be embarrassed when he slaps my butt. I love that no other woman but me will get to refer to him as "my husband." I am so proud when we're in sea of people and his arm is around me and his hand is in mine.

I can't picture my life any other way than with him.

Thank God my original plan failed. Thank God for Vegas. Thank God I get to wake up to this everyday.

Healthy 'Za? Say Whaaa?

2009-01-29T10:58:00.001-06:00

So this little dish caused quite the brouhaha in our household because it was so delicious, so easy, so healthy. Oh and by household, I mean me. Matt was just hungry he didn't care.

So what did I make? A dainty salad? A soup?

No pizza. Yes, a healthy freaking pizza. This is the way we made it:

1 Boboli 100% Whole Wheat Thin Crust Pizza

1 can cheap-ass pizza sauce

1 cup Fat-Free shredded part-skim Mozzarella (we used two cups and it was way too much cheese)

1 small can of jalapeños (canned)

1 small can of mushrooms

1 fresh red onion

1/2 fresh (or roasted would work) red bell pepper

Sprinkle some dried oregano and pepper on top

You can add whatever else you want. I recommend turkey pepperoni or pre-cooked turkey sausage if your a meat lover.

Spread about 1/4 to 1/2 of the can of pizza sauce (depending on how big -whatever) on the crust. Place the all ingredients on top of the sauce MINUS THE CHEESE. Sprinkle the cheese over all the ingredients - this makes the ingredients cook much nicer and lets cheese get nice and brown.

So yea, usually we're not big on the canned stuff, but we needed something fast and easy that night to prevent succumbing to the temptation of an extra large Papa Johns' Tuscan Six-Cheese.

So the best part? The ENTIRE pizza (this is a 12" pizza!) had a total of:

Calories: 1,070

Fat: 16 g

Fiber: 32 g

Protein 72 g

Downsides: Salt content isn't too great (because we used lots of canned items - opt for fresh ingredients to lower the sodium count) and, as always with pizza, carb content is high.

OK, so I ate a piece or two. Just kidding, the fat kid in me lives on. I ate half the pizza. In my defense (to myself I guess) I ran five miles that morning.

Also...let's compare this to one of the healthiest options at Pizza Hut - its Thin and Crispy Veggie Lover's Pizza. This is the nutritional information for the ENTIRE pizza:

Calories: 1,440 (not bad, right?)

Fat: 48 g (Uh...yikes)

Fiber: 2 g (in the ENTIRE pizza the homemade one has 32 g - fiber is nature's laxative and it makes you feel fuller quicker and longer)

Protein: 14 g (once again, protein is one of those magic bullets when it comes to feeling fuller quicker and longer - note the difference in the two pizzas)

So, easy decision. It's cheaper, quicker (hello - no 40 minute deliver times), and requires very little effort.

So my whole meal was very low cal (for the amount we ate). And a normal person could span that meal out for a couple days.

Delish.

McHealthNut

2009-01-28T09:16:00.003-06:00

So anyone who knows me, knows that I am kind of health-obsessed. I am by no means "thin" - not yet at least - but I am by no means overweight. In fact, I live within the healthy limitations of my determined height and weight range. Well, for the last year I have been counting my calories on an online database called The Daily Plate and it has changed my life. I have lost almost 20 pounds since January 2008. I have made friends - yes online friends! I'm not ashamed to say it. They are my support group.

So let's get to the point. What does me being health-obsessed have to do with this blog? Well I have found that I don't have much to write about lately because I have become hyper focused on my health. Most people might think it's the upcoming wedding and, sure, that's a motivator. I never understood why brides-to-be were so obsessed with being thin until I became one. That day is, yea, only one day...but those pictures are forever. Bum-bum-bu. I know, it's silly. But at least it's a motivator to stay in shape.

But there's more to it than fitting into my (beautiful, awesome, amazing) white dress. We are always hearing about the impending obesity crisis and I think everyone - fat or thin - has seen how easy it is to gain weight and/or become unhealthy in our society today. Biggest Loser anyone?

So on January 1st I signed up for a local running in club in Austin. Now this is me, we're talking about. I can go hours on the elliptical, I can dominate a step or kick boxing class, I can do 90 minutes of power yoga (sounds easy? It's not, I promise). BUT, Meggie McNunya does not run. This is the same chubby little girl who almost threw up after running a mile in 6th grade. I like to say I was not born to run, nor was I born to be fit - but I will furiously try to defy that notion for as long as I live.

This local running club - Gilbert's Gazelles (I'll go into more detail about this PHENOMENAL group and it's leaders later) - is beyond amazing. Just joining a club is motivation in itself. The first day I ran two miles and almost died. You know why? It's not because I wasn't fit. I have worked very hard to be "fit." The problem was all in my mind. The following Saturday I ran with two friends from the class. They were going to run four and I was shooting for three - my max. Before I knew it I had run four miles and, sure I was red in the face, but I was far from reaching my cardiovascular capacity. It's all in the mind. The last two weeks I have ranged from running four to five miles about four times a week. Every time my mind tries to tell me I can't do this, I think of that poor little chubby girl, panting and embarrassed on the Arbor Creek Middle School Track and I run harder - for her and for the healthy adult I have become and will be for the rest of my life.

So what does this whole fitness pep talk have to do with my blog? Well, I am "unabashedly me" and "me" right now is fitness- and health-obsessed. So my blog might take a turn toward health-related matters, but it means I'll be writing more frequently. I never thought I would be one to post recipes (let's be honest, I'm not Betty Effing Crocker), but I have become quite the healthy cook. I have found so many ways to twist the most unhealthy of foods into a healthier dish.

So welcome to my journey. I'm not really looking for weight loss. I'm looking at maintaining this healthy lifestyle that I have slowly welcomed into my life for the past six years. Maybe I can help you along the way.

Love,

McHealthNut

Good Morning Mr. President!

2009-01-20T10:22:00.004-06:00

Today Obama will be inaugurated as our 44th president of this great nation.

This is how I'm feeling today.

.:Joyful:.

.:Hopeful:.

.:Patriotic:.

.:Surreal:.

.:Blessed:.

.:Important:.

.:Faithful:.

What's meant to be is happening today. I believe Barack Obama will put this nation back together. I believe our prayers have been answered - even if it's not the answer some wanted.

Today is historical. Watch with pride and hope Americans! God bless America!

Watch the inaguration live.

To my little brother, on his 21st birthday.

2009-01-16T10:31:00.004-06:00

Dear Timmy,

It's an emotional day for me because today's the day you turn twenty-one. It might be difficult for you to understand, but as your older sister I've always felt the need to protect and baby you even though you have officially been taller and stronger than me for six years.

No matter how old you get, I will always remember you as the little tow-headed boy in his yellow Ninja Turtles shirt doing karate moves in the living room.

I will always treasure our childhood memories - playing Ninja Turtles with you, catching toads in the sewers at our old house in Houston, making up obstacle courses on the playground, riding our bikes for hours, paying for our candy at the Diamond Shamrock with pennies, building forts in the piles of sands on Hackberry, singing as loud as we could in the Roxinator on our rides to school together, covering Mandy's room in goldfish and raw chicken. Ahhh the memories. Here's to many, many more little bro.

Soon you'll be married. You'll be a husband and eventually a Daddy one day. Who knows where else life will lead you. But at 21-years-old you still have that heart of gold you had back when you were a child. I know that's something you will always have.

So go ahead. Grow up. But no matter how old you get you will always be my baby brother, and even though I can't do much protecting these days, I'm always here for you.

Happy Birthday Bubba!

Love,

Your Big Sister

A Nutt-less Christmas

2008-12-19T12:26:00.004-06:00

Tomorrow morning come 4 a.m. Matt and I will be Iowa-bound. We will be spending the week of Christmas in his hometown of Hampton, Iowa. Matt has been furiously checking the weather every, oh I don't know, 10 minutes and giving me way too many updates. He's excited and anxious to get there and I'm trying to not make fun of him. I'll admit - he's so damn cute about the holidays and traveling.

Last year my honey made a lot of sacrifices - his life up North, family, friends, a job - to be with me. He even spent his first Christmas away from home. It was a very special Christmas for him and me, but I know he was aching for his family in Iowa.

This year I will spend my first Christmas away from home with Matt's family. I will get to enjoy a White Christmas - an unheard of treat for most Texans. And my three nieces (not my nieces yet, but I love them so much already - titles are just titles) will be opening presents from Santa Clause. There's just something so magical about watching kids open up presents on Christmas. The Abendscheins' traditions seem similar to ours. While it is a change of environment, I have no doubt that warm, fuzzy Christmas-induced feeling will be there.

I will admit I'll miss the insanity that is my parents' house on Christmas Eve. The McNutts' large house quickly shrinks with the presence of way too many people and four-legged friends - a gaggle of goldens and a shnoodle too as my Mom likes to say. I will miss Christmas Eve at my beautiful church and crying during "Silent Night" while holding my sister's hand. I will miss stuffing my parents' stockings and sneaking them downstairs after everyone has gone to bed (and maybe peeking at my stocking too). I will miss anxiously waiting for my Dad to burst through the door singing "Oh What A Beautiful Morning" or "I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas" to let us know IT'S TIME TO OPEN PRESENTS! I will miss my cousin Colby asking me 5,000 questions in a matter of two minutes. I will miss throwing balled up wrapping paper at my siblings' and cousins' heads while they're not looking. I will miss watching my Nana organize all the boxes, wrapping paper & presents to her liking. I will miss hearing my Granddaddy's precious laugh. I will miss seeing my Mama's smile when we open her perfectly picked presents (she knows us too well) that she most likely bought back in July. I will miss the post-presents traditional breakfast of eggs benedict.

I will miss the McNutts and Geils, but I am ready to venture out and experience an Abendschein Christmas. Not only am I madly in love with Matt, I love his family more than I could have ever imagined. It's like I have adopted another set of parents and siblings. I also have new nieces and aunts and uncles and a sweet, precious new Grandma. I feel as if I was always meant to be a part of that family. We all mesh together so beautifully. It is a true feeling of belonging.

I never imagined being in love so much, that I would give up Christmas with my family. But I never imagined I would be blessed with two families that I adore so much. Matt and I are learning to do an every-other-year routine with the big holidays. Every year we will be somewhere wishing we could bring both of our worlds together. No matter where we are on holidays, we'll always have an aching for the people who aren't with us.

I guess that's all a part of this growing up business.

So bid this Texas girl farewell, I'm off to have a white Christmas up North and to freeze my tooshy off. Hello Iowa family, we are so excited to spend the Holidays with you we can barely stand it! We will miss you Texas (& Georgia) family and we love you!

Merry Christmas!

P.S. My Christmas will be completely Nut-less because I won't be with the McNutts and Matt's brother is deathly allergic to Nuts. Hahaha, I'm so punny.

My Two Favorite People

2008-12-12T14:11:00.013-06:00

The other day I received a phone call from my brother. He was laughing hysterically.

Timmy: OK, OK. Hahahaha. Guess what just happened? Mandy...
Me: Is she OK?!?
Timmy: Ya, ya, she's fine. Hahaha. She calls me about an hour ago and says something is wrong with my car. I think it's the oil. So I asked her what it was doing. She says it's making a clunking sound and that she's needs me to come check it out. She tells me that it started the night before and she was pretty sure it's because she needed to change her oil. I asked her if it was her tire and she said no. I asked her if she was sure and she said yes. So I go check it out. She's sitting in the parking lot and there's her car with a COMPLETELY mutilated tire. I mean, it looks like someone took a knife to this freaking tire. She's been driving around for a FULL DAY thinking it's her oil when she has a completely torn up tire. I mean, there were chunks of tire down the road leading to the parking lot. HOW COULD SHE THINK IT WAS HER OIL AND NOT HER TIRE?!?! Hahaha. Here, I'll send you a picture:

Me: *hysterical laughter*
Timmy: *hysterical laughter*
Mandy: *hysterical laughter in the background*
Me: *sigh* I love you guys.

The boss. The peace maker. The free spirit.

Meggie. Timmy. Mandy.

My siblings. The three of us are the spawn of two first-borns. Both of whom are very definitive bosses.

I am Meggie. I am the oldest at 23. I am the boss.

Timmy is the second-born - middle child at 20 (almost 21. what. what). He is the peace maker.

Mandy is the baby at 17 (almost 18. word). She is the free spirit.

The three of us children get along sickeningly well. They are two of my favorite people in the whole world. I have rarely met three siblings who mesh together so perfectly. We have our own language. No one makes me laugh quite like my brother and sister do. Few understand me like they do. I can pick up the phone anytime and say a million stupid things to either of them without actually communicating anything substantial. The funny thing is that the three of of us are so different. Siblings are supposed to fight - and, sure, we did a lot of that when we were younger. But now I'm out of the house, slowly starting my own family (only one child for now, Bugsy Hedwig - sorry Mom & Dad, give us a few years). Timmy and his girlfriend, Amber are only a year or two behind us. And Mandy is about to start that insightful, beautiful journey they call the College Years (at Baylor, so proud).

My sweet, little sister. We call her Bug. She's my mini-me and my best friend. My sister has seen me at my absolute worst - and she still calls me her hero. I am watching her go through high school. While she struggles with the things so many highschoolers struggle with - shady friends, stupid boys, and dirty gossip - she seems to have this flippant attitude toward it all that I am completely in awe, and a tad bit envious, of. When I was in high school, I thought that boy was the end-all, be-all of my life. I knew there was more to life than high school, but I just couldn't quite understand and grasp that. Mandy seems to understand it - and that's because she's watched two of her siblings' lives get even better post-high school.

Mandy has that same flippant attitude toward my parents as well. She is a total Daddy's girl and gets away with anything and everything. Her relationship with my Mom is a different story. Let's just say Mandy is lucky to be alive. The hinges on Mandy's door squeak from being slammed so much in response to my Mom. But she's always been that way and college will make things better with them.

There are a few downsides to being the youngest. She's always "too young" and we forget to take her seriously sometimes. But it's made her a tough little girl. She's clawed her way into her now developed personality. And when I say "clawed," I mean she literally clawed. Timmy and I quickly learned to not mess with her when we were younger. We used to make fun of her all the time and she would cry and scream. We would laugh until one day she started hissing and scratching at us like a cat. She terrified us! Now she's older and only resorts to the cat defense when things get really bad. And our little sass-a-frass has developed into a rather pleasant young woman. She is without a doubt one of the wittiest people I have ever met and her street-smarts are not to be reckoned with. The song Wild One by Faith Hill reminds me of my little sister. She's a wild one, with an angel's face.

I remember once when we were fairly young and on a trip somewhere - I can't remember where now - but all three of us kids were in BIG trouble. Dad had his serious face on and we all got spankings. My Dad always remembers that time because the reactions epitomized all of his children's personalities. I cried and was beyond angry at both my parents. Timmy cried like his heart had been crushed. And Mandy, well Mandy laughed. She looked at him with a look that said is that all you got dude?

Then there's Timmy - Bubba as his adoring sisters call him. We love Bubba. He is our even-tempered, sweet brother. I know he is 21-years-old but I'll always remember my little brother as the adorable tow-headed kid with his little buddha belly protruding out of his yellow ninja turtles shirt. He would sit with his little tanned feet on either side of the television screen and his tiny arms folded behind his head watching Ninja Turtles orJumanji for the 106th time. I may only be three years older than him, but it's my sisterly prerogative to pinch his cheeks and say oh my cute little baby brother. Never mind that he towers almost a foot above me these days and could drop kick me in 2.5 seconds.

He hates it when I tell this story, but it is so the kind of person Timmy is. When we were little my mom's administrative associate would answer the phone at work. God bless her, because we called her about 10 times a day. Next to Timmy's name she would always write down either "crying" or "not crying." Most of the time he was crying.

He is the middle-child. They are stereotyped as sensitive, always feeling a sense of injustice because his sisters were being mean to him, and typically quiet due to the "shadow" of their older sibling. OK, let's be honest, there was no shadow - I just never gave the kid a chance to talk. I was always speaking for him. One time when we were young our Granddaddy asked Timmy what kind of ice cream he wanted. I said vanilla. My Granddaddy said, no, I asked Timmy what he wanted, not Meggie what Timmy wanted. Timmy's eyes got wide while my my Grandpa waited for his answer. All he could do was turn his head to me and ask me what he wanted.

His high school years were rather awkward. I remember him as quiet and kind of reclusive. Then after I left for college, it's like he burst out of his shell. Obviously I'm not completely to blame for him being reclusive, but I do think it is an odd coincidence that after I leave, he dove into the spotlight...

While my brother still encompasses those middle-child tendencies, he has definitely developed a personality. Spend five minutes with him, I dare you. He will have you peeing your pants. He is hands down the funniest person I have ever met. I guess if I were forced into silence for years by my mean older sister, I would have had the time to come up with thousands of jokes and witty rhetoric. He has a knock-em' dead charm and personality.

Then there's me, the oldest and bossiest.

My parents were both first borns. First born + first born = double time first born.

I am all things first born and I love it. We are known as the responsible, ambitious, smart, go-getters of the family. It is our duty to trail blaze for the ones below us. I embrace it most of the time but am also annoyed by it a lot of the time. Sometimes I wish I could be more like my sister or brother. They call me Agatha, referring to my alter ego when I'm in a bad mood.

When I face confrontation I am wired to be confrontational and fight, fight, fight. My temper boils and my need to control completely possesses me. After feelings are hurt and spirits are down, I kick myself. That's when I wish I had the amicability and calmness my brother possesses.

When I get in an argument, spend too much money, or am forced to bail on plans, I am regretful and sad. I can't stop thinking about it and analyzing my actions. That's when I wish I had the live-in-the-moment, be-tough-and-move-on attitude my sister has.

But alas, I am not them. And they are not me. Scientist and doctors have found there are definite traits found in most people based on their birth order. The three of us each epitomize our category, but also bring our own little pizazz to it.

And with our powers combined...we are...Earth. Wind. Fire!

Just kidding.

With our powers combined...we are...a bossy carefree peacemaker?

Sounds like a good balance to me. I love my brother and sister so much. Even if the law of forced family socialization weren't there, I am positive those two would be some of my best friends anyway.

I ams what I ams

2008-12-05T13:38:00.007-06:00

I am mean. I hold grudges. I will cuss you out. I will pick fights with you. I will tell you you're ugly. I will tell you you're a gross pig. I think you're crazy most the time. And I'm not scared to tell you nobody likes you, even if it's not true. I will hate you. I will love you. I will allow others to love you, but ONLY if I allow it.

I'm pretty rough, right? You scared? Don't worry. That's how I treat ME. I would never in a million years have this attitude toward people I love. For the most part, I have the opposite attitude with people I love.

I will go out of my way to be nice. I will forgive you because life is too short. I will let this one go because I love you. Like Christina says, you are beautiful, no matter what they say. You are so right. Everybody loves you. I will always love you and am always here for you. You deserve love and have a soulmate out there waiting for you.

People who piss me off? Different story. But even the people who have done me wrong get better treatment than what I do to myself. Sure, I've cussed out a person or too, gotten in a fist-fight with a viking (only a few will understand that one) - it was usually well-deserved. But it's nothing in comparison to how I beat the crap out of myself emotionally. Let's take two instances when I've been harder on myself than the actual people who deserve it.

I was in a sorority for a few months in college at Baylor. I wish I could have had the experience most girls have in their sorority - the sisterly bonds and the forever friendships, but my experience was a little different. I will say this, though, the girls in my pledge class are still to this day admirable, sweet, and good people. Many of them are good friends of mine. For the most part, this sorority is decent and their are plenty of wonderful girls from there, but there were a few girls in the pledge class above me that were conniving, bitter and jealous. They will unfortunately, always be what I remember most about my five minutes of sorority hell. They made their choice to run their mouths and try to ruin my reputation. I was blind sighted by this betrayal.

I acted tough, but was hurt beyond belief. What was wrong with me? Why didn't they like me? Seriously, what did I ever do to them? I use to cower when I'd see them. I was so mad at myself for ruining this opportunity. And the worst part was I had no idea what I did. I still, to this day, am clueless to what offending act made them dislike me so much.

It took me two or three years to finally understand something. It's a scary little green-eyed monster called jealousy. Once I recognized it, it was a breath of fresh air. Hahaha! There was nothing wrong with me. These girls were simply jealous. That explained their swift and carefree betrayal. What were they jealous of you ask? Who knows? But most of those girls (they know who they are) are honestly not the best looking (yes I'm aware this is an immature, cheap shot) or sweetest people, so jealousy was an easy emotion for them to fall back on. Jealous people feed off the insecurities they cause in their victims. It makes them feel better about themselves. I am pretty sure it is a temporary high...

Did I give those girls the ass kicking I gave myself. Uhh...no. So who ended up more battered and bruised in the end? ME. I let them win - but only for a little while. I have learned you can't win when you're against yourself. Once I took the time to think about it and clarity was found, I took my side and realized nothing was wrong with me, it was them. I had to stop wasting my time and hurting myself.

So did I learn my lesson? Did I realize that things aren't always in my control and about what I'm doing wrong? Yea right, self loathing is not that easy to quit.

In college I dated a boy. Not a man - a boy. He was not a good boy. He lied, he yelled, he cheated, he even got physically mean a time or two. He was a Grade A loser. And that Grade A loser broke my naive little heart. I thought something was wrong with me. I wasn't skinny enough, so I lost weight. I wasn't pretty enough, so I died my hair, whitened my teeth and tanned my skin until I thought I was. I thought I wasn't good enough, so I kept trying to prove to him I was. Our two and half years together was tumultuous to say the least. It took way too many tears, unanswered calls, and pretty lies in the dark to finally understand that nothing was wrong with me. It was him. He was insecure and troubled and nothing I said or did to myself was going to make that relationship work.

So I beat myself up for two years over what was always destined to be a dead end road. I continually blamed myself and was blinded to the ultimate fault - HIM. A lesson came out of it. Never would I let a man treat me like that again nor make me feel that way about myself again. And no man has ever treated me like that since. As most of you know I've met my perfect match. The ultimate gentlemen. Not a trace of our relationship is similar to the tragedy I was in before. And I'm undeniably happy. While I'm in a healthy relationship with a wonderful man, old habits die hard and I have yet to completely let go of this abusive relationship I have with myself.

My good friend Tyler likes to remind me, "you are who you are, Meggie" when I constantly apologize for things I say or do. So I take her advice and repeat to myself on a daily basis Popeye's famous saying: I ams what I ams.

Let's get this straight, I'm not sitting at home furiously slapping my hand to my head yelling STUPID! STUPID! STUPID! For the most part I have a pretty healthy attitude. But I have days where my boss is mean to me, days where friends are annoyed with me, days when my family hurts my feelings, days where I say things that weren't exactly the right or nicest thing to say. And I go home thinking. What am I doing wrong? Maybe they don't like me. Maybe they don't love me. What can I do to make this better? Sometimes the answer is nothing. I don't have any kind of control over all the situations in my life. And wake up MEGGIE! It's not all about you. Sometimes there's more to the situation than appears to the eye. The only control I have is to make one small little move and that's to let it go.

That's what I'm working on these days. Letting it go. And maybe revise that old adage that goes treat others as you would treat yourself. Maybe I can learn to treat myself as I treat others.

I ams what I ams.

Du-nu-NU-NU-NUUU! Du-nu-nuuu-NUUU! The final countdown...

2008-12-02T15:06:00.006-06:00

10 things you may or may not know about me
1. I subscribe to Reader's Digest
2. I hate white pepper, spaghetti, green olives & steak
3. I have to turn all closet lights off and close all closet doors in order to sleep/leave the house
4. I eat the same thing everyday for lunch for about three weeks in a row, then switch to something new
5. I carry a harmonica in my purse at all times
6. I write the letter "S" from the top down and the number "5" from the bottom up
7. I can talk clearly and loudly with my mouth completely closed
8. I despise the word "dinky"
9. I'm completely and utterly in love with my unborn children
10. When I count, I visualize all the numbers going vertically up, with the exception of 11-20, 111-120, 211-220, etc., I visualize those going horizontally to the right.
Visual A) 100
etc.
25
24
23
22
21
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1

*

9 ways to win my heart
1. Make me homemade pizza
2. Dance like a buffoon
3. Tell me you love me everyday
4. Listen
5. Be proud of who you are and where you came from
6. Respect who I am and where I came from
7. Deal with my temper tantrums
8. Tickle my arms/legs/back while watching a movie
9. Be Matthew Robert Abs :)

*

8 things I carry or wear everyday
1. My engagement ring
2. My BlackJack phone
3. My harmonica
4. My medicine
5. My ugly, folded up hairbrush
6. A blue ball point pen
7. My perfume
8. A hair tie around my right wrist

*

7 things that annoy me
1. Ignorance and rudeness
2. People who don't value friendships/relationships
3. Over-analyzing
4. My phone ringing
5. Car troubles of any sort
6. Dirty hands on my food
7. Bad restaurant/bar service

*

6 places I have visited
1. Montre Blanc, Canada
2. England
3. Mexico
4. Belize
5. Jamaica
6. Appx. 90 percent of the Fifty Nifty United States (from 13 original colonies, shout um', scout um', sing all about um') in America

*

5 things I gotsta do before I die
1. Kiss Matt on the Eiffel Tower
2. Build my parents a lake house
3. Become wildly successful in one or more of my many dreamed endeavors
4. Write a book
5. Be an AWESOME Mommy

*

4 things that scare the hell out of me
1. Losing someone I love
2. Getting fat
3. Losing my job
4. Having to leave Austin

*

3 things I do everyday
1. Kiss
2. Count calories
3. Judge myself

*

2 things I am trying to quit
1. Judging myself
2. Worrying what others think of me (I ams who I ams)

*

1 person I wanna see
1. It may sound cheesy, but I always want to see my sweetie when I'm not with him

You ready Daddy?

2008-11-14T15:24:00.006-06:00

When my Dad asked me to not blog about him, I cracked up. Guess what Dad? I went there. I wrote a blog about you. That's how I roll. I do what I want! Just like you do. How can you not want a few 100 words talking about how your the "world'sh greatesht Dad?" It's just another way for my grown up self to tell you I love you and am grateful for all those genes you passed down to me good, or bad. Also, this is written proof I am, in fact, not the milk man's daughter.

What was he thinking? I'm his spawn. Like him, if you tell me not to do something, hell, you bet your ass I'm gonna do it! He practically lives to rebel against the bossy demands of the women in his life.

Dadddddy, turn the radio down. We'll be deaf by the age of 10. I, in all my 8-year-old, bossy, know-it-all glory, would tell him while driving down the highway with his Van Halen cassette blaring in my siblings and my ears. He would take a moment to consider my request and then proceed to turn it up a few more notches and play the drums on our tiny little heads (minus Timmy - his head was awkwardly huge for his body, still is).

We secretly loved it.

Just like he'll secretly love this little shout out to him.

As of now, I'm 23-years-old living the life my parents prepared me for. And while I don't necessarily need my parents for survival needs like money, food and shelter anymore, I still NEED my parents emotionally. Beyond being amazing parents, they are both wonderful friends of mine. And now that I've met Matt, the man of my dreams who takes wonderful care of me, you could say they probably feel accomplished. I know it makes them happy to see me happy, especially my Dad. He's probably slapped his hands together, gotten a little "misty-eyed" and said, well, my work here is done.

Let me give you a little insight to my relationship with my Padre. He and I are somewhat different on the surface. I look nothing like him. He's tall, dark and handsome, I'm the spitting image of my Mama. And don't even get me started on our vastly different political views. Ummmm...you know what? As I sit here and think about how we're so different, that's about as far as I could get.

Oh wait, he spits when he talks and I only do that sometimes.

Spend 15 minutes with both of us and there's no doubt I'm his daughter. I consider myself a lower dose of him. If you think my personality comes on strong, wait until you meet him. If you think I'm ambitious, you have to meet this guy! If you think I'm funny, well, Tim's one of the funniest people you'll ever meet.

So here's my secret. No matter how old I get - I will always need my Daddy (believe me, I know I'm lucky to have both my parents. I've had friends who have lost parents and I see how hard it was on them. So I have vowed to treasure every day I have with both my parents). You see, a lot of who I am is from him. I notice the things I do and the person I am and realize at random moments that oh my gosh I'm totally acting like my father. It's reassuring to see that in someone older than you. It shows me that it works. It makes me confident. It let's me know I have someone to turn to who will get it. I will always need that solidity in my life - therefore I'll always need my Daddy.

In the spirit of how I'm like my Mom list, here's a few reasons I am just like my father and why we "get" each other:

1. We own the room. Give us five minutes in a room of strangers and we'll make sure most of them will want to meet us before the night is over. Maybe it's because we're both tall. Maybe it's because we're both always smiling in social settings. Maybe it's because we could both talk to a wall and make it talk back. He might say it's because of his "mojo." To which I say riiiiight. My Dad taught me how to read a person within a few minutes of meeting them and how to use that information to capture there attention. I gotta give props to Pops for nurturing me to be the public relations guru I am sure to be one day.

2. Hi! I'm Olly Optimistic! We are both sickeningly optimistic and enthusiastic. In fact, calling us gregarious is an understatement. And you know what? It works!

3. I can do anything better than you...Someone once told me, your dad could have been anything he wanted. I don't know who said it, it may have even been him, but it always stuck with me. He really could have been anything he wanted, he's insanely ambitious. This guy never had the opportunity to go to college and is now more successful than most college graduates. He started out as a busboy and moved his way up to being an acclaimed chef before he even hit his mid-20s (side note - most people in his position at that age are still waiting tables waiting for their dreams to appear to them in a vision or something). He eventually became a successful businessman. He has worked so hard for where he's at now and I could not be more proud of him. He is a constant role model in my life and my career path.

4. Did you know we have Left Behind II on DVD? He's a repeater. My Dad repeats things. He'll repeat it over and over. Hey did I tell you my Dad's a repeater? We received the movie Left Behind II on DVD a few years ago. He literally asked me no fewer than five times throughout the span of a year if I knew we owned this movie. It's now become a joke. He does this repeating thing with countless items, jokes & anecdotes as well. We make fun of him because he tells the same jokes and stories over and over. He always tells us my jokes aren't old, I just need a new audience. I tell him we'll get some grandchildren for him here in a few years. He's a repeater, but it's what makes him memorable. No matter how much we poke fun, I have countless jokes and stories in my head from my Dad that I know will get passed on to my kids and my grandkids. I often catch myself asking friends and family Oh have I told you about that time...and they exasperatingly say, yes, you've told us like 10 times Meggie! Woops, just like my Faja.

5. I'm not crying, I'm just misty-eyed. We both are "heart thinkers." They have "head thinkers" (like my Mom) and "heart thinkers." My Dad and I are just that. Not to say we don't use our heads, but we both tend to think with our hearts as a natural response. Personally, I love being a "heart thinker" and I love that my Dad's the same way. He gets me. He always knows when something is wrong, it's like a sixth sense. I can always call him too. Who did I call when that boy broke my heart? Who did I call when I hit rock bottom in my depression? I can always count on my Dad for a heart-to-heart talk, even if nothing's wrong. I have had some of the best conversations of my life sitting on the back porch with my Dad. I don't think it's often women share that kind of heart-to-heart relationship with their fathers and, let me tell you, it's something I hold very, very dear to my heart.

6. Where da party at?!? We both love to have a good time. As mentioned previously my Dad's a rock-n-roll kind of guy and was quite the partier in his young age. And to this day he loves to have a good time - as long as it's before his 9 p.m. bedtime! I have to admit, my college friends thought it was pretty damn cool when he came to hit up the town with us college-folks one night. And anyone who knows me, knows I'm down to clown. So he may be edging into his old age (he's actually quite young to have a 23-year-old daughter), but he'll always be a kid at heart. You should see the man on Christmas. He can hardly sit still. He's worse than a five-year-old boy waiting to see if Santa brought him his first train set. I've always promised myself to be like that, to never lost those childlike qualities in my adulthood.

7. What are you talking about?!? What does that even mean?!? Just shut up, OK? Ahhh, yes, my irrational temper comes from both my parents but I tend to act like my Pops when I get really angry. We both always have to have the last word. Trust me, that made for a lot of fun family dinners. I think he even started unscrewing my door one time in middle school after I slammed it to "get the last word."

8. Faith. I have deeply rooted, unwavering faith. He does too. It's not a gift many people have. I think it's so cool we both have that. He gets my spirituality better than anyone I've ever met. There's simply no way to describe the feeling of knowing someone understands that most important aspect of yourself.

9. I am who I am. My dad is unashamedly himself. Ditto. We are who we are. You don't like it? We might try to improve, but if it's who we are then that's that. If you don't like it, get on with your bad self. I believe I get my zero tolerance for pettiness from him. He has an infamous shake-the-head-and-wave-it-off for anything that is too petty for him to deal with. I catch myself doing the same thing. Really, folks, life's too short - cut the bullshit.

10. Forgiveness. We're forgiving and while we may be irrational, we both will eventually own up to our mistakes (my Mom may beg to differ). Neither of us is scared of a little confrontation and neither of us is too scared to eventually apologize. It's in my nature to always think I'm right, she get it from her papa.

11. Um...do you mind keeping it down? Those kids over there in AFRICA can hear you. It's as simple as this. We're the loudest people you'll ever meet. Our voices are always a couple octaves above the rest. His excuse is he can't hear worth a shit. He often uses this to his advantage and shouts WHAT? SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU! when my Mom asks him to do something. I'm happy to announce Eddie Van Halen and Axle Rose did not cause me to go deaf as previously believed at the age of eight. I think my real excuse is I was always trying to talk over my Dad. I've had wait staff come over to my table at a restaurant to ask me to bring it down a notch. Maybe it's the reason we McNutt's are always the center of attention. Although we'd like to believe it's our devastating good looks that we're cursed with...

12. Papa Flave! He likes to reference pop culture. He uses phrases like "I'm going to hang wit' my homies" and "Whatever! I do what I want!" Sound familiar? My little sister's friends call him Papa Flave after Flava Flave. Dat boy is crazy.

I'm proud to call that man my Daddy. He's managed to form three special and unique relationships with each of his children. I think I can speak for all of us siblings when I say we'll always need our Daddy.

Tidbits

2008-11-12T11:53:00.004-06:00

A few things that make me go YAY!

1. Crunchy Fall leaves just waiting to be stepped on by me
2. When Matt declares he'll be cooking something delicious
3. Bugsy accomplishing her advanced tricks such as "raise the roof" and "sit pretty"
4. When my press releases are finalized and given the stamp of approval
5. Sunshine rain
6. Finishing a full hour on the elliptical
7. Sweet text messages, voice mails, emails from my family
8. Burnt cheese
9. Fresh flowers
10. The color yellow (especially buttercream)
11. Meeting anyone from Iowa
12. Kicking those big pieces of fake fruit and veggies in front of Central Market
13. Matt's singing "nationwide is on your side" to me
14. Coke Zero being available at restaurants
15. Jalapeno poppers made with cheddar
16. Happy people
17. Ending lists on odd numbers just to make Matt (my even-numbered companion) uncomfortable

A few things that make me go BOO!

1. Politically intolerable and ignorant people (from all parties)
2. Laundry
3. People who can't commit and constantly back out
4. Transparent jealousy
5. Assumptions
6. My machines being taken at the gym
7. Unsolicited criticism
8. Candy-covered jabs and remarks
9. Pessimists
10. People who are rude to workers in the service industry (NOT OK)
11. Mustaches (on girls and guys)
12. Bugsy's gas
13. Cheaters
14. Anything even hinting at a breakup between Jim and Pam

GO VOTE!!!

2008-11-03T19:31:00.001-06:00

The Hallowdays

2008-10-31T10:39:00.005-05:00

These past few days leading up to All Hallow's Eve have proven themselves to be, well Halloween-y. Ominous things have been taking place. Things so very far from the norm that an eery mood has fallen over Austinelvania. Things are so out of wack I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if aliens were at this very moment hovering over us in their unidentified flying objects waiting to snatch us and feed us to their jewel-headed leader.

The spooky feelings started coming a few days ago. I was sitting in my bed flipping through Matt's Food & Wine Magazine when, without warning, the cool Fall wind began to gust quickly through the cracked window. Our white sheer curtains flew through the air, tearing themselves away from the evil winds that coldly nipped at their delicate bodies. The pages of my magazine rustled wildly - terror filled the room.

Then nothing.

The wind stop, it was quite - too quite. I looked around for any sign that evil had entered the room. My eyes caught something and I gasped! Oh God - no. NOOOO!!!!!! This can't be happening to me. Terror trickled coldly down my spine. There, in front of me, the Food & Wine Magazine was opened proudly. My eyes focused on the page like the cameras in an Alfred Hitchcock movie - close in, pull back, close in, pull back with the Eh! Eh! Eh! made famous by Psycho. Must. Make. Coconut. Brownie. Bars. I was possesed.

WHAT?!?! I'm Meggie freaking McNunyaBusiness. I don't cook. I burn canned green beans in the microwave. I rarely lift a finger to cook. I am the woman who grew up with a five-star gourmet chef for a father, fed myself in college by working at restaurants, and stumbled upon my knight in a shining chef's hat post-college. He may not be a professional but he sure kicks ass and takes names in the kitchen. I DO NOT COOK, or bake, or anything in the kitchen for that matter. The microwave is my best friend.

But I was possesed. This had to be done. It wouldn't be easy - this was one hell of a difficult recipe. It was going to take me two nights. And they were going to be amazing (they were). Only some sort of spell could be responsible for this.

The fact that I would spend two full nights in the kitchen is strange enough. But then there was the stray bat with big venomous teeth. Yup, one bite and you'd turn into Dracula or a bat or whatever evil venomous thing bats are capable of turning humans into. The one that sneaked up on Matt and Bugsy while they were enjoying a father-daughter around sunset. There they were in pure bliss, tossing the tennis ball, laughing in the sun, running paw and hand through the meadow, just enjoying each other's company when the bat sneaked up behind them. Bugsy sniffed it out, Matt stepped back cautiously. As soon as things seemed to be at ease and the trust started to form between the two animals and human, the Bat sneaked attack them and snatched the tennis ball, surely flying back to Dracula's cave to show off is conned possession. Bugsy and Matt both stood there looking after the bat, falling predator to this evil creature of the night. Oh, and by "bat" I mean "dog." But still VERY mysterious.

Then this morning things got very strange. At 6:30 a.m. I was awoken by the alarm and jumped out of bed. This can't be right. I always snooze for at least an hour before crawling out of bed. In the shower I was humming. Why am I humming? I'm usually a growling beast in the morning, oh well. Live in the moment! I quickly got out of the shower, gave Matt a big smack-a-roo (much to his morning-person-ness delight) and started cleaning. Yes, CLEANING at 6:45 in the morning. I couldn't stop myself. It was like my body was disconnected from my brain. Don't want to clean, but hand won't let me stop. Need everything perfect right now. Matt sat back watching with his mouth open - but not a sound was uttered, for words could have broken the spell.

We'll see how the rest of today goes. Tonight we're throwing our Werewolf Bar Mitzvah (30 Rock anyone?) before going out on the town. After all the terrifying, bone-chilling, goosebump-inducing things that have been happening lately, anything could happen tonight. Personally, I'm hoping the ominous winds carry my hangover out the window come tomorrow morning.

Now, here's the spider on top of this wacko week. I was skimming through the Dallas Morning News Web site earlier today - part of my daily news routine - when, lo and behold, there was a top story about two Earthquakes happening in Dallas overnight. I am not kidding - two earthquakes in Dallas, Texas. Whaaaa? But how could I possibly be surprised with the way things have been these past few days.

Plus my Mom - the weather nerd - explained it in a most reasonable manner, considering the tone of this Halloween: "your Dad thinks it's a sign of the Anti-Christ but I think it's Megatron rising from Earth."

Happy Halloween!

Twas the Night Before Tuesday...

2008-10-28T14:38:00.005-05:00

Well, as usual, it took me forever to fall asleep last night. My train of thought is ridiculous. Here's what went down in my brain until I was lulled to sleep by my own dullness and compulsiveness:

*I just voted for Barack Obama and it feels so right.

*I wonder if John McCain will cry?

*Poor guy...

*Bad Meggie, Bad Meggie. Think good Obama thoughts.

*I wonder if Hillary would have won had she made it this far?

*Will my Dad ever forgive me for being a Democrat?

*I miss my parents.

*I miss my brother and sister.

*I should read Harry Potter again.

*Is my Halloween costume the right combination of cute and funny - not too skankalicious?

*Matt is going to look so yumilicious in his lederhosen on Friday night. Matt. So yumilicous right now. Matt.

*My Almond Joy Brownies - made from scratch - for Halloween are going to be WICKED. Let's hope they don't go the way of my last batch of green beans. R.I.P. burnt green beans.

*Is our pre-Halloween party at our casa going to get everyone sauced up enough for a wild night on the town?

*It would be so creepily awesome if Matt and I wore turtlenecks, had glasses of red wine in our hands, had Bugsy in a matching turtle neck sweater, and a game of Scrabble set up on the dining room table when everyone comes over Friday night.

*Hahaha. I slay me.

*Oh shit, I should really clean our house for that...

*I love my new Austin friends...

*Boooo, I keep forgetting Courtney Mac will be in the LBK this weekend.

*I can't wait to see everyone at Baylor Homecoming this weekend...

*...except for her, her, & him.

*Matt's so cute when he sleeps.

*Are the Drama Mama's going to start drama Homecoming night or can we all just get along?

*If anyone gives me shit about my political affiliation...

*Will Wendy and I have to be taken care of by our boyfriends like the last time we had too much to drink? Hey at least there won't be Saki Bombs this time...

*Can I contrive a plan to kidnap Stacy from San Antonio Saturday morning?

*Is Matt going to have fun at our Homecoming?

*I can't wait to be back on the old stomping grounds: Scruffy Murphy's.

*Who the hell is Baylor even playing?

*Will they win?

*Do I care? Not so much...

*Will I have access to the Texas game come 7 p.m.? Hook Em'!

*What am I going to wear that night?

*Will Monica approve :)?

*Who cares, I'll look hot.

*Wait, am I going to be all bloated from the Halloween Festivities?

*I wonder if it's too soon to work out post-appendectomy...

*I feel fat.

*Shut up you. You always feel fat.

*I wonder how many calories I'll consume Halloween night?

*It sucks that Bugsy doesn't live as long as us.

*Thank God all dogs go to Heaven.

*God bless Vanessa for watching her this weekend while we're in Waco.

*Thank God for Bugsy's aunts and uncles.

*Man a lot of people have been breaking up lately.

*Wait, Matt and me? Are we OK? Breathe, y'all are better than ever.

*I wonder what my life would be without Matt...

*Unlivable and unbearable - go to sleep, you're annoying me.

*Zzzzzzz.

Yea, I'm crazy - a doctor established that a long time ago. Ahhhh I love my brain's nighttime ritual. And that's all folks...until tonight!

God Blessed (Austin) Texas With His Own Hand. If You Wanna See Heaven, Brother Here's Your Chance.

2008-10-27T12:56:00.007-05:00

Austin. The A-Sizzle. The good ol' capitol of Texas. One of my great loves. Everyday I'm proud to call myself in Austinite.

Matt and I took Bugsy to her dog-training class the other night. We met on South Congress - SoCo as it's called - at Jo's Coffee Shop. We're walking North on SoCo after a hilariously fun training session with our AMAZING dog trainer Nancy Cusick (who else can teach your dog to raise the roof and grab a beer?). The capitol's lit up in front of us. The cool winds of Austin's short, but spectacular Fall season make the night all the more perfect. We pass Leslie, the famous vagrant cross-dresser who ran for mayor of Austin (only in this town...). As he bends over, Matt sees a part of him that I wouldn't pray on my worst enemy to see - but that's Leslie. He's an omnipresent figure in this town. You've been living under a rock if you have never seen or heard of him.

SoCo. This eclectic little street is where the phrase "Keep Austin Weird" originated. It's where the Dot-Com Elite and the Tattooed Elite alike gather. There's no dividing lines here. SoCo is OK for everyone. Nobody's too cool or too old or too stiff to enjoy South Congress. Grab the best New York Style Pizza you'll have outside of the Big Apple at Homeslice Pizza. Eat some of the best authentic Tex-Mex you've ever had at Guero's. Enjoy the capitol view and a Flying Longhorn (orange vodka, Redbull and a whole lot of sumpthin' sumpthin' as they put it) on Dock's Motorworks' back patio. Peruse some of the best vintage shops this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. SoCo is just a small part of what makes Austin, Texas, well Austin-y!

On the topic of wicked-cool streets let's give a little shout out to 6th Street, perhaps one of Austin's most well-known party streets. I have to admit, it's pretty cool and the drinks are dirt-cheap for the most part. In college it was THE place to go. The girls and I would make the hour and a half drive from Waco, beg a friend to let us crash at their place and go out and get ham-hammed for $15 a piece. As a resident now, I steer clear of 6th Street (except for the occasional girls' weekend or empty bank account). I try to limit my visits back to the days of groping, drunk frat boys, music literally pulsating my entire head, and a hangover the size of John McCain's ego the next morning - which is what a night on 6th Street typically encompasses. But if you've never been - it's a must. There's nothing quite like it.

Oh and since I'm me and unable to refrain from the immature stabs at political candidates (OK, OK, I'll admit my beloved Obama ain't so shy on the arrogance either), let's take a brief moment to talk about Austin politics. IT'S LIKE A BREATH OF FRESH AIR! Outside of Dallas and Waco's Republican choke hold, I am allowed and encouraged to be my loud, proud liberal political self. I won't go in depth - but I think it's clear the hippie in me has been let loose and I'm enjoying every moment of it.

I've always had a place in my heart for Austin. My Mom grew up here and my grandparents have resided here for over 40 years. I'll always remember driving from Houston anxiously bouncing up in my seat, straining my eyes over the dashboard looking for the Austin skyline. As soon as I'd see it my heart would do a little somersault. I'd stare at the rolling hills that would guide us into the beautiful city. To this day - even though we live half a mile from downtown - Matt and I always point out the skyline and do a little moment of silence for it. I still feel that little somersault in my heart.There's simply nothing like it.

I have to admit - part of the draw to Austin was/is my grandparents. And when I graduated college I was persuaded down to Austin by the powers that be and was greeted with open arms at my grandparents' house. Without a clue or a job everyone, most people in my life would say now why on Earth did you leave the flourishing job market in Dallas to move to Austin again?

But I live off gut instincts and faith. And when I feel something is right, I am rarely wrong.

I had a couple mentors who were crucial to the jump start of my career and to whom I'll always be indebted to. I landed a temporary job that lasted four very long months. It was long, not because I didn't love it, I LOVED IT, but because I had no health insurance and a lot of people breathing down my neck about getting a permanent job. I was constantly anxious and questioning my decision to move to Austin. I had job searched in Minneapolis (where Matt lived at the time), Dallas, San Antonio and even Houston with absolutely no results. I think it was because Matt's heart and mine were set on Austin and, we can't explain why, it just felt right. I like to believe since I'm not a very patient person, the universe had to lasso me down in Austin by constantly rejecting any other job leads I would find.

On December 1, 2007 - defying all logic - Matt packed up his life up North and moved down to Austin to be with me. There was no question of it now, we had gone and done proclaimed ourselves crazy. Now there were two of us without jobs, living at my grandparents' house on their dime and faith. We knew it was just about to come together - even if no one else did. I remember begging my Mom to understand that we couldn't leave Austin because I JUST KNEW THINGS WERE GOING TO COME TOGETHER. For a while, it seemed Matt and I were the only ones who believed it.

We were right.

As we had known all along - life came together. A week before Christmas my temporary job turned into a permanent job (my dream job) in an amazing office overlooking 6th Street. A day or two after Christmas Matt got a call that he had gotten a wonderful job with a biometrics software company. By January 1, 2008 we'd signed a lease for a beautiful apartment right on the outskirts of downtown.

Let me just say this before I go on - God bless my sweet grandparents and their faith in us. They never complained once about having to feed and house two broke young adults. They were constantly supportive and seemed to take extreme joy in having our company. They were our rock during a pretty difficult time.

Matt and I will never forget their kindness. We now have the pleasure of living 15 minutes away from them and seeing them on a weekly basis. While they may think we're helping them out, it's a mutually beneficial relationship. Matt and I look forward to our weekly visits to bring their great-granddog by to say hi or to watch a UT Football game. It's truly a blessing to get to spend this much time with my grandparents - not many people get this opportunity. It makes me realize what a precious commodity grandparents are and has also helped me to appreciate that wonderful, special relationship I have with my Dad's parents too.

And I'd like to take a moment to talk about, pardon me for reusing the words - but only they will do, my sweet, precious Grammy. My great-grandmother who entered Heaven two days shy of her 97th birthday here in Austin. If we didn't live in Austin, my Grammy would never have gotten to know Matt as well as she did. She adored him before she even met him. Grammy was able to see the wedding dress I chose and hear about the preliminary wedding plans - it seemed to make her so, so happy. I am so blessed to have been able to spend so much time with her in her last year. Her memory lives on and I have no doubt her spirit will be shining down on us on our wedding day here in Austin.

So beside all the family roots here, Austin, Texas is where Matt's life and my life came together. This is the city where we fell even more in love with each other.

Together we've discovered the WONDERFUL food. Matt and I are both total foodies. We've found great delight in places (that we can afford for now) like Z Tejas, P. Terry's (closest thing to In N' Out you'll find in the South), El Arroyo, Katz's Deli, Polvo's, Austin's Pizza, Austin Java, Maudie's, Daily Juice, Uncle Billy's, the famous one-of-a-kind Salt Lick BBQ, Shady Grove, Matt's El Rancho, Freddie's Place, The Oasis, Hula Hut, County Line, Shoreline Grill, more and more and more and more!

I have to give this one a paragraph all to its self: TACODELI. The best taco you'll ever have. We live right down the street from the south location and are completely in love. The best breakfast taco you'll ever put in your mouth. I could drink the Dona Sauce - it's crack for the hot sauce lover. Take the time to drive out to this little south Austin oasis and experience the most delicious delicacy you've ever had and if you don't agree with me then leave Texas. I kid, but seriously it's the best Taco I've ever had - hands down.

Together Matt and I have discovered our love for Texas Football. OK - I must admit I've been a Longhorns' fan since my tiny, infant fingers could form the hook em' horns sign. But I was always a fair-weathered fan. Now, Matt and I have started to get more and more passionate about the team and can happily say we are official orange-bloods (though he'll always stay true to Iowa State). This town is insane when a football game occurs. Currently we're #1 if you haven't heard ;).

Together we have loved the nature that is prevalent throughout the town. To us, it's amazing and rare that a town can accomplish such an urban feel while simultaneously intertwining itself with nature. The city could be a metaphor for my life. Here I am, the liberal, Christian, party-girl, homebody who has always believed myself to be a walking contradiction. But like Austin's urban streets and rolling hills intertwine to create a perfect city, I believe my characteristics are intertwined to be the perfect version of me.

Within a one-mile radius of downtown there's the skyscrapers, bars, offices and the million-dollar condos you'd expect in an urban setting but there's also beautiful walking and running trails through the Barton Greenbelt, off-leash dog parks and trails on Lady Bird Lake, swimming and sunning spots at Red Bud Isle. Matt and I particularly love Auditorium Shores - an off-leash dog park right on Lady Bird Lake. It's a park right next to the 1st Street bridge. We have acres of grass to run with Bugsy on and the skyline as a background. It's beyond beautiful and we never fail to stop and sigh with compete adoration for this city.

Together we've found a great church and become youth leaders for a wonderful youth group who have truly been a blessing in our lives and just confirmed that we're meant to be parents someday.

Together we've developed an amazing group of friends who are always down for the impromptu happy hour, night on the town, or even a movie night at our place. In July I was ecstatic to find out my very best friend in the whole world - Courtney Mac - was moving down here. We've been best friends since 6th grade and to have her down here, made this city all the better. It's fun watching her discover Austin too and to have another pair of eyes and ears finding more crazy fun stuff to do in this town.

There's so much more to love about Austin. Hell - we even love the horrific traffic. It's a reminder of how cool this town is and how many people want to be here - even if it is busting at the seams.

Will we stay here forever? I really hope so - but the odds are life will take us elsewhere. I want to believe this town is my fairy godmother who will make my professional and personal dreams come true. But we'll leave the future up to the Big Guy. Wherever life may lead Matt and me, this town will always have a special place in my heart. It will always be the place where I was inspired to be the complete version of myself, where I fell even more in love with my sweetheart, where we adopted our sweet Bugsy, where I spent precious time with my family and friends, where I've learned I'm damn good at what I do, where I learned how to hail a taxi and parallel park, it's where one of the most special days of my life will take place - my wedding amongst many other things. This town has been so good to me and I'm sure will continue to do so.

No matter how long we're here - be it one more year or for the rest of our lives - Austin, Texas will always be one of my greatest loves. And no matter how old I am or no matter how used to it I get, I'll bet whenever I see those rolling hills and those city lights my heart will still do a somersault just like it did when I was child.

Where on Earth are my keys?!? And 13 Other Ways I'm Like My Mother

2008-10-21T17:42:00.008-05:00

A few years ago I would never admit it. I would never admit I was like her. In my woeful adolescent years when the only person in the world who understood me sat next to me on the school bus and my parents were the arch-enemy, it was an insult to be told I was acting like my Mother. My Dad, in most of our arguments would throw statements at me such as, you are just like your Mother! or you are so your Mother's daughter. This would further infuriate me and cause me to scream some really poignant and winning response back, like gaaaaaawwwd! followed by the slamming of the door and lots of stomping around to make sure he knew how mad I was.

I was NOT my Mother. In my teenage mind, she was a nagging worry wart whose sole purpose in life was to drive me crazy. I was cool - no, I was awesome. With my knee-high Nike socks and slicked back ponytail I was unstoppable. Everything out of my Mom's mouth annoyed me and I was always quick with a sassy response. In turn I was grounded - a lot.

But as both my parents always told me, One day you'll realize we're not as stupid as you think we are. And as much as it pains me to say it, I'll finally profess it publicly:

They were right.

So here I am, 23-years-old and I look and act more like my Mama everyday. She is my hero and one of my best friends. I'm sure I'm not alone amongst women saying this, but it took me leaving home to find that special relationship.

I now know why it's necessary for girls to go to college or move out at the age of 18 - simply to keep mothers and daughters from killing each other. Think about it - it's a matter of life and death when, generally speaking, a young woman peaks hormonally at the same time in life as their mother hits menopause. It would be an epic battle and one I personally wouldn't want to see or be a part of. That's why I skedaddled off to college as soon as I could. I'm currently watching (from afar) my sister and Mom go through the same thing we did six years ago. I think the only thing saving my sister and keeping my Mom sane is knowing she'll be off to college in less than a year!

So, college gave my Mom and me a new appreciation for each other. It turns out, distance was all we needed to realize how much we could both benefit from a mutually caring, respectful relationship. Sure - she still drives me crazy sometimes, but I know the feeling is mutual. It's because we each know exactly how the other works. It's because we are way too much alike. It's what makes our relationship so beautiful. And let's face it, there are some things in life that ONLY Mom's can fix or make better for you.

One of my fiance's favorite games is pointing out how I act like my Mom. That's OK though, he adores my Mom. They get along swimmingly. But he, like the rest of the family, are acutely aware of my Mom's quirks. I always believed myself to be an outsider looking in on her antics. But Matt makes sure I know, and constantly reminds me, I am an insider when it comes to that.

It's obvious all three of us children inherited some great and some not-so-great - I mean quirky - genes and habits from our parents. I, being the oldest, get the benefit of identifying a lot of mine first because I travel through each stage of life before my siblings (I call it paving the way). I am clearly my mother at times and clearly my father at times - I aim for being a beautiful blend of both. We'll talk about my other parental unit and best friend - Daddy-O, whom I get my gregarious personality from, another day. Today we're talking about how I'm just like my Mama and this is why:

1. Where on Earth are my keys? It's like a joke our auras play on us. If we set our keys down, we lose them. Either our purses eat them or we're sure my little sister or someone else nearby misplaced them. We usually find them 30 seconds after wondering aloud where they are. But we never fail to momentarily panic.

2. The oosha-boosha, look at that widdle gum-drop nose. Oh you's a cutie. Yes, you's a cutie. We both love little, tiny things. Put a baby, a puppy, a mini cake, a mini tea cup set, a mini anything in front of us and we lose all self-control and start gushing and cooing like it's the most adorable, precious thing we've ever seen. Probably because it is.

3. Ain't no stopping me. Us McNutts - we're ambitious folks. I am in my young twenties with a fantastic job that I worked very hard to get. And guess who taught me that? My Mom. She is a Vice President and the Chief Information Officer of a major hospital system in Dallas. She works for every dime she makes and I know she's had her fair share of challenges in her climb to the top. She's a driven woman and a lot of people out there are driven, but my Mom is DRIVEN. This is a woman that decided to jump into a career in emerging technology back when they thought the internet was a joke. And to top it off - she was a business woman in a business man's world - not to mention a pretty, blond one. It's amazing how many people stereotype her and it's hilarious seeing there faces once she rattles off her credentials. I can't help but feel proud and envious when this happens. I want that too. I look for that same look on people's faces when they hear what I do. I want to be just like her.

4. Don't mess with my pack. My Mom is super protective of her family - especially her cubs. I had a streak of "insubordination" in high school (I called it free speech and thinking - Hebron High School called it disobeying every Level 1 offense - that's OK, agree to disagree) and when a teacher called me heartless over a situation I was never involved in, my Mom became Mama Bear. She was pissed. Call her kids insubordinate, bad, disobedient, she understood. Heartless? Uh-uh. Not her child. And it's true - I'm not and it hurt to hear. But I was too busy trying to hold her back from the teacher to recognize my own feelings. I don't know all that was said, but she let that teacher have it. The next day the teacher pulled me aside and apologized. As you've guessed, I'm the same way. I can make fun of my family and friends. I can tell you why they piss me off. I can tell you everything that's wrong with them. But if you're not in the pack and you make fun of my pack - take cover. I'd rather hear a thousand insulting things about myself than one wrong word about someone I love. I guess you can say she get it from her Mama.

5. The house will burn down, the dogs will never get fed, the bills will never get paid if I leave. We forget that, for the most part, the people around us are able to function on a day-to-day basis without our guidance and 24-hour survellience. We cannot imagine how things run without us there. It's called being a worry wart!

6. Oooooh! It's even on sale! While I can't say I am as avid of a shopper as my Mom is (the Macy's women's department knows her name, her husbands' name, her kids' names and by now, probably her dogs' names) I am a good shopper like her. My brother will tell you the worst, most terrifying thing you can hear from my Mom in a store is Oooooh! My fiance, Matt will attest to the same fearful feelings when he hears me use the same expression. It means something's caught our eye and we're going to ponder purchasing it by wondering if we want/need it, wondering if we can find a better price/cut/color/size, try it on, and then think some more about purchasing it. Then we'll talk about our awesome find for 30 minutes afterward. However, I'll admit - my Mom wears me out shopping. The only person I've met that can keep up with her is my brother's girlfriend. God bless Amber!

7. Look like a million bucks for less. My Mom has a killer sense of style. Someone at work once asked her who her professional shopper was. She always looks like a million bucks but here's her secret: she's frugal as all hell. She's taught me that you don't have to spend hundreds of dollars to look classy and fabulous. She is an advocate of spending the right amount of money on key pieces. She cares just enough to matter - but never too much about what she wears. She's also shown me that the best accesory is confidence! It makes her all the more beautiful by seeming so effortlessly chic. I like to think I'm like that. I learned it takes a lot more than designer duds to turn heads.

8. You stupid computer! Move, lady, get out of the way! I like to blame everything and everyone around me for my bad mood. So does my Mom. We want the world to know we're in a bad mood. Honestly, I think the people around us are lucky to get a warning like that. Which leads me to my next point...

9. If you don't stop bickering now, you can eat OATMEAL!!! We have some fiery tempers and we scare most people with it. We both clench our jaw and widen our eyes and most people know to stop there (minus my sister - who's fearless). Wait until we cool off or else we start saying stuff that is either just mean or doesn't make any sense. One time the woman told my siblings and me if we couldn't decide on a place to eat we were all going to eat oatmeal!!! I like to believe growing up with my Mom and me as an older sister, is what has shaped my brother into being such a non-confrontational person.

10. Mirror-mirror on the wall. I'm the mirror image of her. Really, I have to admit, we look A LOT alike.

11. Who's the fairest of them all? Our beauty routines are a lot alike. That, I can contribute to watching her for years and years. The nightly bubble baths were a tradition my grandmother started and all of us women in the family love them. Our bubble baths are a crucial part of our nightly ritual. Every morning and every night my mom would slather on face lotion and hand lotion and eye creams and lip creams - a multitude of beauty products that she considers crucial to her daily routine. And let me tell you, she looks damn good for any woman at her age and you bet I'm slathering all those face, eye, lip, and hand creams on every night. I can only hope that I keep my youthful appearence like she does.

12. Dut-dut-dut-daaaaaaa...Superwoman. OK, I'm not there yet, but I hope I can accomplish this one day too. She is 100% career woman and 100% family woman. Anyone who says you can't be a good career woman and a good mother has not yet met my Mom. She may not be the head of the PTA, but she's cheered us on at more basketball games, karate matches, dance recitals, plays than I can count - all while running a hospital's entire information network. No big deal.

13. Gotta have my Crackberry. This is a new one for me. But I'm hooked - done for. I challenge myself to answer emails as fast as possible from my PDA. Nerdiness? She get it from her Mama.

14. Pushy, pushy. Alright, yea, she annoyed me when I was a teenager. She was always pushing me - and I thought it was a bad thing. She'd push me to stay dedicated to hobbies. She'd push me to get all As and Bs. She'd push me to study for my SAT. She'd push me to write my college essays WAY earlier than any of my friends had to. She pushed me to be the best I could be. And all I have to say to that is...THANK GOD! I wouldn't have gone to a wonderful college, made good grades, and landed my dream job if it weren't for the potential she saw in me. She "pushed" me to pursue my dreams. God bless that woman.

There are so many other ways I'm like my Mama. These are just a few of the prominent ones at this point in my life. I always thought turning out to be like her would be a bad thing. The thing is - I couldn't be more proud of the person her and my Dad have encouraged me to become and if that means I'm like her - I'll gladly take it.

So these days, when someone tells me you're just like your mother or you're acting just like your mother, I reply with a proud, resounding THANK YOU!

The Perfect Saturday.

2008-10-18T16:57:00.010-05:00

Wake up to fresh flowers purchased by mi future esposo - just because he knows how happy they make me.

Eat homemade french toast with crispy bacon.

Try really hard to find a cloud in the PERFECT, blue Austin sky.

Shiver a little bit because it's in the mid-60s.

Register for lots of unaffordable nummy nums at Target for our wedding.

Go apartment hunting.

Find an affordable, beautiful apartment in downtown Austin.

Take a walk around downtown Austin.

Discuss your hypothetical urban life with your honey.

Revel in this hypothetical life.

Eat a fat, greasy sandwich and crunchy deli pickles at Katz Deli.

Watch a really great movie.

Snuggle with the Bugs.

Snuggle with the hottie-with-a-body.

Hang with the Grandparents.

Laugh with the Grandparents.

Enjoy their precious company.

Watch UT kick some Mizzou ass (this is simply a prediction as the game has not yet begun).

Thank God that it's not a week ago when I was getting my enlarged, infected appendix (yummy - I know) yanked out of my body through my belly button.

Smile because there's still one more day left to this weekend.

My life is not perfect, I don't pretend that it is.

But today...today is perfect. (And hell - let's be honest - we deserve it after last weekend!)

The Best Story Ever

2008-10-17T14:09:00.012-05:00

*The following story is true. All names have been changed for anonymity reasons.*

One day a little boy named Smatt was super excited to be at the pumpkin patch with his parents. He was a jovial little child, skipping through the pumpkins - picking the biggest and best ones. His Mom calls his name. Smatt goes running through the pumpkin patch toward his parents. He is running with his hands in his pocket and trips over a pumpkin. He straight up ate it. That's why Smatt has bad memories of pumpkin patches and won't go back. Awww Pumpkin :(.

I am a Christian. I am a Democrat. Hear me roar.

2008-10-10T12:24:00.007-05:00

I am a Christian. I am a Democrat. I know there’s nothing wrong with being both. Do you?

If not - I need to know where in the world people are getting the idea that you can’t be both.

There are people out there who have the audacity to tell me I’m a misguided Christian because I’m a Democrat. You may not be one of them – but you should hear me out anyway.

I am really baffled by this.

I’m a follow-my-heart kind of girl. I’m a Barack-the-Vote-kind-of-girl. I have many, many reasons.

Don’t tell me I’m misinformed – I read and absorb the news more than most people my age and most people twice and three times my age.

Don’t tell me I’m too young – then go off and complain about how young people don’t care. I care more than you’ll ever know. Most of my friends – regardless of their political affiliation – feel the same.

Don’t tell me I think I know everything and one day I’ll be wiser – I don’t claim to know everything and this is me now. I’m voting now. I care right now. Get over it.

I follow my heart. My heart belongs to God.

No – not the God that many Southern Baptists and other wildly religious groups claim will throw people into the pits of hell. Not the God they claim sits up there and cries and throws damnation on you every time you have a sip of alcohol or cuss. Not the God that would only side with the Republican Party. Those people are misrepresenting MY GOD and it’s really pissing me off.

That’s not My God those people are talking about. And for those of you thinking “well it must not be the Christian God she talks to” – you are so, so, very wrong. I have a marked up Bible by my bed that has been worn down by its use. Its highlighted verses, inked lyrics and sermon notes speak so much of my faith. Ask me my faith journey. It’ll blow your mind.

I have literally seen God – had a face to face conversation with the man. He’s held me in his arms at the worst moments of my life. When I was at the deepest, darkest part of my life and just praying for God to end it, he held me in his arms and whispered “I’m not done with you yet.” I’m not speaking figuratively here, this literally happened. No I’m not crazy – my most prevalent spiritual gift is the gift of faith. God is as real to me as this keyboard I type on.

I’m more intertwined with God and his holy son than I am with anybody else on this Earth. It’s a relationship I don’t take lightly so you can imagine my frustration and anger when others take it lightly. That is why I am so offended when I’m told my political beliefs contradict my spiritual beliefs. I am misrepresenting God by being a Democrat?

Well guess what? I’m a Christian and a Democrat – so if you don’t believe those two characteristics could coexist in one person. I have just proved you wrong. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Ahhh! Wait, that’s a sin…and another discussion for another day.

Now let me get this straight – I’m not saying all Republicans believe Democrats are following the Anti-Christ, I am talking about a select few that really believe you can’t be a Christian AND a Democrat. They are the people giving Christians AND Republicans a bad name.

Let’s make something clear here (as Obama would say): The Christian God – MY GOD – I read about in the Bible and the Christian God I pray to on a daily basis does NOT have political lines. He does not love you more because you’re a Republican, he does not love you more because you’re a Democrat.

In the Christian world there are believers and nonbelievers. And we’ve seen the best of both on both sides (I’m assuming the two main ones for the sake of this argument) of the political lines. If you haven’t seen the best of both on both sides – open your eyes.

So why would God choose one party over the other?

The answer? HE DOESN’T!

Let’s think about this: The man that sent his only begotten son to Earth to spread PEACE and LOVE wants to advocate war and hate between political parties?

That would be a negative.

Now I know who I’m voting for because he has the qualities I look for in a leader and he is who I truly trust to run this country. And, YES, I believe he has the Christian qualities to run this country in a way I personally see fit.

Barack Obama is for peace – stopping this war. Sound familiar?

Barack Obama is for equality – regardless of race, sex or sexual orientation. Sound familiar?

Side note - Put your bible thumping angry fists down good sirs. I said DOWN! Because those verses that state homosexuality is a sin are pages away from the same verses that say women should be servants for their husbands. Oh and if any of you believe homosexuals go to hell and you’ve had premarital sex or have cheated on a partner– then guess what!?! You get to enjoy the fire and brimstones you so fervently preach.

We all know Jesus came to change things and he gave us the greatest commandment of all, knowing and loving us regardless of our natural sinning ways. And let’s not forget that second commandment – kind of speaks loud and clear against gay-bashers. Don’t argue the homosexuality thing with me, you’ll lose. And this is the one thing I’ll say with undoubted passion. If you believe homosexuality is wrong then you are SO WRONG. YOU ARE SO VERY, VERY WRONG. I truly believe – no, KNOW - God does not hate against people based on race, sex or sexual orientation and I’ll always be for the side that is trying to prove that.

Barack Obama is for the economic, educational, foreign political values I believe in.

Barack Obama is for the social issues I believe in.

Barack Obama is who I believe will run this country right – with God’s blessing.

I won’t go in depth because we’ve heard it all before. I understand the Republican point of view. That’s the world today – we differ in our opinions. It’s what makes democracy. It’s what makes the world go round. In fact – I love a good ol’ debate and I love talking politics as long as it doesn’t get too personal.

And that’s exactly my point. My spirituality should be personal – not political. But if you’re going to tell me my spiritual beliefs are threatened by my political beliefs, then I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong.

Now I know My God – I like to say “God and me? We’s tight.” And My God has a lot more to worry about and care about than damning people to hell for having certain political opinions

God gave each of us our unique personalities and passions. I believe this is what he wants – diversity is what makes this World so exciting! So what does he do? He’s given us an exciting presidential run between two extremely qualified people. How else could he get us to care as much as we all care in this election?!? It’s his work and you know what…it’s beautiful! Because this election has lit a fire under most of us – so let’s enjoy this time of stimulating conversations and passionate beliefs and let’s leave the spiritual accusations out of it. And all of us Christians, as one, should know that God’s in this. He’s in on EVERYTHING…duh, but I assure you he’s not for one side.

I am a Christian. I am a Democrat. Hear me roar.

Don't Let the Bed Bugsy Bite

2008-09-19T10:56:00.010-05:00

I'm walking down the aisle tightly holding the arm of my tearful Daddy. I'm smiling down the aisle at my incredibly handsome husband-to-be. Everyone's smiling and crying. It couldn't be any more perfect.

Then I feel multiple sharp, simultaneous kicks in my back. I turn around, careful not to mess up my veil. Nothing's behind me though. Just breathe. It's probably just your nerves. But it's not, because I feel the sharp kicks again. I'm jolted awake in my puddle of drool and realize I have four firm little paws pressing into my back.

Now this is where my Dad, who’s infamous for saying “uggggh, the mummy strikes” whenever I wake up in the morning, would say “who or what in the hell has ever woken up Meggie and lived to tell about it?”

Well she’s 35 lbs of black lab and dynamite, the love of our life…Bugsy.

There she is on her side, paws pressed firmly into my back, her body snuggled firmly against Matt. I'm instantly annoyed, almost enraged, at being woken, but quickly overcome it when I see those ears perk up at the sound of me rustling the sheets. I rub her little belly and switch her around and snuggle her body next to me - I'll let her be little spoon this time. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

A delicious and restful 38 seconds later I feel a wet nose in my face. Sniff, sniff, sniff. I scratch her head and rub my fingers over those soft little ears and drift back off. Not a minute goes by when I feel her rustle and walk across my pillow. Nothing like waking up to a foursome of claws stepping on your hair and yanking every precious strand out. By the way - I attribute that tiny bald spot on the back of my head to, what Matt and I have so lovingly deemed, the claws of death.

Don't mind me Mommy and Daddy. I'm just going to subtly let you know I have to pee and that I'm ready for breakfast by walking on your face.

Ya, ya. I'm up.

I crawl out of bed and head to the bathroom she sits there looking at me while I get my contacts in. Her left paw slides against the dry tile and as she regains that footing, her right foot slips. But she patiently sits there waiting for what's to come next. It melts my evil non-morning person heart every time.

Oh Bugsy. Bugs. Bugsy-Wugsy. Bugs-a-rugsa-roo-roo. The MFP (mother f'ing princess). Goof Pickle.

Those are just a few of the awesome nick names that our little girl has already acquired in her six months with us. I don't think Matt and I are alone in giving our pseudo-child multiple nicknames only because one name can simply not encompass how freaking cute they are!

We rescued Bugsy from the Town Lake Animal Shelter in Austin, TX on April 21, 2008 (my 23rd birthday). It was the best day of our lives. We walked into the shelter with an open mind. We didn't need a puppy but it was preferred. Well we fell in love with every dog there. I was crying half way through the shelter because the sad truth is most of them will be put to sleep. Matt wanted to take home all the ugly dogs (maybe this is synonymous with why he chose me? I kid.)

When we stumbled upon a very sad looking litter of black puppies we spotted our future curled up in the corner. Matt picked up the little black ball and her nose came up and she nuzzled Matt's neck. It was instant love for both of us. We signed the papers knowing in our heart that we had found our Bugsy.

The sad fact about animal shelters is that they can't all be no-kill shelters. Every day dogs are put down because they are so beyond repair when they come to these shelters. The ones that are lucky enough to pass their behavioral and physical tests must still be chosen. Now I'm not preaching, but now that Matt and I have rescued one dog, we will NEVER go back to a breeder. There are simply too many amazing animals born as orphans or simply discarded to support breeding. I promise I'm not preaching. I grew up with full-bred AKC registered Golden Retrievers whom I love dearly. I'm just saying that once you save, to breeders you will not cave. OK, that was so lame. But whatevs, you get the gist.

So we've had her for six months now and we're thinking about keeping her. Just kidding! We're gone, done for. We're so smitten...no, we're so in love. So in love it HURTS.

Our friends make fun of us mercilessly. Anywhere and everywhere dogs can go Bugsy goes. Austin is renowned for being a pet-friendly city and I'm pretty sure we're solely responsible for the major growth in pet-friendly businesses in the last six months.

Bugsy has been on more car rides in her time with us than most dogs have in their lifetime.

Bugsy has more aunts and uncles than is probably healthy.

So yea she’s pretty darn special.

Here’s a few of the 13,567,981,001 we, and so many others, love Bugsy Hedwig Abendschein.

-She's a total ham. She got a lot of tricks from her puppy training class. She can “pound it out” (that’s what she said), “high five,” “bang, your dead,” and “leave it.” As long as you’ve got the treats, she’s got the tricks.

-She’s a warm welcomer (aka a totally hussy). It doesn’t matter if it’s been 2 hours or 10 days. She’ll treat you as if you are a soldier returning from a battle. She’ll roll over on her back open her legs, show you her stomach, whine, whimper, let you rub her all over. Now, how many women let you do that after only two hours away?

-She loves soap. And I love bubble baths. She loves to sit her head on the side of the bathtub or pop her head in the shower, hoping to get a few slurps of delicious coconut or vanilla scented soap. She loves it. At first it’s awkward having a dog watching you bathe, but it’s Bugsy and she does what she wants.

-She’s scared of the vacuum. When Matt takes out the vacuum she flips. Side note – Matt always vacuums. It’s the thing I hate doing most, well any cleaning for that matter. Anyway we probably shouldn’t laugh at Bugsy but it’s hilarious. The funniest part to me is she holds a pretty long grudge towards Matt. I mean she gives him the evil eye that straight up says Daddy, I don’t like what you did. I don’t like it at all and I’m going to teach you a lesson for doing it by not letting you come near me. It’s hilarious.

-The word Squirrel throws her into a tizzy. I mean the dog scales trees freaking ninja style. It’s amazing.

-One day she’s gonna get that flashlight, she just knows it. -She doesn’t beg for people food, because we never give her any. Dogs don’t need it. Don’t be fooled into thinking they do. So feeding her breakfast and dinner is all the more exciting. Trust me she gets TONS of dog treats every day.

-She loves to swim, run, play, and basically do anything outdoors. She’s a perfect match for Matt and I who are outdoors all the time.

-Bugsy has brought a new level to Matt’s and my relationship. We have seen a different side of each others’ hearts and it’s amazing. It’s given some insight into the kind of parent he’ll be. Having a dog can be romantic! Cue the gagging.

Now don’t get me wrong. Bugsy has brought out a side of me I’d hoped no one would ever see. Did I ever imagine my cool, collected self spastically running through the park screaming shrilly “BUGSY. HEDWIG. ABENDSCHEIN. NOOOO. NOOO. DON’T. YOU. DARE. I SAID NOOOOOOOO. DAMN ITTTTTTTT?” Of course not.

And I'm sure you already know this but with a dog comes a lot of responsibility. Don’t think you can just pack up and go to the beach on a Friday afternoon. There are medical issues that will most likely come our way in her life time too. But the light of responsibility is quickly dimmed by the bright light of our girl’s personality and all that she brings to our life.

I’ll leave you with our typical nighttime ritual.

Before we go to bed I tell Matt “sleep tight, don’t let the bed Bugsy bite.” And than I crack up because I am obviously hilarious. Then right as Matt and I are drifting off to sleep we hear the jing-jing-jingly of Bugsy’s collar. We look over in a half-sleep haze to see two little paws and two perked up ears. We’re sure she’s just checking on us to make sure we’re OK. As we drift back off I feel a pounce on the bed and 35 lbs of sweetness nestling between us, whether there’s room or not. She strategically places herself and it’s always a tossup over who’s going to get the paws in the back or side on this night. I really don’t care. I’m just hoping tomorrow morning, Bugsy chooses Matt to use the claws of death on. As I feel four paws settle into my side, I smile. And we all fall asleep, a big happy family.

It's not a habit. It's cool. I feel alive.

2008-09-17T09:10:00.008-05:00

...7...8...9...arggg...10...ahhhh...11...shiiiza...12. Jesus, Mary & Joseph. Jesus, Mary & Joseph. Jesus, Mary & Joseph. Thank you. Done. Thank God!

I drop the weights; look at myself in the mirror.

Gross. Look how fat I look.

I pick up the weights and go on to set number three.

I'm an eating disorder survivor.

It may not be textbook anorexia, bulimia, or drunkorexia - saving calories so you can drink later that night (OK, not gonna lie, maybe sometimes), but I have over the years become so obsessed with counting calories, exercising, being thin - it has consumed my life, just like anorexia or bulimia, so I like to call it an eating disorder.

My body has been my closest frenemy. To this day not a day goes by that I don't think about the calories I put in and burn off of it. I've lost precious moments of conversation and vital learning experiences because instead of listening I was trying to add up all the calories on my plate. I've binged eaten while crying. I've spent 2.5 hours on the elliptical until I literally couldn't feel my legs anymore. I've seen how long I could go without eating. I've taken things to clean my body out. I've taken things to keep anything from going in.

Some may call it selfish - and I agree, I've hated myself for my narcissism at times - but it goes past that. It's an obsession fed by pop culture, peers, music, movies, blah, blah, blah, [insert cliché here]. But it is so true.

First off, I don't judge other people for their weight. I honestly don't notice. I would never love someone less or more for their weight. I would never hate on someone for carrying a few pounds. So why do I do it to myself? I really, really don't know. All I know is that my biggest fear is being FAT. I know I’m not alone. There are a lot of people - especially women in the same position as me. But every story is unique. Maybe we should start from the beginning. Then we can get a little bit better perspective on my warped sense of self. Here’s my spiral into my food addiction then into my thin addiction:

The First Hit

The first time I can recall overeating to stifle the emotions was when I was eight-years-old. We were moving from Houston to Dallas. I buttered two pieces of toast, then I decided to have two more and so on and so on until I was about 10 pieces of toast in. It was the first time I felt that temporary fix of satisfaction. That toast satisfied my belly and momentarily took away from my aching heart.

I was hooked.

Obviously from a young adult perspective now, it's hard to understand why a move would be so devastating to a child. I can't explain nor understand it, but I still remember that feeling of devastation. It is why to this day, when I face huge change in my life, I have to fight not to turn to food. That day with the toast - T-day - overeating became instantaneously conditioned to become my defense mechanism against change.

A Child Addict

The first time someone called me fat was the second I started believing it. It was around 3rd grade, right after I had moved to Dallas. I can't recall who said it or how it was done, but some boy threw the F-dagger at me.

"Shut up fat girl!"

FAT? What?! I drop my $.25 ice cream sandwich. I look down at my belly protruding over my favorite white daisy dukes. I've never thought about it. Oh my god, I'm fat. My ears burn and I hear no noise except for the thudding of my heart while I watch everyone laugh. Complete humiliation washed over me, tears stung the backs of my eyes. I would not cry. I would not cry. I would not cry. The tears pour down over both of my chins.

Everyone laughs harder.

I went home and ate a bag of Lay's potato chips that day.

Years later at the age of 20, I slam the phone down after telling that lying, no-good, cheating asshole that I wouldn't put up with his shit anymore. Two and half years was enough of it. My heart was shattered, but I'd already felt pain like that. That loser had nothing on those boys at the playground 12 years prior.

A Teenage Addict

After the defining life-changing playground scenario I toughened up. I learned that having a self-deprecating sense of humor was an excellent defense against those stooooopid boys. I'd make fun of myself before they did and they thought I was funny. It was a win-win situation. I had no problems making friends. I developed a personality, a sense of humor, and a maturity level way beyond most kids my age. And I was quasi-popular thanks to it.

I also learned about calories. I ate Lean Cuisines and started running. I joined sports and hit a growth spurt. By 7th grade I was no longer fat. Just chubby. And I also had something a lot of girls didn't have yet: boobs. So on the outside I was getting better, but I still ate like a horse.

In high school the rest of the girls started worrying about there weight. Psh...rookies...I had been on that wagon for about five years by then. The problem was they were all getting skinnier and I was still chubby. I got even tougher. I started rebelling, drinking and smoking. If I couldn't be cool because of my looks, I'd be cool because I was tough.

Underneath it all, though, I was still that little girl on the playground. Let me tell you, in high school I hated HER. I wanted to tell her:

"You pathetic wuss. Suck in your stomach, wipe those tears away and tell um' to fuck off. Who needs em' anyway? Those boys are losers anyway."

But whether I liked it or not, I was going to have to face her one day.

The College Addict

The Freshmen 15.

The scariest three words a high school senior/college freshman hears. Well maybe not as scary as “you are pregnant,” but “the freshmen 15” were the scariest words for ME. Thanks to a senior year full of drunken debauchery and a heart break from a boy I'll call Snaggletooth for anonymity reasons I went into college a long 5 foot 8 and a hefty 175 lbs.

I needed a change and I knew I couldn't afford the Freshmen 15. Instead of Meagan I went by Meggie. I took on the gym - something I'd often been afraid of. I slowly moved from one workout a day to two. I didn't see the dorm cafeteria as a buffet. I saw it as a chance to eat healthy. I was surrounded by pretty, thin girls and was at a college that is more or less known for its pressure on women to be thin. I was going to change me!

I became obsessed with calories. I learned to burn more calories than I ate. The weight was falling off and I was getting so much praise. I was consumed by weight loss.

By Christmas Break I came home 20 lbs. thinner. I met my college not-so-sweetheart in January. He thought I was hot. That's all I needed. He was a personal trainer (which is a huge joke - since he wasn't in shape). I mentioned him earlier as the boy who broke my heart. We'll call him Jugs. Jugs knew about my weight loss and encouraged more of it. He encouraged it by looking at other women and commenting on how hot they were, telling me when I looked skinny, and making an effort to not say anything when I didn't. Jugs was a winner.

I lost another 15 lbs. That's a total of 35 lbs weight loss. I was normal sized - even skinny for the first time since I could remember. So why did I feel more fat than I'd ever felt in my life? Well I had done it. I had succumbed to the eating disorder that had loomed over my head since the F-word was first muttered my way at the ripe age of eight. Sure, I'd dipped my toes into the ED pond since then, but now I was fully submerged.

After flaunting my weight loss and strange eating habits to my parents for a year, I hit a point in my life I like to refer to as “the meltdown.” My parents - God bless them - caught on that something was probably not right with me. I had started spending money erratically, I was dangerously depressed and I was involved in some not-so-healthy habits involving alcohol and pharmaceuticals.

I finally got help.

The Ex-Addict

It's been over three years since the meltdown. I'm now living in Austin, Texas. I'm sitting on the couch with the love of my life, my fiance, Matt - my saving grace, if you will - and my favorite breakfast tacos. We're settling in and watching the 3rd season of 24. We have our bouncy little puppy look up at us with those adorable, big, brown eyes.

I've just returned from an hour and a half workout at the gym. I'm less a cardio junkie now and have added in weight training, yoga, and spin classes. I'm relaxed. I'm only kind of counting the calories in my breakfast taco (183 calories, if you must).

Matt is my saving grace, the absolute love of my life, and undoubtedly my soul mate. I am in the healthiest relationship I've ever been in emotionally. I am the healthiest I've ever been physically. Matt makes me feel so beautiful inside and out. Amongst many, many other amazing things, those are some of the reasons why I've decided to keep him around forever.

I am deliriously happy.

I no longer go to the extremes I did when I was 8-years-old. No repeats of T-day. No bags of Lays potato chips.

I no longer go to the extremes I did in college. No exercise bulimia. No pills. No starving.

Sure I count calories, sure I workout five to six days a week, and sure I occasionally think I'm fat. But it's more in the name of being healthy. I've finally found that balance after so many years of struggle. And, no, I'm not this awesome healthy super-fitness freak by any means. I know how easy it is to fall to one extreme - overeating or too-little-eating & too much exercise. I just try to live it day to day. Instead of THIN I want HEALTHY. Instead of CALORIES I try to look at WHOLESOMENESS. Instead of the perfect body, I just want to be me.

My body is still my closest frenemy. I just aim more for the friend part over the enemy.

I love to think back on that 8-year-old girl now and want to give her a hug and say:

"It's OK sweetie. You are NOT fat. You are beautiful."

What she doesn't know is that that defining moment may bring some tough times, but it will turn her in to the woman she is supposed to become. And that's nothing to complain about.

I am an eating disorder survivor.

un·a·bashed (ŭn'ə-băsht') pronunciation adj. 1. Not disconcerted or embarrassed; poised. 2. Not concealed or disguised; obvious: unabashed disg

2008-09-15T10:26:00.002-05:00

I always feel the need to explain. I don't know why. I just need to explain. Everything. Always.

I need to explain my confident-covered-insecure self - the cocky, successful 23-year-old who wants it all and wants it NOW. But take away the wolf's clothing and you'll find a sheep scared to death of failure in all aspects of my life.

I need to explain why my drunken rap texts should be published and why I believe they will forever change pop culture.

I need to explain why you shouldn't judge me because I am already my own worst critic.

I need to explain my oh-so-perfect fiancé and my reason for getting married at the ripe age of 24-years-old (next June) when I swore I wouldn't be one of those idiots who got married young and would wait until they're 30-years-old. I need to explain why I can't take my eyes off that fine ass and why I truly believe I've found my soul mate.

I need to explain how having bi-polar disorder (Type II - to be exact) can be FUN!

I need to explain why writing is my therapy.

I need to explain my eclectic family - why they are simply the best and truly perfect because of their many imperfections. I need to explain why I am forever grateful to them for passing on the genes that have caused my neurotic need for success and always being right, amongst other things I despise/love - depending on the day - about myself.

I need to explain my friends and why I hold the few I do so close. And how they have helped shape and encourage the awkwardness that is me. I also need to explain how to spot a frenemy - and why I am an expert on the subject.

I need to explain my religion and how I know as a Christian that there are misguided people out there misrepresenting us. I need to explain why I'm a Southern anti-Baptist. I need to explain why the God I talk to on a daily basis does not discriminate against race, ethnicity, sex and most definitely not sexual orientation. I also need to explain how he is not some raging, judgmental control freak ready to throw you into the pits of hell - despite many claims.

I need to explain why I don't feel guilty for cussing, drinking and the occasional cigarette.

I need to explain how I know smoking is horrible for you, but why I'm not ready to let go just yet.

I need to explain why I despise conservative politics (and it's not for the reasons you think).

I need to explain why I have a deep satisfaction knowing I'm happier, better-off & more successful than almost all my ex-lovers, ex-friends and other people who have crossed me. I think it's some kind of Karma I send out when I'm angry. Muhahahaha.

I need to explain why being overweight for the better part of my childhood has had a profound effect on the person I am today.

I need to explain my sweet dog and why rescuing animals is one of the most important, easy things you can do in your life.

I need to explain why it's healthy to hold grudges against mean, undeserving, low-life, cheating, stealing losers.

I need to explain how I just somehow know I'll be big someday - maybe not in the typical Hollywood-sense - but I just know I'll be a big f'ing deal one day.

I need to explain why I annoy the hell out of myself with my endless thoughts, impulsive actions, over-the-top self-awareness, and strange reasoning.

I need to explain. And since my overactive brain does not have an off switch, I'll simply explain why I am UNABASHEDLY MEGGIE.