I got drunk in the middle of the day in the middle of the street, but it's okay because it's a holiday

I went to my first city-wide drunkfest St. Patty's Day parade in Dallas this weekend. On the train headed down there (I live in the 'burbs), a girl that was way hotter than me described it as "straight up ratchet". She was wearing half a shirt and I was jealous of her confidence and tan.

And so it was.
Also, my phone didn't even question it when I typed "clusterfuck". It's like it knows me.

Y'all, I have never gone out for anything like this before. It was awesome...ly crowded. And crazy. And a clusterfuck. And straight up ratchet.

It's a fucking socket wrench.
The correct way to use the word "ratchet" would be, "Wow, this ratchet is so useful."
"Damn, she so ratchet-"
"Shut the fuck up, it's a socket wrench."
- from Urban Dictionary. It's how I stay young. That, and a good moisturizer.

It was totally a life experience I can add to my list, ratchet or not. Isn't that what life is about, experiencing things?

Is this what it feels like to be a cool kid? 

My cleavage is really sunburned. I guess that's what I get for using it to get free drinks. Karma is such a dirty whore sometimes. Hopefully my Puerto Rican genes will override my Irish genes and buff out the awkward burn lines into awkward tan lines. 

Maybe the real karma is when my kid pulled down my shirt and bra at the grocery store on Sunday to show all of the innocent bystanders in the deli department my goods. Karma's all, "You wanna show off your boobs? Oh, I'll show off your boobs." Ugh, bitch. Why are all of my embarrassing stories related to clothing malfunctions or penis food? I sense a theme and I'm not sure what to do about it.

Instagram: @nerkymeg

I drank more Miller Lite in one day than I have in my entire life before this event. I'm not even exaggerating.

Well, hello abs. I can't even...I just...abs.

I don't have anything to say about that picture. I just like looking at it and I figured other people might like looking at it, too. I'm sharing the wealth. Paying it forward. Whatever you want to call it.

And here's the proof that I'm in Texas.
Isn't it hilarious when stereotypes actually happen?

We ride horses everywhere in Texas. And everyone's either a farmer or in the oil industry. Totally. Save a horse, ride a cowboy, that's what I always say. Fun fact: That's also my go-to karaoke song choice if I ever get tricked into doing karaoke.

So having said all of that, and having participated in an all-day drunkfest on Saturday, I also want to point out that one day of poor choices doesn't have to mess you up in the long run. I should say, one day of poor dietary choices. Poor life choices can fuck you up for real. Like if you got pregnant by a leprechaun with a fake beard or something. That would suck.

The 130s are SO CLOSE!

I was back on track on Sunday, eating right and running. I even had my fastest mile to date at 9:44. Who knew that pumping your body full of toxins the day before was the key to your fastest mile? Not I, but there you have it. 

I'm trying something different with running now that I don't have a race to train for: I'm working on getting my mile down to 8 minutes, and then from there build up the distance. Twice a week I run 3-4 miles at my regular pace, and the third running day I run one mile as fast as I can. It's a system I totally pulled out of my ass, but it seems legit and seems to be working. I mean, normally my mile is 11:30ish, so I've already knocked off almost 2 minutes.

The kid never gives me a good teeth-smile when I want it.

Back to being mom on Sunday. It's sort of strange and funny the almost-double-life I lead, where I can go out and be single and wild one day, and then the next day be mom who changes "ba-pers" (diapers) and picks boogers and is the tickle monster. I never in a million years thought that this is what my life would be. I like it.


  1. I flipping love you! Hilarious & so fun. I mean...so rachet.


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