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Ask me anything http://formspring.me/mstogsdill

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/mstogsdill

Yay Hoo-F**king-Ray...A UPDATE!!!! :)

Sweet little six lound, eight ounce baby Jesus in a tuxedo onesie, this month has already been nuts.

I wish I'd had time to post or even really work on posting but life has been nuts and whenever I sit down to write it's like my brain won't connect the dots. 


On the bad side (since bad news should always come first), I have to pack up a threebrdm apt by myself within the next week, rent a U Haul, and have everything ready for the guys to do a day trip to move it back down; I have a shitload of stress piling up which is silly...but there you go.


Good news:

I got a curler, a dog, and A HOUSE. In that order. :)

First off I love the fuck out of this curler. It is amazing. My hair went from being straightened all the time, or my natural waves were gelled and tamed to this:


If that isn't a reason for a girl to fall in love with an inanimate object I really don't know what is.

 If you're interested it's the Infiniti by ConAir tourmaline ceramic. I got mine at Walmart for like $27. This is the small barrel. You can also purchase a larger one that's like $5 more. I like tighter curls though.

Since it doesn't have the annoying clap to hold you hair it comes with a half glove to protect your fingers. I don't really use it. I worked in coffee shops soo long I'm used to bad burns anyway.

Present number two:
Maze :)

Now sadly the story of how I got this little 4lb bundle of fuzz is EXACTLY what I always bitch about when people get dogs. We walked into a pet store and L fell in love. The puppy tried to kiss her through the glass. He was adorable so we decided to let her play with him. Puppy bounced around with her, then cuddled down in my lap kissing my hand. Then he moved over to suck up to H.

Left without him to research the fuck out of Pomeranians for a two hours, then went straight back and bought him. It was just one of those things where we literally couldn't imagine not having this dog.

He's been a perfect fit for our family so far. He's picked me as his owner though and he's my snuggle puppy. I've finally trained him to not crawl into my lap while driving which is a huge plus. Now he just curls up in the passenger seat and passes out, only waking up occasionally to lick my hand.

Also, before you even ask me, just watch the movie Grown Ups. Do that and you'll understand how Maze ever even was mentioned as a name. We were joking around quoting it because we'd reached an impasse name wise. I wanted to name him Danno (c'mon...he's short and a spaz, but when you pick him up he loves to cuddle and he adores kids. Don't tell me you can't see it. The only difference is he's quiet.) and H wanted to name him Swiper because of the fox on Dora the Explorer. Also, on a sidenote: you don't realize how much being a parent takes over your life until a 26 year old man who wanted a bulldog buys a Pomeranian for his girlfriend and wants to name it after a character on a show their daughter likes....but then again this same man wanted to name the dog Mako because Leia thought it was a cute baby name and H loves sharks...

My pup's already gotten to meet Aya, who's pretty much one of the most fucking amazing women to walk this earth. :) It's love. He played nice with her dogs while I had my miserable doctor's visit last week. All I will say on that is birth control sucks ass.

However my poor puppy is soo sad right now. He was playing in my parent's yard Saturday with one of their Australian Shepards and got pinned down into a hole. Long story short, my three month old pup is in a splint for the next four weeks with a broken leg. :(

So five weeks of vet visits, but only four more left. Since it's broken in kind of the perfect spot to heal without any lasting damage the vet said that in about a year the only people that will be able to tell he broke it are vets examining the x rays closely. Personally, I feel horrible for my dad's dog. He thinks that my puppy is the long lost puppy he was never had (since he isn't a bitch and was neutered LONG ago anyways...), and has been torn up pathetically about the puppy limping around with a big red cast.

Pretty sad, isn't it?

However, his broken leg actually lead to the third piece of good news.

I have been calling around to an insane number of people to find a house/townhouse/condo to rent. I'd found a trailer that H was kinda in love with, but me not so much so I wanted to keep looking on that last day before we had to tell the guy who owned it if we wanted it or not.. Since Maze's leg broke at like 11am I had to rush him to the vet before it closed. Then my mother took us to Petsmart and spoiled the fuck out of this dog. In the first week I had him I've learned he does puppy eyes more than any other dog I've met.

So after a half hour of going back and forth over what to switch him to food wise (Science Diet), buying a new harness (it looks like the Burberry pattern), and a few treats (he's a little injured puppy dog. Don't judge.) and having him repeated be mistaken for a bitch, a skunk, and a cat (seriously. What the fuck people. Who cuddles a cat or skunk all through a store that has a big cast and stares pathetically at people until he gets petted? Not me.) we ended up back at the house thumbing through the paper trying to find more places to call and check out since H let me up the rent limit. We decided to go see a trailer (not the one he loved...a different one in a different town) about 15 minutes south of my parent's since my mom wanted to go for a drive.

We ended up hating the trailer and area soo badly that I refused to even look inside. On the way into that neighborhood though we'd passed a cute blue house that needed a lot of work done with a rent sign. I called about it and the woman came out within 20 minutes to meet us so I could check it out.

I fell in love. :)

It's a cute 1930's house, 3 bedrooms, only one bath, but a huge kitchen and living room with a fire place. Big yard, huge porch that wraps around the front of the house. And we're going to owner lease it so in a few years we'll own it outright. :D

Made H come and check it out with me and he liked it too. His only minor sticking point was that it was $50 more than he'd told me we could do, but with how much he's working it isn't much of a problem. The landlord told us we can do basically anything except paint the walls white of beige. I kinda adore her already.

The only part that's going to be interesting to get used to is the house is haunted. Yes, haunted. Whether you believe in ghosts or not is your business. I'm not religious, but after some experiences lets just say I have a healthy respect for spirits/ghosts. Apparently this one is an older lady who was born in the house in the 30s, around when it was built. She lived there her whole life and died in the hospital up the road. She haunts the back bedroom that is going to be my office. Our landlord said she's pretty mischievous and likes to turn on the lights and fans, and hide things...but will return them if you ask her nicely.

We get to move in at the end of this month. She's leveling the house on the 15th, and putting in a new driveway for us...plus pressure washing and repainting the porch. H and I are repainting all the inside rooms to make it that much more ours. He's normally a big fan of rich fall colors like pumpkin orange and rusts, but I talked him into a more bright and cool palate. As in our living room is going to be orange. It should be interesting.

I have to hammer out final paint colors by next week. :)

I promise PROMISE PROMISE to update again before my birthday (next Tuesday). Also, I promise it will be a witty and hilarious post.

Why You Don't Hit Little Old Ladies With Your Car (You may fuck them up but they'll fuck you over...)

Why Friday after last was the worst day ever.

(Granted I meant to post this MUCH sooner than now…but life doesn’t stop just for a rant. )

You know how some days, the first thing that happens to you just sets the mood for the entire day? It doesn’t always happen...some days turn around for the better or worse, but then again on others all that bad karma comes back to slap you in the face as only a six armed goddess can.

Well, yesterday morning I got woken up by a cop. There should be a guideline or something for that shit. Like the cop can’t come before noon, to give your day a few hours at least to get going well...and they have to bring ice cream or something. Like, “I know I’m about to fuck up your entire day, and I feel bad about it since I’m one of the ‘good’ guys, so I brought you some ice cream.”

So anyway, Officer Here=to-Mindfuck-You woke me up at 8:45am to serve me papers that I was being sued, then walked away without explaining at all. Literally. Hands papers. Walks away. Great job with the moral support right?

FLASHBACK: I should probably explain. The suing was a huge shock. The reason why wasn’t. In October 2006 I rear ended a stupid bitch who decided to come to a dead stop on the on ramp to the interstate FOR NO FUCKING REASON. I was looking over to merge (there were NO cars in the way), and looked back right in time to slam on my breaks, but still hit her. Great way to begin a school day, right? WRONG!

So she opted to go to the hospital claiming “oww…my neck hurts”. Called 911, got my ticket, settled everything with the insurance company, paid said ticket, and took Motrin for three days because of the soreness and bruises from my seatbelt.

So anyway…a year passes. The statue of limitations on suing someone is that you can’t after a year. So 364 days after the accident she turned around and decided to sue me. Seriously. Can you say, “Oh I’m broke… let’s get some more money even though her insurance paid my hospital bill and car repairs?”

So like two months after that State Farm (who can fucking suck it after all this) tells my dad and I everything was settled, they paid, and it was over. Yay hooray! Crisis averted!

SNAPBACK to present day. Officer Mindfuck hands me the papers…so what do I do? What any self respecting 22 year old would do: I called my daddy. Read him the documents over the phone, then text messaged him pictures of the pages (suck it fax machines…you’re outdated!). He send me the insurance info for who he’d had the car insured with at the time, and tells me to call the agent.

So…I call the agent. The agent’s bitchy receptionist informs me that since I’m not insured with that agent I have to call claims. So I get the number from her and call claims. Who tells me that the case was resolved in 2007. 2007 of course NOT being 2011. So they tell me to call the claim’s officer who specifically handled the case.

So I leave a message on the answering machine of Mr. Claims-Who-Handled-My-Case, to be called back two hours later and told that the case was settled four years ago, and he’s wondering why I’m calling. So I explained that it obviously wasn’t settled IF I WAS JUST NOW BEING SERVED PAPERS THAT I WAS BEING SUED. Common sense, right? Right.

So, sensing my anger and confusion, he gave me the number of the lawyer State Farm had hired to represent me in that settlement and told me to contact her for further info. I call the woman’s office and her secretary patches me right through.

I being “Hi, my name is Meagan So&So, I received-”

And she starts laughing. LAUGHING.

She then proceeds to relate back to me exactly how my morning had gone with scarily accurate psychic ability from getting served, to tracking her number down through State Farm. She also explained that the great state of Loser- I mean, Louisiana has been trying to track me down since October 2007. Seeing as I have always changed my address and updated my information when I moved…and only moved four times since…really not seeing how it was that hard. I file my taxes. You don’t have trouble finding where I live when it fucking benefits you Louisiana.

State Farm had flat out lied to us in 2007, and again that day to me. The case was settled the Friday before I called, out of court. It had taken so long to finish since the state couldn’t track me down (seriously? C’mon…). It settled with her claiming I wasn’t at fault, and paid the money on my behalf in the settlement.

Also, if you weren’t hating on Louisiana enough on my behalf at this point: If you hit someone in Louisiana you are held responsible for ANY PREEXISTING injuries the person has…as well as any you cause. I hit a 64 year old lady with preexisting back problems. Fuck. My. Life.

However that surgery she’s already had so, the money she got went to pay for some surgery she got this week that was completely unrelated to the car accident five years ago that she’s been wanting to get.

Let me also add…

I have no issue with paying money to someone I hit. I hit her. It was her fucking horrid driving that caused it, but by law I was at fault so I’m okay with repairing her car & paying her medical bills RELATED TO THE ACCDIENT. The fact that she decided the DAY BEFORE her chance to sue me came up that she wanted more money from me is bullshit. I was 18 when I got sued. My insurance had already paid. It should have been done. But instead since she decided “Let’s get as much from this kid as I can…” and I’m freaking out five years later thinking I have to go to court.

My car was completely totaled out a year ago by some high school kid on his way to pick up his date for a dance. TOTALED. Could I have sued him and made his life miserable? Hell yes. I could have used the money too. But I wasn’t injured, and his insurance paid for my new car. As far as I’m concerned that’s settled. Why be a bitch and milk this kid for more money and cause his insurance rates to sky rocket?

Why I Fail At WWF

In case you were worried for a second there, by no means do I mean wrestling. Though, I will hold my fucking own fighting for socks.

I'm refering to the horribly addicting "Words With Friends" which, along with Angry Birds, has ensured that though I prefer my Blackberry I shall keep getting iPhones until there's some kind of magical meet in the middle phone. (THAT WAS A HINT PHONE COMPANIES....AKA AT&T.....)

However this is exactly why I should not play the game. I either get these choices:

 I suppose I should actually be grateful that I'm getting a refresher course on preschool & kindergarten. It has been a while.

But then of course, there are the days I can spell words. Real words that don't make me want to strangle Old McDonald...and I do shit like this.

Should you ever play a game with me, count this as your apology now.

I Got It That Way

"What will Meg be doing on the 24th of this month," you may ask your self frequently.

Well, thanks to my freaking amazing dad I can now tell you.

I'M GOING TO SEE THE BACKSTREET BOYS IN CONCERT!!!!!!!!!!

Now to give some background. The Backstreet Boys were my first concert ever. It was a present from my parents (obviously...I was 10). I got to take two of my best friends and I was EXCITED. My dad scored floor seats, 10 rows from the stage...except when we got there, my parents being towed behind three squealing girls, the fire marshall had removed our row as a safety precaution.

I was upset, being stoic to hide my sheer heart dropping sadness. I would not get to adore Brian from ten rows away as I had been dreaming of for days. THIS WAS NOT FAIR.

Then my dad turned around to explain that since our row was taken they were moving our seats...to the third row. THIRD ROW! That was practically see the sweat dripping down the side of their faces in crystal clear view territory!

I spent most of that concert standing on my chair, next to my friends, screaming the lyrics soo loudly I didn’t have a voice the next day. We were so obxonious they all actually took turns waving at us. Oh yeah. THAT annoying.

So anyway, back to present day.

I learned a few months back NKOTBSB would be coming through our town and freaked…but knew I didn’t have the money to go (*sadness & heartbreak*). Then a few days ago I watched the Today Show concert and was inspired. I didn’t…but my birthday was coming up. Birthdays are magical times where you get presents. This would be a magical happy Meg present!

I posted a note on my mom’s Facebook wall, complete with link to the tickets (How helpfully awesome am I?) and this note:

“I am asking in completely seriousness…Can this be my birthday present?”

I’m one of those people that kinda grasps onto an idea and charges headfirst into obnoxious-ville sometimes so since my mom doesn’t always check her Facebook…e-mail was next.

Yes, I did ask for Britney tickets too.  If I’m repressing to my 10 year old state, why not do it all the way? Sorry…98 Degrees and Garth Brooks aren’t touring anymore (Damn you!)

I never got a response though, so I figured it was a resounding “no”, until my Mom called me randomly yesterday afternoon.

I want you to imagine me with this face when you’re picturing the phone call:

Mom: Were you serious about the Backstreet Boys tickets?

Me: *Gasp* YES!!!!

Mom: You’re serious?

Me: YES!!!! It’s the BACKSTREET BOYS MOM!

Mom: Okay. Let me tell your dad you’re serious.

Boyfriend got home from work and I informed him I may possibly miss the Peach Festival we’d planned on attending for a boy band concert. He just kinda stared, and walked away.

Then my mom calls back even later.

Mom: You’re actually still serious about the concert?

Me: YES!!!!

Mom: Okay… We’re looking at tickets. The only ones left are up in the 300 section. Do you still want them?

Me: Mom…it’s the BACKSTREET BOYS.

Dad (in background): She’s serious?

Mom: Yes.

*Insert lots of ticketmaster back & forthing over what sections are best…etc*

Mom: There’s one seat left in that section. Who would by a ticket to go alone?

Me: Someone who’s lonely and loves the Backstreet Boys?

Mom: You never do that. You know the person next to you is going to be a perverted old man.

(Sidenote: My mother is a wise woman.)

Anyways, so the tickets were purchased (YAY HOORAY) and my dad was handed the phone so I could thank him. This is about how that went:

Me:THANK YOU DAD!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!

Dad: You’re welcome. Are you sure that you want your birthday present to be watching thirty something year old men dance across a stage singing songs from ten plus years ago?

Me: YES.

Dad: Aren’t they going bald?

Me: No. They still have all their hair. They aren’t bald.

After we wrapped up the thanks my mom gets back on the phone with me for the funniest part of my evening.

Mom: What does NKOTBSB mean? Shouldn't there be another B?

Me:  New Kids On The Backstreet Boys... Oh. Oh wow. Umm...don't think they meant it that way.

There is nothing in this world anyone can say to convince me my mom isn't amazing.

So anyway...now I had to tell Danno. The thing you need to understand about Danno is she is the person I would totally be dating if we were both lesbians who wanted to date each other. Our bromance is just that epic. As we are both straight and neither of us will be growing a penis anytime soon, this clearly will never happen. We out bromance Danny & Steve on Hawaii Five 0. It's epic.

Me: You like BSB right?

Danno: Yeah...

Me: What cha doin on the 24th?

Danno: Nothing. Just sitting at home crying cuz you get to see bsb

Me: No... Your answer should be "Standing next to Super SEAL as we sing along with the Backstreet Boys because she loves me and wants me to have her other ticket!"

Me: Hello?

So anyway…. Point is, this is what we will be seeing come June 24^th…

YAY HOORAY!!!!

In the beginning...it began with a name.

It's funny. I keep planning on all the things I'll write in my extremely awesome and witty blog that all of you should subscribe to and read often because I'm just that aesome. Yet I find myself stuck on the dreadful "Name your blog" page.

Why sites make you do this is both stunningly obvious and deviously evil. One has to be entertaining, without being vapid. Memorable, but not in a way that will bring shame in about a year's time.
So what did I do? I turned to twitter for advice. (Can you see why I'm having issues now?) Since I'm now going to an event which will be discussed in detail in my second post, lots of responses are related to my boyband loving past (present).

"I blog it that way"
"as long as you blog me"
"all you people can't you read, can't you read?"
"blog me the meaning of being lonely"

Now, I want you to appreciate the awesomesauce of what I went through to decide.

"TITillating stories"
"iBlog because iBored"
"something about blogging after dark?"

But then the gay version of me, who shall hence forth be known as "Other Meg" came up with what she meant as a joke: "itsamegthing (but you're not a meg) #notarealsuggestion".


Sometimes life hands you a fucking lemon, and you look down at your hand, holding that gleaming yellow lemon...and you set it down and start looking at that tasty looking pineapple a little bit down the counter...but somehow, that lemon catches your eyes again and it clicks.

And BAM!

My blog has a name, because really...it is a megthing.