On being a productive drunk

Last week I got drunk.
Last week I got drunk and decided to write a letter to the editor of the local newspaper.
Last week I got drunk and decided to write a letter to the editor of the local newspaper and found out said letter was published today.

Am I embarrassed that my drunken ramblings were published? No, mostly because I am an incredibly coherent drunk who is meticulous when it comes to spelling and grammar, and I evidently decided to do actual research so that I could include current statistics to support my argument.

Drunk Megan is a thorough Megan.

Drunk Megan also, as it would seem, is very displeased with local politicians and the counterproductive, exorbitant initiatives that the aforementioned politicians are taking to increase tourism in the area.

It shows I care

I received a message on facebook today, from one of my friends from University, informing me that the card I had sent her had arrived safely.

In so many words, she told me how thankful she was for such a thoughtful gesture.


But that is the kind of friend that I am. An idea will come to me - a beautifully scrapbooked card featuring Michael Jackson, perhaps - and I will then spend the next several days bringing said idea to fruition before sending it out into the world. 

Can I help it if that idea turns out to be creepy? No. No, I cannot. 

One Fish, Two Fish

Early last week, I looked into my fish tank only to notice a tiny fish swimming around near the water's surface. "What the fuck is that?" I said aloud. And I will tell you what the fuck that was; that was a baby fish.

"But, Megan," you are probably saying, "however did a baby fish get into your aquarium?" And I will tell you. 

Internet, I did not teach my clown fish about safe sex. I thought I had more time. They looked kind of awkward around one another. I didn't think they even knew what sex was. 

Boy was I wrong. 

Those fish have had me fooled for weeks. I, the oblivious "parent," failed to see what was going on right under my very own nose. Sure, I noticed that my female clown fish was getting kind of round, but I am not here to judge. How could I? I have been fairly lax with my exercise routine as of late. 

And, yes, I noticed the boy clown fish having epileptic fits, but I just assumed he was experimenting with illegal narcotics and experiencing some sort of bad trip. 

Little did I know...

Sausage Pool Party

I did not snort cocaine off the buttock of a stripper, but I get the distinct feeling that the evening could very well have ended that way if I had been a marginally less reserved person. 

The thing is that everyone loves a pool party, except maybe those who are afraid of water or those who cannot swim. Or maybe those who are afraid of pools. Regardless, most everyone enjoys a pool party and what few friends I have are no exception. 

The problem is that my female friends are all employed and live out of the city, which leaves only my unemployed male friends to attend such a party. 

And that is how I suddenly found myself hosting a naked pool party on a Wednesday afternoon.