Maximus Minimus Morse

Randomness

Anyone who knows me knows I am quite the emotional rollercoster. It’s not that I am bi-polar, though there are several in my family that are and sometimes I can feel myself one step away from it, I just tend to be extremely moody. It probably is my fantastic genetic disposition, but I hate it. For example, yesterday was a fairly normal, uneventful day. For the most part, I was in an excellent mood. My trip to Dallas seemed to re-energize me and I was ready to live with a smile on my face. After work I headed to my sister’s house for a birthday feast and some chocolate cake (you know, the kind with fudge on the bottom…mmmmm….cake), ending the day at belly dancing, where my chocolate cake-filled belly was the star of class. It’s incredible how much a belly can move when it’s full of chocolate cake! Then I just got really grumpy. I don’t know if I was just too full of chocolate cake or if my conversation with an old friend depressed me or if it was because UNC was the National Champ or if its the fact that the vote against gay marriage in Kansas is today and my butt lived 20 yards across the border and I can’t vote (and trust me, we need as many of the votes against this law as we can get), but I turned into this giant pain in the ass! And I’m still grumpy this morning. I’ve even used the word “pussy” excessively today, and I hate that word! And it’s only 9 am!!! No one should use that word this early in the morning, unless you’re still drunk from the night before, in which case it is fully acceptable. Oh, and for even more ridiculous depressing crap click here

I mean seriously, does this crap make sense to anyone??? If this doesn’t make people in Kansas vote today, I don’t know if anything will. I mean, come on!!!

Megan Does Dallas Part Duex

Saturday 8 AM:
“Holy shit, it’s bright outside…why do I smell like burritos? What the hell is Taco Cabana and why do I keep thinking of Napoleon Dynamite???”

And no, these comments are not just stereotypical “Dallas has Mexican food” talk. I really did wake up confused, extremely hungover and smelling like burritos. Now I know what they mean when they say, “Don’t mess with Texas.”

The only picture of me and Lindsey that night, before the thousands of spilled drinks (by me,) the 7 renditions of the Napoleon Dynamite dance (by her), the first puke-and-rally since college (by her) and the first 4 p.m.-the-next-day puke (by me).

All in all, one bitchin’ weekend! Thanks Linds:)

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