All Smashed Up

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Apologies for the lack of posting lately. Things have been a smidge chaotic around here. Not an excuse really, just the reality of the situation.
That and this new keyboard is still giving me fits.
I am typing MUCH slower these days.

So another St Pat's came and went. This year was odd for me. Very odd. I ended up having to work at the Cafe --
So I show up at 4:15 to get everything ready to go and no one is there except the line cook and the Sous Chef.
They are sober.
Thanks god.

So, I go about getting my stuff ready. No host, no waitresses, no owner --
NO BODY

About 4:30 (we open at 5) there is a flash of activity from the kitchen and in storms the rest of the nights staff.
And they are drunk.
They have been out celebrating the holiday. And the owner was the one buying.

-- I SOO never get a call when those things happen, but that is another issue --

So I am at work. The head chef is drunk, the waitresses are drunk and the owner is upstairs passed out in his apartment.
good times.
Of course, it is slow.
So the other chef and I decide we need to start catching up.
We actually had a small dinner crowd. Closed early, but I had a group at the bar -- quite entertaining they were!!
THE CIRCLE!!!!!

Anyhew-- finally got out of there about 11, went to one bar that was sorta Irish (ok -- English, which might actually be blasphemy, not sure) it was kinda lame. So we ended up at my favorite neighborhood bar -- where the shots commenced.
So -- good that I can walk home. But get this....
I am sitting there with my drunk co-workers accepting the fact that I am never going to catch up with them and one of the girls goes to introduce me to this guy that is a good friend of her boyfriend.
Turns out he knows me ... I take a closer look. Yep -- he and I had talked online earlier this fall. Nothing ever came of it b/c the few times he asked me out, I had a conflict.
So, here I am 4 months later, half-blitzed and this is the first impression.

I rock.
I totally rock.
I swear, my timing is flawless.

So, who knows what will come of that.

Rest of the weekend was low-key.
Although, I spent the better part of Sunday driving all over Des Moines (and for those of you in bigger cities -- I don't expect sympathy, but it was a long day) looking for a good, quirky gift shop.
They don't exist here.
Seems odd. More than odd really. And we also discovered that any small business -- except the witch shop --- is closed on Sundays.
But the witch shop was open. Martine has suggested that if I really want to take this meet someone thing to the next level, I need to consider spells. I just might.
I also was shopping around for other online options for dating.
There are tons.

Like this one:
http://www.platinumsinglesintroductions.com/

Or this one--
http://sugardaddie.com/ -- Can anyone say pimp me out?

There was one that right after asking your name asked you your net worth -- but I can't find the URL -- dammit!!

There is http://www.perfectmatch.com/ whose claim to fame is that it was the online engine used in Must Love Dogs
Now, if this will bring John Cusak to my door, then I am in.
I somehow doubt this.

And then there is my new favorite....
Executive Iowa Dating

Now for a mere $1000 for 6 months, I can personally be assisted in finding the perfect match.
In Des Moines
$1000 dollars.
Damn.
Although, I have had two VC angels express interest in funding my field research if I promise to write a book AND dedicate it to them.
You know who you are "Legal VC, LLC"

So silly, silly me. I thought my options were limited. Turns out on the internet NOTHING is limited.


Which brings us to today's topic of conversation.

** I will caveat this -- the following topic could make some men who read this slightly uncomfortable. Deal. This is reality. Your wives, girlfriends, mothers etc will have to or have had to go through this at some point. Suck up. **

As we all know, Meghan has a growing family history of breast cancer.
Mom - yep.
Aunt - yep
Great Aunt - yep.

So, my doctor tells me at my yearly physical -- also known in some circles as "The Annual" -- that I have to have a mammogram.
Now.
This year.

For those of you that don't know. Most women don't travel this path until sometime after 40 -- depending on your doctor.
So, I am a clear decade ahead of most of you.

Now -- we all know the basics of the mammogram.
X-ray the boobs.

Lets segue for a minute...
It is clear there are things that men invent and things that women invent.
Corsets -- clearly men
Bras -- men
hosiery -- men
mammogram machines -- you guessed it -- men.

Now, I am sure there are some things about being male that can be less than ideal.
But I don't think that turning & coughing is equal to a machine SQUEEZING your boobs together between two plates.
And that isn't really the worst part.
The worst part is the weird contortions that the radiologist is doing with said boobs trying to get them into perfect position.
They are stretched, pulled, pushed, and all the while your body is being pushed around like a Gumby doll around a huge metal machine that emits radiation.
Frankly, I can't think of a better way to spend a gray Monday morning...
Can you?

Lets just say, I have started the countdown for the next one.
In two years


So with that long and somewhat graphic post, I am out.
Need to find that leprechaun that I stuck in my pocket on Friday.
He has my whiskey.