Impatience Can Get Anal

Hehe 😇

Welcome to Shame Sandwich, where Megan feels equal parts shame and glee in sharing hilarious personal thought rants every Friday. Sometimes on shame, sometimes shame infused, and other times, nothing to do with shame. Enjoy responsibly.

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Warning: this one has some force behind it. 😂

You know what’s tantalizing as it is terrifying? Anal on a Tuesday hahahahahahahahaha y’all can you imagine me in a nursing home?!?!?!?!?!?! Oh my god I will be banned quicker than you can say twisted tits 😂 but also I don’t ever want to be in a nursing home and I’ve never once even remotely considered ever being the age where one goes to a nursing home yikes this got sobering faster than you can say nut cracker so um, well…. I hope my daughter likes me when I’m senile because I don’t want to go to a nursing home. 😂 Jesus we got derailed faster than you can say humping humpback wails. Me sitting down to write my newsletter not knowing what’s about to flow forth.

WOW. 😳😂

See???? ^That is what happens when I don’t know what I’m going to write about!

😂😂😂😂😂😂

And it’s not that I don’t have any topics I want to write about, it’s that I have too many topics I want to write about today!!!!!!

Which means it’s now decision time.

What topic will Megan choose????

Fucking hockey sticks from hell I cannot seem to bloody focus right now.

My thoughts are scattering like the wind.

But not just any wind.

We’re talking hurricane gale force winds.

And the hurricane is named… Tratrina. Yikes.

My hair is whoooooooooshing, whipping violently around my face as pieces get stuck in my freshly moisturized chapstick is life lips.

The sound of her fury is like a freight train meets rocketship meets PMS’ing me.

Christ’s Cock I’ve never been in a hurricane I think to myself, imaginging that popped cherry blown miles in front of me with the force of these winds.

A rooftop from Betty’s Freaky Wines ← what a name, eh? blows past me as I make my way to shelter.

Am I going to make it out of this with all of my limbs intact???

And then… ok fine. I got a little carried away there and I have no idea where that was going nor do I have remotely any hurricane experience so I’m just going to stop there. 😂

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HERE’S THE MOTHERHURICANING DEAL, YO.

I’ve been trying to type up a nicety-nice newsletter for the last 17 plus probably another 14.52 minutes by now.

AND ALL I’VE DONE IS ABUSE THE DELETE BUTTON ON MY KEYBOARD.

Truly. Everything I’ve tried to type has come out more forced than a constipated sloth who ran out of prunes 3 days ago. ← are sloth enemas a thing???

So... Fuck that.

Get out your buckets cuz I’m about to word vomit. Wow that’s disgusting. Yes I’m leaving it in. 😂

GULPS ON VOMIT. ← WHY AM I LIKE THIS. ← AND BY THIS I MEAN SO VULGAR HAHAHA.

The real reason I’m so antsy and have all of the extra swirly thoughts right now is because I’m trying to figure out a babysitter for my daughter on Saturday night.

Emphasis on trying. As in… I don’t yet have a babysitter on Saturday night. And I’m antsy AF about it.

I really really really really really really really want to figure out a babysitter. Something about super fun plans* and a hot date. (IYKYK). But, I am having trouble getting care for my kiddo lined up.

*We want to surprise a friend and our window of opportunity to do so is Saturday night…! Eeeeek.

And this might come as a shock to you are you sitting down right now? I am… not a patient person.

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Dearest Reader.

I reallllllllllllllllllllllllllly hate not knowing how shit will turn out. I’m about as patient as a 4 year old getting his teeth cleaned while having to go potty after drinking an entire chocolate milk on the drive over because nothing says parenting fail clean teeth like freshly bathed chocolate milk porcelains. Anywho.

WHAT I’M TRYING TO SAY IS:

I reallllllllllllllllllllllllllly hate being all “faithy” in these situations because HOW DOES ONE HAVE FAITH???

That fucking five letter F word.

Faith.

I want to punch that smug little bastard word right in the ballsack.

Jab, jab, left uppercut ought to do it.

🥊

I loathe not knowing how something will work out.

→ Car making a funny sound? Welp there goes my inner barely hanging on zen for the next 179 hours until it’s diagnosed and bank account emptied fixed.

→ Waiting to hear back from my co-worker after I sent them my heart design on my sleeve for review? *checks chat every .7329 seconds*

→ Vagina not vagina-ing properly? Well fuck me sideways because that’s all I’m good for anymore!!! ← 😂 Wtf. This one is a joke thankfully hahaha

→ Designed and ordered some snazzy business cards for a networking event that aren’t showing as out for delivery on time? Loud sweating ← loud sweating??? lol and swearing commences.

→ Sent a vulnerable text message and not sure how it will be received? Imagines the 1,725 different scenarios, 97% of them ending with my heart being cut out and disgarded on the highway, pulsating softly as it sizzled into the concrete underneath the desert sun.

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UMMMM, YEAH, I’M *NOT* GREAT AT BEING PATIENT.

OR WAITING TO SEE HOW SOMETHING WILL TURN OUT.

Which brings me full circle to this moment.

I have no clue how Saturday is going to turn out. I have less than 48 24 hours to figure it out, too.

The “higher self” side of me is all:

BIIIIIIIIITCH. Calm yer lady bits down. Have faith. It will all work out! Oooommmmmmmm. ✌️

But my “lower self (?????) side of me is all:

PANIC AT THE DISCO SHE SHACK!!!!! I don’t have a babysitter lined up, my mom can’t watch her, neither of my sisters have gotten back to me, and I’m impatient AFUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!

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Goddamnit.

You know what I just realized? I’m starving for pizza being ridiculous.

😂😂😂😂😂

Truly.

Me having an anxiety tantrum isn’t getting me any closer to knowing if I’m going to have a babysitter on Saturday or not.

But it is robbing my joy jar. In broad motherfucking daylight.

Screw that.

I know that no matter what happens on Saturday night… I’m going to be just fine.

Everything’s going to be just fine.

Becuase one night doesn’t define my life.

My outlook defines my life, one thought at a time.

And I’d much rather be optimistic and faith-y than anxiety and doom-ish.

Sure, the plans Mr. Man and I have are epic. And I still very much want to do them. It’s just that… I will be ok with whatever happens.

Thank you for bearing witness to my meltdown and subsequent rebuild-up in real time. 🥹🙏

#Humbling and yet… also #Empowing.

This is your reminder to have more meltdowns because they do seem to lead to more breakthroughs. And I’d call that a net positive every day of the week.

And with that being said… have the absolute bestest weekend!!!

You deserve it. ❤️‍🔥

-M

p.s. - I cannot believe I titled this newsletter as I did. Hahahahahaha.

p.s.s. - One last reminder to myself: whatever happens on Saturday night, I’m going to still have the best life ever. ❤️‍🔥 ← I find repetition is key 👍😂

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