Halloween

Chicagoans go all out for Halloween, not quite like the idiots up North, but crazy nonetheless. This is why I knew I could not let my friends down by allowing this night to slip by without making my mark. And make my mark I did... where do I begin? First of all, my costume (and my amazing personality) was a huge hit. I was selected for the costume contest but unfortunately, no one can beat a midget Smurf. To say I was drunk on Saturday would be similar to calling the Titanic a dingy and that the ship's captain had a minor run-in with an iceberg. If there is such a thing as a slight case of alcohol poisoning, I'm pretty sure I had it. So much so that I had to take the afternoon off of work (today) because I was still trying to recover. I am going to spare you the vivid details, the amazing stories, the outlandish bar tab but I made being awake for 26 hours straight with nothing but some weed, a cheeseburger, a liter of vodka, and a handful of shots look good... especially good looking if you were staring at my lifeless body sleeping in the bathtub of a posh downtown hotel.

Best Halloween Ever.

"Pretty Face"

When describing me to your friends, you would probably say, "Well, she's got a pretty face," and the body of a... well, it's not flattering, let's leave it at that. So when I get invited by my petite beautiful bodied friends to a VIP party downtown for Halloween, I shudder. (Yes, guys and gals, I will sell you their phone numbers for a nominal fee) Normally, I don't mind going to the clubs/bars/etc, but let's face it, we all know Halloween parties are another excuse for girls to dress extra slutty. Occasionally, you get the girl who actually has something original and isn't whored up, but not tonight - I was told all of the girls in our party will indeed be dressing like tramps. Well, shit. Every year, I agonize over this night. I never have a good costume and no matter what, it will look dowdy and nightmarish on me.... and not nightmarish in the cute Halloweeny way. Maybe I'll go today and get something with a nice mask. Maybe I'll play sick. Maybe I'll succumb to dragons. Maybe I'll get run over on my bike ride. I'm hoping for the former rather than the latter. Well, I gotta get my ride on and think it over. I hope you had/have a good weekend. I'll let you know... (Yes, the author is aware you could really give two shits, but you've read to this point and the author is pretty sure you'll read the next one, so fuck off.)

"No Big Deal"

Without going into great detail about my family (or who I really am), it should be noted that my family is pretty powerfully tied. Not so long ago, my parents were forced to expose a skeleton in our family closet to me, as the media had gotten hold of some “information”. Well, it was all pretty heavy and I thought to lighten the mood a bit, I would expose my secret - tattoos 2 and 3. This is the conversation:
Nicole: I also have something to tell you.
Dad: What? What is it? I’m not sure how much I can take?
Nicole: It’s no big deal, really. On a scale of 1 to 10, it’s about a 1 for me, a 5 for you, and probably a 9 for Mom.
Dad: You’re pregnant.
Nicole: No, Dad, I’m not pregnant.

Ok. Let that sink in. I haven’t seriously dated a guy in months, so what kind of a slut does my Father take me for? (And we can only hope he never reads this.) But even after I got over the fact my Dad thinks I am an irresponsible, promiscuous, morally questionable daughter (again, it’s what my parents think, not what I am), I began thinking why on Earth would he think it was a ONE on the “big deal” scale. Let’s face it, if I were unmarried, and unattached for that matter, I’m pretty sure pregnancy would rate higher than a fucking ONE, don’t you? Seriously.

It's always food with me.

Holy muther fucker. I've made an honest effort to watch my language on this thing but not today, not now. I am so fucking glad this week is coming to a close. Seriously, this has been a week full of emotional peaks and valleys (just ask poor kj) and I am so over it. I just wanted to wake up this morning and have it all washed away. Instead, I woke up naked and alone on the floor of a pool hall... and I don't even like pool. Ok, that's a lie - I really do like pool. This week, I've been dealing with the old love who rose from the ashes coupled with the annoyance of my unsatisfying job, it made me get upset with people around me that I actually care about for stupid little things. It's like eating so much appetizer that you have to box up the main course (which is never as good reheated) or at least I'm assuming it's like that; I've never actually not finished a meal. So, to the main meals in my life... my apologies. I've been pretty stuffed with the bread and apps; I hope you understand.

It's early, it's Friday, and I don't feel like doing shit today at work, so there's a good chance I'll post again but if I don't, here's Friday's Five people I'd like to have cook for me:
37) Anyone reading this blog (e-mail me, we'll set something up)
12) Tyler Florence (he's so cute)
68) Your Mom (because my mom never did... and I'm not joking)
48) Anyone but Alexa (only kj will get this)
62) My Attorney, Dean (he's also my Godfather and amazing in the kitchen)

Just Playing with Blogger

The Streets Music Video Codes

That's mad dope, yo!!

A recent expert review found that marijuana does not increase your chances of getting cancer. This is good news as I am pretty sure it still increases my chances for heart disease and contracting STDs because after a good smoke, there is nothing better than eighteen chocolate chip cookies and screwing anything that moves.

2005 World Series

WHITE SOX ARE CHAMPIONS!!!!!!!!!!
Chicago gets first title in 88 years

Congrats to the White Sox Nation!!
Though I am not a true "I bleed black-and-white" Chicago White Sox fan in any fashion.... it was hard not to champion the White Sox Cause on this blog quite a few times.

This is a franchise that hadn't won a Series in 88 years. Hadn't won an American League pennant in 46 years. The franchise that gave up on Sammy Sosa only to watch him become a Hall Of Famer uptown. The franchise that had a father and his son run onto the field and beat the tar out of a Royals coach. The only street cred the White Sox have ever had was (a) Bo Jackson and (b) Dr. Dre ["I had my chrome to the side of his White Sox hat"].

The championship was magical and the team dominant - the White Sox were the best team all season long. Then, when the chips were down....they killed off the Indians, Red Sox, Angels and Astros. In those 15 games....they won 14 of them.

Sure...they got through the playoffs with a bad call that allowed AJ Pierzynksi 1st base and Jermaine Dye's "hit by pitch". They won Game 2 of the World Series on a walk-off home run.....Game 3 of the World Series in the 14th inning....and Game 4 of the World Series by a score of 1-0. You could argue a possible Game 5 tomorrow night, with the Astros holding a 3-1 lead. But it didn't happen. And so for the second straight season, a long suffering franchise ends over 8 decades of frustration by sweeping the Series. Maybe it will be the Cubs turn soon. Or the Indians.

Congrats to my new home's team, the Chicago White Sox.

Electronic Conversation

I sent one of the most difficult e-mails of my life last night (it was a reply). I fucking hate e-mail. Even though I was sent an e-mail to begin with, I still should've called because e-mail is so impersonal and a real pussy's way out of saying something that might be otherwise be very difficult. Even at work, my phone hardly rings and my e-mail inbox is always full. Seriously, if you want my opinion or need to tell me something - CALL ME, there's a good chance I am just sitting at my desk... probably looking at porn. God gave us a voice to evoke emotion, pain, joy, sorrow, passion.... an e-mail cannot convey the sincerity (or lack thereof) and it drives me crazy, not crazy like the bum living in my basement, but crazy nonetheless.


PS: To the person who make be thinking this is about you: it's not - well it is, but not directly. I appreciated your e-mail.

PPS: Did anyone actually watch the longest WS game ever last night (not me)??

Any Song Suggestions?

Ever since I found out I was getting a new iPod for Christmas, I've been almost obsessed with creating the perfect playlist. I have broken out the countless cd's I own and am constantly trying to think of classic tunes I simply must include for the new trinket. Unfortunately, I am getting a nano. Did I just say "unfortunately" - that's so not what I meant. It's just that I'm a Class III music junkie (only Class II and I are worse) and it seems as though 1000 songs are just not going to be enough. Wow, what a crazy world I live in; 3 days worth of music stored on something the size of a credit card and I'm bitching about it. No wonder Americans are hated - well, I'm hated anyway. Apparently when you commit felony-like crimes in three foreign countries, you're "a liability" - who knew!?! I totally need to reconnect with the world (outside of the US, that is) - good thing my South American trips are just around the corner!!! (South America will take anybody.)

Stick with the Mild

I like things hot... my men, my coffee, and even my buffalo wings just to name a few. So when I ordered some 380 degree, burn-your-lips, there-is-no-God hot wings, I was in heaven... for the moment, anyway. About 4:15 AM, I woke up to dreadful stomach cramps... I had to leap out of bed for the bathroom, thinking my intestines were going to implode. Hmm.... false alarm. Return to bed (and to what I can only assume was a mortified bedmate). Three minutes later - more pain and another dash to the bathroom; again, more of nothing and finally back to bed. I struggled to ignore the internal torture and somehow faded off to sleep. This morning, I attempted to make light of it, explain that it was just some freakish weird body vendetta, but let's face it - gastrointestinal cramping is not a huge turn-on and there's no good manner of talking your way out of it.

I am saddened to report this is not the most ill I felt all weekend. I'm feeling much worse as I watch my beloved MN Vikings self-destruct in the most unequivocal fashion. It's already been a long season... and I'm not sure how much more emotional anguish I can take.

Game 2 tonight - GO SOX!

F5

Friday's Five Reasons I like October:
31) Fall Colors
95) Fall Wardrobe
10) Wedding Season Ends
50) Holiday Season Begins
4) NFL, MLB, NBA, NHL all in one glorious month.

Have a great weekend.
And by process of elimination, Go SOX!!!

Health Professional

Yesterday, my place of employment had a Health & Wellness Fair. With my background, I was called to assist. No big deal; there were a number of health screenings and basic health information booths, so how bad could it be? In my world, getting something like the exercise and lifestyle booth would've been too damn easy. I was assigned the breast and testicular cancer health station. Again, this would not have been so bad if it weren't for the fact we were stressing the importance of monthly self-examinations, including a hands-on demonstration with props. (Nevermore had I wished I were embellishing this story or had a turkey sandwich.) I had the distinguished pleasure (definitely no pun here) of providing the employees with life-like testes and breasts to be used as learning materials - how to feel for lumps and what the lumps actually feel like. But that's not where the story ends, friends. I may not have written about this event had I not gotten hit-on by guys all day. And not in the funny ha-ha way, without the details - these guys were serious. I mean what guy hits on a girl teaching him how to properly grip his balls and gently feel around for lumps. Ok ok, I'm sure this action by a hot chick like me could be a bit prurient, but still... it's a fucking health fair, not a sex party. Well, it goes without saying that I had a ton of ass sex last night, but not before I checked them for cancer... I'm always answering the call of duty to promote men's health.

Not FYI

You know what I hate (other than white people, of course)? I hate that people can track blog traffic and activity. Like the guy finding out people were coming to his site via my link (even though that turned out pretty funny). It's weird to me when people know the exact time I check their blog, how I check their blog, and probably how many times I masturbate to their pictures. The other day, TBC recited my viewing activity with respect to his blog... creepy. I just hate that you people know how many times I check your site for new posts (which is like like a zillion times per day) and that there is little room for anonymity; where's the fun in that?! I have very little desire to know who is reading this banter and when. I'd like to think there are some people reading this that I don't even know about and hopefully they include hot, single, straight men. Damn you blog-tracker-thingy for trying to banish those dreams, especially those that include the hot guy seeking me out after reading my irresistible rants about work, drugs, and how disgusting all pregnant women are... I'm just so desirable.

More on HNT (then I'm done)

When I began ranting about HNT, I did not realize how passionate people were about it. Oh, I would like to publicly apologize to Brandi, the owner of the baby belly from my previous HNT post. (I have since removed the link) Echo, her husband, was pretty ireful with the comments left on my blog and his; but the indignation was constituted and I would have probably done the same thing. He also tried to call me out on my low self-esteem and sporadic drug abuse... well, no duh. (Like I've ever hid those stellar qualities or the fact that I spent time in prison for knocking off a series of delicatessens in West Texas.) But I've gotten off track...

Ok, back the the whole HNT thing. It's not that I seek out these sites, they just sort of happen; I will link from a comment or click "next blog" and there it is. I did not realize, however, what a voyeuristic pleasure this was for some people (I'm looking at you TBC and DJ) and being the dirty whore that I am, I can totally respect that. It's not something that I am all about, per se, but people seem to like the little hints of provocation and wonder. Fair enough.

So although I do not embrace you, Half-Nekkid Thursday, I no longer denounce you either.

All Inclusive

If I had a list of elements for a great weekend, this weekend would've included almost all of them. First and foremost, I hung out with my family, including one of my most favorite close friends. Additionally, I enjoyed home cooked meals, alcohol, drugs, gambling, golf, and some super steamy girl on girl on guy action. Ok, I made that last part up but everything else was included. Seriously, a great weekend.... so much so that I stayed an extra night and was uber late for work this morning (11:00). But at least I arrived just in time to take a lunch break (and I'm not joking).

Friday's Five

In theme with being anti-HNT and because I am so damn cool, I am enstating "Five for Friday". Basically, this is just an easy way for me to kill off an entire day of posting about subjects such as alcohol abuse, handcuffs, and any event from the summer of '94. This may be the first and last time I do this because let's face it, I'm lazy.

Five strangest things to come in a Bloody Mary (inspired by fscklaw):
67) Pickle spear
41) Canned Cheese squeezed a piece of Celery
7) Jumbo Shrimp
82) Egg
16) Beer shot on the side

HNT

Half-Nekkid Thursday. I'm not sure if you've heard of this or not, but it's a big thing in the blogging community. Basically, the participants publish half-naked photos of themselves or others to their blogs. Personally, I think this is lame. (Sorry 37) If I wanted to see a picture of Jessica Alba or worse - your fat gross baby belly (sorry Echo's wife) - I'd look it up on the internet. I read blogs to be entertained and this HNT thing is so stupid to me. If you want to publish your pictures, just do it; be an exhibitionist, be artful. But don't hide behind an idea spawned from some old rapist trombone player in Montana.

To you, HNT: http://www.spicenews.com/pix/melc60.jpg
(yes, that's me... fucking paprazzi)

OK Go

So, if you haven't already seen OK Go's new video "A Million Ways" - you should.

http://www.okgo.net/video.asp

It's Janie's Last IOU

Ok, so I admit the last post was a little bit on the Desperate Housewives side, but it was how I was feeling in the moment.

Last week, I went out to dinner with a couple friends to celebrate Molly's birthday. When I begin thinking about how pathetic I am, I think of those pathetic enough to want to hang out with me?! But, I never disappoint. This reminds me of another short story... maybe tomorrow. Well, we hit up Outback Steakhouse, which is apparently a birthday tradition of Molly's. Unlike my birthday tradition of eating an entire family of pheasants, shitting out ingested Lego parts, and polishing off a bottle of Jack Daniels. After dinner (Alice Springs Chicken with Vegetables = sex on a plate), the night was young and we threw around some ideas. Unsatisfied with the suggestions, I mentioned Quigley's had karaoke... we couldn't drive fast enough. It's not that I like singing karaoke, but I really love making fun of others... like a whole lot. We ended up singing karaoke after all, only not in the traditional sense. More in the "who the fuck is ruining my song?" sense. We would sing along (loudly) from our corner booth (close to the stage) as we saw fit (always). I'm sure the hardcore karaoke people were super unimpressed, but lets face it - they are getting off on singing karaoke. It should be mentioned that Molly is Mormon and I had decided not to drink in her honor... that decision lasted about 10 minutes. It goes without saying we were a big hit at Quigley's (in very sarcastic undertones). Bar patrons were calling on me to sing to which I politely told them, "no" and that I knew it was them who egged my car in the eighth grade and, "I would have my revenge; oh yes, I would have my revenge." The night progressed and culminated with me, after countless Guinness Snake Bites and Bass pints, performing a dance rendition of Aerosmith's Janie's Got a Gun. If you've never seen a (literal) interpretive dance being performed by yours truly, which is pretty much everyone I knew after rehab, you're really missing out. Proving it's not over when the fat lady sings but rather when she breaks out in wicked awesome dance moves, I closed my bar tab shortly thereafter... and not just because every guy in the bar was hitting on me... I was hungry (duh).

Everything.

You know what's wrong with society's perception of women - "Everything." Whereby, commercials depicting a seemingly happy woman say, "Jane has everything - career, husband, and kids...." Everything??? Says who? This is why women like me (single, beautiful, and lover of anything creamed) are made to feel inadequate. Fuck everything.

Stained Lamp Shades

I grew up in the same house for 13 years (age 4-17). Since going to college (at 17), my folks have lived in five different houses (in 2 states). Needless to say, my room is vastly different than the one from my youth. Since I am the favorite child of my parents, I have been given the liberty to decorate it in my own personal style, but there is not one single item in there from the room of my youth. I guess I'm wondering do parents keep their kids' rooms the same or do they redecorate it the minute the kid leaves for college? In addition, if your room is the same or if you know of one of these people - is it creepy to go back (at 25, 30, etc) to the same room you had in high school? The same room you lost your virginity in (because you were a slut) - the same room with cum stains on the lamp shade (because you were a real dirty slut) - the same room with food crumbs in your secret hiding spot (because you were a fat real dirty slut)?

I'm just asking.

ME: the Wit

So, I took this humor test thing some guy wrote and I have listed the results here. Although in no way even close to science (the questions are pretty basic and leading), it was pretty accurate.


the Wit
(61% dark, 30% spontaneous, 21% vulgar)

your humor style:
CLEAN COMPLEX DARK

You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty-- after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a
fraternity leave you totally flat.

I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer. Your sense of humor takes the most thought to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion. You probably loved the Office.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais


This test tracked 3 variables
How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 72% on darkness
You scored higher than 11% on spontaneity
You scored higher than 12% on vulgarity
-----------------------------------------------------
The way I see it, I have a 95% better sense of humor than women my age. (72+11+12) This does not suprise me... I am also 95% smarter, 95% prettier, and can consume 95% more food or drink in one sitting.

It is true, I f'ing love The Office... I mean the original version. Before it came to the states, I had already owned the first two BBC seasons on DVD. It's comparable to a triple hoagie sub on an empty stomach. So, it goes without saying that I am a fan of Ricky Gervais (creator and star of The Office on BBC). I would like to think I am like Jon Stewart, but that would be giving me way too much credit. Woody Allen, however, is a bit of a stretch... since I am not a huge fan of his, I would hate to think I am like him. (Well I am huge, but this is in the figurative sense, whereby ruling me out.) Besides, I'm not into having sex and making babies with my pre-pubescent adopted children.

I like ice cream.

So, Capt. Fucktard had another meeting this morning. I cannot fully express to you just how worthless this guy is. I also cannot fully express to you just how much I like ice cream. But back to the subject at hand, I would love to test my blood pressure pre- and post- meetings with him, the results would be astonishing (and since I am one Big Mac away from a coronary, this can't be a good thing). What's more, last Friday I was chewed out by a Division Manager because of poor performance in his job area.... not my fault. As the Division guy stated, "You're on the phone, so you're catching the blame." Sweet. Thanks, Captain. Oh well, at least I have my sexy good looks and my gorgeous boyfriend to go home to.... oh wait.

Depeche this Mode

This morning on the way to work, I heard Depeche Mode's "People are People" (how I never realized just how gay they were still alludes me), and it made me think of this lame chick from college and then it made me think of her pretty sister(no, I didn't make out with her), which made me think of the guys she dated, which in turn, made me think of my college friend, Chad. (Yes, kj, that Chad).

I had a huge crush on Chad (he was gorgeous) my freshman and sophomore years (he was older, of course). Since I actually had some moral fiber during those first couple years of college, (except when it came to just about anything you could smoke, shoot, or snort), I resisted most of his sexual advances time after time. It's not that I didn't want to have sex with the guy, he was a whore and I didn't want to be just another girl who fucked him. I know, I was young and naive. Wow, I have really gotten off track here - is anyone still reading this? Do over; let me start again.


One night in college, I proposed an idea for myself and a guy friend to hang out before leaving for Christmas Break. It was a little date-ish, but we enjoyed each other's company (read: making out for hours) and it beat the regular routine (read: me going to his room, being fondled, and then blue balling him by sleeping on the sofa). I thought we should check out the Christmas lights parade and watch the movie "A Christmas Story", easily one of my favorite movies of all time (I was only 18 and didn't have my fake ID yet so options were pretty limited). Well, he thought it was such a good idea, he took another fucking girl! How totally lame is that?! Used my date idea used to woo another chick. She had zero personality and hated the movie, which was a total win for me and not having a good time is what he had coming for the low move. However, I'm pretty sure she still fucked him (I didn't ask details and he was super hot), so I guess it was a win for everybody. Anyway, I was over at his place, saw the rented flick, and immediately shot him "the look" (all men know what look I am talking about). He confessed to his folly because I am adored and powerful and as I've said before, I give great fucking blowjobs... and I was also holding his balls so tight that he limped for days. I have no idea where I was going with this and wow, a sarcastic, "Good Story, Hansel." is probably in order. All from a fucking Depeche Mode song. Sorry all - I owe you a beer.

Working for the Weekend

Probably not going to get a change to post today... some days, I actually work. I know, I am pretty important and super smart... and gorgeous.

Spoonful of Sugar

I recently found out that a man ejaculates approximately one teaspoon of cum during orgasm. (This fact also spawned such bandnames as Lovin' Spoonful (original, eh) and Teaspoon (not so original)). So, is it me or does it seem like way more when you're swallowing the stuff down like pudding? It probably should be noted that I give great fucking blowjobs and it results in frequent ejaculations, but still. Additionally, there are 5 calories per teaspoon. I'd love to blame my "weight problem" on this caloric indulgence, but lets face it - you would've had to suck dick more than half a dozen times in the last year to make a trace nutritional amount. I'm pretty sure my love handles are due to the cream sauce of another kind.

Ok, back to huffing paint.

Lamey McLoserson

It's almost 9:00 PM on a Saturday night and I am disgusted by the fact that I am writing on this damn blog instead of getting ready to go out (because I have no plans). Last night, I fell asleep at 7:00 PM. Welcome to loserville, Nicole. With that said, what I am about to say may come as a shock, so read cautiously and hold your breasts (this means you too, tbc)... this isn't for you as much as it's for my imagination during self-gratification later on. I am out of my FUNK!! Yes, it's true I golfed terribly today and yes, I am spending the weekend like a total loser and yes, if you really think about it, I am a total loser, but I'm not even depressed about it. No, it's not the fifth of vodka talking... or the weed, ok, it might be the weed -but whatever. - Screw you for coming down on my party. Tomorrow's a new day; I'll keep you posted and yes, I know you don't really care unless it's when I am drunk, drugged, or naked. Anyway... back to the History Channel (I wish I were kidding.)

Go Vikes!!!
Go Chiefs!
Way to go Yanks!!!!!!!!