In Honduras

See you Tuesday!

Pre-NYE

Have a fabulous New Year’s Eve celebration, y’all! I know this warm wish is a few days early, but I am boarding a plane for Honduras tomorrow morning and wont be back until Monday. Yes, I realize it’s quite the trip for just a weekend, but vacation time is pretty limited when you’re working for ‘the man’ and I need to save my days for upcoming adventures. Although it will be far too short, I am looking forward to the trip, but who wouldn’t be, right?! Any lazy American can go to Times Square or Vegas, but how many can say they rang in the new year in Honduras… or Central America, for that matter?! It's really amazing just how much cooler I am than most people.

So, how does one (namely, me) end up in Honduras for New Year’s Eve? Well, I have a friend from there and she is spending three weeks visiting her family for the holidays and asked if I wanted to join her. I know what you’re thinking and no, she is not that kind of “friend”… well, not yet, anyway (wink, wink). It took me all of about two seconds to decide to go and since I am a spoiled child of loving and totally kick-ass parents, they fronted me the ticket. I will gladly sacrifice my pride for winter trips to warm locales.

Happy New Year - Have Fun - Be Safe

Post Christmas

Since no one is really back in the swing of things, including myself, I'm taking the day off.

Merry Christmas, Jesus

I took my sweet-ass time getting through college, not as long as some people (I’m looking at you, TBC), but an extra year never hurt anybody, right? Then, I went to grad school and finally, I settled into a job. (What a mistake that whole ‘job’ thing turned out to be.) Well, with all of those college years and last year’s weird work schedule, I was very spoiled when it came to Christmas vacations. I’d grown quite used to having a solid one to four weeks of “down time”. Although, ‘down time’ was a lot like college (less the schoolwork) - going to the bars every night, sleeping past noon, living off my parents, doing drugs, and drinking in my room alone while I masturbate to old NFL Films reels. This year, however, Christmas is the allocated three-day weekend… seriously, WTF? IT’S BABY JESUS’S BIRTHDAY, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE – HAVE YOU NO RESPECT?!?! With only having one day off, in conjunction with meeting my parents in Mpls and not at home, it hardly feels like Christmas. But I’m sure once my Dad gets drunk and starts hitting my Mom, it will all feel familiar, just like home.

Friday’s Five Worst Christmas Songs
81) I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus - this could be the most nauseating song, ever
13) The Twelve Days of Christmas - this could be the longest nauseating song, ever
72) The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late) – it’s cute right away because you get a little nostalgic and then, about 7 seconds later, you realize just how irritating that voice truly is
43) In Dulci Jubilo" ("Good Christian Men, Rejoice") – MEN?! MEN?! What about the good Christian WOMEN??! (assholes)
36) All I Want for Christmas Is You – Mariah Carey, need I say more?


Happy Holidays!!
Be safe and enjoy your weekend!!

Holiday Angst

Shopping. I have done more damn shopping for Christmas this year than any year I can remember. I have also purchased more items for myself than any year in memory. Although, I don’t remember much of anything prior to my ‘Betty Ford’ vacation. I usually have a general idea of what some lucky schmuck is going to get from me and, if I do say so myself, I am a great gift giver. But this year has been a bit more of a struggle – F-you, Christmas 2005. Not only is my shopping list incomplete just one day before going home, I’ve also really struggled this year with thinking of and finding the perfect gift for my friends/family. And as I mentioned, to make matters worse, nearly every time I have gone out to shop for others, I have found only things for myself – everything from a pagemark dictionary to a sexy little number from La Perla. (I’m not putting the picture of me sexed up in my new La Perla set because A) I’d hate to blind anyone so close to Christmas and B) it may be considered part of Half-Nekkid Thursday and we all know how I feel about that.) A season whose spirit can make me feel so soft and warm inside has made me feel gluttonous, irritated, and anxious… hungry and horny, too, but those are year-round.

Quid Pro Quickie

If you haven't ever checked out The Daily Quickie on ESPN.com's Page 2, you really should. I read it everyday and have for months. It was finally time to give the site the ultimate props it deserves by linking it from my page. The column's writer, Dan Shanoff, asked his readers to do this, so please click on the link. As you know, I'll do anything for a man - I'm just glad this one didn't involve a gag and hot wax (what a weird night that was).

Ex-pert

I did not have sex last night. Granted, I can say this a solid 315, ok 360, days of the year, but Cory came into town last night. I mean, what good is it to have ex-boyfriends if you can’t randomly sleep with them? Although we were at his sister’s house, there was very little affection thrown my way and no indication of better things to come. And by “better things”, I mean sex and by “come,” I mean “cum”. When it comes to sexing the ex, I have three rules:
1) Never sleep with an ex you secretly wish to date again or that wishes to date you.
2) When in the presence of the sexually activated ex, pretend he (or she) is the only object of your desire; any other relationships should appear non-existent.
3) ALWAYS use condoms.

Pleasure is the primary motivator for me to do the ex hook-up thing. Let's face it, it is a long and hard process (pun intended) to train a guy to what you want in bed, so when you do and the relationship ends, the challenge of having to find a new boyfriend coupled with the dismay of having to start the coaching all over again is enough to drive a gal to a gluttonous night of hard alcohol and mind altering drugs. (Although, eating a bad peanut is enough to drive me to that.) One-nighters can lead to some glooms, but it’s amazing how adding in a few orgasms can make you feel a lot less trashy.

But, back to Cory, or at least the 'Cory' to each of us. Cory is an ex-boyfriend who has been exculpated, or exonerated. My boyfriends get exonerated when the break up is because of a failure for us to be romantic partners but not necessarily a deficiency as friends or sexual partners. If you still can make each me laugh or enjoy fucking, no matter how awkward it may sometimes be, my feeling is that it’s best to remain in each other’s lives… not that I need the extra friends (I’m very popular).

Sometimes, there is a fine line between an ex who can be exonerated, an ex that can be sexed, and an ex who should simply be excommunicated. Excommunication tends to occur when I've unwisely extend the relationship so far past its expiration that a simple inquiry about the cost of dinner catapults into a rage about how his views on the domestic national product make him incapable of being a better lover. (Not that the woman in question was I – I’m very balanced).

And how can we leave out the exes who should simply be executed, the ones of whom have inflicted such serious wounds that not even the ultimate ex-Man (Wolverine) could heal from them. With such people, it is best to do what is always best when the going gets tough… drink a case of cheap beer, eat three medium pizzas, and just let it go.

Bounced

A responsible adult would not have gone out when they were beholden at 5 AM the next morning. And that same responsible adult would certainly not have been laughing her ass off when her friend was vomiting out the window of his girlfriend’s SUV that night. Without quesiton, the responsible adult would by no means have then snorted a quick hit of 'blow' to get her through the morning. I'm also quite sure it goes without saying that Saturday night would in no way have included more of the same for that responsible adult.

So, it was a pretty lethal weekend: Friday, I laid low because I didn't want to be a complete pile of shit the next morning, but then there was the whole cocaine thing; Saturday, a little more intense, and a lot more “partying.” I typical fashion, we were kicked out of the bar… well, it wasn’t so much “we” as it was one person in particular, but we were told to escort him because it was probably just a matter of time for us. After getting booted, we were then disallowed from two other bars! The first bar that prohibited us admittance was assumingly my fault, as I knew the bouncer. I know what you’re thinking and yes, usually “I know the bouncer” is a sure-thing in bar-land, but this is me we’re talking about… very few things come easy to me... especially a hot body or ironically, the knack for cooking. As it happens, I dated the bouncer’s friend and, without going into details, I was a real bitch to him. I assumed he was just being a prick as a vendetta against me. But after being denied into a second establishment, it was pretty obvious just how drunk we were and that maybe it might be time to head home… and by home, I mean to another bar....

Christmas Countdown

Happy Friday everyone! It’s a good day to be alive… and no, the delightful mood is NOT because I got laid last night, not by something without batteries, anyway. It’s Friday and I have very little planned for the weekend. Ok, I have nothing planned for the weekend. Hmm… wait a minute; I do have a couple things this weekend, neither of which should put me in such a chipper mood. Damn. Tomorrow is Saturday (duh), and I have to wake at 5 o'clock (AM, not PM) and drive a coworker, her sister, and her kid to the airport. ‘Tis the season, shitheads. I can’t remember the last time I woke up that early on a Saturday… and I’m not including the countless times I’ve been passed out at the bar and my friends were waking me to go home. And by “friends,” I mean custodians. And by “bar,” I mean alleyway leading into the bar (I’d been kicked out hours ago).

On Sunday, I also get the surreal pleasure of waking early so as to have plenty of time to tailgate before the Bears game… at Night (7:30 PM)... in Chicago… in December… in the blowing snow and below-zero temps. I don’t even like the Bears!!! But, I will soldier on (pun intended) and pretend I can still feel my nipples. (Oh how I miss you, Metrodome.)

When it comes to gifts, I am pretty fastidious and I try never to look a gift horse in the mouth. Unless of course it's my parents, they owe me. But let’s face it, sometimes gifts fail to hit the mark. So in the spirit of giving and getting, here is

Friday’s Five Worst Gifts I’ve Gotten From Loved Ones:

29) Paternal Grandparents: Clown earrings… really, mini clown faces. Not so bad if I were six, but I was fourteen.
24) Mother: Toaster… it wasn’t a Dualit or Cuisinart or something really nice like that, nor was it something I’d even asked for. I thought it was going to be a cappuccino maker.
83) Uncle: Rocks. Apparently, they were part of some lame-ass fossil kit.
27) Aunt: Birds of North America Flash Cards. I really wish I were kidding, but she was into the whole Audubon Society thing. On the up side, though, my Dad and I taped them to clay pigeons and used them for target practice.
89) Boyfriend: A Blacklight. Nothing says, “I love you,” quite like a fluorescent lamp with phosphor coating, does it?

Have a great weekend, y'all. I'll probably check in, but if not, see you Monday!

Naps

Yeah, yeah – I know. I didn’t write a damn thing yesterday. I did finish the post I promised and I dunno… it just doesn't feel right. It seems like the post was forced is not written in my unique prose. For the record, though, I had planned on writing something last night but was suddenly sucked in by Mr. Couch. With the exception of a brief Sunday afternoon non-Viking football game, it's on rare occasion I nap on the couch. Yesterday, however, I was down for the count – one minute I am watching Busty Desires 7 and the next, I'm waking from a FIVE HOUR slumber. It goes without saying that after waking from five hours of couch sleep, I was hardly in the writing mood.

I hate napping on the couch. I know a lot of people doze primarily, if not solely, on the couch, an act of which I’ve never understood. The idea of laying on the couch in front of the tv with the singular purpose of falling to sleep is so nonsensical to me. After all, you already have a piece of furniture for sleeping – your bed. (There is no rule dictating that it can only be used for an overnight’s rest.) All I am saying is that if your tired, take the initiative of getting your ass to your bed and get some quality napping minutes in and leave the couch to what it’s good for – fucking.

Another Day

Ok, so I'm working on a new post. Don't expect anything great (or anything at all, really). What I am getting as is that there will not be an entry today. Well shit, I guess this is an entry. HA! I beat the system - yeah, I'm a genius.

Tomorrow, I promise.

Flo

I took a brief rest from the blog community for a couple days and although I still did not feel like posting, I wanted to catch up on some favorites. One highlight came from a guy I went to college with, Flo. The discussion was if you can consider a woman who only has anal sex a virgin.
Here is the quote:

"I had a girl say to me once "Im a virgin but you can fuck me in my ass" I was drunk so i kind of chuckled then well fucked her in her ass."

Priceless. We've all had those moments - when someone says something out of the ordinary, anything really, and you kinda laugh because you think it's been said in jest and then you realize, "Oh shit, they're serious." Priceless.

Nosey Nellies

A couple of you have inquired how my own confession went. I think I got off pretty easy. Of course, I tried to confess my sins in a very politically correct manner, without too much detail. For the most part, it worked but when the Priest stops you and says, “Let’s back up and clarify one part of that,” it’s NOT a good thing. But as I said, it was a surprisingly lenient penance and at that moment, I was “as pure as the day you were born.” Seriously, who doesn’t love being Catholic?!?

And on the whole, I don’t like to write about religion or my faith or bullshit like that; so don’t expect to see any enlightenments, new revelations, or deviations from the norm. Remember, my slate was wiped clean on Monday!! And yes, I am well aware that with or without confession, I’m probably going to hell - if not for that double baby homicide, for something else, I’m sure.

You're Catholic?!!?

The week started with a 4:00 AM and tiresome Monday; after working 14 hours, I went to church. I know what you’re thinking – Nicole goes to church?!? Yes, assholes, I'm constantly trying to prove to you people I have a soul. Noteably, it was the mass for the Sacrament of Penance & Reconciliation and as you are all well aware by now, I have quite the laundry list of things to be forgiven for. Since I go to confession on a fairly regular basis (mostly out of necessity), I don’t often go to this particular mass. But, since I skipped church… and fornicated… and masturbated… and was gluttonous… and… well, lots of other acts to vitiate my wholesome character, I figured I was due.

Well, the service was short and people’s confessions were moving along until... wait, maybe I better back up, I have forgotten my audience for a second… for those of you unfamiliar with the whole Sacrament of Reconciliation (Confession) thing – it’s a pretty in-and-out matter. You go in, you ‘fess up to your sins, the Priest assigns a just penance, and you leave… it’s an easy three to five minute process. Oh sure, if you only go to confession once a year or so, there may be a little more time in the “‘fess up” part – but still, seven minutes TOPS. I am a nerdy engineer and there is only so much time you can lose yourself in prayer until you finally wonder what in hell is taking so long (pun intended) so I calculated averaging confessional time to be right around 3:30 – not bad. But as the mass went on, the times got a little longer, but not significantly – not until a couple of real dildos, anyway. They were there for a solid 14 and 17 minutes!! Seriously, WTF? Someone like me - sure, 17 minutes is not necessarily out of the question, but you should've seen these guys. There is NO WAY that God had anything on these two – they were total momma's-boy type dorkos, one was even in that night's three-person choir for heaven’s sake! Maybe they just need to lighten up on themselves… or stop having homosexual sex with each other… or at least stop confessing to having homosexual sex with each other anyway, as the Church sorta frowns on that. But, mass ended and since I was hungry after freeing my body of the binds of sin, I treated myself to a gluttonous Italian beef sandwich... and fries... and a shake... and I masturbated in the drive through... Shit.

Friday Night Highlights

First of all, I forgot to mention KJ is also a smart engineer and, as much as it pains me to say this, much more beautiful than doctors will ever make me.

I am giving training all day today so I don't have a lot of time, but wanted to post something about the weekend.

KJ was rolling into town about 7:30pm Friday night and I assumed I would catch up on some work until then. But, I have no will power (just ask any guy I've dated... or anyone selling baked goods) and... you know what, I think I am going to capture highlights from the evening in conversation form.... as I remember them, anyway.

On the way to my desk on Friday afternoon, I stopped off to talk to a girl at work.
- Me: What are you doing tonight?
- Gal at Work: Nothing much, do you want to go have a beer?
- Me: You mean now? (4:30... remember, I was planning on working 'til 7:30)
- Gal: Yeah.
- Me: Sure, I'll meet you outside in 2 minutes.
- - - - - Like I said, no will power.

- Gal: KJ, this is Dan.
- KJ: Nice to meet you, Mario.

3 PBR's, 1 Jagg shot, 2 VO/7's, and 1 Jack/Diet later.... and still at the bar...
- Me: So, you wanna hit up that sex shop?
- KJ: You mean now?
- Me: Yes.
- KJ: Of Course!

Insert witty and intellectual here conversation about female pleasure items, lubricant, and the limited selection of quality porn movies.

Back at the bar we met up with the group from before and some new guy...
- Guy: Hi, I'm Josiah.
- KJ: Can I call you Joe?!
- Guy: Uh, No.
- KJ: Ok fine, Dick it is!!

After 1 more shot of Jagg, another beer and no less than a pitcher of water...
- Me: I'm on my way home. We ate and drank some more at the bar, went to the porn shop, and then went back had another couple drinks... pretty low key. So, are you back home now; what are you doing?
- TBC: Wait a minute; do you mean to tell me you left the bar early just to go to the sex shop only to go back out... to the same bar?
- Me: Yeah.
- TBC: Just checking.

Later that evening...
- KJ: This porno sucks, there is no story line, just porn.
- Me: That totally sucks; is it at least mostly guy on girl?
- KJ: Well, yes.
- Me: Then, it can't be all bad. Want a turkey sandwich?

Silly Engineer

The weekend was fabulous... beer, shots, pornos, dildos, more liquor, eggplant rollatini, dancing, judging... seriously, fabulous. I am administering training today and tomorrow, but I'll try to post. For now, I'll leave you with this conversation (as I recall it being told).

note: Reid is an engineer (recent grad) that KJ and I met through a friend.
Reid: So, you're an engineer, too?
KJ: Yes
Reid: You are really smart, then.
KJ: You don't have to be smart to be an engineer.
Reid: I have to be honest, smart women intimidate me.
KJ: Oh really? What do you do?
Reid: (totally serious) Dumb girls.
So, I guess Reid proved the point that you really don't have to be smart to be an engineer. (However, it should be noted I'm both an engineer and a genius... and don't forget beautiful.)

Demigods

I’ve recently gotten into celebrity gossip. Maybe it was from living in Southern California… or maybe it’s because after being so obsessed with reading what they were writing about me during my “15 minutes”, they sorta grew on me. I’ve always liked hearing gossip, celebrity or otherwise. I’d like to think I don’t spread gossip, but I’d also like to think I am a Victoria’s Secret model and I can assure you, I am not. Growing up, I didn’t talk about others behind their backs and then I went to college and joined a sorority and started dating multiple football players and it just came with the territory. After a couple years (mostly while in rehab), I grew out of that phase and just like my virginity, talking about others became a distant memory… but I still took interest in hearing it. I think college is like that, though, you create your own reality and your own fiction - there is always drama to surround yourself with, you don’t need it from the outside world to the likes of Nick and Jessica or Paris Hilton. And then you graduate… and get a job… and a routine… and find yourself watching more television than you ever thought humanly possible… creating a quasi-reality… leading you to take interest in the “familiar faces” who come you’re your home every week taking front stories of People, E!, and Us Weekly.

For some, there is a moment when they realize, “I’m hooked.” For me, it was at Bob’s Lounge last spring. I was in a booth with one of my very “celeb” friends and a couple guys we know. We were talking about the Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes story when our friend (Matt) looked at us and with that 'are you fucking kidding me' look, he said, “Do not tell me you guys are actually talking celebrity gossip.” That was it – that was the moment that I realized I am officially in my mid-twenties and such a slave to my own tiresome existence that reading about others’ transgressions is enjoyment… not as much as performing fellatio or eating a six pack of tacos, but you get the idea. There are worse vices and you should be happy I’ve given up most of them (stupid restraining orders). And since moving back to middle America and reducing the amount of time spent in front of the telly, I’ve gotten better... although, I think it's the pills.

Friday's Five celebrities I wish would go away:
39) Fergie from Black Eyed Peas (What does the sweet guy from North Dakota see in her??!)
19) Lindsay HOhan (I am so sick of her need to create drama)
18) Diddy (Quit vomitting all over my media, Mr. Puffy-Puff-P-Sean-Diddy-Colmes)
26) Ashley Simpson (although Jessica, with or without Nick, can stay)
93) Kristin Cavalleri of MTV's Laguna Beach (the fact that she actually constitutes a 'celebrity' is enough to make me sick... and to think, she was born in Chicago - good riddance)

Why am I posting this garbage?

The snow has finally fallen here, making it increasingly difficult to focus at work. I want to be home or at our cabin or snowboarding down a mountain or even back in college… anywhere to really appreciate the beautiful day. In addition to anything served with white sauce, I love winter, which you could metaphorically say is also served with a white sauce (the white sauce being snow, for the short bus group)… you could metaphorically include sex as well, but that is a gross deviation from my point. Although, I’m not totally certain there is a point to this story and come to think of it, it’s hardy much of a story. I can already hear your sarcastic undertones, “WTF?!? It snowed in Chicago in December, your kidding?!” Well you know what – YOU’RE UGLY! Take that; I love having the upper hand in this relationship. (And if it's anything like my other relationships, I only THINK I have the upper hand.)

It's 11:15 AM and as much as I desperately want to leave work for lunch, I know if I can just stick it out a couple more hours, I can leave work for the day. And to think some people have "real" problems.