Hotlanta

I'd be lying if i told you I wasn't stressed out. I'd also be lying if I told you I didn't have sex with your Dad that night back in '94. (And I'd do it agian, bitch.) Without warning, the engineer I work closest with had to take a sudden leave of absence with no set date of return. It's a grim reality to realize the world doesn't always revolve around you and stop on command. So, I am officially trying to complete the work of two engineers, including a last minute trip to Atlanta today - and with the added work load, it couldn't be at a worse time.

I'm going to have to work this weekend and as much as I hate fat-free Ranch dressing, there is nothing I hate more than working on the weekends. I have no problem putting a solid 60 hours in Mon-Fri, but my weekends are sacred, literally and figuratively.

You've been warned - I may be crabby.

What really happened?

So, I've been thinking a lot about the specific events of the other night. We don’t perceive things with our senses as well as we may think. Bring in another person, or more people, and the stories about what actually happened begin to differ. This is why eye witnesses are not super credible in court. But there must be an ultimate truth to every situation, which exists outside the perception of any one individual. Let's face it, our minds prefer our own perception because we’re able to mold it into believing anything we want - anything to make us happy or comfortable, regardless of our conscious efforts. Shit, there are even times when the body goes through such serious trauma, the mind blocks the memory of it – as if it never happened. But it did happen, and often times, repressed memories can come back to bite us in the ass – and those hidden memories can weigh just enough to throw you off balance.

But officer...

Well it’s Monday, and you're probably here to read about the weekend in SoDak. Well, pending the investigation and legal matters thereto, I probably shouldn’t talk about much including the details that led up to and followed “the incident”. (I REALLY wish I were joking.) Luckily, my friend (the attorney) will get everything worked out before it turns ugly... and I mean that literally, horizontal stripes are so not flattering.

All in all, though, the weekend was a good one, for sure. My friend had a great time at her ball-and-chain party and it will be a night no one will soon forget, that is for sure. Picking out the bathroom stuff wasn’t nearly as bad as I had anticipated and it was even good to hang out with the old man. I walked away with new socks, two CDs, a full belly (twice) and two $50 bills… not bad.

Faucet Shopping = Not Cool

I am writing this in a bit of a hurry, so my apologies...

When my friend got engaged and had a quickie wedding (no, she was not pregnant), we didn’t have time to throw together a bachellorette party so I suggested a post-wedding shindig and coined it the ball-and-chain party. The party is in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, this Saturday. I made flight arrangements to come in Friday to hang out with one of my very best friends, the attorney. Since I am very selfish with my friend-time, I did not tell the girls I would be in town. Well, the attorney has fallen very sick and has missed this entire week of work. As pathetic as it is, this is the guy who had a near flawless perfect attendance record through 12 grades (he missed one day in fifth grade). So, for him to miss a week of work is a pretty big deal. Even if he is feeling better today, I certainly don’t want to get any of his sickness cooties on me, so spending a lot of time with him is out. My Dad had made plans to take the two of us out for dinner and release us to the bars, but with the attorney out of the picture, I am stuck with my Dad for the entire night. Oh sure, there are other homies I could call, but I’d feel bad ditching the old man fro just anyone with the intent of drinking and partying… even someone has heinous as myself has a soft spot for her parents. My Dad is a pretty awesome guy, so there are worse things than chill’n with him except the chill’n has now made an ugly turn. What started with my Dad suggesting, “I’ll take you to see what your Mom and I picked out for the house,” ended with my Mom telling me, “I want you to go pick out the fixtures for the bathrooms and kitchen, oh and while you’re at it, choose the bathroom sinks and vessels… and the wall tile… and the floor tile to correspond.” Ugh. The pains of choosing home décor will make the mass quantities of liquor on Saturday night taste all the sweeter.

Friday’s Five Favorite Drinks
79) Bloody Miller Lite
30) Jack Daniels and Diet Coke
63) Black Velvet
80) Gin and Tonic
64) VO Seven-Up

Blue Day Update

Leave it to fried cajun potato salad to lift me out of my funk. That and three Leinenkugel's apple spice beers and yes, I'm back at work. Right, like my job requires me to be sober... puh-lease, I'm an an engineer, not a surgeon. Plus, I'm listening to a little Nelson. (I saw a commercial for Celebrity Fit Club and dug it out... it was the first Compact Disk I ever got.) have a great afternoon and enjoy the best show ever, The Office. (You thought I was going to say Beauty and the Geek, didn't you?)

Peaks and Valleys

I should've written something this morning when I was feeling relatively good about life. In an attempt to deplete my e-mail account size, I read over some old e-mails and now, I'm in a bit of a funk. Isn't being bipolar great!!?

TV Time

I think I have mentioned before that I am not much of an electronics person… necessity items such as flat iron, hair dryer, and dildos notwithstanding. For instance, the iPod I received for Christmas – still in the box; my television – a 19” set from an after-Thanksgiving sale 10 years ago, which incidentally sits on the tv cart I’ve had since junior high; when my DVD player broke mid 2005, I replaced it with one that cost around $35. Oh sure, I’ve had the intention of shelling out some big dollars for a complete entertainment system, but intentions are just that – intending to do something, not actually doing them. Cases in point include my intention to not get high before work, my intention to stop stealing money from kids, and my intention to not take a shit and hide it in my friends’ cars. I haven’t needed the fancy system, as my archaic television works fine, but the desire for a new one stems from both necessity and laziness. When I workout, I need to watch television (necessity) and since the workout equipment is in another room, I have to wheel my tv and crap around to that room which is a royal pain in the ass (laziness), not to mention a no-no on my wood floors. Thus, a new television is in my future, two sets to accommodate two rooms.

Oh, I’d also like to mention that I pretty pissed at my parents for giving away their 36” television to my Dad’s maintenance man when they knew I’ve needed a new one for some time. (Karma?) “Oh, we didn’t think you would’ve want it.” AHOY!?! Wtf, Mom and Dad?

Anyway, I thought about going all out (and way into debt) and purchasing the flat screen, HDTV, etc, with surround speakers and blah blah blah… But in reality, those fancy features don’t mean anything to me. If I am satisfied with an old bargain television, I figure I’ll be satisfied with a new bargain television.

Brief Bits

Matt G. – with all of your “D” talk last week, I thought the Pittsburg/Denver score would be 0-0… hmmm, guess the Broncos need an Offense after all. Sorry for your loss.

My former HR Manager has been trying to set me up the new engineer at our California facility… difficult from 1000 miles away, but a nice gesture. Since the Cali engineer is here this week, I woke up a little earlier in a feeble attempt to pull myself together and not look like the recovering heroin brownie addict I am. He came by my cube and like a total junior high girl, I pulled the ultimate lame-chick line, “Oh, I totally forgot you were coming today.” As the words were coming out of my mouth, my inner voice was shouting “No, Nicole… just don’t,” followed by, “Ugh, you make me sick, I cannot believe you just said that; you are so dumb.” (He had reminded me a good half-dozen times last week about his being here.) Sometimes, I am so totally lame.

The bathroom at work got new paper towel dispensers and I haven’t found my rhythm to get the right amount, yet. So annoying – either too much or not enough.

The most annoying part about being in Nebraska is having to endure Cornhusker shit everywhere. Anyone who has ever been there knows exactly what I mean. How can a state as lame as Nebraska be bordered by a state as cool as South Dakota?

Don't leave your laundry basket in the middle of the kitchen floor prior to leaving for a weekend trip because upon your return, you'll trip over said basket and break three fingers trying to reach for the counter to catch yourself. So, if I tested genius, how dumb does that make the rest of America!?!

Popular Mechanics

In high school, I ran with the popular crowd, which should be a surprise to no one, and since I didn’t develop my skill for living in judgment of others until grad school, I was pretty much liked by everyone. Although, I primarily hung out with my core crew, I would float into different peer groups from time to time, mostly to experiment with new drugs and sexual partners. Unlike most high school's popular crowd obsessed with drinking and the like, we were really squared away (for the most part), old beyond our years, and got good grades. Well, fast-forward almost nine years and what do you get – doctors. All of them became medical professionals, with the exception of three: a nurse, an attorney, and yours truly (an engineer).

I then went on to a small, but highly regarded, science and engineering school. At engineering school, there is not a lot of room for career diversity and the typical student wasn't exactly the Zach Morris type I was used to running with. (Luckily, with my good looks, charming personality, and ability to power a 72-second keg stand, I was thrust into the most popular of collegiate circles. I was suprised to find out that the popular crown was not relative and they were much like the peeps I was used to roll'n with... and most of them actually graduated!!

These two experieces prove the popular kids are part of a new generation coming into their own, taking their nerdy ranks with style and class. I couldn’t be prouder… or more hungry. Seriously, when’s lunch?!

Friday's Five Guilty Pleasures
70) Celebrity gossip
75) Pedicures and bikini waxes during the winter
33) Little Debbie snacks
11) Coach bags
58) Maury's paternity test shows

First Class

You know, there is something to be said about adding cream to soup, screwing black guys, and flying first class. (Alex knows all about this… flying first class, that is, not the screwing black guy thing.) Normally, I slum it in “economy class” with the rest of the poor slobs, but since Teeny (my Mom) booked my recent flight, I was styl’n first class the entire trip. (It’s truly amazing how much crap my parents will endure and still find it in their heart to spoil their ungrateful and sexually explorative baby daughter.) After this recent pleasure trip, it will be difficult to go back to the old lifestyle of cramped seats, crying babies, and having to actually pay for my drinks. But, I suppose you can say the same about sex, drugs, and liquor. Once you have the good shit, it’s tough to go back to cheap stuff. This weekend and next, it’s back to airline slumsville and picking up random guys in Red Sox hats trying to look cooler than they really are. Even though I resentfully dread going back to coach, Momma Teeny still deserves mad props for upgrading my punk-ass. To show my gratitude, mext time we’re out to dinner, I won’t steal money from her purse… well, no more than a hundred.

Stupid Windows

You know what I hate… like, really hate? I hate when you click the little Close box to close the spreadsheet you’re working on and you don’t want to save it, but you clicked the wrong Close box and instead of clicking No to not save the scrap spreadsheet, you clicked No to not save the spreadsheet you’ve spent the better part of two hours working on and you would have probably worked the whole part of two hours on it had you not seen the new IT temp guy, whose good looks made you so wet ‘down there’ that you had to go to the bathroom and masturbate just to ease the tension and now, the work you did on the spreadsheet has to be reworked and it’s 8:15pm and you want to go home but you know you wont work from home because Project Runway is on tonight. I just hate that

I'll spare you

I wrote a post today but since I had to write it at varying increments throughout the day, it resulted in garbage beyond repair so I am not posting it. Instead, I am giving you this - filler (but funny).

Poor Financial Acuteness

Well, this was a very expensive weekend for ‘ol Nicole. I’ve misplaced my credit card and have been using my Debit card at a feverish pace, which is pretty much the only thing I can do at a feverish pace. It climaxed on Saturday night when I innocently went to watch my friend headline House Of Blues and ended up at a Bears game with him the following day. You’d be shocked at the gross amount of miscellaneous expenses incurred in such a bizarre turn of events. For some reason, I was under the impression money grew on trees and that I had a grove of said trees in my backyard. In reality, "some reason" could include, but not limited to, my consumption of drugs, Jagg shots, Jack Daniels, and Amstel Light... although, the whole tree halucination thing was probably the cocaine talking. My overzealousness quickly turned into a sizable overdraft before I could transfer some funds. And to think... just last week I was turning down money, my how things have changed.

I am still feeling the effects of Saturday night, although not in the normal way - I am not talking about a hangover. I wore some super cute shoes; they had a great heal and went perfectly with my top. In hindsight, not the best kicks to sport when you’re going to be on your feet for sustained amounts of time. My toes are still tingling and the tips of them still void of feeling. It's absurd what we chicks do to complete a look. The nerve damage even made falling asleep difficult last night so I did what any woman would do, masturbated to exhaustion and listlessly dosed off.

Second Rate Teams

I know you're all here for the weekend recap, but it's my blog so I will not be a victim to reader wants and demands. I'll get to Saturday's dirty dish later today but first let's talk football. What the fuck happened in the NFL this weekend? I am so pissed and not because the Bears lost… I was there and to be honest, I couldn't have given two shits about the outcome. I was predicting a Pathers win all week. But c’mon Colts – wtf? and fucking Denver!?! - are you kidding me with this crap? The Super Bowl is going to be the Super Crapper as far as I am concerned. The cream certainly did not rise to the top this weekend... seriously, so pissed.

What jerk schedules a meeting for 3:00 on Friday?!

What in Hell happened?! Yesterday, I spent time enjoying the outdoors and today – it’s snowing sideways! This never happened in SoCal… Why did I move here? Why did I move here? Why did I move here? Why did I move here?

A quick note on the job front… No, I have not been fired nor did they find out about that little fling I had with the secretary. My supervisor has taken a new position and will be leaving. Since I always thought he was a terrible manager, not all that great in bed, and unwilling to leave his wife and kids for me, this did not bother me too much. His replacement was announced yesterday and has, unfortunately, been described by some as the antichrist. Three engineers I know have transferred positions to be out from under his black reign. Super.

The people at work were talking about how they clip their pet birds' wings. Although, I am not much of a pet bird fan, what a spirit killer that must be for the bird… but then again, the whole cage thing probably sucked the life out of it already.

Friday’s Five Things I Can’t Do:
96) Touch my tongue to my nose (but you’d be AMAZED by the things I can do with my tongue).
34) Take back the mean things I’ve said, those I regret, anyway (I have been looking into time machines on the internet, though).
1) Believe there is no God. (this may bite me in the ass later, but with the life I lead, I'm not taking any chances)
51) Play a complete song from memory (on one of four musical instruments I’ve taken lessons with).
54) Ever be satisfied. (job, sex, body, love, you name it)

I'll walk, thanks.

It’s so annoying when lousy drivers are oblivious to what menaces they are on the road and repeatedly argue as to what good drivers they are. This is precisely why I have never claimed to be a good driver. While I am not a totally inadequate driver and far better than most, I’ve had my fair share of fender-benders, speeding tickets, and vehicular homicide charges.

The other day, I backed into a car, but not just any car – a fucking Taurus. Of course, you and I both know how lame Ford Taurus owners are. Ugh. I knew dealing with this TaurASS was going to be a big pain so I just drove away but not before I left a bit of cocaine dust on the bumper to throw the cops off.

When I told Cory about the infraction, his comment was that I was really having a streak of bad luck with my truck. I then recounted my driving record to him, pointing out that maybe it wasn’t the bad-luck-truck as much as it was me. But bless the guy for trying to make me feel better about it. HOWEVER, I was a passenger in two accidents during my four-day trip to Honduras, so I think Cory may be right. Yes, I’ve just had bad luck when it comes to automobile accidents, including my own. Which also leads me to believe that maybe my string of STD’s is also bad luck and not just because I am a slutty whore who’s "made bad life choices."

"Nicole will not be bought..."

I've recently received an invite to Finland. Finland?! - more like, Funland!! I’ve never been to the Nordic lands and since I'm such a sucker for seeing new places, I'm totally stoked - but there’s a catch. There’s always a catch. I was invited by a "male friend", Leif (who has the most Nordic name ever). And no, I have not slept with him. Although I’m good... real good, I’m not THAT good. Well, yes I am, but whatever. I met Leif while he was in graduate school and I in undergrad, he was a friend of a friend, you know.

He contacted me out-of-the-blue while I was in graduate school and repeatedly drove the 500 miles to see me, twice just to take me to dinner. But, for a number of reasons, I just wasn’t that into him. Since I was super busy with grad school and then starting a new job and moving, then trying to make it in the adult entertainment industry before it landed me in rehab for the second time, it was easy to blow him off without really breaking it off. He stayed in touch, touched himself thinking of me, and offered to visit me in California and now too, here in Chitown. I’ve made light of it, told him I'd joined a touring Big Band troupe, and have politely made efforts to put him off. But holy crap, the stakes were really raised with Finland. I know I said I can’t be bought – but it’s FINLAND!

So, the question is, “how much of myself do I have to give up for this?” Sure, there is the sexpectation factor, but I’ll give that up for a turkey sandwich, so the sex doesn’t bother me. To his credit, being the gentleman he is, he wouldn’t expect it. (I can hear the men scoffing at that already, but fuck you - he wouldn't.) What I mean is, how long after the trip do I have to pretend to like this guy? And sometimes, he really gets on my nerves. So, is the scenery of Finland beautiful enough for me to forget I am with him or better yet, have the ability to tune out the STUPID things he says? Should I pay back the money I stole from all those elderly relatives? What is ham loaf and why does it burn when I put it on my privates? There are just too many universal questions that need to be answered. And to think the biggest decision you had to make all day was which porn to download.

A Cash Gift

I’m a giver. I give to give, I don’t give to get – except in bed, of course, but even then, I’m pretty terrific about giving. My giving occasionally goes to the point when getting can make me very uneasy, except when the getting comes from my parents because they owe me for being such a perfect child, less the stints in rehab and the two or so times they had to bail me out of jail, but otherwise, I was/am the image of offspring perfection. Well, my parents recently informed me that my Dad’s brother is going to give me some money. It’s not a huge amount, (although probably more than TBC makes in a year). A normal person would jump for joy at this news and although I can think of lots of things to do with the money, I feel very uncomfortable about it. The thing is, I have never really had a relationship with my paternal uncle and only within the last five or so years, has my Dad rekindled their brotherly bond. So by taking the dough, I will feel indebted to him and his wife somehow, like I’ll owe them something in return, even if it is just my kinship. Nicole will not be bought… not for anything less than $250,000, anyway.

With the exception of my parents, of whom I’ve sucked dry for years, I’ve always come to things by my own means and have never borrowed or taken anything from anyone. I’ve never wanted to know what it’s like to ‘owe’ someone. So how does the story end? Although I am 26 and can chart my own course in life, my parents have so totally earned my respect (mostly for putting up with my shit) and the right to have the final word in most family matters. So, to spite my greatest efforts, my parents have instructed me that I will be accepting the money from my uncle graciously and in a mature manner.

Now watch… the fucker won’t send any money and, although I never wanted it in the first place, I’ll be totally pissed and internalize the matter until it drives me to a life of hard drugs, loose women,and fast cars. (Although, that doesn't sound too bad.)

Friday's Five

Oh crud, I almost forgot it was Friday. So, here are Friday's Five Reasons I Almost Forgot It Was Friday. (weak, I know)

99) I was gone on Monday and Tuesday
49) I took most of Wednesday off
71) I have been working like a fool
15) I'm not looking forward to this Saturday
84) I aren't not smart

New Year's Eve

I think NYE is a waaaaay over-rated celebration. The whole thing is a lot like the fucking prom – so much hype and build up and very seldom do you have a great return. This year, I had few expectations because well, being out of the States, I simply didn’t know what to expect (duh) so I wasn't disappointed. But, I wasn't overwhelmed, either. We went out to a club, which not surprisingly, is a lot like any other club in any other place. Of course, we were in the VIP area… shit, I am so important. Even in a foreign country, I get through the velvet rope. You people are so lucky to “know” me. I hadn’t really taken anything too dressy to wear out that evening, but by no means was I shabbily clothed. However, the club's VIP area reminded me of the red carpet event after-parties I've attended (yes, people know me). Anyway, the crowd was all geared up in suits and party dresses… even though no one probably noticed, being so taken by my striking beauty, I felt very underdressed. Well, at least I know now to go buy a new Versace cocktail dress for next year... I couldn't possibly wear my old one.

But even when you're wearing Versace, there is nothing quite like being in a room full of beautiful women to really send your self-esteem plummeting. My friend, bless her soul, said it was just their make-up, but I know better. But hey, at least we picked up her cousin before we went… a former Ms. Honduras. Are you fucking kidding me? Nevertheless, it was a really good time… until around 4 AM when I started not feeling so good and asked to be taken home (see yesterday’s post).

Honduran Malady

Hola, mis amigos. Que tal? I was pretty damn sick of the Spanish language by the time my stay in Central America was up. No, that’s not fair to say; it’s wasn’t the language that frustrated me it was simply me not understanding a solid 85% of what was being said around me… and that is a generous estimate. Oh sure, I can speak Spanish just fine because although I don’t have a giant Spanish vocabulary, I know enough to play with words and phrases. For instance, instead of saying, “tomorrow,” I can say, “the day after today.” See, it’s easy. But with a limited vocabulary, understanding fast speech and conversations are a royal ass pain. It fucking sucks to be sitting in the middle of a room like a deaf mute… granted, the best looking deaf mute you’ve ever seen. But, I cannot complain; I saw a new country, a new culture, and cannot wait to go back… only after I’ve honed up on my Spanish skills, though.

There were many highlights, including a visit to some wicked Mayan ruins. While I was there, I must not have paid enough homage to the Mayan gods because two days later, I was praying to the porcelain god… if you know what I mean. It’s not like I am a stranger to puking my guts out and feeling like shit after a fabulous New Years Eve, but this was different. In a 24 hour span, I was awake for probably three hours… and most of that time was spent in the bathroom, hydrating my system, or receiving shots (my friend’s Dad and Mom are doctors).

I'm not sure what made me sick, I mean I eat everything in site, but I think it was the conch soup. You know, when I think about it statistically (as I do everything because I am a nerdy engineer), I’ve been quite lucky. I have traveled all over the world and this is the only time I’ve gotten food poisoning of any kind. Undoubtedly, though, this was the sickest I have ever been in my life... and I’m not exaggerating.

Short Note

I'm back and busy with work and life... but not too busy for y'all. Well, not too busy later or tomorrow but totally too busy today. And by "busy today", I mean I am taking the rest of the day off and spending it with Cory... a girl's got needs. So, I will leave my highlights and lowlights of Honduras for another day. I've missed you all terribly!!