Dung beetles

Dung beetles have six strong legs specialised for shoveling dung.

I am off to some training for a whole week and then at a conference for another two days the week following. Needless to say, posting may be scarce. The training and conference are both in Mpls, which is fantastic because I will be able to soak in 10 full evenings of friend and family time. Not to mention ten full days of free food, getting high, and going to movies… life is good. Needless to say, posting may be scarce.

Update to my rant from the other day. The dumb bitch asked me to complete a detailed work plan for a couple process control boards… oh, you mean like the ones completed two months ago?!? Like I said, fucking clueless.

Tonight, my friend Adam is coming into town for an engineering conference, a conference I am speaking at, by the way. I am so very excited, not to speak but to see him. I really only speak at these things in the hopes of getting laid. I met Adam while in grad school and have remained close with him ever since... no, we didn't fuck. Adam is just an amazing guy with a great attitude toward life - he has a way of making a person feel really good about themselves. I'm so ready for some time with him, I just wish I weren't so busy this weekend and then leaving.... ugh, stupid job.

FRIEDay’s Five reasons I think I’m burnt out from work (get it now, burnt out - fried - frieday, I know - I'm a loser)
75) I left for a party and instinctively took my ID badge
86) The relaxation jail time allows is appealing
47) “Hell” is about all I can get out when I answer the phone
98) There is so much on my mind, I’ve forgotten how to think
60) During a facility update, the word erection was used and the first thing I thought of was not a man’s penis

Old Rascal

People watching – I love it, absolutely. In fact, it’s one of the primary reasons I go to the bars (the other being the hopes of scoring some crank). Today was a pretty nice day in Chicagoland and it championed the return of my favorite old man, a man who gives people watchers everywhere new respect. The old man rolls out on his metallic blue (very youthful) electric mobile scooter (from where, I don’t know) and sits at the four-way stop – just to people watch. Hang’n out, unbound to a schedule, observing contently, and enjoying the day. (I’m a bit jealous.) Some day, I’d like to pull up a camp chair and keep him company, not talk to him, just chill with him. After that, I’d go hunting for some crank.

Pointless

I have an insane headache right now and my eyes are spasming… from what should've been a simple meeting. I get so frustrated and irritated with the person who is trying lead it because she is rude, stubborn, and so fucking clueless. Not to mention how horribly she is driving the whole project into the ground, but far be it for her, who thinks she knows everything to see that. Worthless. Fucking worthless. I finally excused myself and just walked out. Fuck if I am going to spend one more minute of my time on something she has no clue about and zero direction for… I have too much education and too much other stuff to do to waste my time on that kind of bullshit. Other than that, a (relatively) stellar day.

Suck It

If I had a dollar every time a guy has said that to me.... hehehe... ok, truth be told, I'd have just enough for a combo meal at Jack in the Box. In fact, one of the few times it was said to me was in exchange for a combo meal at Jack in the Box, so I guess it all worked out. Enough of that, onto today's post...

Have I told you what a great idea it was a buy a fucking house?!? After I cleaned up the 50 lb bag of solar salt I spilled, I hauled it into the basement, only to find one of windows had fallen out of the window well, bringing in a bushel of leaves, bugs and who knows what other sort of vermin. Oh, and the glass from the window shattered, too. Fabulous. Thank goodness for my trusty shop-vac. Seriously, kudos to the inventor of that thing; it has been there in my time of home clean-up need… and I’m pretty sure if the time comes, I could give myself an abortion with it, too.

Speaking of abortions… this is hilarious, but only hilarious in the “we like to kill fetuses and damn the man who says we can’t ” sort of way, so maybe it isn’t so hilarious. But anyway, SoDak came out and banned virtually all forms of abortion, so the president of the Oglala Sioux Tribe, a woman, has put a measure forth to establish an abortion clinic within the state borders… on the Reservation… where the law can’t touch them. I love it. (Not necessarily the baby-killing part, but definitely the political civil disobedience part) To read more, click here.

March Sadness, Court, and Why KJ is the Devil

Me: Well, at least Duke’s still in it.
C double D: Duke just lost.
Me: Fuck.
C double D: You seriously don’t have anyone left in your bracket?
Me: Go kill a pirate, asshole.

I have court this morning, what an annoyance. I’m pretty sure I’ll walk away with court supervision but if not, expect to see some posts from the clink. I’ll update you later today.

What a wonderful weekend. You know, when they have to wheel your beer out on a cart because it’s too much to carry and there’s only two of you, a grand evening is on the docket. I mean, who knew 64 ounces was so much alcohol?! Coupled with the 96 we already sucked down… game over. To make matters worse, I cheated on Jesus. I’d given up dairy for lent and just like the devil materializing an oasis in the desert, KJ pulled into “Haciendas Las Glorias”. HLG serves a killer white cheddar queso dip that no mortal can resist. Without question, I had enough cheese dip on Saturday night to keep the family farm thriving. Did I mention KJ also wanted me to buy pot... after all, she did.

Update: I got the court supervision. I just need to be on my best behavior for a few months and I'm totally cleared.

Work schmerk, give me a beer

It’s been a rotten week at work… absolutely rotten. Deadlines tightened, projects reassigned, workgroups realigned – and none seemed to be done so in my favour. To make matters worse, I did something to my back and can barely walk. (This is when having that generous supply of pain pills really pays off.) As a result, I am feeling neither creative nor motivated to post, often considered a piece of brilliant literature I’m sure. Seriously, TGI muthafuck’n F. The only saving grace to the week is that I’m going to see my girl, KJ, this weekend and I am so totally looking forward to it, even if it does mean driving to Iowa to do so. With that said, however, Iowa had t's moment and so here's Friday’s Five things I miss about Iowa:
6) KJ, Chrissie, and Carl (my friend, my roommate, my Carl)
56) Golf Leagues (Being money every Wednesday and making money every Friday)
76) Black Forrest Cake Flavor of the Day
8) Univ of Iowa bars… and the loyal food carts in the square
61) Popcorn days at Rockwell (it made my eight breaks a day even better

Hmm.... three items involving food, it must be lunch time.... or any other hour in the day, really.

The Beard Thing

Ok, I am talking about a man’s groomed, facial beard. There has been some question – not that the super cool chick beard isn’t sexy or the awesome neck beard a hottie must, or the I think there’s a small pigmy family nesting in here beard isn’t a total turn-on, but they’re just not my thing. Also, the face’s underlying features (pun intended) still need to be strong and beautiful – good bone structure, nice eyes, full lips, etc.

This weird attraction has not always been, in fact it was quite the opposite. In the past, I was always attracted to and dated guys with a clean-shaven face. Oh sure, the occasional badboy stubble is something no woman can resist, but that’s different. While in grad school, however, something in me changed and facial hair can be sexy. The genesis…

My roommates (4 dudes) all put in 10 bucks on who could go the longest without shaving. I told them I would throw in $10 to not shave my legs and they, in turn, offered me $10 to start shaving my legs more than once a month and $20 if I would just walk around with a bag over my head. Anyway, the first roommate lasted only three days; he’s a bit of a pretty boy, so we all kinda expected it when things got hairy (pun intended). The other three seemed to be in it for the long haul. After a couple weeks or so, my blonde roommate bit the dust. He’s such a granola guy that he totally could’ve made it work but the guy has such a baby face, that it really made the weak patchy eyesore he was sporting look a bit forced. That left the final two, both dark haired and tan, they could really grow a hearty beard and at first, the sight of them made me giggle and then, I became strangely attracted to them… like hot for them, even. But there’s more to it that just the look, it’s the style and attitude that (generally, not always) accompany a guy (under 40) taking on a beard – quirky confidence is rad.

Round 3

Weeks ago, I had planned on being in sunny Phoenix for St Patrick’s Day, but that all went to shit when I was called away for work. Patrick was away, too, but we were both flying into O’Hare Friday night. He met me at my gate, we dropped off our stuff and took the L downtown… but not before grabbing a bottle of the hard stuff and a diet coke chaser. So good, so redneck.

Since I’d had a lunch of Lamb Stew (on a Friday! –thanks, Pope Jo) and worked up until the very last minute I had to leave for the airport, I really didn’t get a chance to eat dinner. Since I’m such a fatty, I thought my body would be able to absorb the alcohol, even on an empty stomach… that assumption was wrong, so very wrong.

The first bar was pretty loud and out-of-control. We found a spot and made conversation with a group of guys who’d walked in behind us. While casually sippin down the green beer, one of the fellas we’d met decided to up the ante and proposed we do a shot for every green thong. I did a quick room scan and agreed. Who knew there were so many filthy green-thonged whores out on St Pat’s Day? Keep in mind, Patrick and I are already a bottle in on the night.

Now, I’m not totally certain at what point (thong whore 7 or 8 perhaps) I decided a bearded man was the hottest thing to me on the planet or at what point I decided it was my mission to make-out or at least kiss every guy sporting one. Beards are a bit of an anomaly these days, but seek and ye shall find. And let’s face it, it’s a pretty safe bet that the type of guy rocking a beard is the type of guy who’d let a chick like me kiss him. I tried to convince Patrick to do the same, but I am afraid bearded women just don’t hold the same appeal.

After only the second bar, it was safe to assume we would be staying there for the rest of the night because A) I’m pretty sure between my bad luck, the super cute Ferragamo denim slingback heals I had on, and my need to drink my body weight in alcohol, a broken ankle was imminent. (Although, if I needed to walk anywhere, I would’ve made a ridiculously high offer of money to some asshole to buy the shoes off his feet and he would’ve sold them to me because men are idiots) and B) I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince a bouncer that a group of wasted guys and I were sober and not a total liability (and judging from January’s SoDak incident, I am a liability). Nevertheless, We were at a pretty familiar bar and the crowd was fun, not the yuppie-garbage you usually get on St Patrick’s Day, so we were pretty content to stay. What was left of the night played out in much of the same manner - me molesting bearded men, Patrick visually molesting large breasted women, Mr. Let’s Take A Shot For Every Thong passing out at the bar (on the bar), Mr. LTASFET’s friends mercilessly harassing him and capturing the moment through photography, and of course, people sleeping in the bath tub.

H&K

I've missed you all so much. I can't wait to post tonight... or tomorrow.

Hugs and Kisses,
Nicole

Red Rasberry This, Bitch

The annoying smelly lotion shit women (primarily) insist on lathering all over their hands every five God damned minuted should be fucking outlawed. Once or twice a day is one thing but mutliply that by the large number of women who work around me - so gross. Maybe I'll get my doctor to write some perfume allergy note or somehting to force people to lay the fuck off. Whatever. Ok, I'm on the road the next few days. I'll try but I won't promise. And from the looks of it (few new posts), y'all have been pretty busy yourselves.

I love Irish Car Bombs...

... and bombed Irishmen. It's pretty clear to me now what you get when you mix a realistic looking red wig, a fake name, and an actual redhead named Patrick at your side… you get really trashed. This weekend was Chicago’s big St Patrick’s Day celebration. We decided to take in the Saturday festivities downtown and although I thought it would be very low-key (relative to Sunday’s Southside party), we still managed to find our way into every rowdy Irish crowd/bar/trunk ina three mile radius. Since we were oozing an authentic old-country look and not just a couple kids getting wasted before noon, the old timers ate this shit up and we were catered to… I was pretty well out of control by about 4:30 or so and passed out by 7 PM… which, luckily (pun intended), gave me ample time to recover for the next day, or what I like to call “Round II”.

Loudest vacuum ever.

I hate working late for many reasons but one in particular is the weirdo cleaning lady. Ok, so she has a ssslliiiight mental deficiency, but she’s no Corky. Let’s just say she’s a ‘shroom short of a solid high. I know it’s her job to clean and I don’t doubt she does a good job, but is it so much to think she should maybe request I move from my desk area BEFORE ramming the vacuum into my chair and under my cube while I am sitting in the damn thing?!? An even crazier thought - how about avoiding the miniscule area altogether?!? But whatever, what really bugs me is her lingering… even after I give her the “quit looking at my shit, bitch” look, she lingers. She loiters around my cube with the loud-ass old vacuum and just takes a pleasant gander of whatever it is I may (or may not) be working on at the time. She will then meander down and when she’s completed her vacuuming tasks, begin to roll up the cord right behind me… lumbering about, looking. At first, I was nice to her, said hello and the like but now, she just irritates me (and is a little creepy). But, I'm not too worried because I’m pretty sure I could take her… although, her husband is bipolar (don’t ask, that’s a story in itself) and he may snap and when he does... let's just say that vacuum (and my veneral disease) would be the least of my worries.

I got one in today!

It's pretty weak, but I got it in... (wow, this is so out of context than where I meant for that statement to go, but I'm pretty sure I had a boyfriend say that to me in bed once after a long night of drinking).

My friend was in town with members of her dental school class attending a conference. When I was introduced, everyone was pretty casual about it, cordial hellos and smiles all around. But then my friend mentioned that I was the person who has taken her on the trips to foreign locales and the reaction by the group after that statement was a much more animated one, a “Oooooohhhh, she’s That friend.” And I say That in the least lesbianish way possible. I smiled but it was weird because at that moment, I felt the group looking at me… critiquing my appearance, my style, my everything. It was very uncomfortable and a strange feeling. And you know the really sick part, I do the same damn thing. When I find out some weird or intimate detail about a person’s life, I mentally analyze and judge the things they say/have said and do/done, even the clothes they wear to try to figure out if I could’ve guessed that weird detail. Like when people say, “You know, Nicole used to be pretty, back when she was a ‘User’” and the response is usually “oh, that explains the ill-fitting t-shirts and cutting scars,” followed up by the subtle glances to one another when I bring up stories about the the good 'ol days.

Sorry, y'all.

Guess who's probably not going to have time post today? Be back tomorrow.

Enough Already

I don’t have much to say today. I fucked up my music library last night, so I am pretty piss about that. Fuck, sometimes I just don’t see things through the immediate solution/gratification. I may be the worst engineer-minded engineer ever. Fuck. And yeah, I got the F-bombs going for me today, too. Whatever, you people (both of you) don’t really give a fuck, anyway.

Friday’s Five Favorite Meatless Meals (and then I am done talking about Lent, and the idiosyncrasies thereof)

92) Tofu & Veggie StirFry
94) Tuna Casserole better known as Tuna “Hot Dish” to you Midwesterners
5) My Mom’s Spicy Breaded Pan Fish
55) Grilled Mahi Mahi
21) Pancakes

Mind-Altering Music

You know, no matter how foul my mood, a random Rick Springfield "Jesse's Girl" always cheers me up. (99 Red Balloons totally did the trick once, too - thanks, 37.) For years, Jesse's Girl has been in my top three favorite songs ever because without fail, it lifts my spirits. I have a couple songs that have the opposite effect, too... they are the songs I listen to during the "dark Nicole" times. Music can be just so wonderfully and agonizingly therapeutic.

Music is without question, best heard live. When you can hear the purity and faults of the human voice or something as simple as a missed beat or irregular note - it really is something. It is such a turn on to me, so much so that I am getting little hot here at work just thinking about it. I really don't know if I can have another relationship with someone who doesn't appreciate the grandeur of a stadium concert as well as the lucidity of seedy bar shows in the same way I do. You know, that's not entirely true; there are always exceptions to be made for guys with lots of money or a huge dick - after all, I'm only human.

Oh Rick...

*** Legal Update ***

All charges were dropped related to my incident in South Dakota in January. I told you, I know people, people who have influence (and amazing legal prowess). In fact, I came out smelling like roses and received a written apology out of the ordeal, a copy of which had to be posted at the bar per my request - hurting some douchebag's pride was a lot more fun than making him do community service or some other crap like that.

In other news, however, I lost my driver's license today driving back from Church, of all places, for "disobeying traffic control device." Fucking Jesus and his "practical jokes."

Character Blemishes

Last night, I went to the Timberwolves game. Ugh, they’re just so bad this season; it’s physically painful to watch them. My heart really goes out to KG. Since I’m a whore, I gave my digits out to a guy I met at the game. It’s weird, of the four Timberwolves I’ve gone to alone (and yes, I’m just that pathetic), I’ve given out my number at three of them. What’s even stranger - all three were in different states, California, Minnesota, and last night in Illinois. Apparently the glare of fluorescent lights bouncing off a shiny wood floor does wonders for me. (read that sentence again without the word ‘floor’… wow, that’s like eighth grade funny)

If the guy from last night calls, which I am almost sure he will, I think I’ll decline the date. Is it so wrong not to date someone because you think his friends are losers? I know what you’re thinking, “Nicole, you’re not in any position to turn down male advances – have you seen yourself naked… seriously, not attractive.” The thing is, even as my weight has increased and my looks declined, I have not lost the shallow tendencies of my former ‘pageant’ self. I’m sure this is difficult for you to hear, because up to now, you thought I had no faults, that I was a beacon of light in your otherwise shadowed world. But, I think it’s time you to came to grips with the fact that I am mere human.

Anyway, the guy I was talking to seemed normal enough, dressed well, decent looking, and we even had a nice conversation. But his friends – total dorks, like bad sweater, ugly goatee trying to look older than 13, bad shoes, lame commenting dorks. I have dated guys because I dug his friends so why would I then not date a guy because of his friends? Because if you do, the next thing you know, you’re standing in a stranger’s kitchen, eating the worst stir-fry ever, hoping the birds in the basement don’t escape and shit all over you because you “accidentally” rang the doorbell, right KJ?!?!