Worth the Time

"She's out."

2009-04-16T12:24:00.001-05:00

Some people walk away from Washington, DC with memories of museums, monuments, and an overall sense of American pride. Me, well - I got kicked out of a bar. This may surprise you, but it was (legitimately) my first time. Oh sure, I’ve been with people who’ve gotten kicked out but it was never because of me. If nothing else, I’m usually the one who is on the up with the bartenders, but not this time. Let it be known here and now that I’m 90% sure I was unfairly targeted because at the time, I was near penniless and drinking water. (Note: it was 7:05 PM.)

A series of events led up to this, events of which I had nothing to do with but somehow, I was the target of the jerk bartender’s offensive demeanor. Well, Nicole had enough. The phrase, “What’s your problem, asshole??!” has never pierced with so much venom. He immediately got in my face and fully expected me to apologize. No fucking way. When I was unrelenting, he called for my removal. I suppose it’s debatable who was in the wrong, but as the guy who slings drinks, he holds the trump card.

As requested....

2009-03-04T16:22:00.002-06:00

The guy who sent me this doesn't even know I have a blog but I've got little else to publish, so here it is... unedited.

"What the fuck is going on? Christ you only holler at me when a) you miss me (well not true otherwise I couldn't get you to leave me alone) b) when you need a laugh or c) what the hell is up with the letters I think I know my abc's shit....how is it going? almost done with work here sorry for the 3 hour difference I'll be out in Vegas soon for work again but have to meet with someone so looks like you are out of the picture....when were you coming here....I'm out there from next month month..? April I think 12 or 13th for a couple weeks. wow did that make any sense...fuck it...write that in your blog...."

I know - wow.

IHOP

2009-02-24T12:55:00.003-06:00

I have a buddy; he’s in a band. This sentence could easily be spoken by 94% of those living in Los Angeles, give or take. This weekend, he brought his show and his friends out west. This made for a grand ‘ol time in Los Angeles, West Hollywood, Santa Monica, and Venice… yeah, ridiculous. I’m in no mood to get into the fact that I slept with one guy for three days (visiting for the valentine’s day weekend) and then two different guys in the following seven days because it’s dwarfed by the random celeb sightings.

Ok, here’s the deal. Every time people come into town I tell them don’t expect to see any celebrities because I, personally, never do – less one Tina Yothers brush at a Boston’s bar. Well, without fail, they (we) always see someone. I mean, I’m not really stepping up my game or anything just because people are visiting, but fuck it’s weird like that. There was smoking on the patio with “Kevin” from the office (I said hello), eating at STK and sseing Sex in the City’s Kim Catrell, and drinking with Selma Blair and her husband guy on Kath and Kim (who knew my friend's friend), and then there was IHOP.

So, we’re winding down our night at about 4:00AM and decide to hit up the nearby IHOP in West Hollywood and wouldn’t you know it – in walk Nicky and Paris Hilton... at the fucking IHOP. (My companions were very unimpressed.) Fine whatever, but the strangest part is that this was my SECOND brush with Paris. Maybe I should’ve been on that BFF show because clearly, we are practically the same person… I mean, we both love movie premier parties with free booze and we both love pancakes at 4 in the morning. This calls for a blood test, we could be related!

.... This just in!!! http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/29354575/?gt1=43001

Worth the Growing Pains?

2009-02-17T13:25:00.000-06:00

When I was a senior in high school, I penned a term paper titled, “Live Longer, Smoke Pot,” hailing the medicinal purposes of marijuana. At the time, I had yet to take a hit of the stuff. That would all change some weeks later, but I digress. Needless to say, I’ve been a quiet advocate of the stuff, for the most part, because it seems to me in a society that regulates legal barbiturates, steroids, and alcohol – what is the harm in marijuana? I suppose its historical infancy is to blame, but that would be taking me off-topic.

Marijuana is a recognizable legal medicine in the state of California (but not federally, which causes some major hang-ups). Mary jane is also the state’s largest cash crop, twice the value of the grape and vegetable crops COMBINED. So, do we set up a standards system, deregulate the stuff, and gain billions in tax dollars or would in doing so create a series of other demons to fight? I could go on, but some things are better left to others… like my laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping (thanks, Leticia - please don’t get deported.).

http://www.thebigmoney.com/articles/judgments/2009/02/11/audacity-dope

Later losers.

Wow.

2009-02-10T17:34:00.000-06:00

I recently got a new iPod and spent a significant amount of time and money only to learn that growing up, my taste in music really sucked ass. I just started downloading at whim, without preview, the tunes that when played I immediately said, “I love this song.” As one of those songs comes up on shuffle, I take pause and quietly say to myself, “What on Earth was I thinking – this is crap.” So, there’s that. And oh yeah, Happy Valentine ’s Day. Love, Nicole.

ENOUGH!!

2009-01-15T19:03:00.002-06:00

Oh wow, it’s cold… in the Midwest and upper Eastern seaboard… in January?!? You’re kidding me? Duh.

Enough of the bitching about cold weather already. I get it – it’s fucking cold. I have no doubt were I still living in Chicago, I would be bitching too but I’m not living there and I’m sick of my mailbox filling up with weather related posts and facebook statuses so I just don’t want to hear any more about it. I lived in Duluth fucking Minnesota. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night to trudge into the cold because it was my night to start the cars. I’ve had to forgo contacts for fear of them freezing to my eyeballs. I know cold, as does every other person enduring it. And those that don’t know, never will (Southern California, I’m looking at you... you and your ironic governor who played Batman’s villain, Mr. Freeze). So, enough already. Why don’t you take that energy and sign up for some environmental group to stave off the industrial impacts causing all this climate upheaval? While I don’t really believe that hype, it helps my argument so I’m willing to climb atop the bandwagon this time.

Note: I was tempted not to write this as by asking people to stop talking about the weather, I am in fact, talking about the weather.

2009-01-12T18:49:00.000-06:00

So, KJ has been on my ass to blog again. This is almost as bad as when Alex gets on my case. KJ started a little blog of her own and is (almost) averaging one post a month... and between the baking stories and weather reports, contracting a flesh eating skin disorder actually sounds more appealing than reading another post. I realize I am being harsh – I need to put things in perspective, she lives in a woodsy house in Alaska. And until Russia starts firing rockets at our asses, there is really nothing exciting to report, less the occasional moose attack… fucking moose. Seriously, anything with such a huge melon atop such scrawny legs just ain’t right. This also includes that one guy from the movie Road Trip.

My blog started falling off the wagon when I got on. A series of events led me to give up my wicked Midwest ways and become a homebody loser like those of you reading this. It’s not to say I haven’t had my run-ins with fun here in Los Angeles, it’s just different.

During my prime, I was a pretty big deal in Chicago… now I live in reality tv Mecca where anyone with a fake pair of tits or rich parents can land you into some “celebrity” circles. Los Angeles and me – well, it’s just not the same.

So, here is my declaration to redeploy the blogging brain cells. I’m not saying it will be daily, or even weekly, but I’ll try to throw something up there fueled by the little niche of the left coast I’ve managed to carve for myself.

XOXO,
Nicole

2008-05-15T14:46:00.001-05:00

Parallel Universe

2008-02-13T12:43:00.000-06:00

I am living in southern California, KJ had a baby and moved to Alaska, and TBC is running fucking marathons... wake me when the spaceship lands.

La Résurrection

2007-10-03T13:29:00.000-05:00

I thought I would put a French title so you would know it was really me. Many times, I have been moved to post but at this point, I thought it would be too weird; like calling an estranged friend or ex for a favor. But when the alternative is catching hell from a once-a-month poster of all people, and I’m looking at you Alex, maybe I just need to suck it up and get back in the swing of things.

In my four month absence, I have move to California, celebrated a new birth (Ryvre Rose) and a birthday of my own, got back into shape, fell out of shape, sold a house, bought a jeep, moved in with a roommate, and partied with Paris Hilton.

I will get into all that in the coming days (re: weeks) and am starting off with the alarming realization that KJ is a mom to a girl by the name of Ryvre Rose, pronounced “river” or if you’re a smartass, “riv-ray” and “reev-ruh” are also acceptable. Obviously, I was a little disappointed with the name selection (Nicole being the only acceptable choice, of course) but it’s grown on me and I should have expected nothing less from her husband, a man who seriously considered the name, "Five" and has himself lived with the name Chadd (two d’s). So Ryvre it is and these people can go to hell, where incidentally there are no RIVERS!!! (yes people, that was a play on words, try to keep up): http://www.babynamesworld.com/forum/topic137007.html

(pictures used without permission)

The Argument for Bonds

2007-05-23T12:56:00.000-05:00

I know I don't usually sports blog, but I need to get this off my chest... my huge, gloriously large-breasted chest. The Daily News reported today that NY Yankee Jason Giambi failed an amphetamines test and in the past, he has been quoted as saying, "I was wrong for doing that stuff," which some say is an admission of guilt. We also know that he admitted in the BALCO case, to using steroids obtained from Greg Anderson, weight trainer to Barry Bonds. (See what a smooth story transition that was.) Anyway, back to Barry Bonds - a man who has probably been less than honest about steroid use.

I am personally not necessarily in the mainstream of public opinion on Barry Bonds. What was it, 2002 or 2003 when steroids were ruled illegal? Right or wrong, whoever took whatever before it was banned, did not act illegally. Right or wrong, think what one might, those balls he hit went over the fence and you can't take them back. His records were made in a legally, officially sanctioned baseball game. How do you place an asterisk on something as though it did not actually happen? Next, Barry Bonds has never admitted anything, and since it has never been proven without a doubt that he has done what some say, America's system of justice deems him innocent. Unfortunately, just the same, one can be found guilty by being tried in the court of public opinion.

2007-05-23T11:24:00.000-05:00

Shit, man. I'm moving back to California.

Mexico recap

2007-05-07T11:06:00.000-05:00

Ok, I’m just not feeling it... creatively, that is. I'm kinda over it, I guess - the people I started this damn thing with have tapered off and I'm finding little motivation in everyday life. That, and I’m a lazy slob.

Well, I just got back from a wedding in Mexico… and am finally starting to get over the depression of being back. The four days were everything I could’ve asked for in a vacation – family, friends, drinking, drugs, and sex.

Let’s start from the beginning. Months ago, one of my dearest friends (Jocelyn) from back home announced her engagement and her intent on a destination ceremony… in Los Cabos, Mexico.

I was looking forward to the wedding for several reasons. First and foremost because I am friends with Jocelyn and was honored when she asked me to be at her side for the occasion. Second, not only were some of my closest friends were going – my parents would also be there, which translates into an all-expenses paid trip for Nicole. And third because the wedding was in Mexico. Sure, this means flights, delays, fuss… but it also means sun, sand, and a private pool. I like that.

Date
Because I’m possibly the only person over the age of 23 not dragging some asshole home with me every holiday or other special occasion and I think it’s a little strange to go alone to a wedding - even though I’m single and ready to mingle, ladies - I told Jocelyn that I’d be bringing a date (also, everyone else was bringing a date and I didn’t want to be the only lonely one). I’m pretty sure 43% of the guests took me for a lesbian, so having a man on my arm was also a nice surprise for everyone (parents included). For this cause, I enlisted my friend, Roy, who I convinced to attend the wedding with me after a long day of drinking and sunning on the boat this summer. He, having known me for years and slept with me a few times, took pity and agreed. This made me happy because although it may surprise you, I had a pretty strict set of criteria for my date and Roy met just about every one: he’s attractive and charming, smart and funny, a fantastic boozer and not afraid of a little smoke.

Preparation
As time went on, the small intimate ceremony grew into an all-out production and the guest list grew from am estimated 40 to a confirmed 90+. Since I have about as much interest in high-end weddings as I do in a glass of cranberry juice, I was a bit stressed. There were scheduled dinners Thursday and Friday and the with the wedding on Saturday, this meant 2 dresses, 3 pairs of shoes, accessories, make-up, hair and nail appointments, tanning, and the ever-dreaded Brazilian wax. Not to mention, when I tried on the bridesmaid dress for the first time, my scream of horror possibly killed a small dog although nothing has been proven.

Speech/Toast

Since I was the maid of whatever, I knew I was under some obligation to say a few words. I enlisted our dear friend, Ross, also in the wedding, also a friend from home to join me up front. My timing was impecable and my toast was near flawless. I know I am one to boast, but in all humility, I killed. I didn't have anything formally prepared and was probably five glasses of wine into the night but two fantastic one-liners coupled with a tear-jerking end... flawless.

Cabo
I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve been quite spoiled when it comes to vacationing and typically, we mix clean, breathtaking beaches with the colorful lush countryside. Mexico – not so much. To be quite honest, unless you were on the resort side of the highway, it looked a lot like West Texas… dirty, dead, and desolate. The resorts were groomed with vegetation and by the end, I could see the appeal… but nothing I’d re-visit time after time and pay millions to do so.

West Texas: vs. Los Cabos

Destination Weddings
I’ll be the first to admit, I didn’t quite understand but it was made very clear. Everyone is in vacation mode. No one has to get up for church, or drive home, or is tired from working in the yard all day… etc. During the reception, half the guests were on their feet dancing… before the salads had been served!! The last wedding I was in had a strict no alcohol before the wedding policy, whereas this one was not a question of if you drank that afternoon, but rather how much.

Vices
Coming off of a vacation to Mexico, I was a bit of a Cinco de Mayo downer because if I don’t have another margarita until the next time I go to Mexico, it will be too soon. They served their purpose for the week and were gloriously made with the alcoholic in mind. However, after my fifth I.V. of the stuff, I was ready to move on. I don’t actually remember a time when I wasn’t drinking but could only think of one way to enhance the trip, getting some green. Landing weed proved to be very easy, as the first vendor I asked hooked it up and after smoking, it didn’t take me long to remember what a wonderful friend she has been over the years.

Nothing Much
I’ll spare you the details of the trip because, quite honestly, it was near perfect. Jocelyn looked absolutely gorgeous, my parents paid for everything (except the weed and condoms), I partied every night with the friends I love most, and getting messed up is pretty awesome.

Day of the Green

2007-03-28T10:49:00.000-05:00

A month. Wow. Well, so much has happened. So many fascinating tales. So many nights of take-out food. So many men… well just one... and he's engaged… to his pregnant fiancée. (And don’t give me that look... you're no Saint.) This all took place before St Patrick’s Day, so let’s pick up there, shall we?

We had grandiose plans to drink early at a friend's place, watch the river being dyed green, take in a little of the parade (only to say hello to a couple friends working it), and bar hop a bit.

We made it as far as the first bar.

At this point, I knew the river was out and began texting some friends. A few hours later, we had a nice group and my buzz was nothing short of glorious. After we had pushed our welcome as far as possible, we decided it was time to go see our friend in the parade.

We made it as far as the next bar.

While everyone was pouring out, I was offered some smoke and yous knows how I likes the occasional treat. (Drugs, like cupcakes, are hard to turn down.) Sure, we were on the street and yes, I may have felt a little silly bent over a pipe like a crack whore when the Glen Ellen Country Day School strolled by, but it's all in a day's fun.

Now I love drinking heavily and I love drugs, but you really can’t mix both. Before we smoked, I was doing “fine” - pretty drunk, but I had my shit together and was ready to go. After we smoked, I was still drunk, but now I was high. Not surprisingly, here’s where things get fuzzy… and a bit whorish.

I was minding my business, talking to some college kids on an impromptu road trip from Missouri, when without warning, I was deep throat with some stranger. Welcome to Chicago... Happy St. Patrick's day. This was the first of four not-so-intimate moments that afternoon, but I’m pretty sure the fourth guy only kissed me to feel up my breasts.

We went to my buddy Justin’s place and continued drinking, although by this point I had hit the "one more drink and I'll puke" stage and was drinking water. We were there for what seemed like thirty minutes, but, since it was nightfall when we left, it had to have been the better part of three hours. News to me.

I made it home without incident and woke up, surprisingly, feeling like a champion because I am a champion.

No Jazzy News

2007-02-27T17:24:00.000-06:00

After tears, sleepless nights, and two grand, I was not able to recover anything from my old PC. I did no lose my job but I may as well have. I don’t really know how to describe the feeling. Having to essentially start all over again in a job I’ve had for two years is so fucked up. Even finding a new job is going to be a big pain in the ass because I lost my resumes. I empathize (to a certain degree) with people who have lost their homes to fires and natural disasters because not a day goes by that you don’t think of something else you are without. I’m trying to move forward, but it’s been difficult and has made work EXTREMELY busy.

Since work has been so stressful, I was looking forward to unwinding some. For some unexplainable reason, when I get extremely stressed out, I get really hot for some heavy making out, like the kind you did in high school (and I did in jr high). This weekend was no exception but as it turned out, this was the wrong year to sacrifice heavy make-out sessions with girls and gay guys for Lent, as the odds would’ve totally been in my favor.

It was a girls’ weekend with my dental friends and I took them to my favorite little dive karaoke bar, where we ended up partying with Nate Berkus. (If you know who Nate Berkus is, chances are we won’t be able to make out this Lenten season.) And even though there was no making out, it was a rousing good time, for sure. I did make a no-gay Lent exception for Nate, who gave me a lovely peck goodbye. Yes, gay guys adore me.

Chicago was pounded by some lame polar ice shield on Saturday night so we took a low-key approach to the evening by eating an amazing meal, having a few (a lot of) drinks, and falling asleep to SNL (which was terrible, by the way.)

See – this post was totally not worth the wait. I was going to come out with JAZZ HANDS, but didn’t really have the creative bug today. I’ll hit it on Friday, when I usually relinquish myself to the thought that there is no sense in doing the work that no one will care about until Tuesday.

Everything's Lost.

2007-02-11T15:30:00.000-06:00

Friday was, without doubt, the worst day of my life. I am not talking about with relation to when there was a death or something like that, I talking about the worst thing that could happen to me, personally. (Like I said, my life is full of peaks and valleys.) My work computer’s harddrive crashed and I, foolishly, had not backed anything up… ever.

I lost everything, personally and professionally.

I’m pretty sure I’ll be looking for a new job next week… it’s too bad my resume was also on my harddrive.

And to think I was going to write an Anna Nicole Smith post.

Merci mes amis

2007-02-08T18:07:00.000-06:00

I would like to say, “Thank you.” Thanks to each and every one of you… in fact, since there are only like four of you – a double thanks! I’m not sure if you prayed for me, thought of me, or simply masturbated to a picture of my tits, but whatever you did – it worked. (And to the latter – you’re welcome.) Last night, I went into work (bartending) and found out I won the Superbowl pool – to a tune of $400! Seeing as how I generally lose at life, it was completely unexpected. Then, this morning – I had hot water!!! I’ll still need to get a new water heater, but not right now and most certainly after I’ve smoked, snorted, or aborted the better part of that $400… and by “better part”, I mean “all”. So, keep up the good work, friends, mommie needs to go to the clinic.

I know, another French title.. wtf, right?

Water Woes

2007-02-05T12:33:00.008-06:00

Some days are winners, others are not. Today would fall in the “not” category. Last night, after doing a few dishes, I went to bed. This is only significant for one reason- last night, I had hot water. This morning, however, I was less than delighted to find out my water heater was again on the fritz. I showered at the gym and came into work, only to find out the building I work in is completely without water. Not to fret, however, a Port-a-potty is on order I was told… which is fabulous news considering the -3 degree weather. I don’t know if any of you have ever been ice fishing and had to go to the bathroom… it’s a lot like that… and nothing short of awesome.

You know - overall, things really aren't so bad. Sure, it wasn't a great day, but it was hardly a horrible day... not like when I totaled my new car, sent my best friend to the hospital, and was admitted to rehab for the first time. Maybe I need more grey in my life – fewer peaks and valleys. But that is another post for another day.

Well, I have to go pee now... which means bundling up and walking a quarter mile to the building next door because I'll be damned if I am going to sit on frozen feces.

je ne suis pas responsible

2007-01-30T17:22:00.000-06:00

At my job, we have two basic rules to follow when a fire alarm is sounded:
1) Get out.
2) Meet at the flag pole.
It’s the same damn instructions you’ve been following since grammar school. Generally, this complex applied science is easy but not today, not on my watch. Apparently, one person decided these instructions don’t always apply… and that one person just happened to be the floor supervisor.

Have you seen that commercial where the monkeys are partying and the buzz-kill guy turns the chart around? Yeah, I’m that guy and I am the one working with monkeys. Not to mention the eerie accuracy of the commercial to my facility’s productivity, which is, in fact, on the decline despite what the supervisors want to believe.

Anyway, back to the fire alarm – so, only a handful of operators and the front office people are standing in the cold ass wind while the supervisor has casually mentioned to the other operators to just mosey over to the adjacent building and wait for further instructions. Unfortunately, the fact that unreasonable safety violation was made by the supervisor was brought to my attention AFTER I marched over to the other building and yelled at the remaining operators for not following procedures. Is the 1961 Eichmann trial coming to mind for anyone else? Probably not since most of you have below average IQ’s… which is probably why you also continue to read this below average blog. What I am trying to say, other than “you’re a solid six on the smarts scale,” is that if following orders is going to get you tried on crimes against humanity and ultimately hanged - don’t do it.

Is that vomit on your collar?! Ewwe.

2007-01-26T12:46:00.000-06:00

It’s Friday and we all know what that means?!? Sex? Clubs? Drugs? Well… no, this weekend, it means painting and preparing for KJ’s baby. I hate babies – anyone who shits themselves cannot be trusted – this includes my Grandmother Margaret in her later years – a very shady character, indeed. And you know what – find out the gender. There’s plenty of surprises in store for you, like when you find their first tin of cocaine, so just save us all the annoyance and find out if you should accent in metallica blue or so hot for pink.

The drunk

2007-01-23T11:57:00.000-06:00

A number of things have happened over the last several weeks. I am hesitant to list them all here under the idea of cutting my losses and moving forward. But, they’re your losses, really – because I lived the moments. From time to time, I may reflect on the black hole existence of our relationship, but that bridge will be crossed when we come to it.

This weekend, our favorite gal, KJ, came for a visit. She’s nearly seven and a half months pregnant, but it didn’t stop us from having a good time because let’s face it, most of the time - and I’m not ashamed to admit this - I am the drunk one.

I’m the one buying shots and beers for everyone, running up my credit card bill to an exorbitant amount, because love and friendship can be bought.

I’m the one harassing guys way out of my league, showing them my breasts and saying things like, “My Dad was a former NFL player,” and “I’m a yoga instructor.” It’s rare when I am out with friends and sober but Friday and Saturday nights were such occurrences.

Unfortunately, Kelsey left before Sunday's Bears playoff game. All sober bets were off.

In hindsight, I should’ve taken a vacation day on Monday because even though I don’t really care about the Bears, I like to drink and a local team’s playoff game is as good of a reason as any. In fact, it’s better than most reasons I come up with like, picking up my clothes off the bathroom floor.

A friend and I headed down to a large sports bar around a solid 1.5 hours prior to kickoff. The place was packed. Like, I think I was either just raped or I’ve been standing on a small child packed. Lucky for us, I’m a bitch and rules are rules – so we were able to overtake some “saved” seats. (Before I proceed, I should mention that I have taken on the task of expanding our circle and by that, I mean meeting new people – the kind that don’t require a follow-up trip to the health clinic. And this was one such opportunity.)

I, of course, initiated the conversation with the males because what I lack in looks, I make up for in social skills. (Isn’t that what all fat chicks say?) We were having a great time. I was making a number of new friends with my charm, wit, and pleasantried when it happened. Sometime after the victory, I turned a corner in my drunkness and when I did, I smashed into a pile of “lonely drunk with a big ego acting inappropriately”. Nice play, asshole, – nice play.

All in all, though – a good weekend. I had a great time with KJ, kept my spending habits under control, added some new people to the roster of cool, and, had I not acted like a total asshole at the end of the evening, probably could’ve gotten a couple dates.

Now, if you’ll excuse me – it's lunchtime.

Hurricane Ditka

2007-01-23T10:02:00.000-06:00

Ok, I’ll say it – Go Bears! It’s very difficult for me to be excited about Chicago’s bid for the national championship because 1) I am a Vikings fan, through and through, and 2) it’s all I am going to hear about for the next 6 weeks – maybe more if they actually pull this off. Truth be told, I really want the Colts to win because, among other things, I think Peyton is eight thousand times the guy Rex Grossman is. I have had random run-ins with them both – sometime, I’ll tell you about it.

It's 2007!!

2007-01-16T11:05:00.001-06:00

Is anyone still coming to this place?

(If not - maybe it's time to hang things up.)

It's 2007!!

2007-01-16T11:05:00.000-06:00

Is anyone still coming to this place?

(If not - maybe it's time to hang things up.)

2006-12-13T07:12:00.000-06:00

I’m too busy; I'll catch you later.

Composure

2006-12-07T18:10:00.000-06:00

This weekend's company Christmas party was fun. (And since I live in the Midwest, I can still say Christmas not refer to it as a Holiday party.) I ended up sporting a date after all, inviting a gal friend of mine whose boyfriend was having a guy's night downtown. I have no doubt this increased the percentage of facility operators who think I am a lesbian from 43 to 67. But, I could give two shits because I can still take them in arm wrestling. Hmm… that doesn’t really help my case for the “I’m not a lesbian” argument, does it? Regardless, I still represented by 1) looking totally amazing, 2) being impeccably dressed, and 2) having the hottest date there, even if it was a chick.

I had made a decision very early on to not go balls to the wall and moderately pace my drinking, as to not become the talk of the town on Monday. I know what you’re thinking, "There’s no way Nicole stuck to that." But, I did and it proved to be a remarkably wise decision because even thought I drank enough to have fun, I didn’t wake up to a half-eaten bologna sandwich and a fully-nude Parisian man…. although, that was a pretty fun night, too.

So as much as I hate to disappoint the four of you, it was a relatively low-key Christmas party.

Company Christmas Party

2006-12-01T12:16:00.000-06:00

Am I crabby today? Yes. Did I just pick myself up from a canned-chili induced coma that left me passed out on the kitchen floor for the better part of Thursday night? Well, that is a yes, too. My week started off with a couple low self-esteem days and maybe the combination of a few sleepless nights is beginning to take its toll. The $600 bill for repairs to my vehicle didn’t help, either. Sunday, I was on top of the world, by Tuesday night, I was in the middle of a low-lying flood plain during the rainy season. Some people may call this a bipolar disorder, I like to think of it as being spunky.

This weekend is the company’s annual Christmas party. Although my date bailed on me for a fucking hockey game to suck his bosses dicks (can you sense the bitterness?), I am still looking forward to it. Why? Because 1) there is a free meal and 2) alcohol... lots of alcohol. Some may shy away from drinking around the whole work crowd, I call them "responsible professionals", but not this engineer. Game on, my friends.I was also invited by a to a housewarming party uptown although I wont really know many people there, I am considering it. Why? Because I would rather have meaningless sex with a person I don’t know than have meaningless sex with a person I don’t like. Either option means one thing – drinking alcohol, and lots of it. Seriously, Danny Bonaduce levels of drinking, and it's going to be awesome.

**this is, of course, if I can get out of my fucking driveway due to this whole snowstorm bullshit.

So, look for something juicy on Monday or if things go really well this weekend, Wednesday afternoon.

Thanksgivings gone by

2006-11-28T14:49:00.000-06:00

Remember last year at this time, I had just gotten back from Tobago… and the year before that, Costa Rica… and the year before that, Brazil… and the year before that, Hawaii.

Hmmm, it’s no wonder why gambling in Milwaukee or dinner in Skokie just didn’t do it for me this year. (Hell, even before the vacations, I used to go back home and get drunk with friends.)

Sure, real turkey gravy is good… but not as good as it is when it’s tasted on the kiss of some local who has just licked it off my tits.

Numerous platefuls

2006-11-27T09:07:00.000-06:00

I have nothing interesting to say today. I think I'm still a bit lethargic from the mass amounts of food I consumed these past 5 days. Seriously - holy fucking shit.

Blue Balled

2006-11-20T13:27:00.000-06:00

Do you ever have one of “those days” at work? Now imagine having that day for 7 straight weeks. 7 weeks is an arbitrary number, really; it certainly feels more like a year but I’m sure there had to be at least one highlight in the last two months… but I think “those days” have stunted my ability to see the sun through the clouds. Maybe this is what it feels like before you divorce.
--------------------------------------
This weekend was all right. Sure, serving dollar drafts and sloe comfortable screws to the local trailer park community isn’t everybody’s idea of fun, but what else is a gal with horrible spending habits to do?
----------------------------------------

It’s a good year to be a Buc!! Saturday was spent like any other of recent – cheering on the mighty Ohio State Buckeyes to another victory. Some friends and I met up at a local bar featuring the game. I was throwing around a bit of game myself... the game of a true lady playa. I was talking to (aka: flirting with) some guys at a nearby table prior to leaving mid-game to go work. Here was the later exchange between my friend (also OSU alum) and I.

Jen: Those guys asked about you after you left, undoubtedly because of your sparkling personality, fabulous features, and monstrous breasts.
Nicole: Did you give them my number?!
Jen: Nicole, don’t be ridiculous, they were cheering for Michigan and probably had cocks similar in size of that of a small welch corgi.
Nicole: You’re right, Jen – wanna to make out?
Jen: Go Bucs!
Ok, so that may have not been totally verbatim, but it's close.

In other news, I expressed interest in the California position that was offered to me last week. I told them I was not interested but after two glowing talks with my supervisor on Friday and today, my facility manager, I've had a crazy change of heart. So, yeah… looks like I just may be moving back to the West Coast.

Will I ever get out of this place?!?

2006-11-17T10:09:00.000-06:00

Did I get the new job in Minnesota – no. Am I disappointed – yes. Did I just spend the last two hours completing my annual contributions summary for my yearly review – yes. Do I feel I gave it my all in 2006 – no. Did I spend 90 minutes of the time trying to embellish my meager performance – yes. Will I come out with a below average performance rating – no. Is this part of the reason I am not yet ready to leave this company – yes. Did I make effective use of my time this week – no. Will I leave early anyway – yes.

I am bartending all weekend. I am also quitting after Thanksgiving. It’s been too much lately and, to be perfectly honest, I am really just so above putting up with all the bullshit from the loser assholes.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Tough Guys

2006-11-13T10:42:00.000-06:00

I would also like to mention I took more than $40 off the

poker-playing, big talking fellas in poker... suckers.

Bad Weather Friday

2006-11-10T10:50:00.000-06:00

As I write this, I am sitting approximately 30 miles south of Eau Claire, Wisconsin… sitting… in my rental car… on the interstate… not moving. The first Midwest winter snow storm hit late last night and it’s taking its toll on the idiots of the road. But, I should rewind, like, a lot. There is much to recap and hopefully the anger you feel as a result of my inattentiveness to this blog in the last week will be lessened.

My trip back to South Dakota was a good one. My friends and I got completely wasted (and my parents paid for the whole tab) and although I did not have sex myself that night, I derived some pleasure from pimping out my friend to another friend. Sometimes, giving really is better than receiving because these two kids were in need, even moreso than I.

The wedding on Saturday was as “rural” (PC for "white trash") as expected. The mullets, shaved heads with long ponytail, and 16-year-old hookers that adorned the groom's side of the church were a stark contrast to the suits and dresses of our side. I ate dinner (free meal, duh) but didn't hang around for the dance portion of the evening because, well, I had better offers elsewhere.

All in all, it was fantastic weekend with my amazing friends.

Monday started off with a real zeal for my job. I worked from 7:20 AM Monday morning through 2:30 AM Tuesday, with only a pause for lunch. I returned to work a mere two hours later (at 4:30 AM) for 4.5 straight hours of meetings. Tuesday did have an up side, though -another division of the company I work for wanted me in Minneapolis on Thursday to interview for a position I applied for.

And here we are, in the middle of a snowstorm, on a Friday. The only benefit to topping out at 40 mph and/or not moving at all is that I wont get another $261 speeding ticket like the one I received yesterday. Fucking Wisconsin... beer, cheese, and expensive speeding tickets.

Forgetting Franz

2006-11-01T22:54:00.000-06:00

"In the fight between you and the world, back the world." That's my all-time favorite Kafka quote and has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this blog entry.

I learned tonight that I have the power to save your sorry ass and lift you out of purgatory. I recommend sending me flowers... or jewelry... or your molars (don't ask). And, God forbid (no pun intended), I expire after taking a lethal combination of sedatives, I ask that you do the same for me.

Boo.

2006-10-31T10:57:00.000-06:00

Halloween Weekend 2006. No making out with drag queens, no costume contests, no free booze, no sleeping in bathtubs. But, I did install two new light fixtures in my house and I had sex. So yeah, I got that going for me.

Request Full Disclosure

2006-10-27T13:46:00.000-05:00

I have a friend, well, she’s more of an acquaintance than anything else. She and I met shortly after I moved to Chicago, as we kept seeing each other at the same nightspots. Before I left for Alaska, she had phoned to ask me to dinner and also mentioned a friend she’d like me to meet (read: go out on a date with). I put our dinner plans on hold but told her she could pass on my phone number to her friend; which, she did.

The gentleman called a couple times and I finally called him back on Monday. Since my weekends are pretty much booked being all super fabulous and stuff, this gentleman and I arranged a weekday dinner date. I had some reservations as the friend/acquaintance is not exactly the most credible source for finding soul mates, but this guy didn’t seem like a total douchebag and a free meal is a free meal and I'm fat and fat people like free meals and Italian silk.

Upon meeting David, he looked instantly familiar but I did not know from where. During our introductory conversation, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to place his face and then, the ball dropped. He happened to mention working for Mtv and at that moment, I realized how I recognized him. He was a fucking Mtv Real World cast member. Unable to curb my curiosity, I asked him about it and he confirmed.

Now, there are a few RW men of past I wouldn’t mind cuddling up with, but this guy wouldn’t exactly be one of them. But, people can change, right? And why should I let a silly little thing like being a reality ass blemish what could turn out to be a perfectly good fuck? But oh yeah - there is just one more thing - he’d once been arrested with a hooker... a $10 hooker.

[Insert joke here.]

Was Nicole back in Rehab?

2006-10-24T16:55:00.000-05:00

As you all know, I went back home a few weekends ago. There were no town events, no life events, and it was not a holiday. Apparently, this is call to raise a red flag and sounds some silent alarm.

Although I only went three places in the 40 hours I was home (bar, church, Zesto) and was met with the, “Oh, is she back in town?” look from a number of locals/lifers/townies. I pretended not to notice and for a bit of fun, acted as though I had been living their for some time and was not just a weekend “visitor”, which may have come across as arrogant but let's face it, it's not that I'm better than you because I'm here and you're there - I'm better than them for so many other reasons. Anyway, some people were actually pretty cool and asked what I was up to these days but for the most part, many just stared and whispered. And thus it begins… just as I enjoy devouring a three-layer chocolate ice water cake, these people will find pleasure in proceeding to ask everyone they see who is moderately acquainted to me what I was doing back in town.

Apparently, it has been a slow season and those running the rumor mill had been busy coming up with their own material, as three distinct people asked me if I had recently gotten married. The answer is yes. His name is Carlos. I’m pregnant.

Pooped.

2006-10-18T11:14:00.000-05:00

I’m exhausted. I had planned on writing a post each day from the On the Horizon list but as you can plainly see, that has not happened nor is it happening today. I have been out of town the last four weekends and this weekend, I have a friend coming into town. I pulled two extra shifts at the bar and have been working a combination of day and night shifts at my engineering job. So, I am completely not well rested and feeling equally uncreative.

There is hope that I’ll feel up to busting out a post tomorrow but if not, I’m sure next week that I’ll be back to my normal, impassioned, self-loathing, overtly sexual self.

On the Horizon...

2006-10-16T06:10:00.000-05:00

In no particular order...

Professing my unwavering love to a guy I seemingly couldn't stand 10 years ago
The Cabo wedding
Going Brown Bear hunting with my Dad
Not having sex
Having too much sex
The mutherfucking Twins
The almost equally mutherfucking Yankees
Vikings? Vikings who?
Alaska
The Alaskan Inuit’s rather large penis
Why I love Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls
Hosting Thanksgiving
Job prospects
A house is not a home
The only job interview I’ve ever really blown
How fucking the brother/sister of a guy/girl you used to make out with is completely different than fucking the brother/sister of one of your friends
My recent marriage
The stigma of going back home on a random (non-holiday) weekend
Getting out of working on Fridays

I'm in ALASKA!!

2006-10-11T03:14:00.000-05:00

Oh, hey - so, I didn't post last week and I had a million things I wanted to blog about... one of those million being that I am spending this week in Alaska!!!

I flew up on the coat strings of my good friend, KJ, whose folks own a lodge on Kodiak. Rest assured, I haven't forgotten about you and there will be much to say next week... when I can find a free moment.

Love you all,
Nicole

A Brief Weekend Home

2006-09-29T10:56:00.000-05:00

I’m flying home to see my parents this weekend. After an exhaustive 10-month renovation of their home, they have finally moved back in and are settling into “normal” life. (Normal is a relative term at my house.) I also have not seen either of them since Memorial Day and am due for some loving badgering. There will be very little to report next week, as I am home for a brief 36 hours. I mean, even I would find it difficult to somehow screw up 36 hours.

Right now, I am in the middle of some horrible programming applications. Each time I change one little piece, I have to upload and for some unknown reason, this step is taking an exacerbate amount of time. But hey, it’s Friday!!

And also... GO TWINS!! (In a tie for first and a tough weekend ahead, battling Chi Sox.) You can probably expect to read something about this next week.

The NFL - what's that?

2006-09-28T01:22:00.000-05:00

Damn you, Vikings!! Why do you test me so?! Sure, I’ve seen the Viking lose countless times… and once in a while, even to the likes of the Chicago Bears. So why am I so upset? While this is not my first Viking loss, this is my first time having to endure a Vikings loss to the Bears while being a Vikings fan working at a Bears bar. Ugh.

Had the Vikes won, I would’ve taken the high road, been a class act and humbly relished in the sweet comfort of victory. Unfortunately, I bartend to a bunch of, for lack of a better word, assholes and knew they would be merciless. I planned my defense carefully, not unlike the 1985 Bears, ironically enough. My dialougue would go something like this, “Oh really? Did the Vikings play this weekend? I guess I hadn’t noticed. The Bears? Who are they?” Even with this stealthy and uncompromising defense, I was in no mood to deal. Coupled with my exhaustion from the weekend, I finally called another bartender to come in and take the shift.

The Vikings may have lost, but personally, I have to call this one a draw.

And by the way, I've been ragging on Canada a lot lately but really, it's not all bad... except for the French parts, those are still pretty bad.

Jesus cursed my putter for skipping church.

2006-09-26T20:26:00.000-05:00

A coworker asked me what I did while in Phoenix. The answer was simple and yet, it rolled of the tongue as beautifully as any of Shakespeare’s soliloquies, “I drank… and I golfed.” I also flirted, stole, and gorged myself on anything fried but that information is only for a select group of individual. (yes, this means you.) And Blogger Pictures - still not working; those sons-a-bitches.

I was lucky enough to have a buffer seat on the flight out, which was good because we were grounded for some time by an approaching tornado… and also because I’m fat and need all the fat room I can get.

We hit up one of my favorite drinking holes and I mercilessly flirted with the bartender, a tall and scruffy gent by the name of Thomas, of whom I fantasized about later that night when I masturbated… and again the three times after that.

On Saturday, we golfed in Prescott, AZ. Why we would drive 100 miles to golf when there are literally hundreds within a 20-mile radius is beyond my realm of understanding, but I was a boarder and warranted no decision privileges.

The course was really quite good – challenging but not impossible… except for hole fucking 15. But maybe I was just unfocused and tired because at this point, I was physically pushing our partners’ cart up the hill with the aid of some bumper-to-bumper force from our cart, which was also slowly meeting its fate. Unfortunately, this was only the first of many unsuitable occurrences to follow. With the addition of an impending sunset, we decided to call it quits. After a solid hike, pushing both golf carts at one point, being led astray by course employees who offered no assistance, physically or intellectually, we found ourselves back at the clubhouse. Upon our arrival there, the “pro” bailed out and having no one present to attend to the needs (read: complaints) of the guest (read: me), I was forced to attend to my own needs (read: desires)… and after everything that had happened, the need was thirst and thirst means liquor. So, I went to the bar and made off with… correction, I ‘compensated’ myself with a bottle of Jack Daniels, another of Jim Beam, and a third of Seagram’s VO.

We were back in the valley (that's Phoenix talk) on Sunday and my golf game was really spot on. (“Spot on”?!? So I guess now I’m fucking sixty and British?!) I really did play a pretty smooth and consistent round of golf, aside from Jesus Christ himself cursing my putter. Unfortunately, my performance was not echoed by my friend, Rick.
- Number of clubs thrown: 3,
- Number of clubs thrown and not recovered: 1,
- Average number of hits off the tee (and at each shot from the fairway): 3,
- Number of balls lost, figuratively and literally: unknown.

The really unfortunate part of the round for me was not my putting... did I mention Jesus cursed my putter?, rather it was that alcohol can't be served until 10:00 (hole 12) on Sundays. A Nazi law if I ever heard one… correction: a Conservative Right law if I ever heard one (although, there's little difference between the two - kinda like the comparison of Wisconsin to Canada... Canada would definitely be the Nazis). We certainly made up for it, though – I was pretty wasted by the time the Bears scored the winning touchdown. Don't worry, I'm not going to go into that here - you've stuck this post out for so long already. More later.

The Cheq 40 - 2006

2006-09-21T23:02:00.000-05:00

Because I recently returned from am amazing weekend up north and because I will be starting a three-day alcohologolf weekend in sunny Phoenix but mostly because I haven’t posted in forever - this is going to be long. Take your time. You can even read it over a number of days or you can just skim for the words sex, blowjobs, and drugs like you always do and just read those parts. And sorry, Blogger's picture feature is not working and I knows hows yous likes them pics.

Alas, I am back. Seriously, I think the clean air was getting to me… or the alcohol… but probably the marijuana. Upon my arrival mid-Friday evening, I was greeted with a variety “hot dishes” (of which, only a true Midwesterner can appreciate) and my friend's eager Mom who had been anxious for my arrival, as she did not want to be the only one drinking. And you guys thought my alcoholicness was a joke.

The eve of the Chequamegon 40 scene was as follows – 2 parents, 5 racers, 2 girlfriends, 3 strangers, and 4 people ready to drink. Guess which lunch table I sat at? The wine was corked and in true Nicole form, I allowed the alcohol to start talking for me. Halfway through the third bottle of wine, I ostentatiously declared that next year I would not arrive as a mere spectator, but as a competitor. Umm… let me clear up one thing, even after a few bottles of wine, I am not so foolish as to think I could do the 40-miler. I was refering to the the short-&-fat course, 15.6 miles. Nevertheless, another drinking gal (a wife of a 40-mile racer) piped up and volunteered to join me in the venture. Fuck – now I’m held to it.

And then I remembered why I wasn’t racing this year – oh yeah, because I’m fat and lazy and hate getting into shape. Granted, I haven’t gotten into shape in the better part of ten years, but the memories are as vivid as if it were yesterday. But then I thought about how motivated I have been lately to get my fucking shit together and strangely enough, racing next year seems totally plausible.

I know what you’re thinking, especially you marathon/ironman types, – 15.6 miles is nothing. While this is true on a road bike in Flattly mcBoring Illinois, it’s not so true on a mountain bike course through northwest Wisconsin. But I’ll talk about all this later… like later in 8 months.

Saturday. I was the only one who woke up early with the racers but I’m like a sappy [insert ethnicity] mother and like seeing the boys off. It also gave me a chance to meet the bearded latecomer who slipped in during the night; and we all know my thing for guys with beards. Since I know how to work the charm, within the hour, I was driving his truck and naming our children.
I’ll skip the detailed race montage, you get enough of that from the honorable trigeeks – everyone finished, two better than expected, one worse than expected; the casualties included one set of lost back brakes, two popped chains, one broken rim, and a tough spill.

With that out of the way, it was time to get down to business, the business of being fabulous and drinking as only Wisconsinites and Canadians know how (as if there were a difference between the two). Two years ago, I brought a bottle of liquor. Last year, I brought weed. This year, I brought both. Do I need to remind you all of how this story ends up? I didn’t think so… but I will, as I would want to disappoint my legions of fans (read: 4 people) or those of you actually still reading at this point.

After being fed countless Angry Minnow Honey Wheat beers from the keg by the bearded beauty, taking endless Jag shots, and inhaling a few pulls off the ol’ bowl, I had my game face on. And by game face, I mean "on the hunt for some making out" face. Believe it or not, I’m not typically the one who chases after a guy’s favor. If he’s feeling it, I may oblige, but I generally play it pretty low key. But it was Saturday and I was totally turned on by the testoterone and athleticism of the day and oh yeah, I was also drunk and little high.

Even though the old roommate of whom I have “history” with was up for the race, I just didn’t want to put the effort in. He tends to like the chase and with inconsistent rewards, I was just not that into him to put forth quality time... although he was kinda begging for it. Maybe things would have been different had I not had been in crush with bearded beauty since I first laid eyes on him. There was just one minor side issue – I was pretty sure my bearded beauty was gay.

During an intimate setting, my approach for landing a guy is telling an elaborate story about recently being diagnosed with a rare disease and that I just want to fool around with a random guy before I get too sick. Add some waterworks – they’re putty in my hands. However, by the time I'm actually horny and ready to make the moves on a guy, I’m far too into the night to string enough logical sentences together to tell a story so, “Yes, I’ll make out with you,” usually does the trick. (Did I really just say, "make the moves on a guy"? What am I like sixty years old? Fuck.) On this particular night, I found myself alone in the hallway the bearded beauty and went for it and of course, my advance was met with little resistance. Later, we found ourselves hidden between the trucks and after that, in the kitchen and then finally, in the tent. I guess you can say he "finished" twice that day. The next morning was super fucking weird and you know what else - I still think he’s gay.

I think his name was Josh?

2006-09-14T14:53:00.000-05:00

Hey Hey Hey. This past weekend was a fantastic one with KJ. I managed to keep my spending under a grand, I jumped on the Ohio State bandwagon, made out with some guy, and I slept in the “Heavenly Bed”. There was the whole thing about KJ trying to get me killed to the style of Blair Witch Project. In truth, we were both guilty for our folly, but since it’s my blog – I can put all the blame on her, that crazy bitch.

KJ is with child, there’s no denying it… and we’re both trying to come to grips with it. It wasn’t until I was sucking a bouncer’s dick did I realize just how soon the due date it (St Patrick’s Day ‘07). I was talking about the wedding in Cabo like it’s tomorrow and speaking of her due date like it’s light years away, when in fact it’s 5 weeks before the trip to Cabo!! (And yeah, you can say I got a little out of control at the bar… I don’t really remember what the guy looked like, only that I kept repeating, “He is soooo hot.”)

This weekend – Chequamegon. That’s right, Clyde – f’n Wisconsin, here I come. This is an annual event involving friends, bonfires, robbing the dead, tents, and in the spirit of Alex and beer drinkers alike, a keg of Linie. Oh yeah, there is also something about a 40 mile bike race that a bunch of us do. (And by “us,” I mean “them”.)

Palm Friday

2006-09-08T07:07:00.000-05:00

Wow, Friday already. I worked my fortieth hour of the week sometime yesterday afternoon… and it’s only a 4-day workweek!! Total bullshit. Even so, I was back at 6am this morning (slept in!) for another long day. I had wanted all week to write about last weekend and then I wanted to write about a Primetime story I watched on asexuals – because, it’s so weirdly interesting. It goes without saying that I did not get a chance to write about either. Maybe next week… but probably never.

KJ is heading out here this weekend and I’m stoked!! She has been having “pregnancy issues” and wasn’t able to make it down until now. Personally, I think she just likes to be a tease. She did give me a super kick-ass birthday present, though:

Achy Breaky Everything

2006-09-01T11:38:00.000-05:00

Well, it got me. I'm not sure what it is, yet - a virus, a bug, a vengeful wrath? I feel like total shit today and I should not be at work. I should be home on my couch, catching up on neglected hours of Tivo. Yesterday, I worked all day at being an amazing engineer and then at the bar showing tits for tips, and then came back into work to speak with the night crew. I was planning on getting 3 hours of sleep, which is no big deal because it’s leading into the weekend – a long weekend, no less. YEA!! Well, two hours into my slumber, I woke up with the worst nauseating feeling ever. It paralyzed me. And more than seven hours later, I don’t feel too much better.

I’m stiff and achy, nauseous, exhausted, and have a pounding headache. I just want to go the flock home, but duty calls and although I’m no lover of my job – I am a lover of income. Since I was fine 24 hours ago, and 12 hours ago, for that matter - I have a theory. Maybe God was on vacation last weekend and was just briefed about my goings-on and this is the punishment. Fine, be that way - I ain't too proud to beg (for forgiveness).

Dear F,S, & HS (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit),
I’ve learned a good lesson; many good lessons, in fact. Drugs are bad, as is gossiping and lying, drinking enough to drown a pigmy, and robbing homeless people of their flannel shirt. As always, I promise not to do it again… or at least die trying. Well, maybe we better not throw the word, “die” around, but you know what I mean.. Please, Lord – let your light shine on me and send me home by 3:00! (Especially since I am on the schedule to close the bar tonight.) Oh, could you also try to do something about the rash, I have a date this weekend. Thanks.

Love,
Nicole

Erection, not that kind

2006-08-31T13:43:00.000-05:00

Someday, I hope to work in an environment where employees’ emotions are not dictated by the day of the month. It’s month end and as usual, everyone is freaking out, grumpy, and on edge which makes my job miserable. My supervisor is telling me to do one thing and telling the floor personnel to do another. Ok, I realized you have no idea what I am talking about... what else is new, right? I admit, I don't always make sense... but when you're as incredibly attractive as I am, it's not really expected.

So here’s the deal. I was told on Tuesday that I am now in charge of a major expansion project… and yesterday, I was informed, “Oh, and by the way, the construction crews are showing up on Tuesday… this Tuesday – be ready. The problem is the area in question is full of product, processing lines, and workstations… all which needs to be cleared out and since this weekend is a holiday so no one is scheduled to work. Awesome. Basically, I have today and tomorrow to get our shit together. However, it's month end, so no one will give up the resources to do the work and my supervisor is backing that decision. Well, fuck if it’s going to be my ass on the line when the erection crew shows on Tuesday and we’re not ready. And yes, I said erection.

The day has finally passed

2006-08-28T13:34:00.000-05:00

Hard drugs, soft drugs, and alcohol are not singularly bad for you, within reason, of course. However, I can assure you a cocktail of the three is bad… very, very bad. Against better judgment, I decided I could handle all three – within about 90 minutes of each other. Again, this is bad, very, very bad. After a couple lines, some weed, and a few very stiff mixed drinks, I was ready to party; I even made it downtown. Unfortunately, forty-five minutes and ½ a drink later, it hit me. I don’t know what “it” is but “it” is bad, very, very bad.

At this point, I told my friends, “I’m pretty messed up. I think I need to go home.” They responded by buying me another shot. This decision was bad, very, very bad. Normally, I have an extremely rosy complexion (thank you, ye olde country) so when my face turned the shade of my white top, they finally began to listen to my pleas for mercy… and for transportation to a critical care center. Then came the sweats.

So, there I sat – eyes barely open, ghostly white face, sweating like a pig, and listening to my friends talk about me but not quite being in the moment enough to respond – have you seen those HBO specials? Yeah, I was “that chick.” Sadly, this is how the birthday celebration concluded and there is no one to blame but myself... work – church (post about that later) – and getting too messed up to have fun.

As for Sunday, the actual day of my birth – as I said, I went to the baseball game alone and the Twins played like crap. On a bright note, I received a call from two of my friends who previously weren’t speaking to me. (An incident that if I spoke about here could result in my prosecution in 17 states.) All has been remedied and they are solely responsible for saving me from my pity party and salvaging the birthday. I should’ve left well enough alone but I checked my email… thanks to my complete dickhead ex-whatever, he managed to mar the day and round the weekend off miserably.

Thanks to most of you for the birthday well wishes. Only 364 days until I can feel sorry for myself again. I’m sure I’ll find some other ways to keep myself overweight, undersexed, and completely fabulous until then.

It's my birthday...

2006-08-27T15:41:00.000-05:00

Anyone want to go to the Twins / Sox game?? Anyone? Anyone.... hello...? Yeah, didn't think so.

Fuck birthdays.

2006-08-23T13:58:00.000-05:00

I give up. The people I care about are totally shitting on me one-by-one for this weekend and I have been desperately pining for a way to make that a light-hearted post and articulate it in a way that doesn't make me seem so upset by it. But my attempts have been futile, probably because I am fucking upset and pretty saddened by the whole damn thing, so you know what - Everyone can just kiss my ass.

Steaming on Friday

2006-08-18T10:43:00.000-05:00

I really wanted to post something fun earlier this week, but I was very uninspired. So now you get a forced, unfun post; sorry. Ok, let the bitching ensue…

This weekend is going to be fairly non-existent for me. Not only will I rack up 16 hours bartending, I’ve also been told I’ll need to come in and provide engineering support to a facility we just opened this week. Understandable if this were my assignment and not a result of the other engineer not keeping her shit together. From what I understand the whore-bag engineer whose responsibility it is to support that building couldn’t find a fucking babysitter and obviously, I’m pissed. Give me a break - there is no way she couldn’t find a babysitter. I’m 97.4% sure she didn’t even bother to look… and you know, why the fuck would she?! She certainly doesn’t want to give up her Saturday and Sunday?!

I don't mind working but I do mind when it's a result of another peron's laziness, excuses, and overall poor life choices.

Liberation!!

2006-08-16T08:26:00.000-05:00

Last night, I turned my cell phone on after leaving it turned off for the better part of the last three days and to be honest, it was quite liberating. Sure I missed some calls, but since I’m on my e-mail almost 10 hours of every day, I’m easily within reach. It was just so nice not to be bound by something. I wasn’t worried about missed calls, obnoxious rings, rude behavior, or where I’d misplaced the damn thing – I was just living. Yeah, I think I am going to be all about that more often.

Three Words.

2006-08-14T12:06:00.000-05:00

You've Been Warned. I am starting my diet today so for the next few weeks, until my body has adjusted to the malnutrition and tasteless food, I will most likely be borderline unbearable. But like my herpes outbreaks, this too shall pass.

On Friday, I was asked to be in a close friend’s wedding. And while she isn’t getting married until April (in Los Cabos, Mexico), I need to start now. It’s not that I am that fat (although I am), but it takes time to lose weight in a healthy way (opposed to snorting my dinner and supplementing it with 3400 calories of liquor) Oh, and did I mention the other bridesmaid is a size two with perfect breasts? …Or that the bride herself is a size zero with perfect (albeit fake) breasts? …Or that I’ll be standing next to her brother, a model in NYC. Yeah, so there’s that.

While I have been in dozens of weddings, this one is different. Not only do I have to be stuffed (literally, I’m sure) in a dress picked out by a size 0, this wedding is also an elite guest list of people I've known nearly all my life. My friends and I have forever been held to a certain standard and I certainly do not want to be the dissappointment of the bunch. It's bad enough I am an engineer and not a doctor (I wish I were fucking kidding - 2 dentists, 3 doctors, 1 lawyer and me).

Obstacle 2: Finding a Date. Everyone attending is either married or in a serious relationship, with the exception of yours truly. With the added romanticism of the wedding being in Cabo, I REFUSE to go alone... and be this chick. Remember, this is a wedding with friends and parents I’ve grown up with, so I can’t take just anyone – he must meet the high standards of social decorum and class that is expected... or be really, really hot. Since I've had so much success landing this type of guy in the last 10 years, finding him in the next eight months should be no problem... especially when you're as strikingly good looking as I am. I have no doubt the pleasure of my company for four alcohol-filled days in beautiful Mexico is enough to draw in the right guy, but if not... All Expenses Paid.

Lonesome Road

2006-08-11T13:11:00.000-05:00

I thought I would get to this earlier this week, but I didn't; sorry about that, folks. I am still in a bit of a funk. It’s funny though, I don’t know the last time I felt this blue and as a result, I’ve been working out harder this week than I have in months. There is a part of me that thinks the endorphins will eventually overpower my psyche and naturally bring me out of my low. The jury’s still out.

For the first weekend in months, my schedule is actually open, with the exception of working at the bar tonight. So, I guess it’s not really all that open. A group of us were planning on taking out the boat tomorrow but the planets did not align and we are all going our separate ways. The weekend doesn’t have to be a total loss, though. I’ve never really had what you Westerners call “friends” so I can easily go back to binging, boozing, smoking bowls, and urinating in a Pakistani cab all by myself.

There is a small chance I will break from my gluttonous lifestyle and drive up to see Iowa City Guy (the new name for Wedding/Boating/SoDak dude). But after a long drive on both our parts last weekend, neither of us wants to bite the bullet and take another road trip again this weekend.

All-in-all, have a good one. You can find me passed out in the alley behind your house.

It was just that good.

2006-08-09T09:50:00.000-05:00

You’ll have to forgive my neglect the past few days, er, week. I know I usually post womthing on Monday, but there hardly was a Monday for me. I woke up in Iowa City and drove my ass back to the great Chicagoland area. I went into work just long enough to return my supervisor’s e-mails and go to lunch. After that, I took a nap and bartended 5-close. Solid, Nicole – real solid. Yesterday was just a bad day – work morale is close to an all-time low for me. But today is Wednesday, a new day; I’ll be lucky if I make it through lunch.

The weekend was a glorious one indeed. Haciendas Las Glorias + KJ, Bracco, "Carl", Granite City, Avery, Nyeman, Nutty's, and Roy. I’m not going to go into details as some things you just wouldn’t understand.

I’ll try to shake the funk I’m in and get something new and fun out tomorrow and/or Friday. I am in all-day meetings those days, but for y’all – I’ll try to make it work.

Red Orange Yellow

2006-08-02T02:33:00.000-05:00

Ok – it’s past 2 mutherfucking A M and I am at work. I am so pissed off right now, you have no fucking idea. The bitch engineer told me how important it was for me to be here tonight and sure as shit, she has not done one damn thing she needed me here for. Total fucking bullshit. So, not only was tonight totally unproductive, we have to do it all over again tomorrow; hopefully, with better results. Since I am a glass-half-full kind of gal, there is an up side to all of this and that is when I work nights, I get Friday off and since I’m pissed off about the absurd number of hours I’ll be putting in tonight leading into tomorrow (18 hrs today 7pm-1:15pm and then back at 6:00pm to midnight), I’m casually taking Thursday off, as well.

With two blissful bonus days, I’m setting my sights on SoDak. I’m hitching a ride with the wedding / boat guy and I have every intention of spending countless hours drinking, snorting, and smoking myself stupid. I can’t fucking wait.

Winner! Winner! Burrito Dinner!!

2006-07-31T12:51:00.000-05:00

In typical Monday fashion, I’ll give you the weekend recap. But first, do you remember that one time I thought it would be really cool to bartend even thought I wouldn’t make great money?! Yeah, that was a really dumb time in my life. Since I closed the bar on Saturday night and opened it on Sunday, I was completely exhausted when I finally got home and fell soundly asleep at 6:30 PM. As if that isn’t enough to make me feel geriatric, after collapsing into bed Saturday night, it took my body a good 25 minutes to recover from the 10-hour shift. I could actually feel the blood coursing through my weary legs and feet. The good news is that although my back is a little tight, I’m nearly fully recovered… which is good because I work again tomorrow… and Thursday… and again on Saturday.

In other, unrelated, Monday news... I won 5 free Chipotle burritos today!! The only thing better than free food is sharing it with others, so instead of hoarding them all to myself, I am taking the cool kids to Lunch!!

Why not Wednesdays

2006-07-27T12:17:00.000-05:00

You know you’re too drunk when even TBC won’t talk to you. He is, however, pimping me out to his co-worker, so I may forgive his transgressions.

In college, we called them “why not Wednesdays” because people would say, “You’re going drinking on a Wednesday?” To which we would reply, “Why not?!” Thus borne “why not Wednesdays”. (And by “we”, I mean “me” because let’s face it, I had no friends.) But that was in college and although I’m much older, I’m clearly none the wiser. I did not set an alarm this morning, but woke up at my usual “sleeping-in” time of 6:05. I felt like a champ until I stumbled my way into the bathroom and realized I was still a little drunk. But why should I let being drunk stop me from working now so I showered and made it in like a trooper. So the worst part of it is, I’ve been more productive today than I have all week. It disgusts me and makes me proud all at the same time.

2006-07-24T10:01:00.001-05:00

R.I.P
KJ
Fun friend who had no problem leaving her husband for the weekend, getting liquored up, going to sex shops, letting random men in tuxedos cop a feel, shopping for stilettos, sending half-naked golf pictures to strangers, and laughing the whole time.

She will be missed.

M.I.L.F.
KJ
Friend who will have no problem changing diapers, pumping milk, cleaning puke, phoning home a million times, carrying a mom-bag, shopping for easy-to-clean fabrics, and laughing the whole time.

She will be pretty cool, too.

My Lovies

2006-07-20T15:33:00.000-05:00

Awesome... I'm a solid 8.4 days behind in work (yes, I calculated it out, fuckers... that's what loser engineers do, ok!) and blowing the better part of tomorrow off to go hit it up Pocahontas-style with my girl, KJ. I really do deserve a fucking medal. I figure I should probably round off a stellar week by not doing a damn thing in the morning, either... meaning, I'll probably post. See ya soon, lovers!

"L" words.

2006-07-17T16:01:00.000-05:00

Today’s brief post is brought to you by the letter ‘L’. No, I am not going to compose yet another post about my homosexual escapades as a wannabe Lesbian. Rather, this Letter comes to you on behalf of the words Lakes, Liquor, and Laid (I tried to think of a slang word for drugs beginning with the letter L, but I was at a Loss… probably because of the drugs). I don’t think there is too much more to say about Saturday than that. Although, in a strange twist, the Laid part came (no pun) on behalf of the wedding guy from a couple weeks ago. What?!? I told you people I was that good.

Sunday was spent recovering (hangover and sunburn), washing the sheets, being without a car, and finishing up my reality video… there was no way I was going to go outside and bake in the 105 degree temps. My hometown reached a 117 degrees on Saturday!!!

Tonight is my first night bartending. It’s not a busy bar, so I won’t be rolling in mad tip money, but it will keep me busy in the Fall and Winter months and be a good place to meet some more peeps, and by that I mean, “guys who will sleep with me for a couple free shots and cheap draft beer.” I will train for a few weeks and then start picking up every other weekend – not bad.

Reality whore.

2006-07-13T15:28:00.000-05:00

So, I made it through to the final round of the reality show casting process. I know, I’m pretty fabulous. As I mentioned previously, I still can’t help but feel a little lame. Even my Dad thinks I’m a loser, “I don’t know whether to be happy or sad for you.” Gee, Dad, thanks. Well, as part of the final process, I have to make a 5-10 minute video of myself and complete it by a week from today. It should include a variety of spontaneous activities highlighting my life and interests… hmmm. Any (legal) Ideas!?!?!?!

Boating and Being Awesome

2006-07-11T09:24:00.000-05:00

This weekend, we were out on the lake… 9 of them, actually. It’s a chain of lakes (and one river) linked together by a series of channels – it’s pretty dope. We found the sandbar party and tied up to some guys we’d met at Blarney’s (a bar). I picked out a cute guy sporting some sweet Von Zippers and flirted it up with him. It led to nothing more than some innocent kissing, but it was fun and there’s always next weekend. Blarney’s is hosting a big party, so I am pretty sure we’re in, weather permitting.

In other news, I went to an open casting call in Chicago for a reality show. I won’t get into details, but I did get a call back for an on-camera interview. Although happy, I got to thinking and I’m a little disturbed. I watch reality shows so I see the kind of people who get cast on these things, so how totally fucked up must I be that I am a candidate?!? Hmm… maybe I better up my dose of Zoloft.

Krugers, Drinking, Breathalyzers, and Sex

2006-07-05T11:22:00.000-05:00

and to think, I bitched (a lot) about going to this wedding!

Rolled in Friday night around 1:00am and knew exactly where to find everyone else – at the bar, of course. I was a little worried when there were only three other friends I knew from college, the best man and two ushers, but sucked it up and washed a couple little blues down with some whisky and caught up with the mostly unknown group. The next day, the three college friends and I opted out of getting wasted (since the pastor threatened us with our lives if we drank) and instead, spent time taking in some local attractions. Even aside from my three Xanax self-medication, I was astonished by how carefree the day with them was. **(And with that, I would like to add that I’m both pissed and intensely jealous. It’s total bullshit that a groom's wedding party is allowed a relaxing day and those in any way associated with the bridal party endure a grueling and overburdened day. Assholes.)

The wedding was quick and I memorable. Immediately following the ceremony, everyone hit the nearest bar for a couple shots before heading to reception, which, by the way, was at the fucking hockey arena (Hockeytown, USA, just like I told you). The ushers and I, however, saw no need to hurry and enjoyed $1.50 Krugers. (A Kruger, named after the best man, who introduced us to the drink, contains gin, ginger ale, and slice of both lemon and lime… and is fucking awesome.)

Breathalyzer's long story, short: Before the dance, the guys wanted to steal the bride and I was designated to drive. A cock-sucking ass of a cop saw me pulling out of the arena's parking lot with seven groomsmen in toe – four in back, two in front, one in the trunk. Needless to say, I got pulled over while turning into the bar's parking lot. By the grace of the Holy One (and two turkey sandwiches), I passed my breathalyzer and by the stupidity of my own, told the officer what a royal jerk I thought he was to the line of, "I mean, what kind of fuckass pulls over a wedding party?!?" In an abnomal twist of good fortune, I was not ticket for my insolence.

TBC’s right in his comment, I should get cock for laying down that kind of money and as we all know, there's no easier place to get it than at a wedding. What good is it even going if you can't go down on a guy in a tux... or a nice shirt... or the homeless dude not wearing any pants?!?

Good friends, cheap liqour, par excellence piece of ass, sans any legal altercations equates to a weekend well worth the money.

PS: I can't get pictures to show up on my blog anymore, am I doing something wrong?!

Accomodations available at Motel Where the Fuck Are We

2006-06-29T15:33:00.000-05:00

I am in yet another wedding this weekend. That may have been a bit overdramatic, as this summer has actually been very wedding friendly for me, relatively speaking. In any given year since my junior year of college, I’ve receive somewhere between three and twelve wedding invitations a year and, on average, for every three I am invited to, I am in at least one. (With the exception of summer 2001, when I had the glory of spending my weekends in county lock-up; sometime, I’ll tell you all about it.) This year’s invitation count is at four thus far, with two on the way later in the year, totaling six. In accordance with the law of averages, I am in two of them.

I have bitched in the past about the financial drain of attending weddings (and the mass amounts of drugs and alcohol it takes to get through the nuptials) but even I will admit, I don’t mind them all that much. They are my friends and it is truly an honor to be recognized as an important part of their new life together. HOWEVER, for the love of Christ, can’t these weddings be in a moderately desirable locale?! At first, the hokey local scene of the rural Midwest was fun but now, it’s really getting on my nerves. In a way, it’s a lot like genital warts, at first it’s a badge of courage, but then it starts to puss and burn when you pee and c’mon, no one likes that. I just don’t understand why my intimate circle of friends can’t allow me the pleasure of a vacation destination and get married on some amazing beach or better yet, Vegas. At the very least they could make travel a little easier on me and work out something in a metropolitan area? But fuck no, not them, the selfish bastards. I mean, sure it’s ThEiR wedding, but it’s all about me. So, what amazing wedding venue has set me off - Warroad, MN. Also known as Hockeytown, USA; you know how I know that? - In a strange coincidence, a college roommate of mine was from Warroad. To reach ass-raping Canada, ooohhh… lucky me, I’m driving to Minneapolis, flying to International Falls, renting a car, and driving another 100 miles. Are you kidding me?!? Seriously.

Oh, and for the record:
Gas to/from Mpls: $200
Flight to I-Falls (as the locals call it) = $400
Car Rental = $100
Hotel = $120
Mpls Airport Parking = $60
Dress and shoes = $300
Total: $1180… not including the gift!!!

Lester? No, I'm Lesley now.

2006-06-27T10:41:00.000-05:00

Two of us decided to go out after work on Friday. Seven hours and a dozen people later, I was finishing my last Corona in some shit-hole Tijuana hip-hop bar, gazing at the tranny’s filing into and out of the women's restroom. Seriously, what the fuck?!?

Even after a night like that, it wasn’t too much of a struggle to get out of bed the next morning because I was looking forward to the day ahead because a combination of six lakes, four people, one boat, 3 bottles of liquor, and a case of beer equals a recipe for fun. We hit the water around 11:30, took our first pull of Jaggermeister at 11:31, and cracked the first beer at 11:32. When we stopped for a bit to eat later that afternoon, I was completely tore up… all of us were. IT just kinda happened. Being at the breaking point, I decided to back off and drank modestly for the next few hours until I finally could drink no more. What a mistake. I stopped drinking which spiraled my system into complete hangover mode. By midnight, I was so hungover and dizzy, I could barely stand up without falling. When I finally crawled into bed around 1:30, it was sweet relief.

Wow, what a boring post. You would think a post starting with me being the only white person and among a sea of small-town trannies would have more zest. Oh well.

AFI: Girls Not Grey

2006-06-22T14:32:00.000-05:00

This weekend, a friend was running his fingers through my hair when all of the sudden he just stopped and gasped. He then called over my friends; no, it wasn’t head lice – it was a grey mutherfucking hair. Ok, ok, I know it’s just one hair – one little, coarse, straggly fucking grey hair, but still. Of course, I coolly played it off like it was no big deal, but it most certainly was a big deal and I most certainly am pissed off about it. All week I have been looking in the magnified mirror and last night, while shopping for jeans at Saks, I caught myself in the cosmetics department, looking for eye cream. Eye cream - like some middle-aged woman trying to smooth away years of exposure, drinking, drugs, and shooting needles in her arm… oh wait a minute – shit. But unlike that woman, I am not middle-aged and far enough from 30 to not be looking for wrinkle cream. Did I buy some, anyway, you ask? Fuck yes, I bought some – I refuse not grow old gracefully and if I can put a couple hundred bucks into something now that will save me thousands later in peels, lasers, and cosmetic surgery, consider it done.

El Fin.

2006-06-21T15:00:00.000-05:00

CORRECTION to the comeback post: Ok, so I was reminded of those times in college and once while overseas… ok, twice while overseas, and that other time last year… so, I must recant my statement in the last post – I said I was not a whore when, in fact, I am kinda a whore, ok a lot a whore. Whatev, at least I’m a gittin mine.

Now, where were we....
Oh yeah - two weekends ago - I, Tys, and Matt had just left the first house party.

I’m going to skip the boring details of the next two bars and fast-forward past the next 84 or so text messages because all that amounted to was me trying to pick up a couple guys Tys knew, kissing some random chick, stabbing some tipsy fat guy (the ass stepped on my foot and worse, my new shoes), and finally agreeing to go with the boys to some party over in Lincoln Park. I was assured it would be worth it… and Tys promised me drugs.

Unless you count the ‘roids he did in college, Tys is not a drug guy, doesn’t hang in drug circles, and certainly wouldn’t recognize a drug party, so when he promises drugs, I heed caution. Well, holy shit, there were drugs, lots of them. The whole scene was way abnormal, even for me. Have you ever seen that movie with a very farfetched drug scene, the one where everybody’s on something and super chic? Yeah, this was it. I’ve been to a few coke-head parties in my day, but this was indescribable, well nearly indescribable, anyway. There were chicks making out, people pretending not to notice, kids doing lines on the kitchen counter, and us looking as lost as my boyfriend at an Ani Difranco concert.

Tys’s friend’s sister quickly greeted us and to spite being a totally spoiled trust fund kid, she seemed pretty cool but it could’ve been paint talking (yes, this is a drug reference, try to keep up). Like any good host, she asked us if we wanted anything. The boys took a beer and me, well, let’s just say I had a “cocktail” and leave it at that. When I am arrested and on trial for the seventh drug related horse theft incident in more that four months, I wouldn't want you to have to lie for me under oath... and you would becuase you know that I know people, people who know bad people.

After an hour or so, or three for all I know, the fellas were ready to roll out. Naturally, when informed of their intent to leave and take me with them, I went into hysterics and began throwing beer bottles, reminding them that they were not my real Dad and I never liked kissing them that way. Fortunately for them (and everyone else, I'm sure), I was struck by a ricocheting bottle, allowing them just enough leverage to drag my ass out.

Leaving is one thing, actually getting home is another. After I forcibly made them stop at two different Vienna Beef stands for cheese fries, some bar for a sixer of Heineken Light, and three corner shops in search of one pack Orbit Sweet Mint gum, we made it home. Needless to say, I slept on the couch and by “on the couch”, I mean “with Tys’s roommate.”

I know, hardly worth the long wait, but it was only meant to be a next day continuation, not a next week thing, so back off, you vicious ingrates!!

See you soon! Love, Nicole

don't call it a comeback

2006-06-19T21:59:00.000-05:00

If I weren't a tease, I would be a whore, and I'm a lot of things, but I ain't no whore... what I am trying to say is, "Shit, y'all, I am so sorry." I left you hanging like my boyfriend's dick on prom night. I promise not to neglect this week... and my promise is worth the phat laptop it's typed on.

Did anyone watch the Cup game last night? (And I'm talking hockey here, folks, not that faggadacio FIFA soccer crap.)

See you spoon!!

And then...

2006-06-12T14:27:00.000-05:00

Well, well, well… quite the weekend for ‘ol Nicoley. The training/facility operation meetings last week were brutal. It’s a good think I was able to muster up the energy to get completely plastered on Thursday, Friday… and not to be outdone, Saturday.

Friday and Saturday were givens but I have to admit, Thursday was a bit of a fluke. I had forgotten it was my friend’s birthday and, until he called on the way to dinner, had no intention of going out, let alone drinking heavily. But what good are friends for if you can’t let them talk you into a night of free booze, big titties, and shuffleboard (that's right, shuffleboard, it's super gangsta right now - so hot). One drink turned into six and one shot into eight. The night was not without a price though. I bet your thinking the price was my dignity - please, I lost that the summer I did the "special" movies. I am refering to the $3 I tossed in front of some bar hooker and told her “go buy the rest of your shirt, skank.” Yeah, that spontaneous moment of genius went over really super well. Luckily (for her, mostly), I was past the verbal or physical aggressive drunk phase and well into the “just walk away laughing and let my friends cool the fire” phase. And you thought the only reason I’m single is because I’m fat.

After sporting a solid two hours of sleep (did I mention my friend lives like 4800 suburbs away) and taking in a long day at work, you would think I would be too wiped to go out that night. Call it the hair of the dog that bit you, call it gluttony, call it a drinking problem, call it penis envy, but from about 1:30 PM on, I could think of nothing better than downing a few tall glasses of beer. A work pal, my only work pal, and I went out for a few beers after work and although I managed to have a modicum of self-control, relatively speaking, I still ended up wetting myself before I got to my front door. Needless to say, the cabbie was super-pissed and to make matters worse, it ended up not being my house. Fucking cabbies.

I caught up on my sleep on Saturday and went downtown for a party I had been invited to. I didn’t really know who was all going to be there, so I called up a couple of arm candies to escort me. If I was going to be the stranger in the room, I didn’t want to be the desperate and lonely stranger. The party was a good time, but we bailed pretty early anyway and that is when you can say the night really started...

More tomorrow. I know, lame... but I do have a fucking job, people.

Czeching In

2006-06-07T06:57:00.000-05:00

No, I haven’t finally fallen prey to my poor diet, lazy lifestyle, and irresponsible decisions…. It’s much worse that that, I’ve been in training/meetings. My company has been moving in towards a new productivity initiative and this week is a big jamboree to move us to the next level. It’s good training and great discussion, but very time consuming. Unfortunately, life doesn’t stop and I have to continue to work at catch up after a full day of training. Needless to say, this blog has not been the priority (not that it ever is, it just happens to get done). I do have some fun stories from the weekend, though, so stay with me, I’ll get there. Have a safe day!!

Daughter of the Year

2006-06-01T14:37:00.000-05:00

I am exhausted. To my great displeasure, I have not been able to sleep the past two nights, finally coming to rest around 4:00am and 3:30am, respectively. Knocking off a solid 5 hours sleep in two days hardly makes for a productive employee, let alone a vision of happiness. Surprisingly, I haven’t really been too far on edge and crabby with others. Granted, I’m pretty much a bitch most of the time, so the variances are pretty insignificant.

Tonight, I have tentative plans for dinner and a movie (with a real live boy!) and as tired as I am, the opportunity for sex trumps the opportunity to sleep. Even if I don’t suck his dick, (and you know I will), I think the time away to let my mind de-stress will be a good thing. I know what you’re thinking – you just came off a three-day weekend… at home… with like, the greatest parents ever. But, fuck dude, remodeling that damn house of my parents has been a real bear. I actually made my Mom cry today (twice) while discussing the fucking guest bathroom. Talk about a woman who is really on edge. So, I get to add that to the 4, 812 things already racing through my mind. Sure, 4,665 of those are related to food or sex, but still.

You've been Drugged, sucka

2006-05-30T14:52:00.000-05:00

Well, I got to see the shell of my parents house... and so did about thirty other people who stopped by when we were there. Completion by July 15th? No fucking way. It's so not close to being done that while I was there, I made some architectural design changes (always adhering to the credo "what's theirs is mine.") It’s true that when my parents bought the house they only cared about one thing – location. So, there was never a doubt that the house needed some updating, but I don’t think anyone expected what lay ahead. It’s like when I say, “I’m hungry for a burrito,” but it really means, “a #6, two rancho chicken tacos, and a nachos locos.” But, it’s all worth it; it’s the house they’ll live in until they die… or until the “vitamins” I’ve been sending them finally allow me to check them into some low grade assisted living center and give me the freedom to sell their possessions off to feed my personal addictions.

Casa de Nada

2006-05-26T11:21:00.000-05:00

The long weekend is totally welcomed!! Last minute, I decided to hop a plane home. I have not been home since September. In addition to the outstanding warrant for my arrest (which has been cleared, thank you legal team), I haven’t been home because I don’t really have a home to go back to. In October, my parents began some serious renovation and have been living in a rental house and since March, in a hotel. Needless to say, the allure of going home to a pair of adjoining hotel rooms (a hotel in a mid size town) is hardly alluring... the Ritz, sure - the Local Inn and Suites, not so much. My parents are six or so weeks out of completion and I am actually pretty stoked to see the progress thus far, although I would never tell my parents this. If I told them I was excited about them actually doing something just for them (and not me), they may begin to think I've been broken and have cast aside my selfish ways. Shit, they may assume I actually like them and do not constantly sit in judgment of their choices and if they think that, the outcome could be catastrophic - I mean, what if they fealt they no longer needed to make efforts to buy my love?!!?! Then what would I do - live on a budget?! Please, that is sooo uncool.

Peanut Butter Jelly Time

2006-05-24T11:40:00.000-05:00

Man, I really want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I'm pretty sick to my stomach with work stuff, but boy oh boy, could I go for PB & J. I could also go for some great sex... but the sandwich is much cheaper.

Indifference

2006-05-22T09:37:00.000-05:00

I don’t know what kind of jobs y’all have, but… wait a sec, there are like four readers - I rescind that last statement. I do know what kind of job y’all have and as a result, I can say with almost certainty that you have never been the most hated person in your facility by sheer job alone. Sure people hate you once they get to know you, but job title – not likely. With that in mind, let’s just say May has not been Nicole’s month here at the plant. I have had the sole responsibility of squeezing every last ounce of productivity out of the operators here. For example, and forgive me for nerding out for a moment, let’s say an operator can physically assemble 10 dildos per hour, but we’ve only been supplying them the parts at a rate to assemble 9 per hour. Now, "we’ve" increased the parts supply to 10 per hour.. Naturally, it’s much more complicated than that but it comes down to the same basic principle of making them work more productively. Of course, I am not actually the one driving this change, but for those of you who don’t already know, engineers are the little bitches who do the master’s biding. Oh and to make matters worse, they had previously been given “set-up” time, which amounted to nothing more than bullshit with your friends time. I also had the pleasure of informing them that those days are over, my compadres. People hate me but it’s why I get paid… well, and I’m giving my boss bathroom hand jobs on the side, but more for the engineering thing, I’m sure. Anyway, the hammer has been lowered on these slackers and it appears to the operators that my hand has administered the blow. Administered the blow… at my job – ha, blowjob, ha.

"Fry"day

2006-05-19T15:42:00.000-05:00

You know you’re a fast food junkie when you can tell where a person picked up lunch simply by the smell of his or her fries.

You know you’re a beer junkie when you can tell a domestic beer simply by the color.

You know you’re a plain 'ol junkie when you can tell the quality of the weed simply by the seed count.

All true observations from the day... and why the fuck am I still working past 3:30 on a Friday. Fuck, man, fuck.

Not Just Any Elektric Band

2006-05-17T16:08:00.000-05:00

Alright, the reason I am behind at work is because I left work early on Monday… officially, to go to a concert; unofficially, to go drink. I had bought four tickets to Fall Out Boy / All American Rejects and everyone bailed, leaving me to ask one of the work people to go with me. Luckily, she didn’t have other plans and agreed. We started drinking and after a few (read: 4) beers and a (read: two) shot, we hit the road, er, train.

We hit the venue and yikes, we felt old… with the exception of the parents there chaperoning their kids. To make matters worse, the concert was being held on the UIC campus – so, no booze, a total Nazi rule but whatever. But in an unexpected turn, I went from feeling like a total NoFriends McLoser to being a resourceful chick with two extra tickets to be used to get back into the concert. Needless to say, we hoofed it to the nearest bar and started pounding liquor by the liter… nice.

A smart and responsible employee probably would’ve stopped drinking once she got home from the concert and not have gone out for a couple more… but then again, a responsible employee wouldn’t have allowed herself to get caught peeing in the janitor’s closet while coming down from an amazing high… and we all know how that ended up.

All in all, a good Monday . And DJ, you're right - I probably don't use enough pictures

Is that chest hair?!

2006-05-16T16:57:00.000-05:00

Well, I may have officially become a man this weekend… sans the whole testes/penis thing. I guess that just makes me a major dyke – eh, there could be worse things. After all, I do love pussy. I came to this grim realization shorty after I ordered a pizza on Saturday … as I was polishing off a sixer of Miller Lite … watching the NBA finals from the bathroom floor … because I was plumbing the new toilet … and making plans to go to Mission Impossible III later. Sure, I am an independent woman and all, but there is a limit, even for me. I’d go on (and on, and on, as I do), but I am super swamped with about 4 more hours of work to get done before tomorrow… and it’s already 5 o’fricken clock.

KJ and Some Chick

2006-05-12T11:24:00.000-05:00

No, this is not the hot girl on girl action you think it is... but those pictures have surfaced before, so it's not an altogether outlandish appeal.

You know how it creeps you out when you see someone who really looks like someone you know or, weirder yet, you. Well, yesterday, I was superbly bewildered. Browsing some trashy internet gossip site, I was floored when I brushed across a cast still of the new Vaughniston movie (that’s the Anniston and Vaughn names combined, a recent trend which I absolutely LOATH, and write it here only mordantly). In the photo was an actress with a frightening resemblance to that of our favorite Worth The Time kitten, KJ.

Note: I would’ve written about this earlier but waited to get permission from KJ to reveal her photo because what good does it do showing just the actress if you can’t see KJ’s ugly mug to compare. And then, after everything we’ve meant to each other, the ungrateful bitch said I couldn’t publish her picture!! Well, fuck her, it’s my blog and I’ll do what I want. What are you going to do – sue me? Yeah, good luck with that; be sure to ask the other people how their suits against me turned out. I mean, it’s not like I’m throwing out detailed information about my friend, Kallie Joanne, or even the fact that she lives at 1735 Ordean Court in Cedar Rapids, IA. So what’s the big deal!?!?

Ok, Kallie... I mean KJ, goes so far as to have the same legs (albeit about 6 inches more of them) and skin tone as this actress. I cannot truly express in words the stark similarities, so I included the visual.

My Green Monster

2006-05-11T11:17:00.000-05:00

It's no Fenway, it's my backyard and yet, it derives the same emotion for me as I can only assume a sharp left-fielder feels against The Wall - the intimidation, the unpredictability, the mystique. A few weeks back, I tackled the lawn. (Note: the lawn won, but I'll get to that.) I was becoming the bad neighbor (this time, with regards to lawn maintenance, not the "other stuff" which led to my summer '99 arrest, not to be confused with my arraignment in the winter of '99). I knew it was only moments before flaming sacks of poo littered my front stoop. As I have stated before, I hate mowing the lawn. (I have been meaning to hire the people who tend to my neighbor's lawn, but haven't gotten around to it.) Since my detest runs deep, midway through the task, I got bored and quit. I had intentions on completing the chore in a timely manner, but intentions are just that and produce no results. Needless to say, the next time the mowing was due - the part I had left unkempt was a total nightmare... and not the kind that wakes up to morning sex. After less than a pass, I had to empty the bag. After I filled all the lawn refuse bags I had on hand, and two oversized cardboard boxes, I still had not finished the mission. The lawn had won again. Monday night, I finally finished her off. The drudgery continued when I came home last night to find the lawn dues for another cut. I begrudgingly pared the entire lawn... and admitted defeat. The oconsolationtion is that today it's raining and the green pasture of my rout did not have the last laugh.

It's the shits. (Pun intended - read on)

2006-05-10T14:09:00.000-05:00

In homeowner news… and isn’t it just my luck. The main floor toilet broke a couple weekends ago and since I have the best fortune ever, the $.08 part that broke may end up costing me the expense of a complete bowl replacement – no, this isn't a joke or a cheap ploy to get you into bed. (Although, the upside to this household predicament is that I have been able to say the word, "ballcock," multiple times and actually sound intelligent. Well, truth be told, no one really sounds intelligent when they say, “ballcock,” but it is acceptable plumbing vernacular, so go sit on it.)

See, the ballcock (awesome, isn't it) installed with my toilet is not standard and the broken piece cannot be purchased at your local home improvement store. No, it must be special ordered and of course, the tiny part cannot be bought individually, so the entire ballcock must be replaced. And, we (we = the plumbing guy) are not even sure if that will work, according to the manufacturer’s booklet, so we (we = me) are ordering two different sets with the hope that we (we = plumbing guy) can throw something workable together. If that doesn’t work… yeah, a new stool. (Although, the upside to is that for days, I can tell people I am going to look at stool samples.)

Update: Since I started this post, found out worse news. The toilet may be an export and not fixable so sure enough, the whole fucking thing may need replacing... well, shit (literally and figuratively).

I hate the Huskers

2006-05-09T17:19:00.000-05:00

I had an alright weekend in the not-so-lovely state of Nebraska. One of my very good friends graduated from dental school and since I never turn down a party involving drunk, available doctors and free booze, I flew out for the “Look at me, I’m a fancy doctor” celebration. We drank, we laughed, we washed cum out of our hair. Good times.

My parents were also invited to the fete and, being the drunken socialites they are (the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree), joined in the fun. I had not seen my parents since Christmas, and by “not seen”, I mean, “not gotten spoiled by.” It was great to “see” them, but stressful, too. They are in the throws of remodeling and like idiots, value my opinion. The bedevilment is that trying to please me is a very difficult task and instead of just going with it, because it is their house after all, I debase them for their choices. It’s a symptom of the, “what’s mine is mine and what’s your is mine” syndrome of which I occasionally suffer… but I’m working on it. In the meantime, however, I took $50 from my Mom’s purse when I was giving her a hug goodbye. Happy Mother’s Day.

Smarty mcAlchoholic

2006-05-04T14:40:00.000-05:00

When you are ordering beer by the tray, you’re in for a good night… unless, of course, it’s a Tuesday night. Correction: you’re still in for a good Tuesday night, but you’re also in for a lousy Wednesday. Seriously, getting plastered on a Tuesday – what was I thinking?!? (Actually, I was thinking that men drinking on a Tuesday are far more desperate and easier to take advantage of… and I may not have to waste a perfectly good roofie.) Unfortunately, when you have a 5:00AM wake up time looming, you’re an idiot. To make matters worse, the wake-up time was pushed up to 4 AM because you were too keen on drinking to realize your friend had left everything of his in your vehicle and you had to drive them to him the next morning. Two hours sleep on a “school night” – great move on my part… like the time I thought Jesus would appear if I did just one more line… white powder – white light, it totally seemed plausible at the time.

Anyway, I made my morning commitments but hit the wall around 2 o’clock and headed home for a nap, which I do weekly but usually only because I’m bored. This time, though, I left my work unfinished. But you know, no one really gave a shit that I hadn’t sent out the e-mail detailing the system and live test data on a project I’m leading. (See how I gave you all those unnecessary details to try to impress you.)

Speaking of sex (no? well, whatever), drunk calling also makes you reveal innermost thoughts and secrets you normal wouldn’t… and shouldn’t, for that matter. Like, “I think I want to have sex with you,” “my parents still pay my cell phone bill,” and “oh that - it’s just a silly little std.”

One from the Weekend

2006-05-02T13:30:00.000-05:00

Oh, I guess I forgot to mention last week that my homegirl, KJ, was coming up for the weekend. Occasionally, also forget to tell my men friends of the "sores". I just love surprises. Anyway, KJ came in this weekend after I scored us some Saturday night tickets to Spamalot. The musical was hilarious and brilliantly adapted but hardly the highlight of the weekend. Kelsey arrived and quickly started mixing up the drinks because after all, what better way to start a weekend than with a fresh fruit pina colada?... starting the weekend with 3 fresh fruit pina coladas. After firing up the grill, the beer flowed freely and we started getting a bit frisky. The night was young and the air crisp. With the golf course bordering my backyard, it was time to hit the links and play a little night golf... and take multiple shots of Jaggermeister. It briefly reminded me of the last time I shot Jaggermeister... although, maybe I am using the word "reminded" to liberally because I don't remember shit from that night... but I do have a couple scars.

But back to the night at hand, or should I say, the night that got a bit out of hand. It started with, "I know, lets take our shirts off and make sand angels!!" Followed by, "that's fun, but these bras are so stifling, let's ditch them, too." And in another brilliant move towards my NOT gaining a Senate seat someday, "we should be sure to digitally document these events and send the photos off to a buddy!" KJ and I figured since we would not be taking home a random guy from the bar, the least we could do was get a random guy off. With the quality pictures passed flawlessly through cyberspace, it's a good thing the guy knows me just well enough to understand the strength of the legal team I employ on a regular basis (and why after three arrests, two criminal charges, and countless misdemeanors I have a squeaky clean record). Not to mention... I know people; this is Chicago after all.

KJ and I picked ourselves up off the bathroom floor in time to get some quality shopping taken care of. In a classic Nicole move, only after checking into the hotel did I realize I'd forgotten my attire for the evening and althoughut because althought, I love shopping, the additional time needed would be seriously cutting into my poor binge drinking habits. The bonus to shopping is not only does it build up an appetite for food, finding the perhungryhoes makes me hurgry for cum. Wanting to take care of two birds with one stone, I knew taking KJ trestaurantite Greek restaraunt was a sure-fire way to get her panties off. She is so whorish, but then again, I know how to please my ladies.

After the stellar Spamalot, we felt like slutting it up for drinks and hit up our favorite little pub restaurant for a non-meat market environment. As expected, were hit-on almost immediately... not that we were complaining too much. Well I wasn't anyway - KJ, in her awesomeness, threw her ugly friend and bone and played wingman to me with the no-so-smart guy, while I enjoyed the merriment of some Purdue boys. It reminded of the last time I drank with some Purdue boys ("drank"= slamming one Irish Car Bomb after another" ... hmm... I don't really remember much from that evening, either. Although, waking up on the deck next to three empty cans of cream corn and a porno mag, clutching a spoon and a screwdriver can't be a good thing. All in all, I held it togethmodicumaintained a modicome of dignity (relatively speaking, of course). And while you're thinking it and before you ask, the answer is "yes."

Hammers

2006-05-01T15:42:00.003-05:00

"Nicole, did we really get drunk and play around in the nude on the golf course... and then send the pics to a strange man?"

"Yes, KJ, I'm afraid so."

Sorry folks, no time for details; I will post later.

Cigarettes

2006-04-27T13:05:00.000-05:00

You're all still here!! (Yes, "all" is a relative term.)

I’m not a smoker. I’ve never been a smoker. Oh sure, I did the college smoking thing for a little while and I even remember the last cigarette I had during that phase. (It was after a fraternity party and I was in the basement, sitting on top of the bar with a guy, watching one of the brothers urinate on the floor through his diaper to only then remove the diaper completely… yes, a diaper… it’s safe to assume it was the Halloween Party. Anyway, I was a couple drags into it and then said to myself, “Why am I smoking?!” I flicked the cigarette into a pool of beer and piss and that was the end of that. But every now and then, I need one… like the need to eat cake, drive fast, or suck dick. Today, the rapacity to smoke (cigarette, not ‘pole’) resulted from a combination of stress, anxiety, and anger. I bummed a smoke, went out to the patio and took it all in and let me tell you something - it was fucking awesome… cheesecake eating, marathon running, Jeter fucking, blog reading, island hopping, shooting under par kind of awesome… and I don’t even smoke. (And for the record, I don't plan to start, either.)

I'm ok with it.

2006-04-25T15:56:00.000-05:00

No one is reading this anymore, are they? Well, worse things have happened, I suppose. In the off chance that KJ is still around, I’ll continue to post. After all, I know how things at ‘the Rock’ can be; sometimes you just need a break (or in my case when I worked there - many, many, many breaks.)

When I saw “I *heart* Huckabees” in the movie theater a year or so ago, I remember two things, ok, three things. One - I totally made out with Derek afterwards, two - the movie sucked ass, and three - Mark Wahlberg was fantastic. Last night though, remembering Marky Mark’s fun and fab performance, I decided to watch it again and you know something, it wasn’t half bad, (much better than I remember, anyway). When released, I couldn’t wait to see it and there was nervous pressure since it was only the second time seeing Derek (like a guy looking for ass gives two shits about the movie), but maybe I expected too much from the movie… and Derek, too, I suppose. I mean, just because you're good looking, funny, wealthy, and super smart, doesn't mean you have it all... wait, it kinda does, doesn't it?! -fuck, what was I thiking breaking up with that guy?!? Anyway, seeing a movie I enjoy and previously did not was a nice change for me. I’m usually not like that. Especially not since rehab… remember that movie you always used to enjoy when you were strung out on heroine, shooting tequila poppers, vomiting in your roommate’s pillow, and eating chili straight from the can and how when you watched the movie sober, it wasn’t quite as funny? This wasn’t like that at all.

Hmmm…. I guess this post has made it painfully obvious why no one reads this blog.

Buenos Tardes Amigo

2006-04-24T23:43:00.000-05:00

Not just a clever title for this post but also the title of the Ween song I'm listening to at this moment - funny tune with an out-of-place synth meg riff in the middle. Choice cut.

So, I kinda sorta didn't make it home this weekend which not only means I'm a complete whore, but also that I was going to have a bitch of a commute Monday morning. Ugh. The upside to that is morning talk radio. I used to absolutely love driving to work in California because of the amazing morning programs... out here, not so great. In fact, this morning, I had to shut it off. ManCow was on an extraordinarily lame rant this morning and my usual entertainment chose the topic, "103.5 reasons to not get married." Yeah, like I need that. Let's face it, I have a pretty sour attitude towards marriage (not to mention mortgages, kids, dirty white people, and of course, pleated pants) and needn't listen to Midwestern losers call in to bitch about petty things that ended their loveless marriage/relationship. The final straw being, "I divorced my ex-wife because she didn't want to have sex with me three times a day anymore." The CD that was on cue was Ben Folds appropriately titled album, "Saving Silverman" and in this case, I was Silverman being saved from these lame-ass douchebags.

So the weekend... Friday night, some damn birthday party at the bar. I didn't know who it was for, but the drinks were free and a work friend's boyfriend picked up our dinner tab, so no complaints... except for the dumb waitress who screwed up my Guiness order. Seriously, we're in CHICAGO, how can you not know what a Black Velvet is? I'm pretty sure I met her boyfriend at the Twins game the next night, too... yeah buddy, heckle the Twins' outfielder when we're down six runs in eighth - good one, asshole, I'm sure you're really sticking it to him. Awesome. After a less than stellar showing, I hardly felt like hitting up the bars in my Twins tee, so we played cards and drank ourselves stupid and my buddy's place and I'm pretty sure I won an Estonian midget in the final hand, but I can't be sure. He could quite possibly be in the folds of my fat and will undoubtedly surface when the crumbs run out... which, is not anytime soon. All in all - good weekend. Oh yeah, bonus track - from the "it's a small world" department, I ran into an aquaintence from my hometown near the concession stand (shocking, the fat chick by the concession stand, right). It was nice to see him, a familiar face, that is.

Well, I am going to sleep off this high... weed, Crown-7, and chicken fingers; what a fucking great night.

Vibes

2006-04-21T10:48:00.000-05:00

Women definitely send out vibes and it’s super interesting to go out with a group of women and read the vibes each one of them is sending out. In Scottsdale, for instance, there were five women and three distinct vibes. Me – the I’m not available vibe and of course, I still got hit on by every guy at the bar because I'm gorgeous, the younger girls – “We’re available and looking for a one nighter” who had we spent some more time there surely would've had their first one-night-stand since moving to Phoenix (the day before), and the other two – “we’re single, but not looking to hook up tonight,” (but will probably be looking every other night, so be prepared). Anyway, women are awesome... and I'm not just talking about in bed, but it's worth a try if you haven't done so lately... (TBC). Next time you're out - take note of the vibes - the looks, the body language, the whispers, it’s great.

This weekend, I’m delving into the city to do some partying and hitting up the Twins-Sox game on Saturday. I am going to the game with a neutral friend, a good White Sox fan and one hard-core White Sox fan. I will be sure to site the furthest away from him because as much as I love the Twins and support my team, the Twins’ odd of winning isn’t great. Win or lose, it’s just nice to take in a game here and there. I still haven’t been to a famed Cubs game, but hopefully one is in my not-so-distant future.

Have a great weekend… right now, I’m going golfing. (What?! - I put a solid two hours of work in on the day.) Why spend unproductive hours in my cubicle when I could be spending them productively improving my golf game.

Friday’s Five reasons this will be the last Friday’s Five:
9) It takes tits to start a trend
20) I still love the movie Bottle Rocket
46) Breaking up really is hard to do
85) No one is really that interested
97) One hundo, suckas, one hundo.

Not a French title

2006-04-20T14:38:00.000-05:00

Last night, my friend called and asked if I would join her for a 5:30 AM workout. Ugh, I thought – I don’t have to roll into work until 9:30, but ok… yeah, she overslept. So, not only was I tired, but bored out of my mind (at the gym and at work, for that matter). Plus, I never work out as hard in the morning as I do in the afternoon and no, I don’t feel better when I get it out of the way early (and people who say that are full of crap).

Last weekend, I was in Phoenix seeing friends and it was a ton of fun. I’ve only been to Phoenix a couple times, once for a wedding I was in and another time in passing. We went out in Scottsdale, the crowded casual bars, not the whorish meat market clubs. I had a really good time and the people were a fun crowd. There’s no wild story as I stayed sober driver for the evening. How alcoholic are your friends when you’re the guest and have to be sober driver, but in truth, I didn’t mind one bit. My grad school roommate came out with us, so I was pretty engrossed with him and not sending out the “I’m single and looking” vibe. Women vibes… now that what I should’ve blogged about… instead of this boring crap, anyway. Where was aI going, anyway?….. Oh yeah, “local crowds”. Yeah, I’m bored with that. In fact, I’m bored with this whole damn day. See you tomorrow. Love, Nicole

Est ce boeuf?

2006-04-19T12:55:00.000-05:00

On my route to work, I pass Cavel Meats, specializing in “International Meat Export.” In layman’s terms, it’s a slaughter facility… for HORSES, mustangs primarily. Now, normally, it doesn’t bother me because I just don’t think about it. However, every once in a while, there will be a horse trailer waiting for the gates to open to drop ‘the goods’ and you can actually see the horses in the trailer. It’s so sad. Between that and kitty leukemia, I’m not sure how I sleep at night... it's a good thing all the sex I have tires me out.

Deja Vu

2006-04-18T14:30:00.000-05:00

Wow, where do I begin… it’s been so long and there is so much news to tell… and yet, I don’t want to shoot my load all in one day.

Being in Minneapolis was great, I really miss living there… I miss my working for Corporate and the people, I miss the city, and I miss my friends. Ugh. Mpls always feels so familiar....

Déjà vu. (No, not the strip club… although, my friend used to own the one downtown… the man dated A LOT of strippers in that time, but who wouldn’t, right?!) A literal definition of déjà vu is when one eye sees something before the other or scientifically, when the temporal lobe has a minor seizure. There are also the beliefs that déjà vu exists because you carry memories of your past lives or that since your life is predetermined, a feeling of déjà vu signifies you are on the right path in your life (the latter being the one I like). I remember having only one or two moments of déjà vu in my life (both my senior year of college) prior to moving to California, upon which I would experience them frequently. Since moving to Illinois, I haven’t had them until my recent trip to Mpls, where I experienced two very strong déjà vu moments. It was super weird, like stop me in my tracks weird, because they were so intense. (I admit I should probably lay off the drugs for a while). Although I am no astrological-artsy-fartsy-faith-healer type of chick (I’m a fucking engineer, for Christ’s sake), I just can’t help but think that maybe I shouldn’t be in Chicago, or in my current job position, or simply that something is awry... and that I need to lay of the drugs.

I know this post was not very entertaining for the first one out of the blocks, but it’s been on my mind, so suck a rock.

2006-04-17T11:38:00.000-05:00

Guess who is back!!!!!! I've missed you - I will need some time to catch up on the world around me, but I am back in the saddle and ready to blag again!

Nicole's Schedule

2006-04-12T16:19:00.000-05:00

@9:00 AM Monday: Leave after conference, make it home at night, late start work on Wednesday afternoon
@9:00AM Tuesday: Leave after Twins home opener (awesome seats btw), sleep somewhere in Wisconsin, maybe go into work on Wednesday.
@ 9:00PM Tuesday: Leave after going out downtown after Twins home opener, sleep-in somewhere in Wisconsin, check work e-mail from home.
@ 1:00AM Wednesday: Stay in Mpls tonight, leave in the morning, skip work on Wednesday.
@ 11:00 AM Wednesday: Check work e-mail in Mpls, leave by 1:30PM, work on Thursday.
@ 2:30 PM Wednesday: Skip going home, stay in Mpls, drive home on Thursday, skip work rest of week..

Plans are meant to be broken... and "the man" will live another couple days without me.

I'll be on the road and gone for the weekend (golfing and drinking in Phoenix).
Have a Happy Easter, everyone!!

Wasted... and not in the good way.

2006-04-07T14:09:00.000-05:00

The training group this week was a fun one, relatively speaking, of course. For the most part, the group was young, again relatively speaking, and the two 'stuffs' were so lame, they provided us some fabulous entertainment. With a youthful group, however, there are consequences... we're all pooped. Most of them are heading home but this is most unfortunate for me because it's Friday and I'm with friends and hangin in my old stomping grounds and sadly, I’m exhausted. I guess I forgot how taxing it is on my system to go out every night. That’s not to say that I am not going to do get all freaky and shit this weekend, I just like to bitch. I’m sorry I didn’t write this week and there was much to say about last weekend, the car fire, my most recent automobile accident involvement, or the low hiring standards in Canada (although, alex is a testament to that).

Have a great weekend, all. I will try earnestly to get something out this weekend and next week.

Whose laughing now?

2006-04-04T07:33:00.000-05:00

I made it to St Paul late Sunday night. Seeing as how we were out until 6am the night before (another post entirely), getting here before midnight was a feat in itself. Not yet an hour into the trip, traffic was gridlock. It took me well over an hour to go 12 miles. All of the weekenders (mostly lame Wisconsinites) bottleneck into the final tollbooth (stupid civil engineers) and those of us Illinois residents with the I-Pass are forced to suffer. Beyond that, the weather sucked – rain, drizzle, hail… you name it. But there was a fun part to this trip, my battle with MN License plate ME 987, aka Cpt. Douchebag. I was rolling cruise control and this guy would repeatedly pass me and then slow down and pass me again. I’d had enough so about 70 or so miles out, I thought of the perfect solution… just stay behind him. I figured, “Ok, asshole - you wanna play games, I’ll play games.” He dropped it down to 55 and sped up to 85, but I was unwavering. I didn’t tailgate him, I kept my 2 sec distance, but he was still so annoyed- it was a beautiful thing. I even got the finger when he exited onto I-694 in St Paul. I laughed at him - Nobody likes to be fucked with, asshole.

Dung beetles

2006-03-31T14:44:00.000-06:00

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

2006-03-30T15:19:00.000-06:00

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.