Monday, October 25, 2010

Boots with the fur.

Sorry for the delay in posting. Here's some preposterous random-ness for your blog-reading pleasure...
  • Last week sucked. Not going into details. However, the end of this week brings lots of candy and ridiculous apparel that I wish would be acceptable in everyday fashion, so I'm thinking this week should be much better.
  • I always admired my Great Grandma Lang, who passed away when I was about 14 or 15. She loved owls and had an entire collection of owl trinkets. So, although I loathe birds entirely and believe that one day, all the birds sitting on telephone wires are going to swoop down and attack me (leaving me pecked at and blinded)... I smile whenever I see an owl. Anyway, I just started working at a different branch of my job to make some more money on the side. When I took my first potty-break there, I noticed an advertisement hanging on ladies room wall for a hot-line helping woman who suffer from domestic violence. The ad had four pictures of different women on it, one of which was my Great Grandma. No folks, she was not abused... she had her hip replaced at the same hospital I work at, and I'm guessing she agreed to let them take her picture to help with the cause. My point is, every time I go to take a leak, I am reminded of how sweet and smart she was, and I almost feel like it wasn't coincidental that her picture is there. Life is crazy that way.
  • Speaking of my job, I have officially met someone who is, without a doubt, more of an oddball than yours truly. I'll just give you one anecdote and you may decide for yourself. As I was trying to maneuver around him, in an already extremely confined area, he swiftly attempted to use his invisible nun chucks to prevent me from having access to my destination. Please try to envision my facial expression.

  • Although, the previously stated altercation was quite disturbing, I have a sick and twisted amount of respect for people who publicly make fools out of themselves. I have always been a person who most would consider outgoing and extroverted and I think that we need more people in the world who are comfortable enough with themselves to outwardly express that, yes,  they are a little off-beat. So, here is one of my favorite youtube videos of all time, which gets right to the essence of all goofy-ness. Enjoy. (Focus most of your attention on the Red-Head.)

    Now, can we please all just try to get low like that kid? Be sure to stretch properly beforehand.

Monday, October 18, 2010

The hills are alive...

The weirdest thing happened to me this morning.
I woke up, yawned, and Julie Andrews’ voice came out instead of my own.

What if stuff like that really happened? I think it would bring about something close to world peace, but that’s just my opinion.

Today, I’m going to enlighten you all on a topic that I like to call “Work-Boyfriends”.

“What on earth are work-boyfriends?” you ask? Well, let me explain…

You know that guy at your work that you find simply irresistible? It’s the guy that makes you blush whenever he flashes you his pearly whites. The one who you secretly fantasize about riding horses bare back on the beach with. He’s the guy who you tell to have a nice night at 9:47 a.m. in the morning, and then don’t realize what a babbling moron you must’ve sounded like until mid-afternoon, then vowing never to show your face in his presence again. His voice always reverberates through your inner ear, as if he were singing you Lionel Ritchie when he says… “Helloooo.” (“Is it me you’re looking for?”)
“Why yes,” I would reply in harmony with him, “it most certainly is.”
Alright, so that last part is probably just be me. Anyways…
That’s your work-boyfriend!

Work-boyfriends are the best kind to have, really. They trump real boyfriends 90% of the time. The reason for this is mainly that he has no idea he is your boyfriend, or even an acquaintance for that matter. So, you can basically make up stories in your mind about the life you would lead together… and whenever he makes an act of kindness towards you, (one that any other warm-blooded mammal would do under nearly any circumstance), you can brag to your work-friends about how sweet and thoughtful your work-boyfriend is.

Another perk that I’ve discovered which makes this man better than any real-life beau is this… In “Fairytale Work-Romance World” you are always permitted an endless amount of work-boyfriends. No man need go uncharted in your work-love life. And I bet you’re thinking, “Man, no one has ever made polygamy sound so right.”

So, here’s to work-boyfriends! Thank you for remaining na├»ve to the minds of questionably senile women like me, and thank you also for always looking mighty fine as you pass me in the hallway.

Now, I’ll bet you men wish you knew who you were? Well, I will never reveal my secrets, only because it would bring me more embarrassment than the time I peed my pants in left field during T-ball, and the fact that it’s your mystery that lures me in. 

However, I will tell you this... I bet your little woman at home wouldn’t like that you have a work-girlfriend on the side. Shame on you, you dirty dog.

Friday, October 15, 2010

I'm feelin' good.

I have my entrance dance to my wedding reception choreographed.

Am I engaged? No. Do I have a boyfriend? Negative ghost rider. Are there even any possible prospects? Not currently. Yet, I still have my entrance dance choreographed and if "The Future Mr. Nicole Marie" doesn't comply with this... well then, it looks like he'll have to stick with his own boring name and won't get the privilege of taking mine.

You all just wait until the day that this amazing man, who does cooperate, comes along. When this happens, if you are nice enough to me and find your very own personalized invite in the mail, my routine will completely blow your mind... guaranteed. To give you an idea, this is something like what I envision my bridesmaids changing into, to prepare for the reception.

I wish I was kidding.

Since, some of you may find me completely ridiculous for antics like these, which, yes... I do snatch from deep left field, I've decided to formulate a Pro's and Con's list for the entrance dance "Situation" (Just call me, Mike).


  • On the big day, I won't miss out on my daily aerobics and calisthenics.
  • With the racy dance moves I've developed, Dancing with the Stars might pitch me an offer for next season, once they receive word of my raw talent.
  • All of my ex-loves from the past will obviously hear word of the performance and become green with envy, pouting because they could not take part in the event of the decade.
  • Hopefully, it will shock and excite my audience enough, that those attending from the elderly generation will decide not to test out their narcolepsy condition in the macaroni salad bowl. (Do you like how I renamed my wedding guests, my "audience"?)
  • I won't have to budget in wedding souvenirs for guests, I'll just sign autographs.

  • A move I've decided would be appropriate during the 3rd verse, could tear my ACL.
  • Speaking of appropriateness, this dance probably doesn't qualify.
  • I'd have to find a grand piano, 14 Fedora hats, and possibly some machine guns for props... which could pose a bit of a problem.
  • All of my ex-loves from the past would hear word of how I ripped my wedding dress from the train to the waist as I sauntered down the stairway, and imagine all the cellulite exposed to the general public, which would then cause them a horrible gag reflex for the rest of their lives.
  • No one would ask for my autograph, which would be very depressing, considering that I've been planning this dance and preparing for the fame it will bring me for close to 14 years.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Love in an elevator

I got stuck in an elevator while I was at work today. And... there was no love to be found. That song makes it seem like an elevator is such a pleasant place to be.  It's quite misleading. Steven Tyler is a jerk.

Moving on...

Inside my twisted little brain, I've been comparing myself to Carrie from Sex and the City. Clearly, we have a lot of similarities. For instance, she writes about everyday life, friends, and love... and that's what I aim to do in this blog. She lives in a busy New York city and I live in Ohio, by some really exciting cornfields. She has mounds upon mounds of the latest fashions in her dresser drawers and mine are filled with mounds upon mounds of thrift store t-shirts. Since I've found SO many similarities between us, I'm thinking that soon I'm going to find my own version of Mr. Big. And when I say my own version, I mean someone much better looking than hers. He was the strangest looking leading man of a show geared toward female audiences that I have ever seen. Oh, and by the way... I don't really watch Sex and the City and I only just recently realized the significance of it's title. I got HBO for the first time last year. Now I understand.

To close, I think I have a real problem. I'm a chocoholic. I know that term is used quite loosely these days, but by definition, it truly does apply to my lifestyle. Even my health is effected.

To put this into perspective, imagine seeing a piece of chocolate on the passenger side floor board of your vehicle, reaching over (while still in drive) to see if it's in any way, shape, or form salvageable, only to be disappointed when you recognize it as a dried piece of mud that fell off of your softball cleats. This is the life that I live.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

In the dark...

... this title could be used as a metaphor for my current positioning in life. But that's beside the point.

I thoroughly despise driving to work in the dark. I loath the fact that 5:30 a.m. feels like an absolute joke when I wake up. I want to chuck my cell phone at the nearest boulder when I hear it's alarm sound for the seventh consecutive time (My average snooze number is 13). My entire life, I've never been a morning person. I come from a long line of nappers, sleep-er in-ers, and folks who enjoy nothing more than a little shut-eye. It's a trait I've inevitably inherited and I wear my "Sleep is good" badge proudly on my chest. 

Which brings me to my next point of discussion... 
My arch nemisis.

It's the "I'm only tired between the hours of 10 p.m. and 8 a.m." kind of people. 
You know who you are. What is it with you guys and the need to know the exact cause of my fatigue? I'm just tired. I don't know why. I can't magically become more alert just because you think I'm weird. So, I've decided that I need to come up with an answer for you all. And I will let you know tomorrow morning, after I sleep on it.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

And away we go...

For those who are curious, I'm going to begin blogging some of my random thoughts throughout the week. This is mostly because I like the sound of my own voice, but I've heard from multiple parties that I tend to be a little loud and obnoxious in person (a quality which I utterly resent), so I figure this might be easier on your eardrums.

Well... for starters, let's go with this...

I don't understand why skinny people don't sweat. Doctors and scientists around the world, please correct me if I am mistaken, but from what I have learned in basic biology, human beings and mammals alike sweat to cool down our bodies so that we don't overheat. It's a form of temperature regulation. Thus, I don't get why when I see skinny people running down the street, they are not sweating. Are they bionic humans? Are they aliens? Am I really that out of shape, that I need a shower after I run a mile and a half? I think the last time this thought crossed my mind, it was because a thin woman ran past me on the street and the smell of Downy fabric softener was what she left me with. Are you kidding me?

Thought numero dos...

I got very depressed a few days ago. The reasoning behind this was that I realized I am getting old. And the reasoning behind that was that I caught myself saying that "all music made now-a-days is complete crap."... a phrase I distinctly recall "old people" using when I was obsessed with the Hanson brothers and N'Sync and found myself defending their honor, to the point that I felt I was participating in teenage debate-warfare. But really, current music playing on the radio is horrible.

Last but not least (For now, anyway)...

I watched Last of the Mohicans today with my dear old pops. It made me want to live off of the earth and run around with nothing more than a loin cloth and a tomahawk. So, if I'm not on here posting for awhile, it's because I've decided to leave society as I know it and live in the woods about a mile down from my parent's house.

That is all for now, more weird ideas of mine are to follow. Hopefully.
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