Two Turn Tables and a Broken Microphone

Two topics today. Me, of course. Duh. And something else that one may say I'm being vague about, but whatever. I can do what I want. That IS the beauty of blogging right? And while we are on that topic, what the hell does blog stand for anyway? Is it an acronym? Or a name of someone? I digress.Now, back to me. I'm an idiot. So my evil plan for last night was to break up with the boyfriend. I had it all worked out. "I don't deserve to be treated this way. You treat me like shit all the time. You are not the person I fell in love with."What's that? How did it go, you say? OH IT WENT FANTASTICALLY. Yeah, you're right, I totally caved. Now, don't get me wrong, I said those things, and I stood my ground for about an hour. I did not cry, I did not yell, I stayed calm and stuck to my guns. And then the most bizarre thing happened....He did not accept my break up.
Basically he turned me down. What I mean is, we are still together, not broken up. We talked for hours about the things that make us crazy, mad, hurt, anything. We ended the conversation well, with a light at the end of the tunnel again.GREAT. GOOD JOB NIK. I failed. But maybe it's for the best? Can't I have a little faith?Until tomorrow, we shall see.
Second topic.Nazgul, Nazgul, Nazgul.You have become one of my favorite people.It is such a shame to hear you talk about how un-amazing you are, for you are one of the most amazing people that I have ever met. Maybe you aren't a master fencer, or the worlds best basket weaver. BUT you are the best at so many other things.
Here's a list of things that I think you are the best at:
1. Making my heart hurt less.
2. Making me smile when I thought it was broken.
3. I don't have proof on this one, but I am very confident there would be no argument from anyone. Making PB&J for your chickens. No one can ever make a PB&J quite like your mom can.
4. Wooby selection.
5. Calming me down.
6. You have perfect teeth.
7. You have the strength of 1000 gods inside that giant heart of yours. It inspires me.
8. Being a reliable friend.
9. Giving others hope for a better tomorrow.
10. Stopping and smelling the roses. Snowflakes. Need I say more?
11. Lasagna with medallions.
12. Oozing with sex.
13. Walking in high heels.1
4. Making a house so homey and warm.
15. Being in love with your mauw.
16. Best coffee date. Hands down.
17. Being a mother.
18. Drinking vodka with Russians.
You should be so proud of yourself. You are the most incredible person I know. I look up to you for these reasons listed above and many more.Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for being a good person. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being patient. Thank you for never judging me for being weak. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for taking time for me even when I know very well that you don't have many minutes to spare. Thank you for making me feel welcome in your life and your home. Thank you for sharing your beautiful children with me, they warm my heart. Thank you for smoke breaks and emails and inside jokes and dreams of our futures together. You are the best.

Case of the blah's

I don't really have much to say. I feel completely empty. Drained. It was this weekend that did it to me. A weekend full of thinking "I know what's coming. Oh well, fuck it, let's pretend a little while longer." I watched this stupid movie about this chick who gets pregnant and her boyfriend is freaked out and treats her like crap for the first few months. She leaves him just in time for him to realize what a jerk he has been, blah blah blah everything turns out hunky dory. It made me realize that I've been lying to myself. I do not want children NOW, but yes, I do want them someday. I can't ignore that.He's way to selfish to be a dad.He's way to selfish to be a good boyfriend.We have fun together but that's where it stops.Another one bites the dust. Another brick in the wall. Whatever.

Destined to Be a Cat Lady

I need at least 15 cats and some puff paint ASAP.
Misshapen, over sized sweat pants, preferably purple, bright purple.
Bright red, 3 inch pumps.
Torn panty hose.
Old, pink sweatshirt with one of those horrible iron-on pictures of a cat, poorly traced with silver puff paint.
Unlit cigarette hanging out of brightly painted lips.
Walmart.
Shopping cart containing: cat food, fingernail polish, ash tray, (because one of the cats broke my other one, of course.) ding dongs, ben and jerrys, granny panties, the latest Britney Spears CD, (because the cats LOVE her, of course.) One bottle of Old Spice cologne, nag champa incense, new panty hose, and the latest issue of Cosmo.
Men.....Who needs men when you have 15 cats, right?
I don't understand them, and ya know, at this point, I don't even want to.
There has to be more to life and love than this.
I tried to read last night.
Impossible.
I can't even read because my head is so full of fast moving thoughts.
It's spinning. My little robotic heart needs and oil change and a fluids check.
I worked out last night for the first time in ages.
Nothing too involved. But it felt good, nonetheless. I figured that keeping my outer shell healthy couldn't hurt since it feels like my insides packed up their shit and quit. They didn't even give me a two week's notice!Well Mr. Blog, here's to another day, another dollar. Thanks for listening.

Dear Tequila

Dear Juarez Tequila,

You are a bastard.

Love,
Nikki

Beep, beep, beep, beep. The alarm clock grew louder and louder next to my booze-filled head. I practically punched the snooze button thinking to myself, "Oh hell, just a few more minutes."

I woke up last night several times to run to the kitchen and chug orange juice, water, cranberry juice, whatever liquid I could get my hands on. It's incredible, the rate at which I can drink something when I'm dehydrated from a night of drinking too much. You'd think I had been stranded in the desert for weeks.

Now I'm sitting here at my desk, at work, toting a very large orange Gatorade and a bottle of aspirin (which isn't helping at all, by the way.)

I still don't like my boyfriend.
I ruined my diet last night by drunk eating most of a large pizza.
It's not you, it's me.