The Life and Times of Nick

Food For Thought

2011-10-06T23:24:00.004-07:00

I have mixed emotions about placing second place at the Special Olympics... :/

Imagine the handicap parking situation at the Special Olympics... :/

Does your mom know you're gay?... :/

If Helen Keller trips and falls in the forest and no one's around to see it, does it make a noise?... :/

White trash love

2011-10-06T23:12:00.002-07:00

10 things I'm not afraid to admit that I love:

1: Judy Garland musicals
2: The McRib and the McFish (AKA Filet-o-Fish)
3: Awards shows
4: Red Robin
5: Chili's Queso
6: Totino's Pizzas
7: Nascar
8: Trailers (The camping variety)
9: Man Capris (especially if they're white)
10: Bigfoot/ UFO "documentaries"

I'm a little embarrassed that most of these things are related to food.

Sign My Guestbook!

2011-09-20T15:08:00.004-07:00

So I see all these people just randomly connect to my blog... Which I emphatically apologize for not updating in over a year... I AM trying to be a good student... That's right folks, I moved to Arizona and I'm getting my Master's degree. Who knew!? Anyway... I want to know who you are. Comment on this post with your name and where you're from. One lucky guest will receive a signed... I mean autographed... Picture of me. That's right, I'm pulling out all the stops! Seriously though, even if you just happen onto my blog, come here directly, or link from another site. Lemme know!! I promise to add a new post ASAP!

Ass Play

2010-07-12T13:45:00.000-07:00

I’ve learned a new game. It’s pretty much all I do now while I’m driving to pass the time. Since I’ve purchased a trailer I can’t help but notice them all over the place. Every trailer has a name on it. Mine is a Dutchman. That name becomes really funny once you hear about the game. The game is to add the word ‘anal’ in front of the trailer’s name. Believe me, it’s hilarious. Here are a few of my favorites so far:

Prowler
Avenger
Renegade
Warrior
Weekender
Romper
Hitchhiker
Hideaway
Ranger

You're welcome! Happy road tripping!

VOTE FOR ME!! SHAMELESS PLUG!!!!

2010-06-25T16:38:00.001-07:00

Hey everyone. I just submitted my audition tape to Oprah to have my own talk show. We all know this is pretty much my destiny. So go to the link below and vote for me. PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!!! I need your help! THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!

http://myown.oprah.com/audition/index.html?request=video_details&response_id=19470&promo_id=1

Thanks!

Emoticons

2010-06-16T12:58:00.001-07:00

Recently I stumbled upon the universal emoticon. It works for everything. EVERYTHING. :-/ Go ahead, give it a try. No matter what you say or how you’re feeling, it is universally encompassing. This is a scientifically proven fact. I have posted my research here for you to examine and see for yourself. I also encourage you to test my theory on your own. It’s especially effective in g-mail chat.

I farted :-/
You’re fired :-/
I just started my period :-/
I missed my period… :-/
I’m pregnant :-/
And it’s yours :-/
... Maybe :-/
I’m gay :-/
I gave you gonorrhea :-/
Mom’s dead :-/
You’re adopted :-/
I slept with your husband :-/
… It could be HIS baby :-/
Your husbands gay :-/
You’re funny :-/
No Bishop, I didn’t sleep with my boyfriend :-/
… I slept with yours :-/
Awkward :-/
It burns when I pee :-/
I wouldn’t drink that if I were you :-/
I love you :-/
Grandma loves me more :-/

Thankful Journal

2010-06-08T15:39:00.003-07:00

A friend recently suggested I begin to write a thankful journal. Everyday you write 5 things you are thankful for. Sounds easy enough. Though I'm not completely sold on the project, I thought today I would list a few things I'm thankful for.

1: I'm grateful I don't live in a house with wheels. Even though I wish I owned a trailer.

2: I'm grateful I have all my teeth. As Quasi Moto as they are, I'm glad I have all of them... Cavity free!!!

3: I'm grateful that I have hair in all the right places. Even though I'm wish I didn't have to use a flat iron everyday, I'm glad I still have the ability to do it. And I'm glad I don't have to shave my back or shoulders.

4: I'm grateful for Oprah. Need I say more?!

5: I'm grateful that I'm funny. Seriously! I spend more time with myself than I do with anyone else. Can you imagine being so bored with yourself that putting a cigarette out in your ass sounds more appealing? No thank you. I crack myself up. Should I be on medication for this?
.

Tales of a Fat Boy

2010-04-12T14:41:00.000-07:00

To say I was a robust child is being kind. Entering my 8th grade year I actually weighed more than I do now, and was a foot and a half shorter. My hair was a combination bowl cut/ Jew fro and I had a closet full of colored Girbauds and No Fear t-shirts. I was the epitome of awkward, mid-90’s 12-year-old. At first glance any overly judgmental, internally self-conscious junior high school student would have scoffed at me and refused to be friends with the awkward fat kid. This unpleasant physical appearance is what I attribute my kick-ass sense of humor to. It was all I had to rely on. If people didn’t want to be my friend because I was fat, bad at sports, had a bad hair or did better than them in school, at least they would be my friend because I could make them laugh! I had developed a sense of humor, wit, sass and mouth that would make a sailor blush.

It was the summer of 1994. School was finally out. This meant long days spent at Lagoon at Classic Waters (of course I left my shirt on). My family had recently moved into a small apartment during the last few months of the construction of our new house. This was uncomfortable for everyone, but I think especially for my 18-year-old sister. She was now forced to share a small, closet-like bedroom with her younger; albeit funny, younger brother: me.

I knew this was painful for her, and I did everything in my power to make it as bad as possible.

One particular Friday night my cousin Matt and I planned on sleeping over at my house and get an early start on our Lagoon adventure the next day. Well, unbeknownst to me my sister and her friend Jodi had also planned to stay the night there and drive to the airport the next morning for their trip to California. Naturally I had no problem with this. Having Jodi in the house just meant one more annoying girl to torture. Between stuffing Twinkies down my throat, guzzling root bear and during commercial breaks of Full House, I calmly told my sister that I would graciously let her and Jodi sleep on the couches while Matt and I would take the bunk beds in the bedroom. This was only fair since she would be getting up much earlier and would wake me and Matt in her hustle and bustle to make it to the airport if we’d slept in the living room. I thought I was being MORE than reasonable.

Well for some reason she DID NOT think this was fair. She immediately began throwing a temper tantrum. I remained calm and mature. Well a boy can only take so much abuse. I finally agreed to let her and Jodi sleep in the bedroom, but there were conditions. I immediately marched myself down the hall and began removing EVERYTHING that belonged to me from the bedroom and pile it in the middle of the living room. This included my mattress and dresser drawers. She could have the bunk bed, but I was having the mattress! I removed clothes from the closet and even the light bulb. I felt I was entitled to this since I was the one who’d replaced it only days before.

I think it’s important to note at this time that this entire time my dad is sitting at his desk working and my mom is sitting on the couch reading the newspaper. Jodi is sitting sufficiently embarrassed in the recliner as Matt continues to laugh and egg me on in my pursuits.

My sister is near tears and I’m now hunkered down in the fort I’ve made in the middle of the living room. A broom with a pair of my underwear tied to the top serves at the marker to my domain. She begins to tear into my fortress. I don’t know what her intentions are but I obviously felt threatened by her tone and language. Naturally I had to respond. It was self-preservation. I emerged from my hut red faced and sweaty, and as if the angles had were speaking directly to me I flipped her off and said: Sit and spin bitch, when you reach my elbow the ride’s over! It was a proud moment for me.

Almost as quickly as I’d thought of this my father spun around in his chair. “I don’t know where you learned that Nickolas, but you’re NEVER going back!” he said. My mom then lowered her paper and said, “Hear the Nick? Good news, you never have to go back to school again.” She then turned back to my dad and said, “don’t make threats you can’t follow through with Ken.” Well this was just too much for my dad to bear. “Damn it Debbie,” he said. “I don’t need it from you, too!” “Yeah Debbie,” I said. “He doesn’t need it from you, TOOOOOOO!”

With that my dad stood up and began to charge at me like a buffalo. I was a smart ass, not a dumb ass. I knew h e meant business. I jumped up and flew over the back of the couch trying to find a place to hide. I ran down the hallway and into the bathroom. I locked the door and thanked the Heavens above that I’d so narrowly escaped with my life still in tact.

“Come out of there you little son of a bitch,” my said as he beat on the door. “Make me!” I’d reply. He continued to beat on the door and expel profuse amount of threats and profanities at me. As he beat on the door I would beat back in the same pattern. This only enraged him more. After what seemed like a lifetime of playful banter between the two of us I decided to concede and take respite on the bathroom floor to catch my breath. He eventually stopped pounding on the door and though I know he felt he had won, I knew victory was really mine.

As I sat on the bathroom floor sniffing chemicals and make-up I heard some rustling outside the door. Soon I heard a buzzing that I couldn’t quite identify. I stood up and put my ear against the door. What was that? “Dad?” I said. “Stand back you little shit!” he replied. HE WAS REMOVING THE DOOR BY ITS HINGES WITH HIS ELECTRIC SCREWDRIVER!!!! I was dead, and I knew it.

I had nowhere to go. I was trapped like a rat in that little bathroom. I searched for a weapon but I knew he could overtake the plunger. I opened the shower and the answer was staring me right in the face. The window. I was going to have to jump. I knew I might hurt myself, but a few scratches and bruises were nothing compared to the rather that I would incur from him. I threw the shampoo bottles out of the way, opened the small window and removed the screen. It was a ways down, but I had no other choice. There was only one problem, I was bigger than the window! Damn my fat ass! The opening was only 20” wide. I was at least half again as wide as that. I didn’t care, I was going out that window or I was going to die trying. I shimmied myself up onto the seal and put half my body out onto the ledge. Would I make it from the third floor without breaking myself? I began to look around for options. Luckily for me there was a large willow tree just outside the apartment window. I got it! I would jump to the tree, grab one of the larger branches and seeing how willow trees are supple and bendable it would safely lower me to the ground! I was a genius. Why hadn’t Mensa called me already?! I had no other choice. I began to decide which branch would be my best option. But I had no time. Just them I looked back and saw the entire bathroom door move from its place and land in the hallway. My dad charged forward. I turned back, closed my eyes and leaped. I flew though the air with such grace. I’d made it past step one, now all I had to do was make it to the tree. As it drew closer I realized that my hands were poised perfectly to grad one of the seemingly sturdiest branches of the tree. I closed my eyes. Suddenly I could feel the bark against my hands and I gripped my chubby little digits around it. Victory!

SNAP!

In my assessment of the situation I’d forgotten to take into consideration that I was a robust 220lb 12-year-old. There was no way that poor tree was going to support my fat ass. The branch broke and I fell to the ground. I laid there stunned as I realized my dad was staring out the window and had stopped yelling. We made eye contact; I smiled and flipped him off. I jumped to my feet, grabbed my branch and ran as fast as I could across the field that was behind the building. I was now a fugitive on the run.

I ran and ran and ran for what seemed like miles. I’d really only gone about a quarter mile. I was out of breath, homeless and hungry. I made a quick pit stop at the Island Oasis where Jo Yo Han Chung made me a delicious grasshopper shake and order of egg rolls. I stayed off the main roads and made my way to the park. From the top of the big toy I could eat my last meal and monitor the lights of our apartment from a distance. As dusk turned to night the last of the lights turned off in the apartment; it was close to midnight.

I knew I wasn’t safe, but I also knew I didn’t want to fall prey to the neighborhood freak Zach Davis. Lord only knew what he would do to me! I made the long trip home and surveyed the safety of my house. I quietly went inside. All of my things had been cleaned out of the living room. My sister, Jodi and Matt were all gone. Mom and dad were asleep. I crept down the hall with my stick in hand and headed into my room. I crawled under the bed and stayed there until the next morning when I knew my dad had gone.

I went to the post off the next day and there I found some informational brochures that I couldn’t resist: “How to Stop Yourself from Beating Your Children.” I took all of them. Over the next few months of that summer I would strategically place the brochures around the house, in his truck, in his briefcase and in his bed. I just wanted to make sure he knew that I still held most of the cards in this game.

We really haven’t talked about it since.

OCD/ STD

2010-04-01T12:28:00.000-07:00

As I stood at the urinal today, I looked down and wondered how diseased and filthy the rubber mat I was standing on was. I’m a little bit of a germ phobe. I began to think about all of my odd little habits, my idiosyncrasies; we all have them. I, like some people have more than others and SHOULD be medicated for it. But I chose not to. I actually enjoy being an overly organized, germ phobic, anxiety ridden, and excessively washed, clean freak perfectionist. It’s just quirky I think. This QUIRK spilleth over my cup into most aspects of my life. I iron my sheets; change my underwear several times a day; I wash my face for EXACTLY 120 seconds every morning and night; I eat 1 cup of cereal with one cup of milk at a time –granted, I could finish off a box of Lucky Charms in an evening, but one cup at a time –I count steps; and there certain foods I will and won’t eat according to their level of natural cleanliness –real or perceived. I’m not talking about debating eating an M&M if it fell on the floor cleanliness, I’m talking about the innate filth and disease naturally acquired in food or through improper handling and preparation techniques. This usually isn’t an issue if I’ve prepared the food myself or I know and the trust the person and the kitchen in which the food was made. But, there are 3 specific foods that I WILL NOT eat in a restaurant setting, and sometimes even at home. I will go into the details as to why I feel the way I do about these foods later but let’s discuss the foods and their potential hazards.

#1: Eggs: First off I should say that when I do eat eggs, I just want to eat eggs. I think it is absolutely disgusting to put anything in my eggs. Barf. Omelets are the devil’s food. HOWEVER, deviled eggs are Manna from Heaven if they’re made in a sterile environment and with my recipe. There are a few things I want you to think about the next time you think about ordering your favorite Grand Slam. A little lesson in basic biology: many creatures of the female variety have a lovely monthly visitor –for which I am grateful I do not have –that visit is the process of eliminating eggs from her body. These eggs can be smaller than the head of a pin to larger than my head! A chicken’s egg is about the size of a lime. But think about you are essentially eating chicken period. Vomit. Here’s the crazy part, I can get past that. What I can’t get past is the improper handling of said chicken period. I actually can’t explain what it is that I don’t trust, I just feel that eggs are never properly cooked thoroughly and will make me sick. Even if they are properly cooked, I’m such a mental case, that I think I’m sick anyway!

#2: Mayonnaise: Well right off the bat, mayo is made from eggs, problem #1. Problem #2 is that it tastes like butt. Dispute me all you want but mayonnaise is just plain disgusting. Problem #3: Mayo and the sun don’t get along. Now seeing that I LOVE the sun, I be hanging out in it with my mayo products lying about can I? Every year over Labor Day; my birthday, my family gets together and has a big potluck bbq. Inevitability there is some sort of potato salad, macaroni salad and coleslaw concoction. And every year I am polite and take a small helping as not to offend. And every year without fail I get sick –on my birthday!!! –not fun! I can only blame myself and my good friend the sun for being jealous of my betrayal of our relationship.

#3: Lettuce: This seemingly harmless, even healthy vegetable doesn’t seem to be a likely suspect in my fight to shield myself from diseased food. However, did you know that lettuce is the #1 food carrier of Hepatitis? Yup, #1. That’s because it’s so common restaurants and workers aren’t washing properly –that’s a whole other blog entry –and then handling your lettuce. Once you have it on your plate or in your favorite salad bar it is already covered in fecal matter. You may as well wipe it on a theater chair or a bowling ball. Shredded lettuce is the worst! I don’t know why, I just assume that in my head. I think because it gets soggy. And the only thing worse than lettuce is soggy lettuce.

Now this leads me to why I think this way about these particular foods. I blame my mother. She wouldn’t eat eggs at restaurants due to the fact that under cooking them could cause salmonella. When I asked her what that was, her answer was simply, “a disease that makes you sick.” Well I knew I didn’t want to have a disease that makes you sick so eggs were off the list. Years later I learned that mayo was made from eggs… off. This was not a hard sacrifice since I’d rather lick a pigs eyeball than eat mayo. The final straw came when I was watching the news and heard of a Hepatitis from dirty lettuce. After hearing all the facts I swore off lettuce. But what was this Hepatitis they spoke of. Of course I went to the source of all answers, my mom. When I asked her what it was she should have then asked what strand of Hepatitis I was curious about. But she simply said, “an STD.” To which I followed up with, “What’s an STD?” She replied “A disease that makes you sick.” Well you can see my confusion at this point, if Hepatitis is an STD and STDs are diseases that makes you sick and salmonella was also a disease that made you sick it must also be an STD. I DID NOT WANT AN STD!

So the three foods were gone. A few years later I was sitting in the cafeteria of Cook Elementary about to eat my fried chicken breast sandwich… healthy, I know… I lifted the bun only to find that it contained both lettuce and mayo. I could not eat this! Politely I asked the lunch lady if I could have another sandwich with no mayo or lettuce. She asked me why and I said “I don’t want an STD!” Well, none of the other kids were as smart as me and knew what an STD was, but of disgust was enough for them to know that they didn’t want one either! Soon every student in line demanded a new sandwich. This wreaked havoc in the lunchroom that day. It reached the playground and unfortunately for me the teacher’s lounge, the principal’s office and eventually my mom. When this kind of thing happens in the third grade several steps have to be taken to rectify the problem. First, the teacher must delicately, politically correctly and non-sexually describe what an STD is and how you cannot get it from chicken sandwiches, mayo, lettuce, eggs or any other food product. Second a meeting with you mom and principal take place where the REAL definition of STD and matter of contraction is explained. Instruction on NOT telling anyone else is emphatically placed. Finally you grounded from playing with friends from a week and forced to go out to eat and order a dish heavy in eggs, lettuce and mayo simply to prove that these things would not give me an STD… Only a nasty stomach ache.

To this day I don’t, or at least rarely eat these items. When questioned about it, I simply say “I don’t want to get sick.” But really I’m thinking, “ I don’t want an STD.”

Go Red For Women

2010-02-02T11:14:00.002-07:00

February is Go Red For Women Month. The purpose is to help educate women about heart health. I, like so many have been personally affected by this epidemic, this is my family's story.

I remember that morning like it was yesterday. I was supposed to be at the airport by 9:00 a.m. and already it was 8:03. How was I going to make it? I’d reminded my mom to wake me up at 6:00 a.m. What happened? I liked to be prepared and relaxed before I took a flight. Like most of the world, I too was a little apprehensive to fly since 9/11. Why didn’t mom wake me up? Not everyone can get ready, pack, eat breakfast, watch the news, take the hour-long drive to the airport and still have time to spare like she can. I could feel the anger building inside me. As I marched up the stairs I rehearsed what I was going to say to her, “I hope you plan on paying the $200 flight transfer fee! It’s your fault I’m going to be late.” I was going to miss my flight. Of course this was happening to me. Ultimately I knew I would be on time, I just hated being rushed. It was a good thing I’d packed the night before.
I walked down the hall to the closed door in front of me. Looking back, it felt like the longest walk I’d ever taken. Slow motion. This morning, something seemed different as I listened outside her room. Something wasn’t right. I was used to hearing the sounds of the radio, “The Today Show” blasting on the TV, the blow dryer and the occasional off pitched singing. Maybe she’d be on the phone, but there was never silence in the morning.
I opened the door, there was mom still in bed, her alarm silent. Did she sleep in again? Did she forget to set the alarm? She was going to be late too, and I knew she had a meeting.
“Mom you forgot to set your alarm.”
She was such a sound sleeper.
I grabbed the covers at the foot of the bed and in one swift motion shimmied myself up next to her carefully as to make as little movement as possible. I laid my head on the pillow next to hers and reached my hand out to wake her up.
I softly touched her shoulder.
Ice.
Shock and horror leapt through my body, first through my legs and then into my stomach.
“Mom!”
“Mom!”
I sat up and knew. She was not sleeping. She was dead.
What was I going to do? We were all alone in the house. I moved myself over her limp body and turned her over on her back. I was CPR certified, I could save her. Nothing was wrong I told myself. As I rolled her tiny body over the truth of that morning hit me like a fire hose to the stomach. I lost my breath and began to dry heave. The once soft, white skin of my mother was now hideous shades of purple, blue and yellow. I could see the veins running through her cheeks, the blood pooled to the side of her body. She looked more like a victim of domestic abuse. This was not my mom!
Who could do this? Why would God take away such a beautiful and vibrant person? She was too young. Take me instead. Take anyone, anyone at all, just don’t take her. I knew I was too late. I knew I couldn’t save my mom. I reached behind her and pulled her up next to me. The words were gone; I was choking on my own tongue. I couldn’t even cry. All I could do was scream. But these weren’t screams like I had heard before; they were animalistic, primitive screams, and the noises coming from my own body scared me. My body was shutting down as I held my dead mom in my arms; her head falling back, her mouth hanging open.
I was alone. All alone.
I knew there was nothing more I could do. I needed help. Still wailing, I frantically grabbed the phone next to the bed and dialed 9-1-1.
“Help me my mom is dead! My mom is dead! Hurry!”
I fell to my knees next to the bed and just screamed. I wanted to do something. I wanted to help.
“Please send someone quickly!”
I was so afraid. My future flashed before my eyes. My best friend was gone. My mom was gone. She would never see me graduate. She would never see me fall in love and get married. My children would never know the life force that was their grandma. I was no longer a man; I was a helpless baby. I curled up in the fetal position as I slumped next to the bed, holding her cold, lifeless hand in mine. I couldn’t hold back, my body began to jerk as I realized the impact of what was happening. My stomach flexed and I threw up. I had no control. I wanted someone to tell me it was going to be ok. I wanted the operator on the other end of the line to do more. Why wasn’t she helping me?
I screamed.
“Sir,” she replied, “I’m going to have to ask you to stay calm.”
How dare she? How could anyone expect me to stay calm? No one knows what this is like.
“F*** you!” I said, “f*** you. My mom is dead.”
I slammed the phone against the wall shattering it to pieces. My mom was dead.
My mom died just three days after her 53rd birthday. Her death ultimately could have been prevented.
Heart disease is the number one leading cause of death in American women, taking lives at a rate faster than all cancers combined. Even more frightening, like my mother, many of these women’s lives could have been saved if more had been educated and a little action was taken.
This silent epidemic kills more than 500,000 women a year, an average of one in every three women. Statistics show that women are 1.6 times more likely to suffer and die from a heart disease related illnesses than men. So why is so little being done to educate and prevent women and their families from becoming victims? When it comes to women’s health, care for the breasts, ovaries and uterus are highly stressed, but heart disease is often overlooked. Women often think of heart disease as a man’s disease, and are quick to recognize the symptoms in men but all too often ignore the symptoms in themselves.
Unlike men, signs of heart disease in women are not as obvious and are often mistaken as cold or flu symptoms. In today’s fast-paced world many women hold jobs and take care of children. A 2001 poll showed that two-thirds of women with children worked more than 30 hours a week outside the home. Add that to soccer games, piano practice, grocery shopping and dinner, many women do not take the time to get the proper medical care they need. The needs of their families come first. But what happens when those children don’t have a mom to care for them anymore?
Here are some signs to look for: Sudden onset of total body weakness; body aches; an overall feeling of illness; discomfort in the neck and back; dizziness, and lightheadedness; sweating; nausea and vomiting.
Doctors agree it is time women take a more active role in their health. Only eight percent of women view heart disease as a serious health risk in themselves. It is important for women to watch for these symptoms but physicians say there are steps they can take to help prevent heart disease. Often labeled as risk factors, here are some lifestyle changes that can make a difference:
Cigarette smoking: Women who smoke are six times more likely to suffer from heart disease than those who don’t.
Cholesterol: Remember to ask your doctor about your cholesterol levels, the good and the bad. A cholesterol count of 200 milligrams per deciliter of blood is considered healthy.
Exercise and weight: Regular aerobic exercise has been shown to strengthen the heart muscle. Even moderate exercise like brisk walking can benefit the heart.
Alcohol consumption: Though this topic is very controversial, excessive drinking can not only effect the heart, but a number of other body functions as well.
Social and psychological factors: Stress. High demands and low control have been shown to increase rates of heart disease. Whether working in or outside the home, it is important to take a little time to relax.
Hereditary: While it is important for women to keep all risk factors in check, hereditary plays a vital role. If you have a history of heart disease in your family, it is important to regularly check the health of your heart, especially if your father had heart problems before the age of 55 or your mother before the age of 65.
So while soccer games and music lessons are important, the most important thing mothers can do for their kids is be there. If you can’t take the time to educate yourself and get the proper care you need, do it for your families. Do it so your children don’t have to go through what I did. Please take the time to take care of yourself. Your life is the best you can give them.
For more information and educational resources on heart disease in women, visit the American Heart Association at www.americanheart.org.

Day 1, part 2.

2010-01-31T14:44:00.002-07:00

I'm a failure. Ok, at day 4 of Power 90 I threw in the towel. What is wrong with me?! I probably need to be more heavily medicated. I WILL get in shape by the summertime! Rather I should or not, I will wear a Speedo and look good in it! Here's my excuse. My house is a mess. Or rather was a mess. I just didn't have room for all my hip thrusts and high kicks with mounds and mounds of laundry and baskets full of dishes in my living room. Yes, baskets full of dishes. Here's the thing. As I've mentioned before I am living in an apartment that doesn't have a dishwasher. This is the first time I've ever had to endure such living conditions. I hate doing dishes and quite frankly don't trust my own dish washing abilities. I'm pretty sure I'm not getting them clean enough. I know I've lived here for nearly 4 years and I should have figured this situation out long ago but I've been too busy devising plans to get thin. So I load the dishes up in a laundry basket and I take them to my dad's to wash in the dishwasher. This week there were two baskets. Oay! I don't pretend this is normal, acceptable or even isn't embarrassing. It's just who I am. I deplore dishes and laundry. I eventually have to do laundry though, I don't make enough to just go buy new clothes every time I run out. I can however afford paper plates. I digress. Friday and Saturday I began rearranging and spring cleaning my house. It's like a new place. One thing I have going for me is I'm not a hoarder, I'm a purger. So I got rid of so much stuff and feel like I have so much more room. I even reorganized my kitchen cupboards and fridge; which I do regularly to de-stress anyway. I'm ready for round 1 all over again. I will not move on to the second week until I feel like I have satisfactorily passed week one to my own standards. This should be a treat. So I'm off to the grocery store to buy more good food and get ready for Power 90 one more time. I will not give up damnit!

Natural Birth Control

2010-01-26T22:33:00.000-07:00

I don’t know where I find them but for some reason the people I choose to associate with keep getting knocked up. I don’t even pretend to understand it. Some of them have even chosen to do this. Others, I can only hope had a lapse in judgment, a moment of heated passion, a drug fueled weekend or faulty birth control. Now as I said, I recognize that many of these friends wanted the bun in the oven and some of you may want that, too. But for those of you who would like to prevent such a blessing in your life I dedicate this to you. I don’t have enough experience in the art of buying a variety of birth control apparatuses to fully understand the cost associated with it, but I can only assume it’s pricey. And in this economy it only get worse. And you don’t want to skimp when it comes to birth control. But there is good news. I’ve done the research and I’m excited to report many natural based birth control methods, I will discuss my 5 favorite and in opinion most successful. This post is VERY scientific and graphic, proceed with caution.

Tracking your basal body temperature: You basal body temperature is the lowest temperature attained by the body (usually during sleep). It is generally measured immediately after awakening and before ANY physical activity has been undertaken. The lower your basal body temperature the less likely you are to get pregnant. This form of birth control is very dependant on the initiative of the man and the cooperation of the woman in the relationship. Since basal body temperature is lowest and most accurate when the woman is asleep it is up to the man to instigate sex while his partner is asleep and do his very best to make sure she doesn’t wake up during the deed. Now, if by chance the woman does wake up, it is vital that she does not exert herself with ANY physical activity. She will simply need to lay there and be present as he does his best not raise her heart rate or body temperature. Basically she must maintain her best dead fish impersonation as he performs with as little effort as possible. For many of you this shouldn’t be a problem. Many of you may be thinking, “this already describes my sex life and I have 4 children”. These methods aren’t perfect but you’re on the right track.

Tracking your cervical mucus: At different times of a month the condition of and amount of mucus in a woman’s cervix varies greatly. This mucus has a high water content, is less acidic, and has a ferning pattern that helps guide sperm through the cervix. During this time the cervix undergoes a series of changes in position and texture. The cervix remains tight and firm, like the tip of the nose, and is positioned low and closed. The more toned and firm condition of the cervix also makes it ripe for fertilization. The mucus provides natural lubrication and we all know what a toned cervix does for sex. It is important to monitor the amount of mucus a woman is producing and the firmness of her cervix. To prevent pregnancy it is important to only have sex when the woman is dry and lose.

Standard days method: This method requires that you have passed the 3rd grade since you will be asked to count and differentiate between colors. If you are still having a period, you have the potential to get pregnant. I just want to make sure we are clear on that. And understanding your cycle can help prevent pregnancy. You will need to go to your local Wal-Mart and pick up a set of cycle beads. This essentially is a Rosary for sex. The cycle beads are a bracelet-like string of beads with different colored beads strategically placed. On the first day of you cycle you will move a band onto the first red bead. You will move the band to a new red bead everyday for 7 days. During this time you are free to get freaky. You are not likely to get pregnant while you’re on your period. After 7 days you must stop having sex for 20 days as you are more likely to get pregnant during this time. 20 days is the minimum but not recommended to continue having sex until the first day of your next cycle. To avoid pregnancy, ONLY have sex while the woman is having her period. Women will have to get over the fact that they are bloated, angry, in pain, have a constant flow of blood coming from your body and don’t want to be touched. This method has a 5%-12% success rate. Those are good odds!

Pullout method: Basically it works like this, have sex whenever and wherever you want. But under no circumstance is the man allowed to ejaculate in the woman. This is sometimes referred to as masturbating which, when not a postlude to intercourse has a 100% success rate for preventing pregnancy.

Anti-attraction method: Marry an ugly chick. No one wants to have sex with that and no sex means no babies.

Let’s go over what we’ve learned here today. The best way to prevent pregnancy is to schedule sex only one week a month with your lose, dry, cold, fugly, sleeping, partner who is angry and doesn’t want to be touched while on her period.

Quest to un-fat: Day 2

2010-01-26T20:45:00.004-07:00

I wish I had something funny to say. But I'm trying to focus on getting in shape. Ugh! Alright, here it is, I like cupcakes. I like Twinkies... All varieties ;). I don't like working out. I don't like chocking down chicken day after day. Yes, it's day 2 and I'm referring to it as day after day. I wanted a doughnut so bad this morning. Ok... Enough about food. Here's the problem I have. I want results NOW. I figure after two days I should have dropped at least 20 lbs, right? I mean I watch my favorite fatties on Biggest Loser week after week lose 35 pounds a week. I mean I don't want to lose 35 pounds, I do enjoy the ability to hold my own body up and keep mobile. Maybe my goal should be to get big enough to go on Biggest Loser. Anyone want to be my partner? I could use $1M, how about you. And I bet Id look FANTASTIC in a moo moo!!

I did however take my day one picture yesterday. Sure do with I knew how to post pics on here. I was going to pose in my underwear for y'all but I figured there's enough punishment in the world, I won't subject you to that. I'll save that for my day 90 pic and then maybe for my porn career. Ok, let's get real, I've got to lose a lot in some areas and gain a lot in some areas.... Mmm hmm...

On different news, in my quest to take over Asia I now have readers in every continent... Allies! Well, every continent except Antarctica, but we all know it's not a REAL continent. It's like considering Delaware a state, Gary Herbert a governor, or gay people legitimate humans. (In case you're totally offended now, you should probably stop reading my blog all together since you obviously don't know that I'm joking and I'd prefer it if I didn't have idiots reading my blog.)

Ok, I'm off to pretend that the big glass of water I'm about to drink is actually a cookie... It's a stretch but I've got a good imagination.

You know you're fat when...

2010-01-25T15:49:00.003-07:00

Like most people I had well intentioned New Year's resolutions. Typically I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, I save all that self-induced lack of willpower for birthday resolutions, but this year I thought I'd go for it. Of course I had the regular goals: End world hunger, take over Oprah's empire, give up meth, cure cancer, stop listening to the voices, and make an honest woman out of Lindsey Lohan... You know the list... But this year I decided to go full steam ahead. Lose weight. Now at this point many of you have given up reading because you're thinking to yourself "Nick, you're already thin, you don't need to lose weight." As a fat person that's exactly what I'd expect to hear from my friends. But this only adds fuel to the fire. What you need to be saying to me are things like "Nick, can you share the frosting?", or "57 of anything isn't good for you... Even oranges.", or "You can't call your self 'athletically- built' if you don't play sports." Then I would have known there was a problem earlier. According to a test I took on facebook I am now overweight, my IQ is 148, and brown is my signature color. Other than the brown issue it was like God spoke to me through online social networking. So now I'm taking matters into my own hands. Very carefully into my own hands since my fingers now look like boiled hotdogs and can't grip too much. But after looking at myself in the mirror last week and realizing that even after I stopped walking my legs kept moving, it was time to get serious. So I grabbed a second helping of Lashell Miller's lasagna, and parked my ever-expanding ass in front of the TV and waited for the Power 90 infomercial to come on. Well, one plate of lasagna, a box of lucky charms, 3 cheese sticks, a V8, a bag of popcorn, some prunes, a bar of chocolate and a carb coma later I got was I was looking for. I quickly called the 1-800 number and before the weekend was over I had my very own Power 90 at home workout system. I bought all the food on the grocery list, carefully studied the menus and workouts and cleared my living room to accommodate lunges and high kicks (I'm not actually sure if lunges and high kicks are part of the program). I'm going to document my progress, successes, and dare I say it, failures on here for your own motivation and ultimate entertainment. Today was day 1. So far so good. 110%. I have all my food prepped for the week. I have a schedule mapped out and ready to go. I have my progress chart strapped to the refrigerator and I've pulled my new sweat band from its package. I AM READY. I'm not going to doctor this up and make it anymore glamorous or painful than it really is, but I think this will give me motivation and accountability to stick to the program. Today Power 90, tomorrow I take over Asia! Wish me luck... With Power 90, I have the Asia thing under control.

I wish ME a Merry Christmas!

2009-11-24T12:27:00.002-07:00

I'm here to push my goods. No, not THOSE goods. I'll save that for this summer. I have some legitimate goods! Go to www.thestockingswerehung.com. It’s pretty much the coolest thing I've done to date; aside from being born and all that’s entailed with at. Take a look. Buy it. Love it. Make my Christmas merry... And yours, too!

Child Etiquette

2009-08-20T21:38:00.006-07:00

Due to the graphic nature of this post I urge you to proceed with caution. Weak stomachs need not continue.

While I'm on a baby kick I'd like to talk about some things that you should NOT do once you've squeezed that little ray of sunshine out your lady shoot. I give these suggestions out of the well being of your child and the rest of the world who has to be exposed to this.

#1: I will never have the... pleasure?... of having a baby suckle on my breast. Thank God. But for those of you who do have this distinct pleasure I'm very happy for you and fully support it. I also fully respect it; not necessarily agree with it or appreciate it, but respect your right to do this. I also respect your right to do this in pubic. I would however not like to have to see it. Please take the time to put a blanket, an apron, even a paper bag over yourself so others, or at least I don't have to be witness to our bologna sized areola; I told you this was going to get graphic.

Today as I was walking into Coffee Garden to reward myself with some sort of treat for being proclaimed cavity free for my 29th consecutive year, my attention was quickly drawn to a woman sitting at a table outside with her baby lying in her lap. She caught my attention because said woman proceeded to slide her arm out of her t-shirt and through the bottom and slide it up onto her shoulder. Get the picture? On a vomit inducing side note, she had also decided to go braless today. So there she was flapping around in all her stretched out glory as she shoved her baby onto her teet. Ok, I get that, I just happened to come along at the wrong moment, surely she'll cover herself. Wrong. She just sat there reading her magazine, sipping her coffee and bonding with junior. I know you caught the look of horror that graced my face because she scowled at me as if to remind me that it was her beautiful right to pull that out in front of 25 innocent and shocked patrons. Again, I respect your right to do this, and I hope you'll respect my right to do this as well if I so choose. But I promise you this, if I decide to let someone suck on my body parts in public I will throw a towel over their head.

#2: I understand that from time to time your baby is going to need to be changed. And on that note, please do it when it happens and no later, no one wants to have to smell that. It's not cute. However, when you do actually change its butt, maybe you could do it where the rest of us don't have to see it. You might also want to do it where your baby isn't going to catch an STD, for example directly on the sidewalk in front of 7-11?

This week I decided I would again reward myself for not drinking Diet Coke for a week by getting a Diet Coke. I never said my reward system made sense. As I paid for my 32 ounces of liquid gold and walked back out to my car, I couldn't help but notice the woman to the right of the door, you know, where the anti-freeze displays are, changing her baby on the cement. I was shocked. I thought maybe I should run in and get her one of those delicious hot dogs that had been rolling back and forth on the grill all day. She must be homeless I thought, no self-respecting apartment dwelling mother would change her child on the cement in front of 7-11. No, I was wrong. After she was done she went back to her car, a Honda Pilot. She's not homeless, those aren't cheap cars. I know because I drive one. Damn thing sucks my paycheck every month. Do you really think it's a good idea to change your baby on the sidewalk? I know for a fact that I've spit, wiped my shoes and any other number disgusting, unmentionable things on that sidewalk. I dropped a Slurpee in front of that very 7-11 just the week before. I know the idea of changing your baby in the bathroom of 7-11 or on one of those disgusting changing tables in the bathroom is enough to make you want to poop your own pants, but they've got to be better then the sidewalk.

#3: Once Little Precious is old enough to trot around on his own, at perhaps the Coffee Garden, please put shoes on him and bathe him, and don't give give him a mullet. Not sure if anyone told you, but it's 2009, though acceptable at derbies and monster truck rallies, here in mainstream, liberal, downtown Salt Lake City we like our kids clean, clothed and groomed. It's just gross to have to try and eat in a restaurant while your little bastard is skipping through all the tables with no shoes on. Ok, I'll even let this pass from time to time. I get it, sometimes a kid is hard to wrangle into the bathtub and you'd just rather not deal with it and you can't very well leave him home while you go to coffee, then you should stay home too. You chose to have this baby, deal with the consequences. You made your bed, sleep in it. I support your alternative lifestyle, I picket for your rights, I go to your ward functions, but please don't blatantly throw it in my face! Again, once in a while I can let this pass. I understand, you've seen all your stories and want some adult interaction and have to get out of the house but have to take him along. When you do please take some Benadryl along to sedate him. My mom did it, and I turned out moderately ok, right? If you're not going to sedate him then tie him to the table. If in his annoying skipping tangents I have to see him fall into the glass counter and cut his head open and then bleed all over the floor while he screams bloody murder and you try to stop the gushing blood with a small drink napkin and don't rush him to the hospital as is obviously appropriate then... well there is no then... just take care of your kid. Gross.

I know, there are only three suggestions on child rearing here, but these were the worst offenses I encountered this week and wanted to address the issues. Basically it goes like this, when trying to decide what to do with your kid ask yourself once question, WWND. What would Nick do? I know I don't have kids, but I'm 99.9% sure that I could raise them better then some of these dumb ass parents I see everyday.

Obviously none of you reading this. You do a wonderful job and I consider your children to be part of my intimate circle of friends. :)

How to Induce Labor, Nick Robbins Style

2009-08-10T19:33:00.003-07:00

As of recent I've realized many of my friends have found themselves in a particularly uncomfortable situation: They've gone and gotten themselves knocked up and can't seem to get the damned thing out. This post is for you. I've done a little research and would like to fill you all in on the details. This is a very lengthy post, but I believe worth your time and entertainment. Obviously my social life is jam packed.

Here's your best bet for getting your little bastard out of there by ASAP. Side note, I do understand that not all of my friends are having bastard children, I just think it's such an endearing pet name. It has been rumored that the chicken pizza at Trio will induce labor and let me tell you why. Both basil and oregano are herbs contraindicated (I don't know what the word means, I copied if off the Internet to sound smarter) in pregnancy due to their potential ability to start labor. Italian food anyone? Maybe that is why the pizza works! Holler! You may have also heard that spicy foods will help you squeeze your little one out of there. You actually need to avoid spicy foods like hot peppers. This is due to the fact that certain spicy foods release capsasins, which may be counterproductive in labor. When the baby descends down the birth path (bear with me, this is graphic), the pressure exerted releases endorphins into the woman's body. These endorphins are a natural pain-killer. In effect, the capsasins counteract the endorphins and rob the mother of her ability to have a pain-free birth. AKA, no bueno. It is also rumored that licorice will help induce labor. Licorice, the real licorice candy, the black kind, the nasty kind, is thought to also stimulate the production of prostaglandins. This is due to the chemical, glycyrrhizin. This is because eating lots of licorice might result in mild diarrhea, which causes intestinal contractions that may lead to sympathetic uterine contractions and therefore PUSH him outa there. This type of licorice can also be found in tablet form which may be easier to take if you can't choke down that nasty shit. On a side note, though not effective in childbirth, might I suggest cherry or strawberry licorice for your late night craving. I prefer Red Vines and Nips. Now, here's something to consider if you do decide to go down this route. Even though the diarrhea may induce labor, it probably won't be a pretty sight when you're actually giving birth.

There are also some techniques you can try to get him out of there quicker, too.

Sex. See, your husband WAS right! Sex is the most well known induction technique because it works the best. I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume a man proposed this theory. I am a man a basically we all think about food and sex. Some get into things like sports or cars or some random thing like that; I prefer Martha Stewart and organizing but we all have our hobbies. Semen contains natural prostaglandins (cervical ripening agents... Mmm) that can help your cervix ripen, and who doesn't want a ripe cervix? Who I ask you?! In addition, sex or sexual activities are relaxing and that too can start labor. You may have to use some imagination, as most women are very uncomfortable, AKA can't roll over, in the last stages of pregnancy, but the effort might have you meeting your baby sooner rather than later and your husband happier than ever!

Movement. Movement such as walking, skipping, lunging, swimming or swinging (on a park swing) can help labor to begin. Notice roller blading is not an option. This is due to the fact that it's not safe, or 1992. Skipping is my preferred method, and if you do decide to go for a skip will you let me know so I can get an ice cream and watch? It is believed these activities help the baby rotate into a good position for childbirth. Taking a bumpy car or train ride also has the same advantages. Light Rail anyone?

Relax. The more you stop obsessing over getting it out, the more likely labor will start. Labor will not begin in a stressed body. So forget about it. Go have a drink, go clubbing, just relax girls. Maybe you need to tell your boss that you need the next two weeks off to rest and relax... and go to lunch with me a few more times.

Fruit. I'm not talking about just having a hilarious gay friend around for good times, I mean tropical fruit like pineapple, mango and kiwi which actually contain an enzyme that may help tone your cervix. This fruit will probably not start labor, though with a toned cervix, early labor may go a little faster and again, not only will your cervix be ripe, but it will be toned! Who doesn't want a toned cervix, too?! I know I do! Do men have a cervix?

Talk to Your Baby. Some cultures, I don't think this includes Americans, believe that babies that have not been welcomed will not come into the world. It sounds silly, and quite frankly crazy but talking to your baby and making them feel welcome may bring on labor. May I suggest doing this in a private area where no one can see you?

Acupressure and Chiropractics. Some acupressure and chiropractic techniques can start labor. Talk to your care provider, friends or check the Internet to find a practitioner in your area. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say bypass friends and the Internet and talk to your doctor about this one, and I don't mean your herbalist (this reference will be more funny as you continue reading)

Castor Oil. Castor oil is an old technique that is not recommended anymore, even though Kate Gildea and Gwyneth Paltow say it's a good idea. It does the same thing spicy foods do, it irritates the bowels aka diarrhea during birth, and is THAT the first thing you want your child to experience when he enters this world? It can also cause nausea and is pretty disgusting to ingest. In addition, castor oil rarely works. Gwyneth swears by it when she's feeling a little stopped up and needs to lose that last pesky 10 lbs for a role. 10 lbs Gwyneth? Bitch.

Herbal Supplements. Evening primrose oil (EPO), black and blue cohosh, red raspberry (I'm pretty sure a red raspberry, or even a blue raspberry Slurpee counts here), leaf tea and nettle tea are not recommended unless you have the permission of an herbalist or your care provider. Do you have an herbalist? You may need to get on that. Dosages for these supplements have not been determined, and taking too much can cause serious complications, including death, for your baby.

I hope all of these ideas work. It's Monday so if you play your cards right you might be able to get that little guy out and take the rest of the week off. You have 4 days to get to work on getting that little guy out, after that, wait until next Monday, you don't want to ruin your weekend Good luck!

Open Mouth, Insert Foot, High School Reunion Edition:

2009-07-19T14:22:00.003-07:00

So this last weekend I had the pleasure of attending my 10-year high school reunion. I would like to take this time to help anyone who will be attending a reunion in the future with what NOT to say at a class reunion. Please don’t take this opportunity to learn from your own experiences. Take my mistakes and learn from them.

Scenario #1: Walking around the restaurant talking to people:
Nick: Hi (insert classmate’s name here), wow, you look really great! How have you been?

Classmate: Fine. You saying I was ugly in high school?!

Do not take offense when someone tells you that you look great. And by no means ask if you were ugly in high school. You really want to go down that road? Yes, you were ugly in high school and as a matter of fact I didn’t even recognize who you were until I read your nametag and was shocked as shit to see that your teeth are no longer parallel with the floor. For hell sakes, I know I look better than I did in high school. I mean I don’t have braces or a bowl cut. Score one for Nick. I’ll take any compliments you want to give me and you should graciously do the same. Even if you don’t look better, be happy that someone was kind enough to lie their asses off as to not hurt your feelings.

Scenario #2: Checking in people at the entrance of the restaurant:
Nick: Hi. I’m sorry; you’re going to have to remind me of your name.

Classmate: My name is (insert classmate’s name here), NICK! Thanks for remembering.

Seriously? Seriously?! You’re going to give me that? It’s been 10 damn years and per scenario #1 we have all changed. I can barely remember my names of my family members let alone some jackass that I was only friends with because my whole pathetic high school existence depended on your voting for me. I tried my damnedest to study the yearbook for the last 6 months but obviously it didn’t help. I’m sorry. Please remember to put your maiden name on your nametag.

Scenario #3: Saying goodbye to people at the end of dinner:
Nick: Thanks for coming. It was great to see you. I hope you had fun.

Classmate: I paid $30 for that?

Yes, you did in fact pay $30 for that, you ungrateful son of a bitch. Be happy we didn’t charge you $50. If you happen to not be planning the reunion because you are busy and/or weren’t elected to this God forsaken life-long office, don’t complain. Contrary to popular belief those of us who plan these things do actually have lives outside of high school. I know you imagine that we all get together once a week in our sweaters for bowling and eat fries while making fun of people. We do actually have jobs, and kids, and go to school, and take heavy doses of anti-depressants… just like you! So give us your money, smile pretty and eat your food.

Scenario #4: Talking to someone at the family picnic that I have absolutely no recollection of. I’ve read your nametag, examined your face and still have no clue in hell who you are. Are you homeless and just saw that we had lunch available so you stopped in.

“Classmate”: It’s so good to see you. I always liked you. Wasn’t high school fun? How’s your mom?

Nick: My mom?

“Classmate”: Yeah, your mom: how is she?

Nick: My MOM?

“Classmate”: Yeah, how’s her health?

Nick: Not good. She’s dead.

If you in fact have decided to crash a class reunion and are trying to make small talk to fit in, let’s try and keep it pretty surface level and broad. If you did in fact graduate with that person and you don’t really know anything about them, don’t talk about family members you never met. Try talking about the weather. Try talking about how good, or how shitty for that matter, that food was. Talk about things that you’re not going to get caught in a lie with.

Scenario #5: Walking around talking to people at the family picnic:
Nick: Your kids are sure cute!

Classmate: Oh thanks, they sure are fun.

Nick: How old are they/

Classmate: This one is 7, this one is 5, and this one is 3.

Nick: (leaning down to the kids) Hi there, I’m your dad’s friend Nick, what’s your name?

Kid #1: “Sally”

Kid #2: “Joey”

Kid #3: nothing

Nick: (to classmate) Awe, he’s a quiet little guy isn’t he?

Classmate: (tapping small boy on the shoulder) Tell him your name… (IN AMERICAN SIGN LANGUAGE!!!)

Yes Nick, he IS a quite little guy. He’s quiet because he’s deaf! Holy shit. I don’t have any advice for this. Just make sure you check for hearing aids before you open your mouth and insert your foot like I did. Or maybe as a parent you could hang signs around your kids’ necks informing others of how NOT to embarrass themselves. “I’m blind” “I’m deaf” “I have Turrets”. This would be very helpful, and in order to help you out I will wear a sign that says, “I’m an insensitive ass hole”

Scenario # 6: A large group of people sitting on benches talking and pretending like we care about what the others have to say:

Nick: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah

Classmate #1: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah

Classmate #2: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah

Classmate #3: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah

Nick: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah (yes, I talk more than most people)

Classmate #4: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah

This entire some little kid is running around and hitting people. All the while his mommy just giggles and calmly tells him to stop. He continues. Randomly people will try and grab him and hold him near them to stop the inflicting of pain and annoyance. Finally I do the same thing and lean over and whisper in his ear

Nick: I’m not as nice as the other people here, hit anyone again and I’ll kick your ass.

I let him go and he promptly ran over to his mom and behaved like a little angel for the rest of the afternoon.

I am not a proponent of disciplining other people’s children, but I AM a proponent of actually disciplining your own kids. I understand that kids are kids and are full of energy and venom. I love a spitfire kid just as much as the next person. I don’t actually think you should medicate your cute little kid who runs around like a wild man. But if it’s obvious that he’s annoying the hell out of everyone and hitting and biting and pinching, and kicking, maybe it’s time to pull out your taser. Do it or I will.

At the end of it all I had a great time and really loved seeing and talking to 99.9% of the people who came, and even enjoyed meeting their little ankle biters. I hope this helps anyone who is in the throws of getting ready to attend a high school reunion. You’re welcome.

Going Private

2009-07-03T15:10:00.001-07:00

Hi Folks,

I'm applying for some jobs and am making my blog private. If you are still interested in reading please email me. robbins.nick@gmail.com. Happy reading!

-Nick

It's go time!

2009-06-04T11:17:00.000-07:00

UPS, I HATE YOU!!!!!
UPS, I HATE YOU!!!!!

I'm VERY angry right now and my rant my not make any sense. Bear with me...

So UPS and I are in a HUGE fight right now. I HATE them. A couple of weeks back I purchased a few t-shirts from the Banana. A few is maybe an understatement. I bought about $200 worth of t-shirts. So last Thursday I found a notice on my door telling me that UPS had been by but couldn't leave the package. They'd be back the next day. Well, therein lays the problem. I work and therefore cannot be home when they drop the package off. So I left a nice note telling them that they had my permission to leave the package at my front door. Well, Friday afternoon I came home to find the same notice with a boxed checked stating that they had come by a second time. So I called UPS to find out why on earth my package wasn't left. They informed me that it was up to the discretion of the driver as to whether or not they wanted to leave the package. They won't deliver on Saturday or Sunday nor could I come by and pick it up. Monday morning rolls around and this time I left another note. It read: "Dear UPS, LEAVE THE PACKAGE!!!! I release you from any responsibility of this package. I am not home until after 8pm. If you want to deliver it after that, that's fine. Otherwise LEAVE THE PACKAGE. Thanks, N. Robbins." You would think this would suffice. Oh no. I come home to find another notice telling me this was their third and final attempt to drop off my package and that it would now be sent back to the shipper. As you can imagine I am now FUMING mad!! I call UPS again and tell them that I want my package delivered NOW!! She tells me that they only attempt delivery once in a day and that if the driver got back to the office before they closed I could come pick it up there. She called later that day to tell me the driver wouldn't be in until late and that my package would be sent back to the Banana. I am SOOO pissed at this point I am yelling at her. Tuesday was a shitty day all together. I woke up with an ear ache and called in sick to work. I decided that I'd go to lunch with Suzie and enjoy what I could of my day off. Not anticipating that UPS was coming back anytime soon; they only make three attempts, I was surprised to find yet another notice on my door. This time telling me that they had decided to try and deliver it one last time. Well a phone call would have been nice. Had I known they were coming, I would have stayed home. This time the phone call was not nice. It went something like this:

UPS: Hello UPS
NKR: Hi, this is Nick Robbins. Apparently your driver attempted to deliver a package to me today and I wasn't home when he came by. I am usually not home and I wasn't' anticipating him coming by today. Had he called I could have stayed home.
UPS: I'm sorry sir. It looks like in the notes that he had decided to give it one last shot.
NKR: I told them to leave the package the last 4 times I called
UPS: Well that's up to the driver as to whether or not they feel comfortable doing that
NKR: I don't care if the driver is comfortable. I want my package left
UPS: You can't authorize that sir
NKR: It's my damn package! LEAVE IT!
UPS: Well sir there's no point now, the package will be shipped back to Banana Republic today
NKR: Then what
UPS: Then Banana Republic will resend it
NKR: Then we go through this all over again? When will I finally get my package!?
UPS: When you are home to accept the package
NKR: I'M NEVER HOME TO ACCEPT A PACKAGE!!!! WHY DON'T YOU PEOPLE UNDERSTAND THIS?!
UPS: Listen sir, I'm willing to do this for you. If the package gets back tonight I will call you and stay late so you can pick it up. Will that work.
NKR: Yes, that's fine. Thank you for helping me

A few hours later I get a calling telling me that if I can pick up my package by 7:30 I can have it. Well that's certainly nice, but it was 7:18!! I hate them. Well I knew I could make it to UPS if I drove fast enough and prayed hard enough. I live near the 9th and 9th neighborhood of Salt Lake City and UPS is in West Valley. It’s at least a 30 minute drive. Of course there’s construction on the 210 so it’s not going to take 40-45 minutes and I have 12 minutes. I should note there that I drive like a grandma; going above the speed limit is a feat for me. I was passing drivers right and left, flipping them off and swearing like a sailor (nothing new there). I finally made it to UPS at 7:42. I was 12 minutes late. I saw the area where customers can pick up packages and it was locked up. I then saw the area where the UPS trucks arrive and depart. I was going in there. I knew that just because they door was locked and they were closed there was still someone in that will-call department. And if all else fails I’m pretty sure there is at least ONE competent person at UPS who can get my package. I was wrong. As I drove through the truck gate I was swarmed by the UPS SWAT Team (old men in brown Dickies), waving me down and yelling for me to stop. The circled my car like a gang and told me I was trespassing into unauthorized territory. You’d think I’d just tried to break into the Pentagon. I relayed my story yet again which only made me more upset. They told me that the only way to get my package was through the will-call office. I decided this was not good enough. I took my foot off the break and my car lurched forward. Did you know that UPS security guards carry guns? I was unaware of this until last night. I agreed to leave the premises but warned them that if I didn’t have my package in my hands (get your mind out of the gutter) by the next day I was not going to be as accommodating. I’m pretty sure they knew I was serious because they then told me they were calling the cops. I decided I had better leave. I am now going to take a break from work and go retrieve my shirts. I hate you UPS!

25 Things you Never Knew you Wanted to Know About Me

2009-05-31T16:54:00.001-07:00

1: I fantasize on an almost daily basis about winning an Oscar and what I will say in my acceptance speech when I win an Oscar. When I’m lying in bed, brushing my teeth, driving, talking to people, writing this, I’m thinking about who I will thank, what I will say, what funny one-liners I will give, the tear-jerking stories I’ll tell. I don’t want a Grammy, don’t need a Golden Globe, don’t care about the Tony’s. I want and Oscar. I love the Oscars. I’m obsessed with the Oscars. The Oscars are more important to me than Christmas, Mother’s Day and my birthday all combined X 10.

2: I already know the house I want to live in when I “grow up”. I want to live in Katharine Hepburn’s house in Fenwick, Connecticut. There aren’t many pictures of what it looks like in all its restored beauty but here’s an old one:
http://www.ctrivervalley.com/images-pictures-photos-of/Aerial-Photos-Pictures-CT/Connecticut-Attractions/55A-Katharine-Hepburn-House.jpg
Now imagine it cleaned up and slightly sandblasted so more of the natural brick and rock is exposed from under the white paint with additional sections with cedar shake shingles. It’s now been outfitted with a covered porch surrounding the entire thing and has robin’s egg blue shutters, doors and trim and a slate roof. BEAUTIFUL! I want a house with this east coast, New England, nautical look. LOVE IT! Somewhere out there, there’s an issue of Architectural Digest with a major spread covering the whole restoration. If anyone has that I will pay you for it. I’ll pay you in baked goods and hugs.

3: I couldn’t WAIT to graduate from college and now, if I could go back to I would in a heartbeat! I had the BEST time of my life in Logan. I was not an exceptionally applied student but I had a great time! I don’t necessarily want to go back to class, just back to hanging out with friends playing in Cache Valley, planning activities, and having a metabolism and constitution that supports a constant diet of frozen pizzas, microwave burritos, Kool-Aid, ice cream, little to no physical activity and four or less hours of sleep a night… Aw the life! When I started college I wanted to study broadcast journalism and my academic advisor told me I couldn’t because I “didn’t have a face for television”. Of course I believed her until a few years down the road I realized there were a lot of ugly people on the news and I totally could have done it. Crushed my dreams!

4: I usually consider myself to be a pretty articulate, educated, FUNNY, engaging, outgoing and extroverted individual. HOWEVER when I am in a date situation I turn into a bumbling, awkward, tongue-tied, socially backward idiot. I get so nervous and awkward I can barely begin to think about anything remotely worth talking about. I would like to apologize now to anyone I have dated in the past, may date at the present time or might date in the future for being so weird. I really am a fun guy!

5: I HATE, repeat HATE doing the dishes. I’m living for the first time in a house that doesn’t have a dishwasher. I didn’t realize that until I ran out of dishes that I would have to actually wash them, and then I realized that I didn’t know how. To which I had to call my friend Tara and have her walk me through the entire, awful dishwashing process. In fact I do not do my dishes. I will use every dish in my house and then pack them up in a laundry basket and drive them to my dad’s where I can put them in the dishwasher. It’s a legitimate skill. One that I’m humble enough to admit that I do not posses. On that note, I also hate doing laundry. I am incredibly anal about the laundering of my clothes and it just takes so much time and effort to get it right. I’d rather just go buy new ones than even bother… I should probably be medicated for this.

6: I love to write. I write a blog which even cracks me up. Most of the time it’s pretty random and I go on tangents but it’s a good time. www.nick-robbins.blogspot.com. One of the greatest compliments I ever received was when my professor Nancy Williams told me that I had “a very strong and descriptive voice.” I was beaming inside. Speaking of my blog cracking me up, I can also sit alone in a room and make myself legitimately laugh… I should probably also be medicated for that.

7: I am much more sensitive than I let on. I also worry if I ever think I’ve hurt someone’s feelings or offended them. I’m usually pretty open about the way I feel and all too often put myself out there, and all get my feelings hurt, but you will never know because again, I don’t want anyone to potentially feel bad that they’ve made me feel bad. It’s totally healthy. You will NEVER be witness to this, but on occasion I just need to good scream or cry or some other emotional outburst. Totally appropriate. Referring back to #4, I’m now sure I’ve scared off any potential dates I may have had to apologize to for any potential awkwardness. I also enjoy multitasking so that fact that I just killed two birds with one stone is fantastic! Holler!

8: I’m addicted to TV and movies. End of story. I used to wish that I was one of those people that liked to relax by reading a book. But then I realized that when I relaxed I wanted to turn my brain off and reading just didn’t do it for me. But TV… Oh my! Tvo has changed my life; I can watch three shows at the same time and never miss a thing, plus I can basically watch TV all day long. As far as movies go, I’m pretty easy going about what I will watch, and enjoy. I just like to sit and relax and watch an entirely foreign world unfold in front of me. I have not however seen any of the Harry Potter movies or Lord of the Rings. I like being that one person who hasn’t seen them. I wish I could say that about Twilight. AWFUL.

9: My first job in high school was working at the Golden Corral in Layton, Utah. I worked in the meat cutting area; gross, I know. My mom told me not to get a job and so I had to prove her wrong and show her that I could hack it. Oh, she knew me all too well. After working there for about an hour I saw a VERY large woman come to the counter and fill her tray, not her plate, her tray, with mashed potatoes, meat, corn, rolls, you name it, she piled it high and deep on her tray. I got so sick I started dry heaving behind the counter. I went back to the manager and told him that I didn’t feel well. He asked if was sick and needed to go home. I told him, “yes, but it’s working that makes me sick” and I needed to quit. Well we sat there in awkward silence so I grabbed a steak knife off his desk and said, “and I’m taking this with me!” He gave me $20 and told me I had to launder my apron and bring it back. I dropped it in the dumpster in the parking lot but kept the steak knife. I still have it. Best knife ever.

10: I’m a hardcore shower and car singer. I belt out as loud as I possibly can with all the passion and soul that my body will allow. I don’t always know the right words or sing in tune but I think I’ve got mad skills.

11: There are VERY few people in the world who know what I am about to confess. This is a very deep dark secret. I am a closeted, well not so closeted Marie Osmond fan. Yes, I do own her CD’s and yes, I listen to them, and yes I know the lyrics to her songs and yes I sing along with her and no I don’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t care for Donny, I guess I’m just a little country. End of story. In other entertainment news I am also secretly obsessed with Raven Samone. I don’t know what time it comes on but if I’m flipping through the channels and I happen to run across “That’s so Raven” I will full on stop and watch the whole thing. I find myself laughing out loud at it. I think she’s hilarious. I also love to watch “The Barefoot Contessa”, Ina Garten. I Tvo her everyday and before I go to bed I get all ready and grab my blanket and lay on the couch and watch an episode of her show. I think it’s the most calming, relaxing, comforting thing in the world. She reminds me of a chubby version of my mom. :D

12: I am addicted to Diet Coke. More specifically I am addicted to Diet Coke in rabbit poop ice. If you’re unaware of what rabbit poop ice is, it’s the kind of ice they serve at Sonic Drive-In. I love packing a cup FULL of rabbit poop ice and the drizzling Diet Coke over it like a snow cone. Dr. Pepper is good, but Diet Coke is crack to me. I also love Twinkies. I know, gross and ghetto. I don’t care. I love them. When I was younger and my parents would travel I would tell them to “bring me home a prize” which really meant “bring me home a Twinkie”. They could travel around the world and bring me home a piece of the Berlin Wall and I’d toss it aside for my Twinkie. I didn’t really comprehend that I could walk down to the store and get one any time I wanted. I just thought they were available as souvenirs. A Diet Coke a Twinkie and People Magazine and I’m in Heaven.

13: I struggle with stupid people. It drives me crazy when people don’t take a little bit of a proactive approach to figuring out the world around them. Look around and ask yourself that burning question you have or go over in your own mind that brilliant statement you want to make before you ask or articulate it to the world. Can you figure it out on your own? Is the answer staring you in the face? Did I actually just give you the information you are about to ask for again? Really take a moment to figure it out. It will really help my urge to smack you upside the head, pull my hair out, run screaming from a building or stare at you like you just sprouted horns or had a bird crawl out of your mouth.

14: Now, after that last statement, I’ve had my own shining moments. One time I took my moms Jag through the car wash. It was one of those washes that you put your car in neutral and let the rollers move your car along. Well halfway through the wash I felt the car take a little raise and then drop down and stop where it was in the car wash. I then saw the rollers pass in front of the car and leave me stranded as the soap and water sprayed all around me. Well, I couldn’t just let the car sit there so I got out and started pushing the car out, getting soaked and sopped by the soap and water and brushes. It was awful, but obviously I didn’t have an option, I was stuck. Well when I got home I told everyone what had happened and what I had to do. After my heroic account my mom looks at me and says “why wouldn’t you just put the car in drive and drive out of the car wash?” That was a shining moment in my life.

15: I have been to several concerts, but there are a few that I have seen multiple times:
Reba: 5
Celine: 4
Cher: 2
These aren’t necessarily proud admissions, but they are what they are.

16: I want to have plastic surgery on my jaw. It’s crooked. I hate it. No one really notices it, and some people actually say it’s endearing, but I hate it. I know if it were fixed I would be 28.375% more attractive. I’ve done the math, and I’ve actually done all the preliminary work and know it will cost about $25,000 and will require me to have braces for about a year and have my jaw wired shut for about 6 weeks. HEAVEN! So if anyone would like to sponsor me to get my dream surgery done I’m always taking donations to the fund.

17: I remember the first day I shaved as vivid as it was yesterday afternoon. It was December 20th, 1993. I had just delivered my annual birthday gift of grape Fruit Roll-Ups and an ice cream roll cake to my lifelong crush Kara. We were sitting in her family room and she reached over rubbed my upper lip and said, “look who’s getting a little peach fuzz!” I was mortified. I quickly wrapped up what I was doing and ran home to my dad to notify him that I needed to learn to shave ASAP! Little did he know that lesson would lead to an obsession with shaving; shaving my legs, my arms, my chest… TMI…pretty much everything but my face. I think I only had to shave about once every other month until I hit my 20’s, now I only have to shave twice a week. I couldn’t grow a beard if my life depended on it. But honestly, how could my parents have let it go that far?

18: Ok, here it is, I love musical theater. I love live plays and musicals in general. Yes, I am that person. It has been a dark spot in relationships, as no one I’ve dated, and most of my friends pretty much think musicals are lame. My first trip to NYC was a dream come true. We went from show to show to show. I’d love to be in a Broadway musical, but referring back to item #1, I don’t care to ever win an award for it. I have my musical playlist on my iTunes and listen to it every morning while I shower. I put it on random but start every morning with “Memory” from Cats. Turn you judging eyes elsewhere.

19: I’m very proud to say that I have incorporated the term “douche bag” and the phrase “suck it” into professional meetings at work. Scenario #1: In a planning meeting for a high school leadership conference we were trying to decide what breakout sessions to have. The two topics being addressed were “campus inclusiveness” and “diversity”. Someone felt they could be incorporated into one session because they were so similar. I vehemently disagreed and said “I see diversity as a social justice issue, whereas campus inclusiveness is more of learning how not to be a douche bag to other students at your school.” At that point the intern taking notes stopped and starred at me to which the vice president leaned over to her and said “he said douche bag, that’s d-o-u-c-h-e b-a-g, douche bag”. Scenario #2: At another meeting discussion the organizations constitution, no one in the group could agree on what the document should say and kept finding problems with how everyone else’s suggestions could be misinterpreted. We were going nowhere so I raised my hand and said “why don’t we just keep it the way it is and just add at the bottom of the constitution “this document is subject to change at any time without warning or discussion so suck it!” We’re still working on it.

20: I drive like a grandma. I don’t understand people who rush around the roads like crazy people. If you plan accordingly there is no need to be in such a rush. And if you’re already late then you’re late, don’t worry about it, own it. Drive like a normal person. Most of time I’m driving along and realize I’m going 5-10 MPH slower than the speed limit. I’m a friendly, courteous, cautious, leisurely driver. I also love having a clean car. But I hate getting gas. It’s not because I don’t want to spend the money; though I do hate that, I just HATE the act of getting gas. I will drive my car until I am 10 feet of fumes from running out of gas. I have actually run out of gas no less than 12 times. The last time I ran out? Two weeks ago… on the freeway. I’m not even ashamed of this. Sorry Adam, I know it drove you crazy…

21: Last week I watched “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants #2” without having seen the first one, and I got misty eyed. Ok, I cried. That’s all I’m going to say about this. I will also admit that more often then not Oprah makes me cry and I have yet to get through an entire episode of “The Biggest Loser” without shedding a few tears. I also can’t watch “Shallow Hal” without crying. I think it’s very sweet that he still loves her even though she’s fat. Tender!

22: I’ve been subscribing to Martha Stewart Living since I was in the 7th grade. I used to own every issue, then, when my dad sold my parent’s house, under pressure to downsize, I threw them away. I regret it every day. I’m trying to rebuild the collection.

23: I know everyone says it but I really do think I have the best family and friends in the world. My friends and I have been through some good times and bad times and am the person I am because of them. They keep me real, they keep me honest, they keep me fun. I am lucky to have stayed so close to them and see them regularly several times a week. My family is also the best. We are dysfunctionally close. And not just my immediate family. I am as close to my siblings and first cousins as I am to 4th and 5th cousins twice removed. My best friend is my aunt Barb who is actually my second cousin, but more like a sister to my mom. I never said we were normal. We spend all summer together at the lake and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We have huge family reunions, crazy knock down drag out fights, and we all know everything about each other and we still love each other. If you are ever invited to the lake; which only a VERY few people actually have been.. it’s that sacred to me… you too will be family, immediately. They are the most generous, giving, accepting, HILARIOUS, kind people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Someone once asked me what kind of life I expected to have if every time I had a problem I relied on my family for support. I told them I didn’t want to have a life that didn’t’ allow me to rely on when I needed support.

24: I HATE the snow and cold weather. I don’t ski, I don’t play in the snow. Sorry for anyone who thinks I’m a waste of a Utahan for this, but I don’t care. I fall into a deep dark depression every time it snows or drops below 50 degrees. I also refuse to scrape windows in my car. I will go out 20 minutes early if I have to and just crank up the heater and turn on the windshield wipers until it warms up enough to just wipe it away. I have self-diagnosed S.A.D. (Seasonal Affectedness Disorder). My doctor told me last week finally that I should consider light therapy. I just function better when I have on shorts and sandals and a kick-ass tan! My grandma, in her later, senile years, thought I was a Mexican every time I visited her because I get so tan in the summer. I’m not one of those people that wishes it was cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. I want summer all year long. I love the heat and I love the sun and I love the summer.

25: Because I apparently have adult onset ADD, and I run off on tangents, and this has taken me about 2 weeks to accomplish I’m calling it quits. I’m making an executive decision to make this statement the 25th thing you didn’t know about me.

Jr. High Sucks

2009-05-17T15:46:00.002-07:00

On Friday, Nicole that I work with asked me if I would go to a junior high with her to staff a table. Of course I jumped at the opportunity to get out of my office into the fresh air of the free world. Now, it's been several years since I was in junior high and apparently A LOT has changed since 1994.

When we first walked into the school they had proudly displayed in the entrance a board labeled "I commit to...". Students were encouraged to write things that they would commit to do to make the world a better place... Or something like that I assume. Now most kids had written things like "say hi to everyone in the hall" or "sit by someone new everyday at lunch" or "tutor a dumb kid", you know things that normal 12-14-year-olds would put. Well, right in the middle of the board in big blue marker someone had written... junior high mind you... "Use alcohol less". I see a few things wrong with this statement. First of all the fact that in junior high someone is using and has admitted to using alcohol and what seems to be a pretty regular basis. Second, I love that this student has only committed to using alcohol "less". Let's not try and give it up. Should someone call DCFS?

As soon as we got to our table in the gym I realized what the worst part of my early teen years was. Junior high gym class. As if your body and self worth can't be any more awkward and underdeveloped you are now forced to put that in a pair of light grey sweat shorts and play dodge ball with people who hate you more than you already hate yourself. You're then forced to shower with these same people. And of course you don't quite understand the concept of hygiene or deodorant so you now stink for the rest of the day thus alienating yourself from anyone else who may have taken pity on your weird little ass in the first place.

When the first group of students came into the gym to get information from us a girl who couldn't have been any older than 12 ran up to our table and began to hiss. She started yelling at us saying that our school was evil and full of sinners. I should mention here that this said junior high WAS in Utah County, thus explaining the intense hatred towards the University of Utah. From that point on she took it upon herself to tell every other student not to talk to us because we were the devil's school. Tolerance is a beautiful thing.

Now these things are fine. I deal with weirdo’s all the time. I deal with awkward situations all the time. I can handle this. I'm a professional. I was not however prepared for the worst part of it all. As I mentioned before, it has become very apparent to me that kids in junior high have no idea that their little bodies are more adult than they might imagine and therefore have very adult smells associated with them. Sadly however is that this un-realization leads to childlike hygiene practices. I have never smelled such an awful smelling group of people in my life. By the end of the day we had deducted that they smelled like a combination of sweat, BO, pickles, cheese, dirty feet and sour laundry. I was literally dry heaving. I had to excuse myself several times from the table because I was beginning to make a scene. Luckily I had brought along a magazine with some cologne samples in them that I cold rub under my nose as a shield. That only lasted so long. This went on for 4 hours. It was the worst day of my life.

On our way out, Nicole had to use the restroom. As she was washing her hands a girl walked in crying, saying to herself "this is awful, this is the worst day ever, I hate this." She was carrying a plastic grocery sack. She walked to the sink and proceeded to pull out a box of tampons and a pregnancy test. Um... again, this is a JUNIOR HIGH, 12 to 14 years old. This is not ok. Now in here defense this could have been her first monthly visitor and she could have just been very confused, or she was in fact worried that she might be pregnant. Either way, that is one shitty day for that girl.

Today I will blog

2009-02-09T12:46:00.001-07:00

Well I will be the first to admit that it has been a day or 56 since I last blogged. Well today is a new day and a new leaf is being turned over. I’m back in the game, back on the saddle, whatever you want to call it!

Today started out like any other typical day. My alarm clock went off at 6am, so I could be aroused enough (not that kind of aroused) to be get my lazy ass out of bed by 7:00; usually 7:30, sometimes ever 7:45. Today however went a little differently after that. I got up to see that lovely thick white dollops of wintery Heaven were sprinkling down upon the hood. Snow?! Are you kidding me? It’s February 9th for hell sakes. Isn’t it summer yet?! It was warm enough for me to slip into my skinny track tights yesterday and go running in the park, and now it’s snowing! Side note, I did not actually go running yesterday, but it was warm enough and I had every intention to do so to until I had to spend the majority of my day at the tire store having my breaks replaced, but that’s another story all together. I digress. I immediately went back to bed and sunk into a deep, dark, wintery depression. I didn’t even have the energy to try my hand at my daily attempt to win Britney Spears tickets. Deep. Dark. Depression.

Well I couldn’t very well stay like this for the rest of the day. Not that I wouldn’t or haven’t in the past, but someone has to pay the bills and until I find someone that wants to make an honest man out of me and let me stay home and cook and clean and raise the... plants... or I am hired to be someone’s in house Tony Danza, then that person is me. After a lovely shower; the details of which shall be left for my subscription only, adult-themed blog, I dashed to my closet to find anything I could wear that didn’t need to be ironed. It was now 8:06 and work technically started at 8:00. Not a biggie, I’ve been working my ever expanding ass off the last couple of weeks getting ready for our Open House. I didn’t feel too guilty. I was lucky to find that I indeed had a shirt and sweater that would pair beautifully with my new DARK jeans, and even luckier that I had a single pair of underwear left. Reminder to self to buy laundry detergent and then actually do the laundry tonight or tomorrow I shall be free-balling it.

Once in my car which drives like a champ after forking out $300, I was on my way. I have given up coffee during the week because even though I excessively and unhealthily bleach my teeth, I don’t want them to be yellow before I turn 30. But man I wanted one this morning. I settled for a Diet Coke instead. Good news, I am one punch away at the local 7-11 from getting my next Big Gulp for free. Holler! It normally takes me 5, MAYBE 10 minutes to get to work. I live less than 3 miles away. But today some stupid lady felt the need to make unnecessary and frequent stops along the way. Now if she was to pull over and make a stop, that’s one thing, something I can handle, but she would just randomly stop in the middle of the street. No dogs, no people, the road wasn’t even slippery. It was as if she had been driving for 40 years and just discovered this morning that she has breaks in her car and it’s such a novelty that she can’t get enough of them, and in turn is annoying the hell out of me. I’m over it. I finally got to work 20 minutes later and thankfully was able to find a parking spot near my building. I would have had to circle the parking lot until lunch time if it meant not having to park out in the back 40. I mean it. DEEP, DARK, DEPRESSION.

Well I had so much planned to do today. I need to write two program summaries for two events that I have hosted in the last month. However upon inspection of the daily calendar and a gentle reminder from a coworker I realized that I had volunteered my valuable time to go help in the admissions office. I’m a giver. So off I trot in the snow to see how my invaluable expertise can be put to good use the better the establishment. Photocopying. Yup, I had volunteered two hours of my time to mind-numbing photocopying. That’s ok, there is no job I am too good for. There is no job below me. Again, someone has to pay the bills. I would like to say here that I am available and willing to be a participant in anyone’s weird fantasy to obtain the above mentioned status of stay at home (whatever you want to call it). I can do anything for a price. So there I sat, or stood rather for two hours copying graduate school applications. Not too bad some of you are thinking right now. In theory yes, in practice, no. And so I would like to walk you through the process.

1: Take the file and remove the contents thereof
2: Take the second sheet; the application, and place it on the copy machine
3: Set the copy machine to copy the application as a double-sided job
4: Wait for said job to finish
5: Reset the copy machine to print single-sided copies
6: Place the remainder of the documents on the copy machine to be copied
7: Wait for said job to finish
8: Remove originals
9: Replace top sheet; the application, back to its original position as the second sheet
10: Place original documents back in the file
11: Staple copies and place on top of the file
12: Stamp copied transcripts with “copy” stamp
13: Place a red check mark in the upper right hard corner of the originals to signify that they have been photocopied
14: Alphabetize the copied pages by program major
15: Repeat steps 1-14 300 times

Are you bored yet? Uh huh. Now just read that over and over again for 2 hours and you might have an inkling of what the first 2 hours of my day looked like. Well I’m fried now. I can’t even bring my brain back to a place where I can even begin to think about possibly being slightly coherent or productive. I now have a huge list of “to-do” and when I read them I retreat to the dark corner under my desk and resume the fetal position as I drool on my dry-clean only sweater. I need a Diet Coke.

HISTORY!!!

2008-11-04T21:22:00.002-07:00

As I write, history is being made. Barack Obama is the first black man to be elected President of the United States. HOLY CRAP! This is pretty big! I might pee my pants with excitement!

My Position

2008-10-28T22:38:00.002-07:00

Once in a great while I get serious. This is one of those times. Take note.

It seems there has been a lot said as of late about same-sex marriage and how that will undermine the foundation of a family. I am not a vocally political person. I have my beliefs and stand by those. On this topic however, I feel a need to throw in my two cents for what it’s worth.

This shouldn’t be a political issue, but unfortunately it’s politics that will determine who will and won’t be offered certain fundamental rights. That being said, special interest groups have no right to so vocally stand on either side of this issue. The role the Mormon Church, and therefore Utah, has taken in this matter is the reason I want to address the issue.

We each have the opportunity to determine for ourselves what is “right” and what is “wrong”. One should not be branded as “closed-minded” or “open-minded” for making this personal determination and standing by it. Whether an individual; Mormon or otherwise, chooses to support the recognition of same-sex unions does not mean that that person is “tolerant of sin” or does not believe in “an eternal right and wrong”. These estimations of what we believe are personal and individual. It is unfair to label others when they don’t believe or support that which one does. Adversely it is wrong for others to label those who don’t believe or act as they do.

The issue at hand here is human rights; the basic rights that we should have as human beings to be treated fair and equal in a free democracy. I stand on the side of supporting ones right to make a decision for themselves. I do not claim to support the decisions others make, just their ability to do so.

In a statement issued from the LDS Church, they claim,

“The Church does not object to rights (already established in California) regarding hospitalization and medical care, fair housing and employment rights, or probate rights, so long as these do not infringe on the integrity of the family or the constitutional rights of churches and their adherents to administer and practice their religion free from government interference.”

This is a fine statement pending gay couples were actually asking to be recognized by the LDS Church. They are not. The reason the decision of the LDS Church to support Proposition 8 in California has become so controversial is because ultimately it doesn’t pertain to them. Gay couples aren’t asking to be Mormon. They are asking that their “unions”; not even marriages, are recognized by the government. This in no way “infringe[s] on… the constitutional rights of churches and their adherents to administer and practice their religion free from government interference.” As soon as gay couples begin to ask for their unions to be recognized by any other group other than the government that we are all part of, I will be the first to stand up and disagree. Every PRIVATE organization has the right to choose whom it will and won’t allow into its group. However as members of the human race we should all be allowed to share the same basic human rights, especially is country that claims to be “free”.

If this view makes me a "liberal", so be it. I think President Kennedy summed that up best when he said, ""...if by a liberal they mean someone who looks ahead and not behind... someone who cares about the welfare of the people - their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights... then I am proud to be a liberal."

Remember to vote on Tuesday!

Long awaited update

2008-09-28T15:56:00.002-07:00

Hello folks. I must first apologize emphatically for not posting for nye unto the entire summer. Not acceptable. You will be happy to know that I have just returned from the WORST trip I have ever taken and I have plenty of stories to share. Stay posted for this week they will come! Peace, love and the Baby Jesus.

Ah the mems!

2008-08-04T19:19:00.000-07:00

I've seen this on a few blogs, & I want to play! Please play along. Or I'll feel stupid. Really, really stupid.

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.
Suzie, Bret, Kathryn- I just copied and pasted this from your blog. I'm lazy.

In the Ghetto

2008-07-18T10:31:00.003-07:00

Hello all. It's been a while since my last blog. Life has been particularly busy, but that means in the time I was away I have a grand new repertoire of new material, starting with this one:

As you are all aware, I live in the hood. My little piece of Heaven where I live fits in nicely. I had decided that enough was enough and I was moving out. I had made this decision based on two factors. #1: My over was older than God and had two temperature setting; off and burning my food. Not ok. #2: My refrigerator is a month older than my stove and had at all times at least 6 inches of solid ice on the back of it which would in turn melt and leak out the bottom. Not ok. The final straw that broke the camel's back was the day window unit swamp cooler went out. However, before I decided to throw the towel in completely I would give my landlord a chance to redeem the apartment. I quickly drafted a very eloquent and professional letter informing him of the issues at hand. Well I must tell you I was pleasantly surprised when I got a phone call from my neighbor the next day telling me that new appliances were being delivered to my house at that very moment. I was a little overwhelmed by the fact that my landlord had let himself into my apartment with out me being there but my joy surpassed my anger. I am now the proud user of a newish set of appliances in my apartment.

Now, on to a more pressing issue. The swamp cooler. I had been living in sweltering hot conditions for two days when my landlord informed me that he had just gone ahead and fixed my window unit rather than purchasing a new one. Whatever. I would have preferred a new one, but any air was better none, right? Right. So for the next few days I ran that SOB to full capacity to get my house down to a bearable temperature. Things were going great. My new fridge and I had bonded, I christened the oven by making some homemade granola, I would walk around my house with clothes on and not sweat to death. It couldn't get any better.

Fast forward to last Wednesday evening. I came home after two grueling days of staff retreats ready to rest my weary brain. I was all settled in bed, and fully asleep when suddenly a crash, crack snap, and crackle awoke me. If this weren't the middle of July I'd have thought I was thrown into the pages of The Night Before Christmas. In my early morning haze I listened as the noise continued, then I realized that the haze I was experiencing was not due to the early morning at all. No, it was indeed haze in my apartment. My apartment was full of smoke! I jumped up ran into the dining room where I could see sparks coming from the outlet my AC was plugged into, and flames shooting out of the window into my apartment. I lunged for the cord and unplugged it. Well that stopped the sparks, and the fire subsided, but there was still a fire blazing inside the air conditioning unit itself. Being the quick thinking Boy Scout that I am I quickly grabbed my iron and began spraying the fire. Well that didn't help. Good thing I'd just polished off a pitcher of Kool-Aid earlier in the day and still had it sitting in my sink. I filled it with water and tossed it through the window into the swap cooler. VICTORY!

I now had a house filled with smoke. I opened all the windows and began coercing the smoke out the windows with paper plates. Author's note: Living in this apartment has obviously lowered me to a social class other than I was raised in; don't judge.

Well after an hour or so of that I was headed back to bed. However, let's think about this. I've just been abruptly awakened by smoke and fire in a house that already has faulty wiring and an obviously compromised smoke detector system, there's no way in hell I am going to be able to go back to sleep. I was burned and permanently maimed, what would happen to my social life?! At what I assume was somewhere between 4-5 am I finally fell asleep. Two hours of sleep until my alarm was set to go off... PERFECT!

Needless to say I did not go to work the next day.

Surprise!

2008-06-30T22:16:00.001-07:00

Just when you think there aren't any decent people out there, the world throws you a curve ball... ;)

Congratulations to me

2008-06-27T07:57:00.002-07:00

As of this morning the only continent that I have not received views to my blog from is Africa. Well, and Antarctica. But I don't count that since I don't even think they have computers there, let alone the Internet. I'm so proud that my blog has taken me one step closer to world domination.

Pass the Clothes Pin, Please

2008-06-26T12:50:00.003-07:00

Updated and embellished for your reading pleasure:

I have the distinct pleasure of living in an apartment community. This multiplex trailer park without wheels is a small sampling of the melting pot that makes our nation so great. The people, the languages, the culture… the smells.
I moved into my apartment at the a year ago. It was the first time I would be living alone in Salt Lake. Free of the annoyances of roommates. Free of their bad habits. Free of uncontrolled chaos. I was free. I found, however, I am now forced to seek asylum at the university. It is my safe haven. I am a refugee of the U of U. The stench of my apartment holds me at bay and forbids my return. My apartment is the free world; a luxury I cannot enjoy.
When I first moved in I noticed an unfamiliar odor. Not to worry my dad assured me, it was simply a combination of cleaning products and the smell of the previous tenant. The smell would disappear as soon as I filled the tiny space with my own things and my own dirt; my own smells. I got settled quickly, and quickly realized the odor was making my stomach a little unsettled. Where was this smell coming from? I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. It was so familiar, and yet so foreign. It was a strong combination of soy sauce and the Persian Peacock; an adult novelty and gift shop located in Logan, Utah). The smell was stronger in the morning, died off by mid-afternoon and was back again by the time Brian Williams was reporting the evening news. I had to act, and quickly. I contacted the property manager and reported the smell, which I had concluded must have been a small rodent carcass rotting in the heating ducts. To my dismay, this was not the case. The manager informed me that my downstairs neighbors were a lovely Asian family who had a fondness of cooking with soy sauce and curry. The smell was not going away. Not without a fight.
I made a mad dash for Wal-Mart and pointed myself in the direction of the candle aisle. Candles were a tried and true method of odor removal used by my mother and her mother before her. I purchased the best smelling, most cost effective candles I could find; vanilla, and a large box of matches. I strategically placed them throughout my apartment. One each in the kitchen, dining room, family room, bathroom and bedroom. I lit them and left the house. Authors note: please do not leave open flames unattended as I did.
Hours later I returned to find my house filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla. Vanilla, soy sauce and the Persian Peacock that is. Another trip to Wal-Mart, this time to buy Lysol and Fabreeze. I dowsed each room with as much of the “odor eliminators” as I could and sat back as I realized I had once again been defeated. It was stronger than me. I was powerless and had lost the battle. There was nothing more I could do. All the sprays, candles and potpourri in the world could not free me from the olfactory chains which now bound me so tightly.
I have since surrendered to the smells of my apartment. I have learned to tolerate and cohabitate one space as I once did with roommates. I still light candles daily. I drench my belongings with Fabreeze and Lysol. I have become a connoisseur of appropriately coordinating potpourri with the seasonal changes and my decorations. It is a ritual, as sacred to me as my religion. I have been taught a great lesson, a lesson in tolerance and love. It has opened my eyes to an unseen power greater than myself. I have learned to appreciate the opportunity each and every one of us has to partake of life in the land of the free, the home of the brave and yet hold on to our own identity. Hold onto what makes us so unique. I just wish now my neighbors would share some of their food with me.

Thanks for your patience...

2008-06-24T17:03:00.003-07:00

Ok, I'm very sorry about the delay in letting you know about my homeless boyfriend at the gym. So last time I saw him, here's what went down...

I had just gotten to the gym and began to disrobe. No sooner had I gotten down to just my skivies I hear a voice call out. "Hey you", he said "luck of the Irish boy!" Holy shit! Why does this happen to me?! As if we were best friends and knew every aspect of each other's lives he began. "That damn President Bush, ruining our economy. I'm putting together a task force to get him impeached. I'm a lawyer you know?" He's a lawyer? This is what today's lawyers look like? Well for a brief moment I was considering law school but if sleeping in golf courses and navigating myself around the sprinkler cycle is not my idea of the high life. "That's neat" I responded. He continued. "We're all getting together and we're going to storm the White House and get him out of there." Oh, good luck with that", I said. "I know what my rights are. I have an MBA and a law degree from Harvard. I had to give up that lifestyle. I just hated being so busy. I have all the time in the world now." I'll bet you have all the time in the world seeing you don't have a job! All of this I could handle. I get my fair share of crazy conversations everyday. But what happened next I was not prepared for. At this point I was now pretty much fully dressed in my workout garb minus my shirt. With my back to him as he continued to ramble I suddenly felt an obviously unwashed callused hand grab the right side of my torso at my rib cage and begin to shake me. "Look at this body!" He yelled, "Look at this body!" Of course at this point everyone in the locker room has focused their attention on me and has observed my shock and terror. "This is a fine specimen of the male form!" He then proceeded to pinch my back fat and belly. PINCHING! GRABBING! SHAKING! "You would all do well to model yourself after this man!" "Ok, ok, thank you, go ahead and let go now." I said. i was trying to be as calm as possible, as if I was being attacked by a wild animal. He continued to shake me for at least 10 seconds. That doesn't seem like a long time, but imagine being shaken and pinched for 10 seconds by a dirty homeless man. At this point a man finally stepped up and had to physically separate him from me. "Ok buddy, there you go", he said to him. Then as quickly as it began, it ended. "I have to go now," he announced to the locker room, "I have to get ready for a meeting." WTF?! I quickly threw my shirt on and headed out the door as the other guys began laughing and congratulating me on my unique meeting. I usually see him on Mondays and I didn't go until late Monday night so my next encounter will have to wait until next week.

New Obsession

2008-06-19T20:28:00.002-07:00

In the past two days I have eaten no less than 3 boxes of sugar free instant Jell-o pudding. A-MA-ZING!!! My favorite flavors to date; because they're the only ones I've tasted, are chocolate fudge; it tastes like cake batter, I ate it with Cool-Whip Free, cheesecake; I added fresh strawberries to mine for added flavor and health, and I also loved classic vanilla; I added a couple drops of REAL vanilla in it to pump up the flavor. I will be going to Smith's tonight and filling an ENTIRE shopping basket of pudding. I'm looking forward to pistachio and s'more. I like to make my own pudding packs and keep them on hand in case of emergency. Which had turned out to be about every 4 hours. And I wonder why I can't lose that last 5% of body fat it's going to take to see my abs! In the words of the wise Heather Miller, "don't judge".

No New News

2008-06-18T13:13:00.002-07:00

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. I've been sick since last Friday. It sucks ass. I went to the doctor today and was told I have a viral infection of the nose, throat, and lungs. Awesome. I was hoping it was Chlamydia again. I haven't even gone to work and I'm SOOO bored. I actually want to go but I'm allowing myself to rest. However I have nothing to do! Sandra Lee and her Semi-Homemade Cooking isn't cutting it as decent companionship. Now Ina Garten.. That's a different story... Mmm... Bring me a DVD to watch!

FURIOUS!!!

2008-06-11T20:15:00.001-07:00

Ok, the homeless man is going to have to wait. I have an axe to grind. I'm enraged, furious, pissed off! For those of you who don't know, I rent a miniature apartment in the scariest part of downtown Salt Lake. The rent is SUPER cheap in comparison to everything else in Salt Lake but I take my life into my own hands and into the hands of the taco cart vendors on a daily basis. My landlord, who shall remain anonymous, is the oldest man living. Once in a while he takes a VERY long time to cash my rent checks. I'll write a check on the 4th and it may not get cashed on the 25th. It's super annoying but you learn to deal with it. I should be more diligent about checking the status of my bank account to see the activity than I am, but I just don't. I'm not good at it. I need to take a finance class or something. Long story short, I shouldn't assume that my landlord is any more responsible than I about getting my rent checks deposited. This lack of preparation on my part and onset of dementia on his part has come around and slapped my on the ass today. As I was perusing though the recent activity of my checking account I realized that Methuselah hasn't cashed my rent since March. MARCH! MARCH!!!! WTF?! Who does that?! If you have ever read my blog, you know that since March I have made two trips to San Diego, and one to St. George, and you know that on more than one occasion I have spent copious amounts of money of things like, oh I don't, jeans, shoes, food, GAS!!! I am officially up a shit creek without a paddle. I have fallen into the realm of poverty, the depths of despair. Where do I sign up for my WIC checks? Where's the nearest soup kitchen? This is ridiculous and pathetic. FURIOUS!!!

To that end, I am starting a "Save the Children and Nick" fund. I'm not proud of this. I understand the stigma associated with the solicitation of money. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm willing to perform acts of... kindness and cleaning to make it legitimate. Please feel free to donate at you nearest America First Credit Union. The account is under Nickolas Keith Robbins. I don't think it's safe to give out my account number on the World Wide Web...

God bless.

He's Baaaaaaaack

2008-06-10T22:06:00.001-07:00

I'm WAY too tired to write right now, but the homeless man was back at the gym today... of course he sought me out and talked to me. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow... Get excited!

On a Serious Note

2008-06-09T11:42:00.001-07:00

I know that the times I am serious are few and far between so take note when I do have something of importance to say. It could save your life... probably not though. I didn't write this, but I found it very interesting... Take a look...

Gas rationing in the 70's worked even though we grumbled about it. It might even have been good for us! Are you aware that the Saudis are boycotting American products? Shouldn't we return the favor? Can't we take control of our own destiny and let these giant oil importers know who REALLY generates their profits, their livings? How about leaving American Dollars in America and reduce the import/export deficit? An appealing remedy might be to boycott their GAS. Every time you fill up your car you can avoid putting more money into the coffers of Saudi Arabia. Just purchase gas from companies that don't import their oil from the Saudis. Nothing is more frustrating than the feeling that every time I fill up my tank, I'm sending my money to people who I get the impression want me, my family and my friends dead. Don't you think it might be of interest to know which oil companies import Middle Eastern oil and which do not?

These companies import Middle Eastern oil:
Shell................................... 205,742,000 barrels
Chevron/Texaco.................. 144,332,000 barrels
Exxon /Mobil....................... 130,082,000 barrels
Marathon/Speedway............ 117,740,000 barrels
Amoco................................ 62,231,000 barrels

And CITGO oil is imported from Venezuela by Dictator Hugo Chavez who hates America and openly avows our economic destruction! (We pay Chavez's regime nearly $10 Billion per year in oil revenues!)

The U.S. currently imports 5,517,000 barrels of crude oil per day from OPEC. If you do the math at $95 per barrel, that's over $524 million PER DAY ($191 BILLION per year!) handed over to OPEC, many of whose members are our confirmed enemies!!!!!

Here are some large companies that do not import Middle Eastern oil:
Sunoco.....................0 barrels
Conoco.....................0 barrels
Sinclair......................0 barrels
BP / Phillips..............0 barrels
Hess. .......................0 barrels
ARC0.......................0 barrels
Maverick...................0 barrels
Flying J. ..................0 barrels
Valero.......................0 barrels

Dying to Play

2008-06-05T13:50:00.002-07:00

Once in a while; every day, I like to Google my name and see what comes up. Slowly my blog is making its way to the top. Today I found a little something that has been getting a few hits as of late. So, here's a little something for ya... We wrote and made this a few years ago. It's totally LOW BUDG!! Don't judge for that... Really I want you to enjoy the script... It's some pretty kick-ass work if I do say so myself...

http://www.spike.com/video/dying-to-play/2686856

BARF!

2008-06-05T11:56:00.003-07:00

Well I'm home. I had the most fantastic time in San Diego. However, I am 35 pounds heavier. I don't think I have ever eaten so much crap in such a short amount of time. Let me give you a run through of my typical day.

9:00am: Breakfast Buffet at the Embassy Suites. Waffles, eggs, sausage, hash brows, juice, cereal, a doughnut or two. That right there is what would be my normal daily caloric intake. So after that I would feel guilty, of course. But since I can't bring myself to throw up, I just have to digest it all. I would then commit to being healthy for the rest of the day and eat only my regularly scheduled small snacks. perfectly portioned and measured to my needs.
11am: Mmm... I'm hungry again. I will be healthy. Zone Bar, 10 Triscuits, and grapefruit. Perfect. I better chase that with about 12 gallons of water to fill myself up and flush out breakfast.
1pm: Wow, all this walking, I need to eat. Something light I think to myself. I must have confused myself with lite, for light. Mexican food is not lite, but there was certainly a lovely light ambiance in the restaurant. A platter of nachos later, a combination platter and a few Diet Cokes later I was ready to be rolled out of the restaurant. What's wrong with me?! Apparently I have a disease. Well, I've totally muffed it up today I may as well stop into Ghiradelli and get a sundae. Right? Of course. I'm not ready to barf. Oh look, Starbucks!
I'm not eating for the rest of the day. Except for the back of Starburst we bought. Nothing else.
A bit more shopping... more fabulous G-Star Jeans, and some Puma gear... really wears a boy out. I need some food. What sounds good.
6:00pm: Something lite, I am really going to stick to it this time. Something lite. A salad, some grilled chicken, water. I'm a champion. I've done SO well in fact, I should treat myself to another Ghiradelli Sundae! Mmm... I shouldn't have done that.
8:00pm: All this walking... A boy needs nourishment... I'll have another Zone bar and maybe a little jerky. High protein. Very filling. This will last me.
Back and the hotel now. I think someone forgot to mention the Manager's Happy Hour! Free drinks, nachos, horsdeouvres, popcorn, Cheetos, desserts... After such a big day, I needed this break.

I'm disgusting. DISGUSTING!!! This went on for several days in San Diego and St. George. I have got to stop. I'm going to meet with my trainer tomorrow I have nothing but bad news to report.

P.S. St. George is now the proud home of an In-and-Out Burger... Mmm...

San Diego or Bust!

2008-05-31T09:38:00.002-07:00

Off I go... I'll tell you all about it when I get home...

NEVER!!!

2008-05-28T15:40:00.002-07:00

As many of you may or may not know, I consume large quantities of liquid refreshment throughout the day. This beverage intake comes in many forms: water, diet soda, gasoline, green tea, etc. Due to the this high volume, you can imagine that I have to excuse myself numerous times throughout the day to relieve myself. And as you might assume when I do, I pee A LOT! I'm not embarrassed, it is what it is. I'm a healthy, growing boy. Nonetheless, lets' say, HYPOTHETICALLY, you happen to encounter me in the bathroom doing my duty and you decide to stand next to me at the urinal, NEVER comment to me about the length of my... urination...

I don't care that I was in there peeing before you came in, and was still going when you finished up. Under no circumstances are you to say something like "sounds like you have one healthy stream." I don't care that you're 90 years older than me. The fact that you're listening to me pee in the first place is bad enough, let alone the fact that you just commented on it. Thank the maker for stall separators! Eeew!

And wash your hands when you're done!

Freak Magnet

2008-05-27T11:16:00.004-07:00

Ok, I know I have a sign on my forehead that reads "Are you a freak, degenerate, weirdo, or otherwise socially unacceptable member of society? Feel free to spark up unwanted and unnecessary conversation with me at any time." Case in point:

I was really looking forward to my workout last night. I had planned on seeing a friend at the gym, and enjoying a low key evening with few others at the gym; I went at 8:30pm on a holiday. First off let's being by saying that not only is the gym busy by 10:00pm, but there is a large resurgence of people at that time. Nonetheless, I was determined to get the most out of the situation.

Well, after a long, strenuous, EXHAUSTING workout I decided I deserved some R&R in the steam room. Armed with my flip flops and water bottle I settled in for some "me" time. Not gonna happen.

After only being in the steam room for nye unto one minute, one of the nearly 12 other men in the steam room decided to offer some advice. Not just to everyone in the steam room, no, to me in particular.

"Hey you, luck of the Irish boy," he said referring to the clover tattoo on my shoulder "when you are homeless and sleeping on the golf course make sure you're not facing the sprinkler. That son of a bitch will nearly drown you if it doesn't just hit your back."

He went on to tell me that park benches are the best but that you have to get there early enough to stake yours out and he wasn't willing to do that. Parks are also a nicer place to sleep for the convenience factor, but golf courses were better because the ground is softer and you're less likely to get kicked out. You've got to pick the lesser of two evils I guess.

Everyone was looking at me wondering how I knew this man, or why in the hell he chose to talk to me out of everyone in the room. I don't know. Why does this shit always happen to me?

I was done. I spent all of five minutes in the steam room before he finally left. Then everyone in there wanted to laugh and talk to me about what had just happened. I was not in the mood to talk to people I didn't know, like, or care about. Shouldn't one of the universal signs for "leave me the hell alone" be shutting your eyes? I thought so. Apparently not. To eveyone in the steam room last night, thank you for ruining my evening.

Cook?

2008-05-21T20:11:00.000-07:00

I don't want to talk to anyone for at least a week.

F-off

2008-05-21T16:36:00.001-07:00

For those of you who don't think I'm funny... You know who you are... F-off! Love ya!

Confession

2008-05-19T21:06:00.003-07:00

We all have moments in our life we're not proud of. Moments of indiscretion. Times when, in retrospect, are less then shining. I do however believe that the best way to overcome out shortcomings is to accept them and admit them. Once the secrets are out on the table we can, and our friends and family can help us work through them. In an attempt to practice what I preach, I'm going to disclose with you, my online friends, how I fall short. In my defense, this isn't something that happens on a regular basis but it happened nonetheless. Today I went to the Rack and Mervyn's. I know, I know. Scandalous. I'm not proud of this. I know I've let myself and so many people in my life down. But we all our things we're not proud of. So don't turn your judging eye toward me. Don't point your fingers in my direction. Remember, when you point your fingers of judgement at someone else there are three pointing back.

Beware of the C.M.'s

2008-05-18T23:09:00.002-07:00

I know it has been several months since we have seen warm weather here in Utah. I know that with this onset of heat many of us forget to protect ourselves properly during the summer months. As a noble, self-appointed, public servant I am here to do my civic duty to make sure everyone does their part to protect themselves.

On hot summer days like this I'm reminded of my humble upbringing in Syracuse. Davis County is the place where dreams are born and realized. A place where the kids are kids, the men are men, and the sheep aren't scared. Good Mormon boys and girls running through the sprinklers and constructing make-shift forts out of folding chairs and bed sheets; the humming of the overhead power lines slowly poisoning us all with cancer; the smell of fresh cut grass and cow manure; my brother blasting White Snake on his boom box as he washed his truck in the front yard while the neighbor's granddaughter hosed herself down in her white t-shirt; my dad cursing under his breath as his tinkered with the rototiller, words that would make a sailor or my grandmother blush; and mom drinking an ice cold Pepsi as she talked for hours on the phone, the cord stretched to it's breaking point out the back door onto the deck. A proper little town. Picturesque, really. A modern day Maycomb County. Nothing could upset this Rockwellian scene.

Then it would happen. The soft music box chimes of "The Monkey Chased the Weasel". They would grow louder and louder. growing closer and closer. For a brief moment life stopped as all senses perked to what was happening. Then, as if the world began to move backwards, everything moved in slow motion and couldn't keep up. Mom dropped her phone, the hose ran unattended, the forts collapsed. There is only one thing in this world powerful enough to wreak havoc like this the world over. The ice cream man.

Every neighborhood kid ran to their parents' sides begging for any loose change they could spare. The pleading, the begging and the crying began. Parents would collapse at the mercy of the sweet cream. All parents but mine that is.

In most cases I was happy to have a well-read, educated, mother who knew the ways of the world. She was there to teach us about all the different cultures around the globe. She encouraged us to question the norms around us. We were free thinkers. We understood and learned things many adults hadn't even experienced. Ideas and knowledge were planted and encouraged in our home. This was a double edged sword in my world though. While it meant that even though I could question the way things were, it also meant that I KNEW the ways of the world, and therefore had a small piece of my innocence lost. One thing I knew for sure, I knew that all ice cream men were, as my mother told me "child molesters with mobile hostels". C.M.'s as we called them in our house. A code to protect ourselves.

Well I knew I couldn't argue with this. I had been told this years before and I had no reason not to believe my mom. Everything else she had told me was, in my mind, true to this point. But it was so hard for me to resist the urge. What was I willing to do for a Klondike Bar? I in no way wanted that skinny, red-headed, hairy man touching me in my special spot with a banana creamcicle. But the soft touch of a ice cream drum stick across my neck, maybe. I hated knowing what I knew. I hated sitting on my porch as the Barrows and the Olsens, the Edwards and the Thurgoods all got their ice cream while I waited for one of them to be snatched up and never to be seen again. I was not willing to take that risk for a sweet but fleeting lick of the peppermint flavored ice cream stick.

As the years have passed by, I have realized that my mother, being the smart woman that she was made up this story, as she did with many of her lessons, to scare my siblings and I out of wanting to do many things, and in turn probably saving some money. I have learned that not ALL ice cream truck drivers are C.M.'s. However, there is still a part of me that gets chills every time I hear those soft little chimes echo through the neighborhoods. I still won't buy anything from an ice cream vendor, and I am here to heed a word of caution to each of you. Even though I am 99.99% sure that Deb Robbins made the story of her best friend Gina Supulvida getting kidnapped by an ice cream man, I want each of you to think twice before reaching your hand out to accept an ice cream sandwich or rainbow pop.

Have a safe and happy summer!!

The Dead Sea Sands

2008-05-16T22:27:00.002-07:00

Ok, I have to admit, I watch QVC, and HSN just like the rest of you. I've been known from time to time to buy a Magic Bullet, a state of the art vacuum, a Marie Osmond collector's doll. I'm not ashamed. I'm only a man and therefore weak. I am however very strong when it comes to bypassing all the kiosk vultures at your local mall. Tonight I let myself down. As I was en route to Dillard's to meet up with Suzie, I was sidelined by a very attractive woman of Israeli, middle eastern dissent. "May I bother you?' she said in her broken English and thick accent. "Have you heard of the Dead See?" "Yes" I said, "I've been there." Lie. "Then you know about the blah blah blah blah blah blah blah." I zoned out at this point. Why should I listen when I was in no way buying this shit? She then grabbed my hand and began spraying it and lathering it up with some oil, salt, crap. I begged for her to stop but she guaranteed me I would have hands as soft as a baby's butt. Let's stop here for a minute. You all know me for the most part, or have gotten to know me through this blog. I have strangers who happen to brush against my hands stop me to feel them. I have had women sit and stroke the palms of my hands for hours. I have THE softest hands and feet of anyone I know. This is nearly 28 years of absolutely NO manual labor, and I scrub them with Daily Microfoliant every day just to cover all my bases. And lotion, let's not even get into lotion. But I digress. At this point I'm up to my elbows in salt shit as they; yes it has turned into "they" now, are are throwing lotions and potions all over me explaining the medicinal, herbal, and biblical benefits of what they were doing. Oh Lord, what am I doing? I figure I could bring him into this since they were using him as a selling point. Well pretty soon she's putting all these things in a bag as another woman is hosing me off over a Tupperware bowl. "All of $90 but I like you so I give you a deal... $75." Right. "I can't afford that, I just need to buy some shoes for a wedding I have tomorrow." "Ok, I like you, " she continues. "I throw in one more jar of sea salts and give it to you for $60. You'll do it for $60." This was not a question, it was a statement. I tried and tried as I may to get out of there. I could feel the stares of the passers by thinking to themselves "you poor stupid schmuck." I even began to walk away and she just grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back. I was being held captive at the Dead Sea Salt kiosk. I had no where to run. As I handed over my credit card, they all began talking in a language I didn't understand. Terrorist. Finally, someone stupid enough to but their homemade shit that they pawn off as Dead Sea Salt. I was so embarrassed. Why couldn't I say no? I had been duked into it and I knew it. I found Suzie and Leslie and told them the story. Yes, they confirmed, schmuck. "Get a refund," Leslie suggested. No dice. They only offered exchanges, not refunds. Damnit, I had been foiled. I unhappily shopped for shoes knowing that the $70 I had just spent on salt should be going towards this fabulous pair of Cole Haan shoes I found. I needed that money back. Well my friends I marched my ever shrinking ass over that kiosk and told them that they had fooled me into buying it and I wanted my money back. "We don't do refund. You buy, you like." At this point in the evening I was supremely proud of myself and grateful for my ability to think quickly. "Look," I said, "I told you when I got here that I was here to buy shoes for a wedding I have tomorrow. I just went to go buy shoes and my card was declined because there wasn't enough money on it"... seriously though, you think I'm that whitetrash? Don't answer that AFCU... "the shoes are $69, just what I spent here... Again, Cole Haan, $69? Get real... "Now this comes down to an issue of want versus need. I want soft hands, but I NEED black shoes. I can't wear these kicks to a wedding tomorrow, " I said pointing to my plaid boat shoes. Apparently I have great taste in shoes... moving on... Trying to frighten me, she replied, "you will have to speak to the owner. "Put him on the phone." I said. A few "misdialed" attempts later I had some man on the phone claiming to be the owner. I relayed the entire conversation back to him. "I can't do refund," he said. I became unleashed. "Listen sir, when I purchased your product, your lovely clerk told me that she would give me such a great deal only if I promised to tell all my friends about your product. Let me make something every clear to you sir, if I don't get my money back in full, I will indeed tell all my friends about your product and I guarantee you won't like what I have to say. I will bury you. Are we on the same page?" "Thank you sir, we give you full refund", he replied. "No sir, thank you', I said, "it's been a pleasure doing business with you." Sometimes it pays to be an ass hole. You get soft hands, all your money back and a new pair of fabulous shoes. Everyone wins!

Election News

2008-05-16T08:30:00.001-07:00

Age should NOT be used as a discriminating factor in this year's election... unless you care about the future of your country...

It's go time!

2008-05-14T09:28:00.003-07:00

Piece of Advice

2008-05-10T23:35:00.003-07:00

Now I'm no expert on dating. I'm not even good at it. But I know a few things. One of those things I know is where you should and shouldn't meet a potential date. Sure there are those traditional places: coffee shops, grocery stores, the park, even the Internet. However, I've made a list of place NEVER to meet a date.

In no particular order:
1: Family reunions
This seems pretty self explanitory but some just don't seem to get it. Let me spell it out for you. If THEY are at YOUR family
reunion, they are your cousin, sister, dad, or grandpa. This is fine in some cities in Texas, but not in the People's Republic
of America. So as a general rule of thumb remember this basic equation: Reunion+CousinxDate=Retarded kids
2: Public park bathrooms
Chances are that if you meet someone hanging out in the public restroom you can also find them in two other places:
Dateline To Catch a Predator and the sex offender Web site.
3:The Health Department waiting room
From personal experience let me tell you this. If they are in the Health Department waiting room they're probably not doing
a school report on communicable diseases. No, they're there because they are one big communicable disease themselves.
Now this may be the hardest to resist. For the most part, if someone is there, they've obviously been laid and must
therefore be remotely attractive in some way. Hold out.
4: A.A.
They're there, they're drunk. You've already got enough problems trying to find a date, you want to compound it with this?
5: Maternity wards
Three words: Baby Mama Drama
6: The bar
I know I've just upset several people with this one. Let me explain. You're in a poorly lit, smokey room. You can't see far
enough in front of you to determine whether the person you're hitting on is attractive or not, or even a man or woman for
that matter. You're probably drunk, too. There is a BIG difference between drunk pretty and sober pretty. Drunk funny and
sober funny. You get the point. You've heard the phrase "Coyote Ugly"? It means you've gone to bed with someone while
you're so drunk that when you wake up in the morning you don't know who they are. They're sleeping on your arm and
they're so unattractive you'd rather chew your own arm off like a coyote rather than risk waking them up.

LOST

2008-05-08T21:57:00.001-07:00

I'm really enjoying this season of LOST. So many things are getting cleared up.

Life Lessons

2008-05-07T07:26:00.003-07:00

My friend Dal Miller is wise beyond his years. Many years ago he taught me two very important lessons that I have carried with me. Though these lessons are usually somewhere in the back of my mind, it's good to have a refresher course once in a while. As I was driving yesterday the fine motorist on the road did that for me.

LIFE LESSONS:
When you are driving, NEVER:
1: Eat
2: Pick your nose

Just because you are housed in your own little steal compartment doesn't mean people can't see you. On the contrary, we can see you, and you look like a slop. So wipe that secret sauce off the front of your blouse, put the burger down and focus on the damn road.

HOLLER!!

2008-05-05T08:18:00.003-07:00

Hi! Just wanted to give a shout out to all of my peeps who faithfully read about my over stimulating and fulfilling life on this blog. Especially my international peeps, my peeps at AFCU; put money in my account, and Jenny C. Payne. Remember to spread the good word! Man, I feel so cholo today!

Land of the Fat, Home of the Brave

2008-04-30T14:55:00.005-07:00

Our society is continually evolving with new social norms and levels of political acceptance. Some of them are positively ridiculous. One might, for example, be reprimanded for making fun of a handicapped person, frowned at for joking about homosexuals, or little people, sued for criticizing minorities. In our world of politeness and political correctness, we have padded every opportunity for offense or misconception; however, we have overlooked one group of people, the overweight.

Why is it still OK to make fat jokes? Why can we acceptably criticize their robust and excessive way of life? Like any other handicap, obesity COULD be a genetic disorder, and yet it is still socially acceptable to make fun of them.

As a society if we are going to demand sensitivity, understanding and compassion to everyone, we need to start practicing what we preach. We aren't dealing with a minority group anymore. The overweight and obese are now outnumbering and over-taking the rest of us, literally.

I wouldn't consider myself to be a fat person, but I have sympathy for those who do, having once had a good solid build myself. However, I still fall prey to the relentless torture. Recently I went shopping for a pair of jeans. After trying on a pair or two, the sales associate -- PC term for pimple-faced, high school drop-out, pee-on -- told me her store didn't carry clothes for someone like me. Someone like me? I felt like I had been dropped right back into the deep south of the 1960's Civil Rights era, with comments like "those people" and "your kind."

Someone like me? What did she mean by that? People with brown hair? People with green eyes? Democrats? Funny people? No, she clarified for me, someone with such an "athletic build." Before I go on, I commend her effort in trying to ease the pain; I hadn't heard "athletic build" before. Chubby, solid, big-boned, husky, even fat, but never athletically built. When I think athletically built, I think of Lance Armstrong, Michael Jordan, even Usher with his washboard abs, and the entire men's Olympic gymnastic team, but not me.

Imagine if an African American was told that; a gay man; a quadriplegic; a woman. That store would be slapped with a class-action lawsuit faster than the sales associate could fold another poorly made, third-world sweater. But the overweight are forced to take the insults and criticism. They are forced to shop at stores and departments with such alluring titles as big and tall, plus-sized, Mrs., tent and awning.

Let's be honest, what's the point of all this political correctness anyway? Is it supposed to make a sanitation engineer (janitor) feel better about getting paid $5.15 an hour? It seems everyone but the overweight has new and improved terms for jobs, lifestyles and titles. Mailman has been replaced with postal worker, stewardess with flight attendant, waitress and waiter with server. Actors and actresses are now being referred to as entertainers and artists. Someone with a disability is now deemed less-able or differently-abled. However, the fat are still just plain fat.

Efforts have been made to improve this. I remember horizontally challenged, and as I said before, solid, big-boned, barrel-chested -- the list goes on, but overall, the fat are still fat. And it's so hard to try and remember all the correct terms. Is it terrorist or foreign freedom fighter? I don't want to offend anyone. Is all this really necessary? Wouldn't it be easier to avoid all this confusion and just be nice to everyone like our female parental units taught us when we younger?

Has the Lime Light Dimmed?

2008-04-30T10:46:00.001-07:00

Andy Warhol once said "In the future each of us will be famous for 15 minutes." Did I waste mine on this...

http://www.abc4.com/mediacenter/local.aspx?videoId=61248

Beverage Management

2008-04-28T11:55:00.001-07:00

I have a lot to say, so sit back and enjoy the ride.

I would like to address a very serious topic that has affected me deeply this past weekend, twice: beverage management. I’m not talking about the art of mixing and developing tasty drinks. No, I’m talking about the issue of being able to properly handle one’s beverages. Some of you might be wondering what drunk spilled their drink on me. Oh no, I’m not even talking about the ability to hold one’s alcohol intake during times of intense intoxication. I’m talking about everyday control of the beverages we consume for hydration and pleasure, from alcohol, to soda, to water and everything in between.

Last Friday was like most Fridays before it, and like most likely those to follow. It had been a hellish week at work and I was looking forward to the weekend. I didn’t have any plans to speak of so I was excited when Taylor called and invited me to go to the movie with a few friends. As 5 o’clock came I knew in only two short hours I would be reclining in an unsanitary, lice ridden, fecal contaminated theater chair with a large delicious Diet Coke and my contraband snacks of Zone Bars and granola. I nearly became aroused by the sheer anticipation. I drove to the theater and spotted a primo parking spot. This was fantastic; could this evening get any better? I looked cute, I felt great, and I was excited to see my friends. No, I couldn’t imagine it could.

After a few inappropriate greetings and man handling of each other my friends and I settled into our seats. Even though “Baby Mama” had gotten bad reviews I was excited to see it. What a great movie! I even leaned over to Heather and told her I was sure I was laughing more embarrassingly loud than anyone else in the audience. I didn’t care; I was having a great time. Then it happened.

About half way through the movie the woman DIRECTLY behind me lost control of her faculties and consequently her drink. In one fail swoop she took what must have been the largest slug of Coke into her mouth and simultaneously experienced the biggest hiccup known to man because at that moment the contents of her mouth were now all over the back of my head. My first response, naturally, was to lunge forward and scream, “Holy shit!” My head was soaked. I had Coke dripping down my back and now into my pants. It was dripping off my hair into my ears; down my forehead and into my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I was drenched.

Well thankfully there were a few napkins around so I could dab my head off and wipe the Coke making its way down my back into my butt crack. However from there on out I was so sticky as it began to dry. Every time I moved my head I could feel the skin on my neck stick to itself. My fingers stuck together like the webbing had grown to my third knuckle. I could even feel it on my eyelids. Ugh!

The next day I was feeling especially ambitious. My trainer has put me on an intense new diet and workout this week. I was excited to get a start on it and see what my results would be. I worked my ass off. I was so sore and sweating like crazy. I wanted to go sit in the steam room and relax. I had deserved it. Back in the locker room I pulled on my shorts and slid into my flip flops. I grabbed my towel and water bottle and headed out.

When I entered the steam room there sat in front of me the largest man I’ve ever seen in person. He was one of those people who, without even knowing or trying, have noises coming from their body associated with every movement and bodily function; a grunt here, a moan there, a squish here, a crack there. I was sure he’d probably shit himself from sheer exertion and not even know it. Nonetheless, who was I to judge? I leaned back took a big gulp of water and tried to relax. But how could I relax when I kept hearing a damn clinking sound? What the hell was it? I opened one eye and peered around. Nothing. Position resumed, it started again. I knew it was coming from the big man, but wasn’t sure what part his body could make a noise like that. Then I saw it.

Instead of a traditional water bottle like most people bring to the gym, this man had opted instead for a two-quart Mason jar, brass lid, ring and all. What the hell?! The clinking was the glass as he set it down on the tile bench. Gross. He had obviously heard about the numbering system on water bottles and wanted to protect himself from any toxic poisoning by drinking out of glass containers. Yeah right! Again, who was I to judge? I do some damn weird things myself. I leaned back, set on enjoying my time. Then it happened.

As he picked up his jar to drink the combination of steam, water, condensation and slippery hands were all too much. Slip... CRASH! The Mason jar shattered into thousands of pieces on the steam room floor.

Luckily I had on my flip flops so I jumped over it and ran for help. I grabbed my towel and snagged a t-shirt from my locker and headed for the front desk. I’m sure I looked very appropriate. I said to the attendant that we had an issue in the steam room. I’m sure at first thought she imagined a violation of the “No Personal Hygiene” or “Swimsuits Required” rules. Maybe someone was engaging in “Lude Conduct”. Oh no I assured her, just shards of broken glass.

Well, I didn’t stick around to find out the outcome. I had had enough.

So there you have it. If you ever find yourself in a situation in which a drink has been placed in your care, take care of the damn thing. Don’t let your lack of control make others fall victim to your retardedness. Yes, I just made up that word, but I felt it was necessary. I’m tired of this selfish lack of control the rest of us have to pay for. Take responsibility people!

BLOG OF THE DAY: WARNING!!!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!!

2008-04-26T18:27:00.005-07:00

I know several of you are anxiously awaiting for my blog about the movie last night. It's coming but I found something MUCH more pressing. You should NOT be able to stumble across something like this on the Internet. This is NOT for the weak. Consider yourself warned. For those of you who dare, please feel free to check out today's "Blog of the Day".

http://itsallaboutthehat.blogspot.com/2008/03/baby.html

Heather McDonald, this one's for you...

2008-04-24T19:26:00.003-07:00

Hi Heather McDonald. I hope you've found your way to my blog. Please, feel free to browse around. Try a few things on. Take a few things home. My name is Nick, please let me know if there is anything I can do to assist you.

WTF?!

2008-04-24T19:22:00.001-07:00

I can't even concentrate enough to write anything. I'm still SHOKED from last night's Idol upset. I need to get over it and remember that eventually everyone will have to leave... Everyone but David Archuleta that is. I did my part to keep him on; 68 votes. What did you do? Think about what's really important to you...

New Feature

2008-04-23T11:36:00.002-07:00

Please be sure to take a look at the newest feature on my blog, "Blog of the Day". It will be a blog that has caught my interest, tickled my fancy, annoyed the hell out of me, captured my attention or turned me on in some inappropriate way. Enjoy!

Back by Popular Demand

2008-04-21T15:16:00.002-07:00

I have had a few requests as of late for a re-print of my holiday newsletter from this year. To those of you who have never had the privilege of reading it, I hope you enjoy it. And to those of you who are coming back to it for a second, third, maybe even fourth time, I hope it's as enjoyable as the first...

Seasons Greetings Friends and Family:

Due to the effect paper waste has on global warming, and the increased cost raping from the United States Postal Service, I have decided to send out my first annual holiday update letter via email.

This has been a very busy year for me. Mom's still dead, and I’m still taking obscene amounts of anti-depressants. This summer I moved into a new apartment. I'm getting a really good deal on it because the previous tenant was cooking meth in the kitchen. The frequent nose bleeds and nauseating headaches are a small price to pay for the money I'm saving. Some might call it small and dank, I say it's cozy, and has lots of character.

With all the construction happening on campus, I've had to replace all 4 tires on my car twice in 6 months. I just love the way my car drives when the traction is so fresh. I continue to work my ass off at The University of Utah; give them a $60,000 job for $30,000; and my debt continues to pile up. My monthly take-home is just enough to keep me right above the poverty line. However, due to the 3% rise in the cost of living documented by the state I hope I'll qualify for WIC this year. Keep your fingers crossed!

There were two shooting on my street this summer. Everyone was ordered to stay inside their homes until the SWAT Team took the shooter out. I enjoyed my time inside by setting mouse traps, taping cracked windows and vacuuming up lead paint chips. You know how I love a clean house. Even through all this senseless violence there seems to always be a silver lining. I now feel so blessed to have a police officer on constant patrol in my neighborhood. He's always there to wake up the bums, stop drug deals, and take the shopping carts back to Smith's.

My weight has fluctuated up and down all summer due to poor eating, periodic bouts of seasonal depression, and excessive drinking; I’ve now spent upwards of $3000 on my trainer. What a guy!

Everyone I've dated this year has turned out to be fucking nuts, and I'm still single. Besides my elicit online relationships, inappropriate crushes of close friends, casual gym hook-ups, and one platonic love affair, I have absolutely no prospects on the horizon. I’ve become efficient in restraining order protocol and talking people through suicide attempts: invaluable skills. Through this I’ve learned so much about myself and wouldn't trade those experiences for the world.

As you can see, I've had a rich and fulfilling year: full of exciting ups and downs. I can't imagine that 2008 could get much better. I hope the season finds you and your family less destitute and personally destructive as mine has been, and that your New Year is as enriching as I hope mine to be!

God Bless, and keep in touch!
-Nick

First Day Back

2008-04-21T11:09:00.002-07:00

bnhhjghyhuryhwrhS?DNGKask .sdakfldKzxd.dZ L.Iehneiorghsrghnwrgij ij j.nhusg sdgiowt4o8iwtuhs ioe uisrrg juifuiuhj

That was me pounding my head on my keyboard. I'm back at work for the first time in over two weeks. I've already had three Diet Cokes. They only thing that's getting me through the day is listening to my collection of David Archuleta iTune tracks and knowing that I look super cute today. I wore my new jeans... you know, the $200 pair. I LOVE THEM!!!

Tag, You're it

2008-04-20T21:40:00.003-07:00

It's 10:30 and I'm just enjoying reading what all my friends have to say in their blogs. I pulled this tag from Bret. On a side note I want to say that I am very proud of Bret for running a half marathon. Bravo, bravo, bravo. I am standing and applauding you right now, which is slightly awkward because I'm naked in front of my large picture window that looks directly into my neighbor Marsha's living room where she is watching TV. Hey Marsha!

A- Attached or single: I am single. Don’t pity me.
B- Best Friend: Can I change this to “FRIENDS” ? Does everyone know the Gang? We are exclusive and elitists.
C- Cake or Pie: I love cake. I love Costco cake. I love cake.
D- Day of the Week: Saturday. Nothing like doing nothing
E- Essential item(s): Burt’s Bees, sunglasses, Dermologica, the gym
F- Favorite Color: My favorite color is red, but I don’t wear much red. I wear a lot of blue, brown, and black. I look best in those. You’d think I’d pick one of those colors
G- Gummy Bears or worms: Worms. More gummy for your buck
H- Hometown: SYRACUSE!!! NOT Clearfield. There IS a difference.
I- Indulgences: Would I put masturbating here or under essential items?
 J- January or July: July, I love the heat. This also brings on a condo trip to the George.
K- Kids: I don’t like kids, kids don’t like me. We’re like oil and water. Mosquitoes and OFF. Nicholas Cage and talent. We just don’t go together... I'm kidding! I'm going to be an excellent dad!
L- Life is incomplete without: Sleep, long showers, vacations, laughing
M- Marriage date: I’ve taken the same stand Brad and Angelina have taken. And until Bret can get married I can’t get married. None of you should vote Republican.
 N- Number of siblings: 1 brother, 1 sister. They’re the best.
O- Oranges or apples: Apples, I love everything about apples. I love the way they look, I love the way they taste, I love that they are portable, I love that they are healthy, I love that they are versatile, but they give me gas so I eat oranges, too.
 P- Phobias or Fears: Not living my dream.  
Q- Quotes: “You can’t live your life waiting for things to happen. You have to make them happen” kenrobbins. Yes, once in a while he shocks the hell out of me.
R- Reason(s) to smile: Well, I’m pretty damn funny so that’s one reason. Good friends, great jokes, being healthy
S- Season: SUMMER. I love hot, hot summers!
T- Tag seven: Anyone who hasn't yet been tagged with this one and needs some new blog material (Bret copied that answer straight from Annie, and I copied it from him)
 U- Unknown fact about me: I'm third Generation African American.  
V- Vegetarian or meat lover: I am a carnivore... for now
W- Worst habit: I pick and bite at my nails until they hurt so bad they are throbbing and swelling. In any other context, those adjectives are usually turn on’s for me.
X- X-rays or ultrasounds: I think this is the stupidest question I’ve ever heard
Y- Your favorite food: This is a little weird, I know… meat loaf… 
Z- Zodiac: Virgo. That means I’m a virgin and I’m perfect

5th Wheel

2008-04-20T18:17:00.003-07:00

Friday night was Lel's birthday party. It was spectacular. I was jealous of her presents and her cake. It's just how I am. Well, beyond that I had a fabulous time.

After the party I really wanted to go to the movie. Having been on the road for nearly a month I needed to get caught up on my cinema. "Smart People" looked particularly good. On a side note I liked this movie. I'm not going to go as far as to say that I LOVED this movie. However it falls into the category of movies that are real and slightly awkward to watch because I can relate and actually believe and can see actually happening. Some of my favorites in the category are "The Family Stone", "Juno", "Dan in Real Life". But I digress. So no one wanted to go because everyone was getting up early to run some damn marathon or something. Whatever. Well as it turned out, Paige P. and Ryan Phippen-Alhstrom and Rob and Nat were all going to the movie. Two couples enjoying each other's company for a weekend showing. Well, after hearing my sad sob story, and being the kind friends that they are, they invited me to tag along. I was slightly horrified at the thought of being the 5th wheel in this situation. Of course I said no. I have a reputation to uphold. But after only slight coaxing I gave in and decided to join in on the fun.

Well I must say I had a great time. I mean, it's not like there was a lot of talking happening during the movies, but it was great. I was very excited to see that there will be a sequel of "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" coming out this summer. Advanced ticket sales being on May 22nd. Watch for me in my American Ferrera costume in my tent in front of the theater.

So after al was said and done I want to thank Ryan and Paige and Rob and Nat for letting me hang out with them. I had a great time. I must say, I have THE BEST friends in the world. Don't believe me, read their blogs, they're almost as funny as I am.

Love you guys!

The Homeless

2008-04-19T17:38:00.002-07:00

The homeless of California are a cut above the rest. This week while I was in San Diego I had a homeless man stop me on the street. He then proceeded to ask the person he was talking to on his cell phone to hold on so he could ask me for some change to get some food. FANTASTIC!!!

Then, while I was in San Francisco I had another homeless man approach me for some change. I told him that I didn't carry cash but that I had some food with me. I pulled out a Zone Bar, a granola bar, an orange and a bottled water. He took one look my my very well balanced meal, raised his eyebrow and said, "no thanks".

What the hell is wrong with these people?! I then found out that the city of San Francisco spends an average of about $80,000 annually per homeless person. $80,000!? That's over double what I make. I'm quitting my job, learning to play an instrument and moving to San Francisco!

POPE WATCH: 2008

2008-04-17T19:48:00.005-07:00

So apparently EVERYONE on God's green earth is more fascinated with the Pope than I am. I am SOO tired of the news being occupied by his every move. I don't tune into my hard news sources, Mary Hart and Mark Steines, only to get celebrities' thoughts on him. I want to hear what my little hot mess Brittney is doing. I want to see J.Lo's ugly ass twins. I want to watch Marlee Maitlin give yet another awkward interview. I want to know what Suri Cruise's new favorite resturaunt is. I want to know if Victoria Beckham's head has exploded yet. I don't like mixing religion with entertainment; Tom Cruise. However, I like to think that I'm in touch with the public's popular sentiment of the moment and so I will dedicate a portion of "The Life and Times of Nick" to keeping you up to date of the Pope's EVERY move. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you "POPE WATCH: 2008" (Cue "Law and Order" Music)

POPE WATCH 0419081220:This afternoon the Pope was spotted on the Santa Monica Pier recklessly driving a rented Segway Scooter. Controversy is swirling as the Pope was seen without his traditional papal regalia. The Vatican has declined to return any calls to neither confirm nor deny these rumors. Witnesses said His Holiness rushed from hot dog stand to hot dog stand. One local vendor claimed Benedict requested that he "make his one with everything". Catholics everywhere are shocked at these allegations particularly because lately rumors have been swirling lately that the Pope has been seen with a Kabbalah bracelet and a copy of The Pali Canon.

The Pope... Big Woop!

2008-04-16T17:13:00.003-07:00

So the Pope's in America for his birthday. Unless he's planning on partying with Paris, there is no reason for him to come to America for his big day. Anyway, he's here. Big deal. However, the best thing to come with the Pope is his car. The "Popemobile" if you will. It's FANTASTIC! I want one!

I Have a Dream!

2008-04-16T16:57:00.003-07:00

Being the self-absorbed, self-congratulatory, and egotistical person I am, I have dreamed a very special dream... for myself. I dream of a day when I'm a full fledged celebrity where everyone takes my picture, asks for my autograph, and comes to my blog to see what I have to say and what I'm doing. Well, that's not going to happen anytime soon so in the mean time I will settle for being a less ridiculous, less pathetic, less fairy-like, less vindictive, but a funnier, more talented, more attractive version of Perez Hilton. However, in order to do so I have to have a large readership. I'm very thankful to all of my faithful readers, and now I need your help. I need your help in spreading the word. The "Good Word" if you will. I want to try this little test to see how many regular hits I can get and from where they're coming from. So go to work my little minions. I know you all have Myspace, Facebook, and Friendster accounts where you can post and spread the word. I know you have millions of friends, who have friends, who have friends, who have friends, who... well, you get the picture. Seriously though. Did you see the blog that was voted "Best Blog" in Salt Lake City by City Weekly? It was a pathetic attempt to be cleaver and funny. It wasn't. I can beat it. I know I can. I have a dream! Again, I know this is totally selfish and personally lucrative to my ego, but I can't do it without you. Together we can make the world a brighter place!

I'll Go Ahead and Die Now!

2008-04-15T10:50:00.002-07:00

The last 24-hours of my life have been FANTASTIC! Let’s begin with the fact that I was done with work by 11:30am. That’s pretty damn good in and of itself. Stop right there and I'd be a happy, happy boy. But no, it gets better, MUCH better. I headed from the fair and realized I did forget to change my clothes. Not a problem. I’m a very adaptable person so I had to do that in the Civic. A little easier said then done, but done nonetheless. But have you ever tried to slide your pants down in the front seat of a compact? Don't answer that. Once I had my cute new jeans on... see previous posts to know what I'm talking about... I had a delicious lunch at Toast. Toast is one of my favorite restaurants in LA. If you're ever in LA, you have to go there. The grilled cheese is the closest thing you'll have to an orgasm without actually having an orgasm or eating a Sprinkles cupcake, but we'll get to that. Seriously! From there I bolted across the city to... wait for it... a taping of Chelsea Lately... Take a moment and catch your breath. It was spectacular. I laughed my ass off; right off. She was of course amazing, but she also had my favorite round table participant, Heather McDonald. She was funny as hell! Several times I'm pretty sure I laughed louder than anyone in the audience. Well, except for Kate, you can’t compete with that, have you heard the laugh from hell? Love ya Kate! I'm pretty sure Chelsea has the best gig in town. Getting paid, and paid well, to make people laugh. I want that! I apparently got in the wrong line when they were handing out jobs. One day my friends, one day! Mark my word! When we left the studio, we saw Heather McDonald in the parking lot and she totally offered to take pictures with us. We also noticed that Chuy's car was parked right there. His cute little Yaris that Chelsea pimped out with her picture and spinners on the wheels. I'm pretty sure I weigh more than that car. It was brilliant! I totally got my picture with it. Then, as if that wasn't good enough, Chelsea's make-up artist came out and told us that she'd call Chuy and have him come out and hang out with us. Hello Moto, I pretty much felt like a celebrity myself at this point. I could hardly wait to meet him. I seriously jumped up and down like a little girl when that Little Nugget came out. He gave us signed photos and took pictures with us and his car. He was great! He's much shorter than I thought he'd be. I don't even think he came to my waist. Hmm.. I can't wait to post my pics. Don’t hold your breath for that, I still don’t know how to use my camera. Ok, this was one of the brightest moments in my life. Run me over with a car, I'm done and can die happy. However, it gets EVEN better. I realized I was only a few short blocks from Rodeo Drive. Now I don't particularly care about Rodeo Drive because I can't afford anything there. HOWEVER, just around the corner is my all time favorite bakery... SPRINKLES!!!! Ok, if you haven't experienced a Sprinkles cupcake, I pity your pathetic life. These cupcakes are indescribable by words. Only closing my eyes and uttering a soft moan will give you even an inkling of how good these are. Imagine your favorite thing; anything, then times that by 10 and add frosting. That's still not enough to describe how good these are. I ate two of them, which if you’ve seen them know that this is sugar and carb overload. I balanced it off with a Diet Coke. I was bloated and happy and just sat there on Santa Monica Blvd baking in the warm sun. Ah sweet gluttony! I'm drooling agin. I need to go so I can get another before I head north. Later fools! Mmmm!

Last Post

2008-04-11T17:04:00.004-07:00

This could very well be my last post. The chances that I die from a blood disease like lock jaw, Lou Gehrrig's Disease or some other debilitating parasitic intruder are very real. I was standing in line today at the San Diego Airport checkpoint. Minding my business, trying not to think about all the bacteria that was making its way up my leg from the disease ridden floor through my bare feet, I moved closer and closer to the metal detector as each passenger filed through like little soldiers complying with TSA ridiculous rules. Ultimately I am grateful for the added security, don't get me wrong. I digress. Finally, I was there and I could see C.P.K. in my vantage point. I was starving. "Next Please", I hear. I take one step into the metal detector and BAM! A sharp pain shoots through my foot and up into my leg. I lift my foot to see a nail sticking properly out of my foot. WTF?! The ONE nail in the ENTIRE San Diego Airport and it has to find its way into my foot. Blood is now dripping onto the floor. This pretty much rocks. As I continue to bleed out all over the tiles... Ok, I exaggerate just a little... a supervisor is rushed over to inspect the situation. The color has now left my face and the terminal is spinning, tetanus pulsing through my veins. Not really, but my foot hurt really bad. The weapon was placed into a small Ziploc baggy and labeled with TSA codes and symbols. I imagine it meant "Potential Weapons of Mass Destruction". Ushered to the first aid clinic (a folding chair in the corner) my battle wound was swapped and bandaged. Off I went, now with a slight limp to my step. A constant reminder of my past.

As I sit with my pizza and Diet Coke I being to think about the sacrifice I have made. I know a terrorist brought that into the airport with every intention of using that nail to it's fullest lethal capacity but upon seeing our boys in blue dropped it. I ask that no special attention be made to my selfless act. The sacrifice I made and the bodily injury I incurred to keep our country safe. It is through sacrifices like this that keep another 9/11 at bay.

You're welcome.

Quote of the Day

2008-04-11T00:02:00.002-07:00

"Beer isn't what makes the world go 'round but it sure does make the ride fun."

Raindrops on Roses

2008-04-10T23:42:00.002-07:00

I'm back! I haven't much free time this week and the time I have had I've been spending out and about exploring. I brought my new camera with me with every intention to photo document my trip but I keep forgetting about it and it's also a little awkward asking total strangers to take my picture in front of ridiculous things as I make even more ridiculous faces and poses. I'll work something out. I have had a great time in The OC this week. I just want to mention a few of my favorite things:

1: The homeless man who asked me for spare change while he was talking on his cell phone
2: The AMAZING hotels I've been staying in. I've got some pics. Just you wait
3: Um... The weather? Need I say more?
4: My new jeans. I spent more on two pairs of jeans then I pay for rent.
5: Ghirardelli chocolates and ice cream sundaes
6: Turn down service with chocolates on my pillows. Note to anyone staying in a hotel with turn down service that leaves chocolates on the pillows and you aren't expecting it and go to bed without eating them, don't be surprised in the morning when you wake up and think you've shit the bed, it's just chocolate... I know from personal experience.
7: Gold elite status at Marriott hotels
8: The ocean. It does stink now and again when the wind blows, but so do some people I know and I still love them equally.
9: My two hour drive to LA just to get a cupcake at Sprinkles
10: Then my jont over to the Ivy for lunch where I kept my hat and big aviators on and the paparazzi took my picture thinking I was famous. It was great until they realized I was a nobody. Oh hell, was the my 15 minutes and I wasted it?
11: The "Lazy Girls" strip club. Yes, "Lazy Girls", not "Crazy Girls". I wanted to go in just to see how lazy strippers perform. I can only imagine them sitting on a chair slumped over with their legs open yawning and pointing to their mouth and saying "just make it quick".

Well folks. That's all for now. I'll keep you posted.

This is the life!

2008-04-06T17:27:00.002-07:00

As I write this blog I'm sitting at my desk in front of a floor to ceiling window looking out over beautiful San Diego and the hotel pool. It's 5:25 pm local time and it's still warm enough for people to be in the pool. Now granted, it's Sunday and I DID have to work. But really, I worked for 5 hours in the mid-afternoon when I'd probably just be laying on the sofa in my underwear anyway. The room I'm in is beautiful. It has a living room/ desk are. Adjacent to that is a small kitchenette. Through the french doors to the right is the bedroom and to the right of that is the bathroom that can be accessed from the bedroom or living room. This place is nicer than my house. I'm too serene to be funny. I think I'll go find an outdoor restaurant and eat something from the sea. Mmm...I don't have to work tomorrow, so I will be tanning all day. Please feel free to call or text me and let me know how your life is going.
P.S. I also found a Bloomingdales down the street. Jackpot!

CALIFORNIA!!!!

2008-04-04T11:00:00.002-07:00

In T- minus 21 hours I will be on a beach in San Diego. This will bring me one step closer to being the bronzed god I dream of being. That's all. I'm so excited I could pee my pants. I'll refrain.

Dating...

2008-04-03T22:33:00.003-07:00

I try to convince myself that I enjoy dating as much as the next guy. However as of late I came to the conclusion that I'm not cut out to be in a relationship. I'd tried to convince myself that when the right person came along I would want to be in a relationship and settle down for time and all... well at least until something better came along. Anyway. Then I realized that I have had plenty of opportunities to be in a relationship with otherwise very normal, attractive, successful, interested in me people. But then for some reason I would screw it up. I was subconsciously sabotaging my own potential relationships. That's when I realized that I only thought I was a relationship guy because I thought that's what I was supposed to be. Problem solved. I could continue on with my merry, anonymously sexual active lifestyle. I was very satisfied with the way I thought my life was going to go. Then I began thinking and that always gets me in trouble. I began thinking about these "otherwise normal... people" and began to wonder if they were in fact really THAT normal. I've now complied a list of the problems I found in potential love interests. Please look over this list and tell me if my concerns have been legitimate, or if in fact I am overreacting and therefore sabotaging my love life and am therefore not cut out to be in a relationship. These are just a few of my favorites:

1: I want to sleep with everyone
2: I want to sleep with everyone BUT Nick
3: I wear eyeliner
4: I drink my meals
5: I'll kill myself if you won't love me the way I love you
6: I have a boyfriend
7: I've known you for 2 days, we've only conversed over text message and I want to tell you everything about my life and spend every waking hour with you and take you home to meet my mom. Wait, my mom hates me, can we talk about that too?
8: You think the VISIBLE piercings are cool...
9: Hi my name is... oh sorry that damn sequent purse falls out every time I open my mouth
10: I hate people
11: I'm married
12: I'm moving across the country
13: I'm 32, only 5 more semesters and I'll almost have my Associates Degree
14: I'm 17
15: I found you on myspace and sent you obscene pictures of myself
16: Yeah... um... I think I might have Ghonnera
17: No hablo English
18: Nick, you're so great. You're just like the brother I never had... (Nick thinks: "Do you by chance ever make out with your brother?")
19: I slept with your ex. Twice.
20: I want to be in a relationship, I'm just too f***ed up.

The list can go on and on and on. Oddly enough the most normal relationship I've had lately is with a BYU freshman... I hope that doesn't say something about my maturity level.

Things That Make You Go Hmm...

2008-04-03T22:29:00.002-07:00

Why are there handicap parking stalls at the skating rink?

Kids These Days

2008-04-03T12:32:00.000-07:00

This morning on the Toady Show my dear Anne Curry reported that a group of 8-10-year-olds conspired to attack their teacher with knives and a paper weight. Assault charges have been filed against the children. What is the wrong with kids these days? Paper weights?

Still in a Deep Dark Depression

2008-04-02T08:04:00.001-07:00

Grant Wayment: "Hello from the Live 5 Weather Porch. Today won't be as cold as yesterday, but still below the average for April." How is that supposed to make me feel better?

TV Comebacks

2008-04-01T21:41:00.007-07:00

Are there no new ideas left in the entertainment industry? I'm disgusted and sickened by what's happening. I received two pieces of unfortunate news today. Let's talk.

1: Kathy Lee Gifford is coming back to television. The Today Show is creating a 4th hour and Kathy Lee Gifford is hosting. WTF?! Kathy Lee Gifford? Didn't Regis dispose of her already? What happened, are Cody and Cassidy all grown up and she has nothing to do with her time? Has Frank taken on a new lover and wants her out of the house? Has the Fun Ship Cruise sunk? A 4th hour? Is the programming at NBC SOOOO bad they have to bring this on? Have the Today Show's rating slumped so low with the departure of Kati Curic that they have resorted to bringing back this red-headed PTL'er (Praise the Lord)? Are the bitches on ABC's the View doing SO well NBC feels compelled to bring on it's on crazy broad to compete during that time slot? We only need one crazy ass red head in the late morning and I think Joy Behar does a fine job. Isn't there enough crime and torture in the world to put this on us? Never in my life have I been so grateful for my job. So grateful that from 10-11 I will be working and NOT watching her. I hope they stream online.

2: They are REMAKING 90210? Remaking? Are you kidding me? The original hasn't been off the air for even a decade and they're remaking it? And it's not like it's 90210 the Next Generation or 90210 Grows Up. No, it's just a plain old remake of 90210. The Walsh's move from small town Minnesota to big Beverly Hills and all hell and sex breaks lose. Been there. Done that. Wait to remake the show when it's been off for at least 20 years. And then, remake it as a cheesy movie spoof like they've done with every other Aaron Spelling show. I have nothing good to say about this. I am more excited about Kathy Lee Gifford coming back to TV. You can't remake a classic like this. It would be like remaking Friends or Cheers. I know, let's remake The Cosby Show. I think that Steve Carrell would make a great Cliff Huxtable. Yeah, it's that bad.

David Archuleta

2008-04-01T15:31:00.002-07:00

Tonight is Dolly Parton night on Idol. An insider source tells me that David Archuleta will be sings "Tennessee Mountain Memories". I'm praying for two things: 1: That he kicks it in the ass. 2: Dolly is the celebrity judge. It would be like Christmas for me... A Hard Candy Christmas if you will.

P.S. My office smells like lunchmeat.

Lamb my ass

2008-03-31T14:57:00.001-07:00

Who was it came up with the saying "In like a lion, out like a lamb"? I'd like to put my foot in their face.

L.P.

2008-03-28T09:32:00.002-07:00

There are few things that I ABSOLUTELY LOVE in this world. One of them are L.P.'s. It's more of a love/fear relationship. Like the relationship I have with lions at the zoo. I think they're great to look at from a distance, behind a cage, or on the Discovery Channel. But if faced with one in real life I'd run like hell!!! In the span of less than seven days I have seen two L.P.'s. The first one I saw was at the St. Jorge Gold's Gym. He was dressed in a one-piece wrestling jumpsuit. The other was at CostCo. His name is Phil.

Which Came First?

2008-03-28T09:27:00.004-07:00

At this time of year of eggs and chickens and re-birth I'd like you to ponder the question of which came first, the weight problem or the Jazzy Scooter?

Karma

2008-03-25T15:46:00.002-07:00

I love Wal-Mart. It's a Mecca and a breeding ground for all the degenerates and cast offs of society. I feel supremely comfortable there. Because of its everyday low prices, Wal-Mart is also a wonderful place for low-income families and the elderly to stock up. I fall into the low-income bracket.

In addition to loving Wal-Mart I also love apples. I love eating them, I love having a big bowl of them on my counter, and I love their portability and accessibility. I love everything about apples. Last night I was running low on apples. I remembered this while I was out running errands and decided that since I was in the neighborhood, I would just run into the Wal-Mart, grab a bag and be on my way.

Last night the parking lot gods were looking out for me as I pulled into a stall one away from the handicap spots. Those are the golden ticket of parking stalls. Very little walking and physical exertion involved. I put all valuables out of eye site, set CT's alarm, and headed into the store. I then heard: Excuse me sir, could you do me a favor? I couldn't see where the voice came from. I then saw a small old woman sitting in her car poking her head out the door. "Could you help me get my wheelchair out? It's in my trunk and I'll fall if I try myself." How the hell did you get it in there in the first place, I thought. Nonetheless, it's my Boy Scout duty to help her. I grab the chair, help her out of her car, and into the chair. Good deed done. Apples!

Back on my way I again hear "Excuse me, young man?" I spin around and see yet another old woman in her car peering out over the window. "I saw you help that other woman and I was wondering if you could help me get my walker out of the back set of my car." "Sure thing", I said. I was feeling especially helpful now. Into her backseat I crawled to fetch the walker. I set it up, replaced the tennis ball on the rubber stopper, patted her on the bum and send her on her way. Apples!

With the doors in sight I aim for the door. "Not so fast" fate tells me. "Excuse me young man? I saw how helpful you were with those other ladies, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me a push into the store? There's a slight hill and I'm just not strong enough to make it." Holy crap! Are they having a sale on Depends and yarn at the Wal-Mart today? Honestly! "Of course I can" I reply. "Could you grab my purse, too" she says.

So there I am, in the granny parade. One wheelchair, a walker, and me, purse in hand. It was like the 4th of July without the parade.

I did get my apples and I felt like a good person for helping out the little old ladies of the west side. And now I want my good karma to come back around for me.

If anyone is interested, I'd like my karma to come in the form of cash, new jeans, six-pack abs, a boat, and an all-expense paid trip to Europe.

I apologize

2008-03-24T10:06:00.003-07:00

I must apologize to anyone and everyone who reads my blog. After careful inspection I have realized that in the heat of the moment, and the rush of passion I have about my blog topics I tend to leave words and punctuation out. I hope you still get the full effect of what I'm trying to say. If not, bugger off. Find a new blog to criticize!

Mesquite Sucks My Ass... And Not In The Good Way

2008-03-24T08:22:00.002-07:00

So I decided that I needed a vacation in the worst way possible. I left the Great Valley of Salt Wednesday afternoon for a VERY long weekend of RR&R; Rest, Relaxation and Random Sex. With CT loaded and ready I headed to Utah's Dixie, Mesquite and Vegas. Ah! The Warmth! The first four days were wonderful. I did nothing but lay by the pool, go to the gym, gamble, watch TV, and eat out; at restaurants. This was the life I was meant to live. I'm not cut out for the working force. I have no qualitative transferrable skills except for those activities listed above as well as being funny, having an acute sense of style, and adding to the aesthetic of any photo. I also do a mean karaoke. Ready to call in sick to my life I settled down for the final evening in my ideal world. I took out my contacts, got undressed, put in a movie and popped a handful of mystery pills... bliss. I blacked out soon thereafter and at about 12am gained coherent consciousness because of the incessant rattling that was coming from my cheaply build aluminum window. This wasn't just a slight rattle that you'd get if the wind were blowing; I'll get to that in a minute, this was a steady on and off rattling. More on than off. After 15 minutes or so of complete disturbance I decided it was time to call maintenance. Here's how the conversation panned out:
Operator: Hello maintenance
Nick: Yes, my window is rattling pretty hard and I was wondering if there was some sort of construction in the building or anything that would cause it to do this.
O: Well, it IS pretty windy outside.
N: I'm standing AT the window, it's not windy outside. This isn't a sporadic rattling it's timed with near perfect intervals. If it is wind that's some pretty amazing wind.
O: Well I don't know
N: Can I change rooms?
O: No sir, we're completely booked tonight
N: That's funny, because I was just over near room 3224 and it was empty. Has been all weekend.
O: Let me check on that... Yes, 3224 is empty. We have a handful of rooms we keep empty in case we have unexpected guests check in.
N: Really? Well why don't you give me that room and let the unexpected guests move into this piece of shit room. That's the least you can do since I've been here since Wednesday.
O: I can't do that sir
N: Why?
O: I'm not authorized to do that sir
N: Get someone on the phone who IS authorized to do that then
O: There isn't anyone here who is authorized to do that sir
N: Really, then who was going to check in the unexpected guests when they arrived
O: Is there anything else I can help you with sir?
N: No, you're useless

I hung up the phone even more irritated than I was when this whole fiasco started. I crammed one pillow under my head and the other over my head to try and muffle the sound. It was no use, sleep was going to come easily to me. I finally began to doze off at around 1am. I was then abruptly woken up by someone pounding on my door. "Maintenance". I scrambled for some pants and let him in

Maintenance: You called about a broken window?
Nick: It's not broken, it's just rattling very loudly and I can't sleep. I don't know if there's some sort of machine running or construction somewhere in the building but I can't sleep with this.
M: Let me look
(opening drapes, hitting window, tightening screws, shaking window, pounding wall (mind you he probably gets paid more than me to do this song and dance bullshit dog and pony show) standing back...)
M: That should do the trick
(Window starts to rattle again)
N: See, that's what it's been doing all night. Give it a second and it will stop and start again like clockwork.
(Rattling stops, rattling starts)
M: Oh yeah, that is bad, I can see why you can't sleep
N: So what can you do about it?
M: I can give someone a call in the morning
N: I'm checking out in the morning
M: I hope you've had a good trip
N: No
M: Well, I'll let the front desk know to call someone in the morning. Good night
N: I hate you (ok, I added that one, but I was thinking it)

Back to bed I went and assumed the position; not THAT position. I think I finally fell asleep somewhere between 1:30 and 2:30 am.

In the meantime I'd turned on the fan to try and muffle out the sound of the rattling. That was a bad idea because around 4am I woke up nearly frozen to death. I threw on a pair of pajama bottoms and a hoodie; there was no way in hell I was going to wrap up in the hotel comforter, I've seen Dateline, those things are covered in seminal fluid. Back to bed. Rattling continues. Sleep evades me for an other hour or so... I'm trying to cut this short cause it get's better... Fast forward 6am. It's Gymboree Time!!! The little bastard upstairs wakes up and is apparently placed in a dog pen style cage that covers the length of the room in which he is hooked up to a harness which pulls him back and forth across the room and pull speed toddler pace so he can get in his morning exercise. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. At this point I was wishing the window was still rattling. I got up and pounded the ceiling; twice. Nothing. Not even the obligatory "No more running Junior". Nothing. I lied back down hoping for something, and boy did I get something. Well, not me specifically, but the woman in the room next to me. She apparently got it, and got it good. At least that's what she made it sound like. Rock on. At this point with Little Junior upstairs prepping for the Olympics, and the neighbors making their own little junior in their sexual Olympics, I called it a night. I grabbed my towel, a bowl of cereal and headed for the pool. I sat there with my iPod dozing off here and there until 9am rolled around and all the cute little families and their pastel clothed ankle bitters filled the hotel lawn in search of Easter eggs. I packed up and headed home. I hate Easter.

Super Tuesday

2008-03-17T21:02:00.002-07:00

Being the politically savvy sort that I am, I wanted to remind everyone to vote in the upcoming election. Not only do I want you to vote, but I want to encourage you to vote for a particular candidate. I try not to talk about politics with friends or force my views on anyone but I feel very strongly about this. I think it's important I finally voice my opinion. I want you to vote for the candidate who can unite our nation. The candidate that can bring peace to the Middle East. The candidate that can end the recession. The candidate that can create a fair and equal health care system. The candidate that will help create a society where we are free to love whom we please. The candidate that has ALL your best interest in mind. Really think about what your best interests are... Got it? Good. I think we all know the candidate that I speak of... David Archuleta... Tuesday will bring week two of the American Idol finals into our living rooms and our boy David needs your support. We can't have another Reuben Stoddard, Taylor Hicks upset. This country can't handle another downfall like that. We've already had two Bush's in the White House. This will break the fabric of our society. Now I know as a fickle viewing audience that one small slip up like last week's forgetting of the lyrics may make you start consider Brooke Young or David Cook, both fine candidates, but I want you to really think about who's has consistently been there for you. It certainly hasn't been Amanda Overmeyer, or Michael Johns. Sure, she may sound like Janis Joplin and makes me want to take up smoking and the guitar. And I know that Aussie accent of his makes us all a little weak in the knees, but we only need one Hugh Jackma. You have the right you make your own decision. But that decision should be David Archuleta. Don't listen to me. Don't listen to Randy or Simon, and certainly not Paula, she's drunk 95% of the time anyway. If we listened to them Jason Castro. And he doesn't have time for you. Hell, he doesn't even have time to wash his own hair. Is that who you want representing America? I can see it now, Jason Castro, American Idol, and Kristen Haglund, Miss America. That's right, I said it. Kristen Hagland. She stole that title right out from under Miss Wisconsin, Christina Thompson. Don't tell me her damn "vocal performance" beat out a classically trained violinist. She only won that thing because she overcame an "eating disorder" when she was 16. Hell, I overcome a new eating disorder every other week. Where's my sash and crown? But I digress. Listen to your heart and if you listen carefully I bet your heart is telling you to vote for David Archuleta. And if it isn't? Well keep listening until it is, then vote for him. And vote for him in the meantime while your waiting. I'm not just telling you to do this because he's a local kid like I did when I endorsed Marie Osmond for Dancing With The Stars; but I still think she WAS the best and should have won, and Mel B is a whore, I'm telling you to vote for him because he's the best. He made Paula cry. Not necessarily a hard thing to do since it was the last performance of the night and a drunk's emotions are about as hard to understand as Penelope Cruz's accent, but she cried nonetheless. He couldn't help it if he forgot the lyrics to "We Can Work It Out". He admitted he didn't know who the Beatles were. He thought Stevie Wonder originated that song and if you're going to go off of what a blind piano player gives you then you'd fail too,. He's only 17. This is your moral and civic duty to make sure you pull out your cell phone and text in a vote or two or 247. Every little bit helps. Spread the word. Tell your friends and neighbors. Tell strangers. Let them know that you love them too much not to share this with them. You can't just sit back and assume that others will vote for him. I bet Jennifer Hudson's fans thought the same thing, and now we're stuck with Fantasia Barrino. I just thank God every day for the Academy Awards for making the world right again for her. But that's a whole other blog. I can go and on about why it's imperative to vote for David Archuleta, But I think it can most sweetly be put by David himself when in week two he so melodically sang, "imagine all the people... no need for greed or hunger... a brotherhood of man... you may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one, I hope someday you'll join [me] and [make David Archuleta the one]" Together we can make a brighter tomorrow for all of us and those for years to come. In the name of Kelly Clarkson, amen.

MOUSE IN MY HOUSE!!!

2008-03-16T12:28:00.002-07:00

Picture it... 4am... Tuesday night... I'm in bad having a lovely dream about pens clicking and all of a sudden... Wait, back up the truck, pens clicking? Yeah. So I wake up and I can still here the pens clicking. I can't figure it out. I lie there for a while and then come to the conclusion that I must have a mouse in my house and it must be eating my food. DAMNIT! So I jump out of bed and flip in the light and peer around the corner to see if I can see anything. Nothing. There's not way in hell I'm just going to go walking around my house with a wild untamed mouse on the loose. SO grab my glasses and a pair of shoes and head out to investigate. Unarmed, I grab a rolled a old Christmas wrapping paper out of the garbage can and begin my hunt. There I am sneakers, underwear, glasses and a roll of gift wrap. DANGEROUS! I can't find a damn thing. I search all my cupboards. I vacuumed up some cereal I'd spilled in the stove earlier. Nothing. I go back to bed and sure enough the clicking starts back up again. I looked again and still couldn't find anything. I finally went back to bed, sure that it must be the faulty wiring in my house crackling is all, and knowing that my alarm was going off in an hour and a half. I arose the next morning very cautiously so as not to step on any lurking rodents. I looked and looked again and still couldn't find a trace of a mouse anywhere. I went about my way and as I was leaving I remembered a granola bar I had left in my bag that I wanted to get out for a light snack later that day. When I reached my hand into my bag the mouse jumped up my arm and down onto the floor and behind the fridge. Ok, not really, but the little bastard had been in my bag and opened up the granola bar and ate some of it. GROSS! I emptied my bag instantly to make sure it wasn't still in there. Luckily for me it wasn't. Gross, gross, gross! I went to work and then straight to Ace Hardware to purchase eight mouse traps to be strategically placed around my house. I still haven't caught the little shit!

Tag

2008-03-12T12:04:00.001-07:00

Both Suzie and Bret have completed this survey. Their answers were much more entertaining than mine, and I actually stole a couple of their answers. Enjoy!

Five things on my "to do" list today:
I’m a little embarrassed by my to-do lists:
1: Make it home without falling asleep at the wheel
2: Make it to the trainer by 4pm
3: Go to the gym
4: Go grocery shopping
5: Put my laundry away

Five snacks I enjoy:
1: Apples in peanut butter
2: Dark chocolate (chocolate anything)
3: Triscuits with those little Blue Bell cheese wheel wedges
4: Queso dip
5: Anything that Shell Miller makes…it has to be good if it starts with cream cheese and butter.

Five places I've lived:
1: Clearfield, Utah
2: Syracuse, Utah
3: Seattle, Washington
4: Logan, Utah
5: Salt Lake City, Utah
I need to get the hell out of Utah

Five places I've been:
1: West Hollywood 24-Hour Fitness… Believe me, it’s worth mentioning
2: Henry, Idaho “The Lake”
3: New York City
4: Antelope Island
5: The Miss Murray Pageant

What I would do if I were suddenly made a billionaire:
1: Quit my job
2: Have my jaw repositioned
3: Hire a FULL-TIME trainer and nutritionist
4: Laser hair removal
5: Build and buy houses and property

Five jobs I've had:
1: Stoker’s Nursery: I planted all the decorative pots they sold. Even at 14 I had a keen eye for detail
2: Golden Corral. Don’t ask… or do.
3: Steed Electric. Yes, I can do manly jobs, too
4: Ogden Regional Medical Center. I’ve got medical skills, too
5: The University of Utah. And now I have no transferable skills

Five pet peeves I have:
Only five?
1: People who ask stupid questions because they’re too stupid to figure out that they are actually smart enough to figure them out on their own
2: Passive-aggressiveness
3: People who blame their past on their current situation or circumstance
4: People who underestimate just how important the Oscars really are to me
5: Michael McLain. That’s more of a hate rather than an annoyance

Five things you didn't know about me:
1: I want to be an actor… most people probably know this about me actually
2: I LOVE Raven Samone
3: I am too afraid to try the game “Bloody Mary”
4: I have a mole on my left nipple… right on the nipple
5: I want to be a dad someday… I don’t actually hate children

Tag, you’re it. Fill it out if your life is as unfulfilling and non-committal as mine.

What do you want from me?!

2008-02-02T21:20:00.001-07:00

So here I sit on a Saturday night with Suzie by my side. We obviously both lead productive and full lives. During the course of our conversation I was reminded that I'm the BEST blogger that I know. Ok, not really at all. Here's what we've come up with. In order to be a successful blogger you need to have a baby. Reproduction is the only answer to regular blog time. Otherwise what you do you have to blog about? You want to know the shit you have to blog about? Let me tell you. This week I was put on two new anti-depressants to deal with my seasonal affectiveness disorder which really isn't THAT seasonal at all. I sat in my underwear all day on Friday with a big spoon and a jar of peanut butter watching Oprah reruns. I don't have the energy or desire to do the dishes or vacuum the nail clippings off my carpet. There's still a tear a in my sofa that happened nearly a year ago when I moved in. If I could afford to have it recovered I would. I just paid my trainer another $500 and put on 10 pounds the same week. I still don't date, which then leads to the baby problem, which then leads to the... wait, it's the lack of dating that's adding to the baby problem but that's a whole other post. So in essence what I'm saying is that I'm sorry for those of you who regularly check my blog but are disappointed to find nothing new. That's all. I have nothing more to say. Why? Because little junior didn't eat solid foods today, or poop in the bathtub, or learn a new word today, or do some damn new trick in his Johnny Jump up. There you have it!

"The Time Has Come" The Walrus Said

2007-11-02T12:08:00.000-07:00

I admit, I have OCD, anal-retentive tendencies. I'm actually quite proud of this. It helps me maintain organization. That being said, I'm not always the most tidy person. I get busy, life takes over, the laundry piles up, the dishes don't get done, the bed doesn't get made. However, as busy as my life may or may not be, I always have time to have a well appointed, clean, fresh refrigerator. It is my biggest pet peeve to have a disorganized fridge. It's disgusting. You could sick from some people's. Today as I opened my office fridge to gather one of my daily meals, I realized that our fridge should be placed on the Health Department's list. It's disgusting. Leftovers from who knows when, half drunk cans of soda, ketchup packets; I will NEVER understand why people keep those, old Chinese food, moldy yogurt. The list goes on and on. In an ideal world I would have time to clean out the fridge every Friday, but that's just not possible. However, with the winter season approaching, I think it's time I do my office a favor and do my part to stop the spread of disease. Eww! I LOVE cleaning and organizing refrigerators. If anyone would like me to stop by this weekend and help them out, let me know. A word of warning: If it's even remotely gross, it goes out!

Hello, again!

2007-11-01T13:13:00.000-07:00

Well folks, I must admit I had all but forgotten about this poor little blog I had created to pass the time when I am on the road. I wish I had more to say besides that I'm back... for toady anyway. I'm listening to a new CD that I think everyone needs to get. It's by A Fine Frenzy. It's pretty sexy. I love tracks 6 and 12. Check it out. You can hear track 6 on my Myspace page. Lovely. Today I am wearing a pair of Banana khakis, a white Banana button up and a blue Banana sweater with a big lion on it. I got it from Lel and Joe for my b-day and I love it. Yesterday was Halloween and I was as lame as it gets. I was so tired and felt sick. I had actually taken the day off of work. I was just not up to being social, so I put in Under the Tuscan Sun and fell asleep on my couch. I woke up at 3am when my arms were asleep from sleeping on them. I'm tired. Wow, I have nothing exciting to say. I am going to go home today and then go to Nordstrom and use my gift card the Sue and Buck gave me for my birthday. This was 2 months ago. I don't know what I want yet. I want it to be good. I'm thinking about a pair of shoes. OK, I'm done rambling. Have a lovely day. Hopefully I will remember to keep posting!

New Trainer

2007-06-04T12:58:00.001-07:00

I have been working out with a trainer for the past five months. I have had moderate success, but want to keep going. It is important to keep our bodies guessing in order to keep the inevitable plateau at bay as long as possible, ward it off completely, or overcome it when it happens; healthfully. For these reasons I am taking up with a new trainer starting today. Twice a week for 12 weeks. It's costing me a pretty penny, but I figured I would spend the money anyway, I may as well spend it on something that will improve my overall quality of life and not just give me instant and temporary satisfaction. I wish I would have thought about that when I bought that hooker last October... What am I talking about?! There are STILL long term effects of that... I'm just sayin';)

Honest Answers

2007-05-29T09:52:00.001-07:00

Something happened between two friends of mine this weekend that sort of shook me. I am in no way directly involved; as far as they know, but after hearing what happened I couldn't help but think how my publicly minor role impacted the situation. I won't go into great detail about the situation because it is ultimately none of my business. And that's what got me thinking. I was meddling in something that wasn't my business. I told myself that I had good intentions, but really, I had ulterior motives. I can't lie to myself. What good does it do? So with that in mind I created a very honest list of qualities I have demonstrated over the years that I am not proud of. In part or in whole, they make up who I am. I was thoroughly disgusted with myself and what I had allowed myself to become. It was so refreshing and freeing to have a tangible, honest list to hold and look at. I took a very deep, hard look at myself and had a very honest inner dialog about it. I am coming to a resolution with it. As I get to that point, I feel there are people that I owe apologies, or explanations to. If nothing more than stating what I have been allowing myself to be. Making it real and honest to other people so I can be held accountable for the qualities I am reflecting, the injustices I have contributed to, and be held accountable for wanting to make changes. I know that some people will look at me and think I have never done or behaved in ways that I have come up with. I guess luckily for me that I was able to fool them and not lose them as friends and acquaintances. But that is just bull shit. Time to become more honest with myself and present that to the world and be more honest in my dealings with those I am surrounded by on a daily basis.

Accepting Simplicity

2007-05-26T16:48:00.000-07:00

As I look around the world I live in, I am constantly baffled by the phenomenon that we are ultimately working ourselves to death, myself included. We want more and more and work harder and harder to have it. But then what? At the end of the day we are too tired, too cranky, too busy to enjoy what we have, and focus on what we don't have, monetarily, physically, and emotionally, etc. I was able to spend the day with my best friend Tara. We had brunch over a conversation centered around Basset Hounds and Beagles; dinner parties and birthdays; boyfriends and cars. There was no agenda, no ulterior motive. Simply two people enjoying the company of omelets and each other. Where am I heading in my life? Who am I heading there with? I sometimes become overwhelmed by the thought of it all. And we are not just after material gain, it seems no one is smart enough, good looking enough, thin enough, clever enough for anyone else. The grass is always greener on the other side. Love and acceptance of others and ourselves should be centered and focused on those internal beauties. Understanding that the imperfections of life are what make it the most enjoyable. Being comfortable with being able to be with someone and just talk, watch a movie, be in the moment, and not feel pressure to constantly be outdoing and impressing them with what you have and what you can do. Knowing and accepting that someone is comfortable enough, or awkwardly self-conscience enough, but brave enough nonetheless to just let themselves be vulnerable is more attractive than anything else, and ultimately all we have. Our health, our wealth, our gain, our everything can be taken away in an instant. Self-appreciation, dignity and worth are all that we can keep for ourselves, forever. These are also the things we can fully give to someone else because they are truly ours for better or for worse. When we are on our death beds, will we say "I wish I had worked harder", "I wish I would have loved more", "I wish I would have taken more chances", or "I wish I had finished one last year end report"? What is worthwhile in the long run? We must work to simply have. But do we simply have to have it all?

Utah/ California Observations

2007-04-26T12:13:00.000-07:00

For the past week I have been without Internet access. What a crock! I never realized how much I rely on email, Myspace, Online calendars, etc. to stay connected to so many people. I am sitting in San Francisco looking over Union Square.
I am usually pretty turned off by people visiting Utah who are SO shocked by things that I thought were so commonplace. However, since being here, I see what people are talking about. I should say we have it pretty damn good in Utah. Safer, cleaner, cheaper, more accessible, etc... For example: There are so many homeless people here. There was a man literally sleeping in front of my car the other morning. Sad. Ok, here's a retarded one, but there really are SO many white people in Utah. And! It does seem like everyone there is blonde. On a brighter note, it is true that the great people of Utah are MUCH more attractive! Maybe that's a good thing for me at this moment. I can focus more on work that any hotties running around the street. Also, I now see why people are so shocked at how clean Salt Lake is. It's pretty much filthy here. Trash everywhere. Not much else to report on. I bought a new swimsuit last night and it makes my legs look great! I actually went running in them this morning. I looked pretty hot. Still reading my book and watching the History Channel a lot. I am working a ton, very tired and miss you all very much!
Peace and love, Nick

California Reading

2007-04-16T21:23:00.000-07:00

Today is my first full day in California. I was so excited to get away from the cold, but it's been about 50 degrees and rainy. Oh well. I’ve stayed in and have been reading a new book, which oddly enough has intrigued me. "Rough Stone Rolling: The Biography of Joseph Smith." Sure I was raised LDS, but... enough said. I would like to think I have more than a primary knowledge of the Church, but there are obviously still things I don’t know or understand. Knowing that I don’t know everything about the Church keeps me from having a chip on my shoulder about it. All aside, I believe most err in the Church is due in part to the fact that it is run by men. Men are imperfect and therefore make imperfect decisions. This book shows a side of Joseph Smith and the early years of the Church that aren't typically taught or widely known. It paints a human, imperfect perspective of these events. I heard a quote from a historian this week. He said, "Catholics teach that the Pope is infalable but don't believe it. Mormons teach that the Prophet isn't infalable, but don't believe it.” This has reaffirmed that belief.

Good Shit Utah

2007-04-12T07:24:00.000-07:00

So I have been trying to keep thing on the down low just a bit. However, Since only I read this blog on a regular basis I think it will be safe to post it on here. Today at 10:00am I will be on Good Things Utah. Now before you rush over to ask for my autograph, let's get remember that I am only walking out and modeling clothes to wear to an interview. I don't even have a line. Damn! If I'm lucky, someone from channel 5 will see me and want me to replace that freak they have on their show in the morning. SERIOUSLY!

WTF?!

2007-04-11T07:59:00.000-07:00

Today started out great. I actually had a decent night's sleep, got up early, and was ready on time. I was the first person to get to my office today; that never happens. However, when I got to work and began to go through my bag I realized I forgot my wallet and my planner. But don't worry, I did remember to pack up my razor; as in my Gillette, the remote to the TV, and the can opener. I don't even remember packing them up. Maybe I didn't get as good a rest as I thought. I have no clue.

Inspiration

2007-04-10T09:03:00.000-07:00

Today I was inspired by Bret to start my own blog. Perhaps because I am bored. Perhaps because I need a creative outlet in my life. Perhaps to fill a void. Nonetheless, these are the life and times of Nick. Enjoy.