Wednesday, September 21, 2011

This will make me no friends im sure.

Being Politically correct is HORSESHIT.

-If you are "vertically challenged"- imma call you a midget.
-If you are "horizontally accessable" - imma call you a slut.
-If you are "differently abled" - Imma probably call you handicapped
-BTW I say retard. But I don't mean it horribly, I just refuse to be PC. Because it all means the same thing.
-I'm not going to call my dog my "companion species." Shes a dog. A pet. above her. And just because you can punt her across a room doesn't disqualify her from being a dog. She will still bite your ass.
-Certain pieces of work, are better than others
-There are people prettier than you.
-If you are African American// a person of color- Imma call you black. Because chances are, you don't have dual citizenship with Africa. Hell you probably weren't born there. You probably haven't even been there. So you are black. And I am white. I don't ask to be a "European-Native-American" Because im white. and American. That is all.
-White people aren't the only racists. It applies to anyone buddy.
-My hamburger, will remain a hamburger. I won't call it processed Cow Carcass. Mainly because I like thinking my meat grows on trees. thankyouverymuch
- Women. Not Womyn.
- I will say "Hey your gay" Because if your not, don't get offended. and if you are- you are gay. it's what you are, suck it up. Straight//gay. I dont give a flying flit which, but im not going to cater to your every whim because your sensitive.
-Most Affirmative action is discriminatory against whites. and asians.
- I will judge your culture for a history of cannibalism//sacrifice if you are going to judge mine by slavery.
-Obama is just as white as he is black
-Disability is too easily handed out.  Me or anyone else shouldnt have to pay for your drug//alcohol habits// your add which wont allow you to keep a job.
-You should stop being lazy. And stop bitching about not getting things, because you have to chase after what you want darling.
-Your kids are probably annoying.
-A swat on the butt teaches kids
-Circumsision is not your choice for another parent. Also- I don't want to hear about your choice.
-Rich people should not have to pay more taxes.
-Your conspiracy theory is probably false. Sorry to take that away from you
-A pirate will kick your ninja's ass any day.
-You do not know everything

If I have personally offended you, oh well.. If not- good on you.
But if I did- send me a comment. All comments go directly to my email which pings my phone. SO if you wanna piss me off immencely, ping me late at night. a lot. a lot a lot. I don't wake up to one or two. =]

Monday, September 19, 2011

Go Repent Ye Young Sinner

True Story.

Waiter- "Sinner"

Me- "You make the baby Jesus cry."

Waiter- "No I don't, I'm Catholic"

Beau- "Go Repent Ye Young Sinner"

W- "You don't have to repent when you are as close to your priest as I am"

B-"Yeah, but didn't you ever get tired of waking up next to strange priests?"

W-" They were never strange! We got to know eachother very well throughout the night. THANKYOUVERYMUCH"

Me- " in the biblical sense?"

Who.the.hell. has conversations with their waiter like that?

In other news- I recently became a man

I had a beard too before I..err....shaved it off. Yeah thats right, shaved. Because I'm a man.


Saturday, September 17, 2011

Dear Body. I'm trying.

Dear Hair: I love your out of control crazy curls. I am so sorry I used to try to tame you with gel, with straighteners, with nasty products that didn't let you be fabulous. You hold so much personality, and are so easy to style, you let me laugh at girls who have to get ready 2+ hours in advance, because you are always ready to go. Thank you so much. You are my favorite. (just don't tell everyone else)

Dear eyes: I adore the color of you two. You should know I always do my best to make you the center of attention on my face. You allow me to visualize all the absurd people, places, and things i associate with in life and let me see the awe-inspiring sights of the world.

Dear ears: You re small, like moms. I like it. You do your job and go above the line of duty with all the blaring noises I've subjected you too. Sorry, the concerts were too good to pass up. I appreciate you dearly.

Dear nose: You are like a button, and I am very happy with you. You fit with my face well and i have no desire to ever change you. Stay sweet don't change xoxo

Dear lips: I never really give you the credit you deserve. I am always piling on chapstick, lipstick, lip gloss, chapstick, lipliner, chapstick. chapstick. chapstick. chapstick. I keep good care of you, and its because i love you and hate when youre in pain. You are the perfect size, shape, and plumpness. I am just getting the hang of highlighting your place on my face properly. give me time. Love you =]

Dear face: You make some of the strangest contortions i or anyone else has ever seen. You are so emotive with every tweak, and i find it highly entertaining to make 'faces'. Everyone always comments on the silly ways you take shape. The single freckle splat straight onto the middle of my right cheek is cute. I have grown extremely fond of it over the years, even making sure I don't cover it too much with makeup. ALSO dear face- You hold makeup extremely well and allow me to always switch things up and be adventurous. Without looking like a clown. And that's good because clowns are terrifying. And then you would look scared. Sad clown wanna kill somebody?

Dear Tattoo: Of course You weren't originally here. But you are here to stay. You mean so much to me. You are so unique and some people don't understand you. It's hard to explain you sometimes, but you are for me. not for anyone else. You should already know how much I love you because I got a needle repeatedly drilled into my skin just so you would be a part of me. And if that's not love I don't know what is.

Dear Hands: You do so much work. Lifting, holding, texting, typing, drawing, coloring, stretching, pulling, tearing. You are almost always dirty. With paint, with dirt, with any sort of random things i get myself into. I paint your nails in vain, and i chew on them mercilessly when I get anxious. You do so much for me, I need to take better pride in you. BTW the single tiny freckle on the left ring finger is adorable. It just joined the family recently, but it's love. It can stay.

Dear Pinkies: You are special and get your own thank you. You are so individual that I can't help but love you. You are the very first thing that mom noticed about me when I was born, and anyone can identify me by you. Even though I can never cover someone's eyes and surprise them. they just run their fingers along you and they instantly know it's me. But I think that's pretty cool too. TruLUV4eva

Dear Tummy: We don't have an awesome relationship. But you are soft, and have given many a small animal and babies a place to rest. I have to be blunt- I am trying to change you. But for now we will have to come to terms.

Dear legs: You poor things. I can't remember a recent time when you haven't been sore. Especially with the recent addition of wearing heels more often. But I love you two. You hold me up and keep on going even when i really don't want to. You climb, and bend, and walk, and skip, and so many more things.

Dear scars: You are each one of many. You each definitely represent adventure, each have a story. Each from a different time in my life. Some are large and have names "Fifth of July" and some of you are barely visible- here's looking at you Theatre door scar. But each of you has a memory, most of them good surprisingly enough. And "fifth of July" I'm sorry. I know you needed stitches. But you re okay. We were too country for that.

Dear large toes: You are weird. In every picture since I was born you have been sticking straight up. And I STILL do that. just habit. It's weird. I'm doing it right now. You know that though...

So dear Body: I love you. I'm Trying. I spend way too much time thinking about all your flaws. My under eye darkness, my pale legs, my small boobs and my tummy..oy.

It would be a lot better if I just stopped. If i took steps to get healthier (which I am) and appreciated the hard work and the good that you do. I love you.

-Nikki. (you) (this is getting complicated.)

Thursday, September 15, 2011

You will waste your life reading this.

I have not posted a lot lately because absolutely nothing of interest or anything of note has happened.

The most interesting thing has been making speeches, studying, family time, and that's about it. I was told I am a very eloquent speaker, and all my speeches kick ass. So im glad. But seeing as no one is banging on my virtual door to read shit or write about anything in particular it doesnt help me one damn bit.

The most ridiculous thing i have done latelly has been that when traffic was backed up FOR MILES so i left the roadway and drove downhill through the grass onto the feeder. Im daring. Im a badass. It wasn't that steep. I was screaming the entire way.

So yeah. boring. I need to shake things up. NOW.

But until i come up with an idea. i will go back to making speeches, studying, and being a boring blip on earth.

I need hellp!


Thursday, September 8, 2011

My Story of Dealing with Suicide.

This week (although it is close to an end) is Suicide Prevention Week.

My dear Uncle Matt commited suicide on May 12, 2010

As grim as it is, I do believe I will write my experience with Suicide. So that maybe someone will see it and not feel so alone, and know that no matter what they feel, see, or experience they too will get through it. I apologize in advance if this upsets some.

Graduation. Sweet Sweet Graduation. That is all that Is on my mind as I sit through another Theatre class impatiently waiting for that golden bell to ring, signaling one day closer to the finish line. My friends and I all crack jokes at the silly underclassman, at our teacher, at everything. My teacher gets a phone call that sends her into her locked office, after moments of "Are you sure?" "Are you positive that's how it happened?" heard through the door, she emerges, sobbing. She states that a close family friend has been shot, and was found dead in his backyard. I comfort her half-heartedly. Moments before the bell rings me and two other friends sneak out the door and head to our cars, absentmindedly chatting on the dramatics that were just displayed. I jokingly comment that shes probably lying, but if it did happen "I feel very sorry for the family"
I buzz home and hop onto Facebook. I start creeping on my older Cousin and see the post "KAT CALL MOM RIGHT NOW" from My Uncles best friend. To which she replied something along the lines of "I tried to call Matt but he wont pick up, mom either"

My stomach dropped. Something just wasn't right. I had to go work the Clavinova for a show down at the Theatre that night so I hopped in the car, thinking of everything I had heard. I got incredibly overwhelmed with grief and called my mom.

-(Sobbing) Mom somethings wrong, somethings not right. I think Uncle Matt Died. I dont' have proof bjust all these things are starting to fit together and worry me, call Aunt Susan. Call Grandpa. Call someone. Please.

Mom- "What? What are you talking about? Calm down. Who died?"

-(hysterical) I DONT KNOW IF ANYONE DIED. I just have this really horrible feeling about Uncle Matt. Please call. And call me back and let me know what is going on. Something is wrong.

Mom- "Okay. I will. Hold on. I love you, I'll talk to you in a few"

- MOM you HAVE to promise me you will actually call me and tell me. Don't worry that I have a show tonight. I would rather know than drive myself crazy wondering. Please promise me you will actually call me. Please. You have to actually call me either way this goes. Please. Promise me mom PROMISE ME.

Mom- "Okay i will Nikki. Let me get off the phone so I can start figuring all this out. I love you, Talk to you soon"

I panicked myself down 16th street. Down Green Avenue. Down every street until I parked on the gravel side of the Orange Community Playhouse. I stayed in the car freaking out until I hear a tiny tap on my window. My friend Bridget, asking whats wrong. I hop out of the car and fall directly into her arms, trying to keep it together and rambling incoheriently about how I think my uncle died. She assures me everything is going to be okay and for a moment I believe her. I want to believe her so very badly. My phone rings. Mom.


Mom-(sniffles) It's true. Uncle matt was found shot in his pool.


Mom-They haven't determined yet if it was self inflicted or homicide. Things are leaning toward self inflicted.

-NO THAT ISN'T POSSIBLE. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. WHO WOULD HAVE KILLED UNCLE MATT? EVERYONE LOVED HIM SO MUCH? HE DIdnt have any enemys...did he? who would have done this to him? (sobbing)

Mom- We don't know anything for sure right now. All I know is he was found in the pool, shot.

-NO. i have to let you go.

And i fell apart. The few people there see me and hug me. I want no part of it. I ask for some time alone. In the moments that follow all I can think about is how Uncle Matt felt in the last moments of his life? What happened? Did someone come over to rob them, then got in a fight with him then shot him? I imagined his hands up in surrender trying to make the stranger calm down and put the gun down.

The other option isn't even possible. He is too happy, too loved, too amazing, too funny. is...was... I don't want to wrap my head around the new change.

I escape to the pit, where the clavinova lies. The show must go on. I don't remember really anything about it. I stare at the bronze bunny on my ring. Everytime I feel like crying or just giving up I look down at it and focus on keeping it together. Push buttons, Turn knobs, play music, get the job done. Go forward.

I go home. I collapse. The rest of the night is forgotten.

It becomes more evident over the next few days that it is a suicide. No note. No indication (except in retrospect). No reason why. Had he planned it out? Or simply gone temporarily mad. We have nothing. Nothing except broken pieces, a funeral to plan, and questions. A puzzle with missing pieces. I keep trying to pic up the pieces. I keep trying to make it fit. Nothing fits. Nothing makes sense. Nothing..makes..sense.

I continue with school and theatre, school and theatre. I do not remember these days well. Only moments.

I went to my Aunts house. She had to go make funeral arrangements so I along with mom stayed there to answer the phone and pass on information. Everything reminds me of him. Pictures, clothing, flowers, cabinets, animals. Knowing he had touched each thing. Knowing what great thing he did beyond the back wall a day or so before. Mom went and cleaned the pool filters of the eye-glass cleaners that he never didn't have stocked in his pockets were still finding their way into the system, they now make a soggy heap on the countertop.

I decide to boldly circle the pool. Maybe putting myself in his last position, his last airspace, will bring clarity. I hope that it will all come to me. All the pieces of the puzzle will be found, and they will all fit perfectly. I hope that being in that area i will have every answer i need. I hope it is all a joke and when I go to that space he will come back.

Instead I see dark red in the grout..... Pools of dark red.

Could it? n..noNo... It couldnt... the police wrapped up the scene. I soon find out that doesn't include cleaning. I scream. I run as fast as my body will carry me into the house and tell my mother of what I just saw.. She moves with haste to clean it before my aunt finds it, knowing all too well it will not do any good for that scene to be witnessed.

In the following nights I have nightmares about that particular scene.

The funeral is very fitting. A lovely tribute. He is buried with fishing supplies, and a beer can in hand. I know with absolute certain he would love it. I remember his daughter exclaiming that he would be so pissed that she poured that beer on the ground.

It hurts to know where his physical body now lays. Not here with us, but under dirt, metal and satin. I am not quite at peace with it.


I am in absolute awe of his wife and daughter. I know they are in pain, but have come through it with absolute grace. I love each of them very much and am proud of the manner they are continuing their lives with.

It has been over a year since that day. I'm still trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Still I wonder. Still I drive myself mad over the what ifs and technicalities. More pieces are coming together, but I know the whole struggle is in vain. I know I need to put this game up and move on. And I am getting better at it.

The pain and feeling of loss will never go away. Never fully. But I am still here. I can still tell of the wonderful man I call my Uncle. I am still alive. My heart, though it hurts, is still beating.


Saturday, September 3, 2011

The Thunder Monster.

So we are getting a light shower here in SETX. Toto apparently doesn't comprehend the light part.

This is what is happening.
What's acctually happening.

This is what she thinks is happening.
What toto thinks is happening

Friday, September 2, 2011

Man, I love college

Well today Kids, we will:

-Teach you how to cook various dishes, and then feed you them
-Learn how to change a dirty diaper. Aw hell thats too easy, lets blindfold you.
-Have a drag show
-Be visited by a stripper
-Play Beer Pong with the teacher
-Have a boob cake with tassles.
-Be highly innapropriate.

Is this real life?

Yes. Yes it is. And it is fabulous.

My contribution was the Drag Show. Because, of course it was.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

What in Gay Hell?

I have a speech due tomorrow.

Those two things are related.