Nicki and the terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day

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I had the night sweats again so I woke up with my sheets sticking to me and my foot was asleep and my mouth tasted like I slept with a dead squirrel inside it and Sadie was yelling from her bedroom “Mama! Ma-maaaa! Miiiiilk! I want milk” and as I sat up in my bed I realized my head was pounding and I thought to myself

it’s going to be a terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day.

As I walked into the bathroom to take a pee I stubbed my toe on Sadie’s stepstool and hopped around on one foot cursing while Sadie stood in the hallway yelling like a drill sergeant for her milk. Most days she is a little ray of morning sunshine but I could tell today was not going to be one of those days.

So we go downstairs and I get her a snack and try to make coffee but I left the creamer on the counter for a whole day and night so now it’s no good and so I put milk in it but I really don’t like it like that but oh well if I don’t have caffeine I might die. But then I’m messing around on Facebook while Sadie watches cartoons and while I’m not paying attention she drinks like half my coffee so now she’s in a bad mood and filled with terrible energy. Meanwhile I have zero energy and I’m looking around at the messy house that I’m constantly meaning to organize and out the windows at the frozen world outside and I realize I give zero fucks about accomplishing anything today because it’s pretty obvious that

it is a terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day.

Now I know this is the point where I could have said attitude is everything and put good energy out there and good things will happen and it’s all about perspective and maybe I could just pray to Jesus but in case you haven’t noticed that’s not really me and sometimes it’s fun to just revel in your own depression so I just wasted time until it was time to get ready for work. And by waste time I mean stalk people I hate on Facebook while avoiding phone calls from people I actually like.

So as usual I didn’t give myself enough time to get ready and the shower water ran cold because my house is old and I’m pretty sure that instead of using shampoo and conditioner I used conditioner twice because my hair felt like an oiled pelt after I dried it. And I had a pimple in my forehead wrinkle which made me muse for a while about how sad it is that I am at an age where I have acne AND wrinkles. And as I was getting dressed I realized I am skinny fat from eating too many baked goods and where is my ass? I guess it’s hibernating for the winter because I can’t find it anywhere so I put on a long tunic and leggings to hide my lack of ass and couldn’t find my favorite necklace and my boots are covered in black snow sludge but fuck it I’m late.

But I had to stop for gas because of course I’m on empty because I have poor planning skills and even though I’m running late I stopped at The Coat Factory to see if I could find a new winter coat because I have a gift card and my parka is ripped up the back and looks very not professional. But even though they are called the fucking Coat Factory all they have are summer dresses, pink and yellow and blue, all hanging there mocking me because it is 7 degrees outside. I finally find one coat that is my size but it is a floor length faux fur with giant golden buttons and I’m sorry but that is just not happening. So I left and went to get a drive-thru burger and fries because I need something to make me happy in this

terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day.

But of course there is a traffic jam on the expressway because humanity is horrible so I sit there listening to NPR and some awful girl is talking about a support group she started so that incredibly rich young people can get together and talk about how hard it is to be incredibly rich and then the news comes on and they are talking about the NSA and privacy issues and I start thinking about all those google searches I did this week about brony porn and adult babies and I get nervous but not too nervous because I spilled gasoline on my boots and I think I’m kind of high.

So I pull up to work only 10 minutes late and find a spot only 3 blocks away so I go inside and clock in and eat my cold fries and burger with soggy bun. And they bought me a new serrated knife to cut lemon and lime slices with and I’m really excited because my old one was really dull and I was always afraid I’d cut my finger off so I slice a few lemons and it’s like cutting butter and I yell out to my coworker Nick “hey look how sharp my new knife is” and promptly slice my finger open. And it’s one of those little cuts that bleeds like crazy so I go in the kitchen to get a bandaid and the chef tells me we don’t have any bandaids and I’m like we’re a restaurant how do we not have any bandaids? And he’s all well we had a huge box of bandaids but they fell into a vat of oil. So I finally use a tampon from my purse to stanch the blood and after about an hour I realize that no one is coming into the restaurant because it’s a polar vortex and apparently people would rather stay home and eat pizza than venture out for fancy food and drinks. So they let me go home because it’s clear that I am in the midst of a

terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day.

And it takes forever to get home in the traffic because humanity is horrible and I stop at the grocery store to buy some fish sticks and everyone in the world is at the grocery store because god knows if we get an inch of snow everyone is confined to their homes indefinitely. But finally I get home and my head is still pounding and when I go upstairs to put my PJs on I realize my lousy pug took a shit in my bedroom and I think about beating him but even when you’re having a bad day violence is never the answer. And I don’t have clean PJs because I didn’t finish the laundry so I put on mismatched sweats and go downstairs and cuddle with Sadie who at least is being much nicer now.

And I was going to write a blog post about the time I met a serial killer on Craigslist but I just don’t feel like it and instead I watch Netflix and I marvel that they have literally thousands of options but most of them are stupid like Cupcake Boss and Extreme Treehouses. So I finally watch some documentary about ancient ruins but I’m not really paying attention because Sadie is telling me a long drawn-out story about fish that is more interesting anyway. And Joe is being pretty quiet because he is having a bad day too I think but I don’t ask because I’m having my me time and besides I’m the only one allowed to have a

terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day.

So finally it’s bedtime and Joe has to cuddle with Sadie until she falls asleep because she’s a daddy’s girl like that and as I’m brushing my teeth I hear a knock at the front door and it’s a man asking if he can borrow a cup of sugar but before I can answer he grabs me and throws me in the back of his stinky van and drives me to this shack in the middle of the woods to be his bitch for ever and ever.

Ok so that last part wasn’t true but I do think about things like that to try and put things into perspective because that would definitely be worse than the day I had. But it doesn’t really work because even though logically I realize my life is better than someone’s who gets raped every day and even though I’m not on death row or a quadriplegic or work in a button factory for a living and all my problems are minor first world problems they’re my problems, dammit, and I can feel sorry for myself if I want to.

So I climb in my big cozy bed and prop up some pillows to rest against and listen to the quiet nighttime sounds of dogs snoring and the furnace clicking on and the wind whistling outside and finally my mind quiets and I feel at peace and read a book until I fall asleep and it is, by far, the absolute best part of this

terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day.

Rumpled Girl Gets Freshly Pressed!!!

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Official WordPress trophy and sword. "Where's Waldo?" ensemble sold separately.

Official WordPress trophy and sword. “Where’s Waldo?” ensemble sold separately.

This is me. Right now. Gloating my little ass off. And you, well you are probably reading this because you found me via Freshly Pressed. But let’s return to me. I am so into myself right now. I spent two whole hours at work last night staring into a corner and visualizing my Oprah interview. Actually, that was the first hour. The second hour I had my own talk show at the conclusion of which Ryan Gosling shampooed my hair. (luckily it is like 4 degrees out and we were not very busy!)

I have been blogging for less than a month. Having this honor bestowed upon me has left me giddy with delight! It’s the coolest thing that has happened to me for a while. Unfortunately, my armpits have not stopped sweating for like 48 hours. Let’s just say I picked a really shitty week to switch to Tom’s Natural Deodorant.

I never expected to have any readers other than people who know me in real life. I certainly never dreamed that the very busy editors at WordPress would notice my little corner of the Internet. 

I can’t believe I actually wrote those lies! As I have already mentioned above, and HERE, I spend 97% of my time fantasizing. On any given day, I am lifting cars off babies, performing delicate brain surgeries, giving rousing speeches, leading armies into battles, accepting various awards, and hanging out with famous people (me and Tina Fey, just two girls havin’ a latte). So of course I thought a lot about getting Freshly Pressed.

But I am not an insane person, and am usually able to discern fantasy from probable reality. So I truly was surprised, and not really expecting new readers so quickly. I am hoping that you will stick around. In hopes that you will, and in my ever-effervescent spirit of oversharing, here we have…

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17 FUN FACTS ABOUT NICKI DANIELS

1. I am lucky to be surrounded by highly amusing people. But the funniest person I know is little-not-even-three-Sadie Isabel. Seriously she has the comedic timing of Lenny Bruce. She also has sharp little incisors and a mean right hook. She has given me so much fodder for this blog it’s unreal.

2. I went into labor with her while tending bar. Like, literally. I was pouring someone a draft beer, and my uterus started pouring amniotic fluid. I realize how white trash this sounds. But I also love Mountain Dew and shopping at Big Lots, so go figure.

3. My Xbox Live avatar is a black man with a “Fresh Prince” hairdo. Also, I am almost 38 years old and I have an Xbox Live avatar. It’s just for Netflix, I swear.

4. I was a nightly bed wetter until junior high school. Slumber parties were the bane of my existence. My doctor consequently taught me to do Kegel exercises to strengthen my tootie. Seriously, what kind of person teaches a 10 year old to flex her vagina? After 27 years of these, I could probably snap the neck of a rattlesnake with the darn thing. My husband is a lucky man.

5. I read. A lot. I usually average 2 or 3 books a week. Although my own prose relies heavily on toilet humor, I actually prefer to read dark, dystopian novels and stuff with lots of killing.

6. I don’t own an iron. When I need to de-wrinkle my garments, I throw them in a very hot dryer. This is why I sometimes look like I have switched outfits with a 13 year old Asian girl.

7. I got into a bad car accident about ten years ago and injured my brain. I still have a dent in my head that I often rub when I’m thinking. I’m rubbing it right now. While doing Kegels.

8. I do my best pooping when I’m buck naked.

9. I have been to jail. Several times. I might blog about it once the PTSD goes away. Actually, it was kind of fun at times. And I got a ton of compliments on my “pretty teeth”. I live for compliments.

10. My idea of heaven would be being stuck on an elevator with Bill Murray. We would both be wearing bathrobes made of Twizzlers.

11. My personal concept of hell would be hearing the voice of Diane Rehm from NPR on a constant loop while Newt Gingrich and Kim Kardashian grind away in my lap. This is especially terrifying to me because I have done some very naughty things in my day and will probably be serving at least a catnap* in the ol’ firepit upon my demise. (*catnap is jail lingo for a short sentence. See the things I can teach you?)

12. I used to be quite the party girl. My liver still isn’t speaking to me. I once had a taco stuck to the wall in my apartment for two weeks. My friends used to call me SpongeBob Pisspants. But I always say, former alcoholic sluts make the best wives and mothers ! Because we’ve already done it all! Now we can just kick back and be June Cleaver instead of having some creepy midlife meltdown where we start shoplifting and taking loads of Xanax. Show me a 22 year old innocent, and I’ll show you a future 48 year old woman giving a handjob to her dentist in the parking lot of a Golden Corral. Not me! My favorite place to be is in my little house in Kentucky- ensconced on my Value City sectional with my little butter bean and my big beastie husband, my two dogs, some “Alfred Hitchcock Presents”, fish sticks, and a heating pad for my shitty back.

13. Seriously fish sticks. I love them so much I have two burn scars from trying to eat them while they were blistering hot. Is it weird that I enjoy munching them while gazing into my fish aquarium?

14. I have the self control of a seven year old. Example: while waiting for my post to hit Freshly Pressed, I refreshed my browser  approximately 78,972,987 times.

15. I have a terrible, terrible case of road rage. I am generally a laid back person, but there is something about being wrapped in a few tons of steel that turns me into Pol Pot. The way people drive in Kentucky defies all logic. The pedestrians are even worse. It’s super fun driving home from work at midnight and trying to avoid jaywalking hillbillies who are toting underdressed small children while smoking cigarettes and arguing with one another and paying zero attention to their surroundings.

16. I drive home from work at midnight because I tend bar for a living. After all these years I still really enjoy it. Especially the decidedly non-PC environment. Last night, I told an annoying coworker that I was going to kick him really hard in the dick. I have learned through experience that this is not tolerated in most workplaces. Also, I’m so glad I never have to use terms like “wheelhouse” or “proactive”.

17. Writing is the only thing I’ve ever been good at. Well, I guess I also excel at being awesome.

I’m looking forward to having some fun times together, and not in a creepy way. Thanks so much for stopping by. And thanks for the blast of hot steam, WordPress!

Love,
Nicki

p.s. I was going to post a funny update photo of Jingles the Elf stuffed in the garbage can, but I can’t find him anywhere. Seriously. He must have read my blog and gotten his little feelings hurt. Hopefully, he’s back at the North Pole, because otherwise, he’s hiding somewhere. In this house. With a knife.

"Hey Reggie, did you hear about what happened to Duane?"

“Hey Reggie, did you hear about what happened to Duane?”