Nicole In A Nutshell

February 14, 2012

Cupid Can Kiss My Ass

Filed under: bitchin' and moanin',It's All About Me,Sporty Spice — by Nicole @ 10:40 pm

What a day. Worked until 9, not without incident, then closed down the gym (dodging the tumbleweeds, because it was a flipplin’ ghost town up in that bitch). Squeezed in 3.5 miles, which was my scheduled run (and all I had time for), but it felt weird that for the first time I didn’t push the mileage beyond what was on my training calendar. I did throw in some intense sprintervals (whoa to those!!!), so I still managed to challenge myself and I guess I can live with that.

All in all, a good workout, but a rough Single Awareness Day. I love me some flowers, but if I see one more rose, I’m going to shove it down the bearer’s throat. The fact that there is no natural law written in stone that ensures no overlap between VDay and PMS just proves to me even further that THERE IS NO GOD. On a related note, I hope that little fucker Cupid shoots himself in the ass with his own arrow. Screw that guy.

I may be a Bitter Betty at the moment, but I do love y’all and I hope all everyone who celebrated had a lovely day/night with their significant other 🙂 xoxo

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January 19, 2012

Me 1, Gym Nazis 0

Filed under: bitchin' and moanin',Sporty Spice — by Nicole @ 10:28 pm

Today’s training calendar called for 2 miles, but I wanted to push myself and do 3. Then a little thing called “work” and “being a grownup” intervened. That shit sucks. Didn’t leave the office until after 9, gym closes at 10. What’s a girl to do?

Bust ass, that’s what. Got warned by the above-mentioned gym nazis to “start wrapping it up and making my way downstairs” at 9:45. Screw you, THE GYM CLOSES AT 10. Kept running, got the stink eye and another warning. Did I stop? Hell no! Managed to squeeze in a cool two and a quarter before my third encounter with the savvy, motivated personnel at NYHRC who were clearly trying to get home early and couldn’t care less about members and their right to work out during full gym hours. You bet I shot them the death stare on the way out!

These are the days when I wished I lived closer to a well-lit path like the one off the West Side Highway. That thing rocks. What do you guys do when you find yourself in this situation? I don’t want to scrimp on my runs, but I don’t want to scrap with minimum wage gym employees either – it’s just not worth it. Running the streets is kind of a last ditch option, because traffic lights and pedestrians are just not cute. Any brilliant suggestions that are escaping me would be greatly appreciated!

June 24, 2009

Stripes and checks and dots…oh my!

Filed under: bitchin' and moanin',Randomness — by Nicole @ 10:35 pm

I realize that we all come across wardrobe atrocities on a daily basis, but the one I saw today and choose to highlight here was particularly egregious, and it took one of my pet peeves to a whole new level. As I was waiting for my breakfast in the cafeteria at work, a guy came up next to me to place his order. This dude, no doubt a wet-behind-the-ears summer associate, was wearing pants with a grid print, a tri-colored striped shirt, and a patterned tie. I consider it a personal victory that I didn’t whip out a notebook and issue him a fashion police summons right there on the spot. I’m told that I often make facial expressions that I don’t realize I’m making (i.e. eye rolling), so I can only imagine what kind of stink eye I shot this fella. The issue boils down to this: what gives with the pattern-on-pattern-on-pattern stylings of so many gentlemen in this day and age? Clashing colors I can understand; color blindness, after all, is an overwhelmingly male impairment based on genetic freakiness and cannot be helped. But lo, there is NO SUCH THING as design blindness (at least in terms of a medical condition). A sophisticated and subtle combination of textures and colors is one thing, but looking like every day is laundry day is quite another, and is, in a word, unacceptable.

Ladies, if you’re dealing with this at home, I implore you to step in. Help him out. Hell, lay out his clothes if you can get away with it. Do what you have to do. If you have a friend in this predicament and aren’t privy to his closets on a daily basis, make some recommendations in a constructive way. If you’re unwilling to step in and help out the men in your life that clearly need the guidance, send ’em to me. It’s my (burgeoning) bidness. But know this: friends don’t let friends over-pattern.

March 30, 2009

Snoozing and losing

Filed under: Apartamentos,bitchin' and moanin',It's All About Me — by Nicole @ 11:32 pm

I’m going to go ahead and borrow a line from one of my favorites to express my feelings on the NYC real estate market: “Rat farts!!!” Let me rewind and say that I have indeed found a wonderful broker whom I trust and know will help me find the perfect place (thanks for the suggestion J, and thanks for putting up with me L!). Now with that being said, I need a kick in the ass. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got a bad knee.

Allow me to share the chronology of my latest hunting experience (note: looking for apartments is the only kind of hunting real New Yorkers do). Found the cutest place. Went back to see it three times. Displayed a stunning lack of decisiveness. Finally decided to go for it. Picked out paint colors and furniture. Gathered all of the necessary paperwork (including application, tax returns, second grade report card, 500 word essay on why I am the perfect renter, and photo ID). Paid the credit check fee. Waited, fairly impatiently, for the application decision. Found out that apartment had been snatched out from under me within a matter of hours. Got really annoyed. Re-ignited futile Craigslist searching.

Moral of the story: don’t be a pussy. Had I sacked up and made a decision when my instinct told me that I would be happy in this place, I could have signed a lease today. Had I spent less time choosing acoutrements and decorations than taking care of actual business, I would be toasting to my new 3 block work commute. I’m telling myself that this apartment wasn’t meant to be for me, but that’s just so I don’t stay up all night pondering what might have been.

So it’s back to the drawing board. If you need me, I’ll be out hitting the pavement. FOREVER.

March 25, 2009

Pop-ins, pricks, and Paula

Yes, I’m all over the place today. Bear with me.

Let’s start with PRICKS. Fuck the MTA. Somewhere really uncomfortable. Like in the back of a Volkswagen. Fuck the board members who know nothing of the crowded, unwashed masses that comprise rush hour traffic. Fuck these assholes who just a few years ago maintained a massive surplus (where’d it go, because it certainly didn’t go towards inproving service) and now cry poverty. Fuck these bitches who are not only hiking fares by alarmingly significant amounts, but are simultaneously making giant service cuts. Fuck their subsidized housing. Fuck their towncar rides to work. Fuck them all. Their time will come, and my only hope is that I be there to see it. I envision it might look something like the undoing of Mussolini at Piazzale Loreto.

Now, onto POP-INS. Since I live in the borough of Siberia, I don’t get many pop-ins. However, it can be a serious problem for some (well, maybe not so serious), and I address it now. Let’s use the generic example of the pop-in on a newly relocated person/couple/family/roommate conglomeration/etc. We’ll say that it took place at about 11 a.m. on a Saturday with no advanced notice.

The pop-in is a multifaceted maneuver, so let’s first examine the issue of timing. Not only was our pop-in in question undertaken just weeks after the big move, but it went down on a weekend morning. Whoa. There are red flags flying all over the place. I believe that a societal rule should be set in stone right here and now: no pop-ins on a fresh move until after the housewarming party*. To me, it’s just a matter of courtesy.

* N.B.: We are talking only about pop-ins. This rule does not apply to previously invited guests.

As for the weekend morning situation, I’ll borrow a line from one of the heroes of our time, a Mr. GOB Bluth, and that line is “Come on!!!” The morning pop-in moratorium is something that shouldn’t even have to be said, but alas, it seems to be an issue. As a self-accepting lifelong “non-morning person”, I might be alone on this one, but I really don’t think I am.

We now come to the question of notice: how much is enough? Unless it’s an emergency, simply pressing the buzzer to announce your presence does not notice make. A pop-in is not, by definition, an orchestrated event. It is an “I was in the neighborhood” kind of thing. As such, there is no reason to give less than 5 minutes notice for a standard pop-in. If one is already in the ‘hood, one can find something to do with one’s time for 5 minutes if need be. Find a Starbucks. I think this can happen if people pull together and realize how they’d react if someone was ringin’ on their door at an inopportune moment. Again, putting this guideline in place is common civility at work.

Finally, we get to PAULA. Girl, please get some styling help tout de suite. In fact, I hereby offer my services. The evening gown/tutu hybrid works on NO ONE. The Wednesday night Idol outfit served only 2 purposes: to confuse young children (who were up past their bedtime) by combining two pieces that even they would know not to put together whilst playing dress-up, and to just add fuel to the fire that is your reputation as a wacked out looney toon. The hair was pretty, and I’ll give you that. However, fire your wardrobe chick. YESTERDAY.

March 23, 2009

The apartment hunter’s motto

Filed under: bitchin' and moanin',It's All About Me,Steals and Deals — by Nicole @ 9:01 pm

I knew that my attempt to relocate back to Manhattan from Strollerville USA wouldn’t be 100% smooth sailing. Nothing in the NYC real estate market ever is. I was hoping it wouldn’t be too painful. Said hopes were dashed when I met with my first few brokers. Despite the fact that I’ve lived all over this city, I never really had to deal with many of these folks before. Times have changed. These people (at least most of the ones I’ve met so far) are simply ridiculous. The best way to get someone to NOT work with you (and make you a hefty fee) is to waste their time. Hence, my new realty-searching tag line:

DON’T PISS ON MY HEAD AND TELL ME IT’S RAINING.

If I say I want a one bedroom, don’t show me a studio. If I say I absolutely, in no uncertain terms, want a dishwasher, don’t show me places without one. If you tell me that the apartment features huge outdoor space, don’t show me a 2X4 foot concrete extension out a window and laud it as a “terrace”. Don’t tell me that it’s a no-fee rental and that there’s one month free rent (usually highlighted by several exclamation points on the myriad Craigslist ads you run), then tell me that I’ll need to turn over the one month free rent as a fee. DO NOT use Photoshop, technical wizardry, or other imaging enhancements to turn a veritable shoebox into Gracie Mansion when advertising. None of this makes sense, and it only serves to piss off the potential client, a/k/a me. That being said, if any of y’all are brokers who shun these types of behaviors, I’d love to hear from you.

OK, rant over. Here’s some good news: Recessionista Tuesdays @Ted Gibson Salon (http://tedgibsonsalon.com)!!!

Cuts – $75
Blow dry – $40
Color – $75

Although I imagine that this discount doesn’t apply to the $950 price tag attached to a cut by Ted G himself, this is a pretty sweet deal. It’s probably wise to ask about prices when booking an appointment so you know what you’re getting into (i.e. if you want highlights, don’t just assume that the $75 color price applies).

March 17, 2009

Crazy People, Part Four A/K/A Trial (OK, Arbitration) of the Century

Filed under: bitchin' and moanin',Sporty Spice — by Nicole @ 9:31 pm

Sweet Jesus…this thing is never going to end! We went BACK to Small Claims Court again last night because everyone’s favorite yahoo filed his Show Cause motion. The sitting judge vacated our prior arbitration award because the “Southern Gentleman and Scholar” claims to have been sick the first time around. Regardless of the fact that said genius didn’t bother to contact the court for a continuance, we were forced to stick around and be re-heard by the arbitrator.

Long story short, this guy is beyond insane. The crux of his argument against paying the money he owes us is the fact that he is still bitter about not having gone to the “Aaron Boone game” a/k/a Game Seven of the…wait for it…2003 ALCS. No, that is not a typo. This fool is going back to an unrelated, 5+ year old, completely irrational grudge to lay the foundation for his current refusal to pony up. The pair of tickets for the “second shot heard ’round the world” game went to one of the other guys in our buying group who was going to bring his son along. Crazy McNutso asked that he be contacted if the son didn’t end up going. It seems that the son may or may not have gone to the game, and our West Virginian friend went apeshit. Apparently, the rest of the buying group had some sort of psychic powers and knew that this was going to be a game that would live on in history, so we decided to screw him out of those tickets for, oh I don’t know, shits and giggles.

It has now officially become a waiting game, as we anticipate the arbitration award to come through in our favor. Recovering the moolah, however, is going to be the tricky part. Methinks this looney-tunes isn’t going to hand over the cash with a bouquet of flowers and an apology card. In the likely event that he doesn’t comply with the award, we’ll have to send the Marshals after him and his assets. He, of course, will ultimamtely incur more cost upon himself, as he would be wholly responsible for the expenses involved with utilizing the Marshal Service.

I think I need a drink.

February 26, 2009

Manners…where have they gone?

Filed under: bitchin' and moanin' — by Nicole @ 11:37 pm

Riddle me this: has the world become devoid of decency and common courtesy, or is it just disproportionately worse in New York by leaps and bounds? While I realize that this is not a new phenomenon, I, for one, notice more and more each day how motherfucking rude people are. Does it cost anything to hold a door? Not to my knowledge. Does doing so eat up an inordinate amount of time? From my estimation, it takes anywhere from a millisecond to a whopping 5 seconds, give or take the circumstances. Is there some rational explanation for the crowded door area/completely open middle space combo in the subway car, and corresponding refusal to move the fuck down? Truly baffling, really. So too is the open-legged seat stance preferred by so many fellow commuters, and let’s not forget our brothers and sisters who roll with strollers and/or a gazillion bags and packages strategically placed in EVERYONE’S WAY. There’s really no big finish or earth shattering point to this post; I just thought I would put it into words rather than let it continue to ping around my head until such time as my brain decides to explode. That is all.

February 22, 2009

In these tough economic times…

Filed under: bitchin' and moanin',Shopping,Steals and Deals — by Nicole @ 11:32 am

Am I the only one who NEVER WANTS TO HEAR THAT PHRASE AGAIN????? Gah! Anyway, we could all use bargains, especially now, and if you’re over the catfighting at the Barney’s Warehouse Sale, here are some alternative sources of retail therapy:

C L O T H I N G L I N ESSS Sample Sales
261 W 36th Street (between 7th & 8th Ave)
2nd Floor
New York, NY 10018
We accept Visa, MasterCard, American Express, ATM bank cards and cash.
Preview us online at www.clothingline.com E-mail us at jordan@clothingline.com
For Women
Savings to 90% off retail
All sales are final

FREE PEOPLE – all sizes
– socks, scarves & mittens $4 -$7
– tees $10, shirts $20, sweaters $25
– skirts $15, pants $20
– dresses $30, outerwear $40

REPETTO – new shipment of shoes & dancewear
– ballet flats $60, 2 for $100
– high heel and boots $75, 2 for $125
– sample dancewear $20 – $30

GUSTTO – very limited selection
– one of a kind bags $50 & $99

MILLY – further reduced prices
– sample skirts & pants $30
– sample tops $30
– sample dresses $65

EDIT – further reduced prices
– shirts $20
– sweaters & dresses $50
– blazers $75
– coats & leathers $125

DESIGN HISTORY – further reduced prices
– all styles $15, 2 for $25, 3 for $30

IMMA – further reduced prices
– all styles reduced by 25%

ALL SALES FINAL

Hours:

Monday February 23 10:00 am – 7:00 pm
Tuesday February 24 10:00 am – 6:00 pm

Women’s dressing room is open, but closes 1/2 hour prior to close of store.
Our entrance and selling floor closes 15 minutes prior to close of store.

*********************************************************

SOIFFER•HASKIN
Cordially invites you to
a private sale of

Women’s & Men’s
Shoes, Leather Goods, Ready to Wear & Accessories

Up to 80% Off Retail Price

Saturday, Feb. 28th through Wednesday, March 4th
Saturday through Tuesday: 9:00am to 6:30pm
Wednesday: 9:00am to 5:00pm

To be held at:
Soiffer Haskin
317 West 33rd Street, NYC
(Just west of 8th Avenue)

Credit Cards Only
(American Express, Visa, MasterCard, JCB or Discover)

No strollers allowed. No children under 12 will be admitted.

For more information, call (718) 747-1656,
Monday through Friday: 9:00am to 5:00pm.
Soiffer Haskin, 1133 Westchester Avenue, Suite N136, White Plains, NY 10604
www.soifferhaskin.com

February 3, 2009

This one’s for the ladies

Filed under: bitchin' and moanin',It's All About Me — by Nicole @ 10:54 pm

DISCLAIMER!!! If you have a penis, it’s not likely that you’ll find this post informative, useful, or interesting in the slightest. In fact, it’s probably TMI as far as what you need or want to know. Consider yourself warned.

Now that the housekeeping’s out of the way, let’s talk about waxing. Girls, it has become our burden as women to trim, pluck, thread, Epilady, and otherwise engage in torturous methods of hair removal on various parts of the body. Of course, the most egregious manifestation of this phenomenon is the Brazilian wax. Setting aside for a moment the natural processes that we chicas go through and that men get to avoid (the monthly visit from Aunt Flo, squeezing something the size of a watermelon through a hole the size of a grape, back issues because of “the girls”, etc.), we have allowed ourselves to surrender to a cadre of insufferable habits and procedures are female-exclusive and do not come from Mother Nature. Do men wear heels? Oh, please. Do males spend massive amounts of time and money on makeup and skin products, highlights and hair products? Give me a break. Do the fellas make any attempt to clean up the pubes, chest, back, arm, eyebrow, or any other hair other than that on their noggin? Fuck and no. Yet we empowered women of the 21st century continue to engage in these primping exercises on a regular basis.

That being said, it is what it is (or at least what it has become). Because it was looong overdue (by whose standards, I’m not quite sure), I went for an organic Brazilian today. Usually, I try to pre-empt the excruciating pain with LMX-4, a hard to find numbing creme (and yes, I am fully aware that I’m a complete pussy). Unfortunately, the concoction was not in my desk drawer as I thought it was when I booked my appointment, so I went in totally vulnerable. Luckily, I stumbled upon THE BEST WAXER IN THE WORLD!!! Allow me to introduce you to Lisa (pronounced Lissa), the wonderful Russian lady who did an amazingly thorough, swift, and empathetic job. She works at a small, unassuming salon called Confidence (located on 3rd Avenue between 22nd and 23rd Streets), and a big plus about this place is that you can set appointments through Lifebooker at significant discounts. Best of all, Lisa did not show me the fruits of her labor, i.e. the muslin strips full of wax and hair. I cannot conceive of a situation where and why an aesthetician would think this was appropriate or of interest to the client, but it has happened to me at many a wax. Lisa, ever the pro, refrained from this behavior and in so doing, racked up tons of bonus points.

Despite Lisa’s prowess, I still found the need to distract myself as much as possible. Enter the iPod. As I flipped through songs, I thought it would be a good train-ride-home project to compile a soundtrack for this very occasion. Behold the waxing playlist:

Start it off with one of these gems:

“Ready Or Not” by The Fugees

“Take It Off” by The Donnas

“I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor

“Welcome To The Jungle” by Guns n’ Roses

If you’re wise enough to have applied some LMX-4 or similar, go with this:

“Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd

Breathe, and continue with these:

“Wild Honey Pie” by The Beatles

“When It Hurts So Bad” by Lauryn Hill

“Wide Open Spaces” by the Dixie Chicks

“Patience” by Guns ‘n Roses

“Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?” by Culture Club

“Back That Ass Up” by Juvenile

“Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot

“Any Way You Want It” by Journey

“Dry Your Eyes” by The Streets

“Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks

“I Am Woman” by Helen Reddy

“I Wanna Be Sedated” by The Ramones

“It Can’t Come Quickly Enough” by Scissor Sisters

“Land Down Under” by Men At Work

“No Woman, No Cry” by Bob Marley and The Wailers

“Prickly Thorn, But Sweetly Worn” by The White Stripes

“Relax, Take It Easy” by Mika

“What Is And What Should Never Be” by Led Zeppelin

“It’s Not Right But It’s Okay” by Whitney Houston

“Fast As You Can” by Fiona Apple

“Don’t Leave Me This Way” by Thelma Houston

If you’re getting a sugar wax, you obviously want to include this:

“Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard

When you start to reflect on men and how much they suck for not waxing themselves, try these:

“Goodbye Earl” by the Dixie Chicks

“Hey Fuck You” by the Beastie Boys

“Knock ‘Em Out” by Lily Allen

“U Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer

“What Is It About Men” by Amy Winehouse

When it’s all over, treat yourself to these:

“Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley

“Cool It Down” by the Velvet Underground

“Heal The Pain” by George Michael

Now you’re done, and you are the most amazing woman alive! Go ahead and bust these out:

“I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred

“Hot Stuff” by Donna Summer

“I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross

“Filthy/Gorgeous” by Scissor Sisters

“Foxy Lady” by Jimi Hendrix

“I’m Free” by The Who

“Natural Woman” by Aretha Franklin

“You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate

“Song 2” by Blur

***

Godspeed, ladies. Have a drink – you’ve earned it!

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