Because I really like to complain about life.

You know those days that make you sigh and think, "god, life's really annoying sometimes"? Well, today was one of those days...actually, the last two days have been one of those days.

Let me go back.

This story begins on Wednesday morning. I woke up, severely late, only to discover that I had two incredibly itchy and enormous mosquito bites. I was pretty certain I’d contracted them while at an outdoor work staff meeting/”team building” the day prior, but I had no time to ponder the situation and continued drying my hair.

Part way through the day, as I was sitting at my desk when the itching had become unbearable and I turned to my co-worker and said, “Jesus, I have this mosquito bite that is so fucking itchy!!!” I then proceeded to pull down part of my pants (it’s on my hip) to show her. Alas, the mosquito bite was no longer a bite, but more of a giant tennis ball like mass of bright reddness. Her response, “holy shit! maybe you should take some benadryl or something”
So I did. And then I was stoned. I’m not even kidding you. Not sure how or why it happened, but I went into this daze and was staring into the distance for a good 45 minutes until I finally realized I was utterly stoned and should probably go home, sleep it off and then head to the doctors...

And that’s what I did. But instead of going to the doctors, I slept for 5 hours. Seriously, that benedryl was fucked up! I figured though that I could just put it off and find some time today to go.
WRONG!
Fast forward to this morning. I get to work (late yet again) and am asked to pull up stats from this fucking excel database thing that I have no idea how to even open. My boss indicates to me that it should be my “number one priority” – which basically means, “do it…or else!” So I did it. I put aside lunch AND my daily sudoku for it. Now that’s fucking dedication.
Finally, after I drudged away for a solid 9 hours, I finished this wonderful/potentially inaccurate stats page and decided it was time I see a doctor. With it being way past regular doctor hours, my only option was the urgent care clinic.
After waiting for 2 and a half fucking hours, I finally got let into the back where an insanely good looking male nurse took my blood pressure and then asked me some general questions about allergies and so on, until he nonchalantly posed this little doozy… “when was your last bowel movement?”
I don’t think words can even begin to describe how insanely awkward I became at that very moment. And what was even more awkward was that the hawt male nurse just sat there with this, “seriously woman, are you 5?!” look on his face.
I was humiliated, and all I could think of was that now this beautiful man would never want to sleep with me because he knows when I last pooped.

Finally, after waiting for 3 hours, the doctor came in and told me that I’m probably just having a reaction to a bug bite.
WELL NO SHIT!
He also suggested that I take some benadryl and if that doesn’t help, to come back again.
Ugh... no thank you! I’d rather spiders lay eggs in my wound than be asked about my bowel movements again.

And now I’m here... eating boiled eggs and popcorn for dinner. I had a laughing cow cheese too, but I accidentally sat on it.

Sigh, life.

Old Balls.

As you probably already know, I went to see Blink 182 a little while ago and even though I was initially school-girl excited about the whole experience, it definitely didn’t end up being as stellar as I had originally hoped.

For the weeks leading up to the show, me and my friend would sit on the phone or email whilst at work and talk about how excited we were to re-live all our pre-teen fantasies. Instead, when we actually arrived at the show it just reminded us that we’re old balls. And that going to "punk rock" shows is difficult and exhausting. Especially on a week-night.

The second we got there we realized we’d made a terrible mistake by purchasing floor tickets. Seriously though, who did we think we were!? 16-year-olds with stamina?! No. We don’t like standing, nor do we appreciate being jammed into a massive clusterfuck of perspiring yougins jumping up and down. In the day that might’ve been considered “fun,” but my definition of said word has changed drastically. Now, “fun” is a bag of Hawkins Cheezies and an episode of 30 rock.

Anyways, we decided it would be best to abandon our tickets and see if we could find us some seats so we could comfortably enjoy the show from a safe distance.

The beginning of the night sounded a little like this:

"My back really hurts."
“I'm tired.”
“Work was really stressful today.”
“I don't think I want to be surrounded by sweaty pop punkers that are undoubtedly going to jump up and down for the entire show. I just don't have the stamina like I used to.”
“Me neither.”
“Should we try and find some naive under age fan that is desperately wanting to experience what it's like to be in a mosh pit and then suggest that they pay us an increased ticket price in exchange for their tickets?”
"Yes. Yes we should. Then I can sit and enjoy a malt and watch all the crazy floor people steadily acquire other peoples sweat whilst jumping franticly."
"This plan is excellent."

Luckily, we stumbled upon a couple of innocent looking boys with club seats just dying for their chance to partake in the pop-punk front line action. We suggested that they give us a bit of money for the trade of the tickets, but when they hesitated we figured that a comfortable seat is enough compensation. We handed them over the tickets and watched their small eyes light up with the kind of excitement that only a first-time mosh pit experience can bring.

At that moment I sighed a bit internally and wished that I hadn’t turned into a business-casual-wearing, in-bed-at-9 working woman - but I figure this is just one of those moments in life where you realize that you just need to move on, because some things are only meant to be enjoyed when you’re 16. This is with the exclusion of teen-movies and television dramas. They may be made for 16 year olds, but they are meant to be enjoyed by any age. Don't let anyone tell you differently.

Regardless, the show was still fun; I danced a little in my seat, ate a large vanilla/chocolate swirl malt and judged people. Now that's my idea of a good time!

I'm a horrible, horrible blogger.

I realized that I’ve become completely pathetic when it comes to actually posting, but the truth is, life is just too tiring. I know what you’re thinking, "excuses Nicole, you're full of fucking excuses" - well, yes, this might be true, but I really am exhausted all the time. Ask my friends. I never go out anymore because I have the bed time of an 85 year old woman. If I'm not in bed by my regular time, I can usually be found sitting on my couch, bobbing my head lazily, and often times falling asleep sitting up. It’s really quite pathetic.


So I'll bet you're super curious as to what else is going on in my life?

Ya, i knew it...

Not to burst all your hopes and dreams, but if I’m not sleeping or working I can generally be found sitting on my couch watching 30 rock. Or bitching about working full time and life. I really like to bitch about life. The odd time i'll go outside, but I usually prefer to stay indoors. The sun and heat can become really overwhelming.

But I’ve decided that it’s finally time for me to stop being so lame! I’m going to start doing things! And I figure when I actually leave my house and engage in normal social activities, I’ll begin to have things to write about again! And that means more blogs! So if I’ve not already lost my entire readership, I’m here to let you know that I’m back, and I promise that I will do my very best to marginally entertain you on a semi-regular basis.