Affianced

I apologize for my recent, sudden disappearance. I was not kidnapped. I was not murdered. But I assure you, my lack of posting activity was for good reason...

I'M ENGAGED!!!

Dave was determined to surprise me after letting it slip one drunken night in Las Vegas that a proposal was forthcoming. Remember the funny money clip? And surprise me, he did.

It was my 30th birthday party. August 18th. White trash bowling. Trucker hats for everyone (everyone got a hat when they arrived, and your hat color determined your bowling team -- seriously, how clever am I?), wife beaters (with black bras, of course!), cut-off jean shorts, pizza, wings, jalapeno poppers, beer, a private suite of bowling lanes. It was awesome. Much thanks to all my friends and family who came to help me celebrate (and who unknowingly would share a moment with Dave and I that I will never forget).

Picture if you can, me in three-and-a-half-inch heels (who has time to get bowling shoes when you're busy hosting and socializing?), a piece of pizza in one hand, a bowling ball in the other. I may have been slightly inebriated. Not sure, but I may have been. Between my first and second frames, my lane shut down. I stumbled back to press the "Reset" button, when Dave pointed out a ball that had just rolled up and was glowing in the dark (it was Rock & Bowl that night at the bowling alley). "Hey Blonde Girl" it said, in big, bold, silver letters. Curious, I started to read the other writing on the ball. But then I came to a drawing of a ring and the words "Pop" and "The big question is here."

I spun round to see Dave standing behind me with a ring box and a huge smile. Suddenly, everyone was paying attention, and I think there was some screaming. He dropped to his knee and asked me to be his wife, and after giving my pizza to someone nearby, I immediately accepted. And this time, there was a ring in the box. A beautiful ring, the exact one I wanted, and it's colorless, so it sparkles like you wouldn't believe (as soon as I get a good picture of it, I'll post it).

So I've been a little busy with wedding plans these past three weeks (it will be May 5 at a local vineyard), but I will try not to neglect you anymore.

Hugs and kisses!

What do you do when you discover that someone who was once your best friend is not the person you thought they were? What do you do when it turns out that your friendship, like the better part of their life, was based on nothing but superficiality, lies and manipulation? How do you face them, when you don't like who they've become? How can you possibly help, when they are on a path to becoming the worst version of themselves? What do you say to someone when single mistakes in their past turn out to be a pattern of ongoing stupidity -- when clearly no lessons have been learned, no changes have been made, and there are no more excuses that could ever justify their actions? How can you believe anything they say ever again -- even an apology or a promise to try harder or do better -- when the most sacred trusts have been betrayed? And how do you deal when your heart hurts so deeply for the dozens of people whose lives they are destroying?

You know, 'cause I'm just wondering. Hypothetically, of course.

Safe!

In quite possibly the cleverest blog contest I've yet to see, Pauly D, capitalizing on the popularity of reality shows everywhere, has decided that today we will vote out one of yesterday's commenters. You should check it out. But you can't vote me off, because I have apparently won the coveted immunity card for casting my vote in the predetermined nth spot. So go on over and vote off one of my competitors.

What a girl needs...

Have you ever Googled yourself? It's always interesting to see where you show up on the Internet, and even more interesting to learn about your doppelgangers.

Try this variation, borrowed from Chronic Listaholic -- type "[Your Name] needs" and then list the top ten results. I included five extras, just because I thought they were funny.

Nicole needs:

1. Nicole needs a family that can provide her with the accommodations she needs. Yes -- preferably a large house wherein I have a large bedroom with a large walk-in closet filled with a cute new wardrobe.
2. Nicole needs a boob job. Again? I'm not going for the porn star look!
3. Nicole needs to calm down. Absolutely. I think a massage would really help with this particular need.
4. Nicole needs inspiration/encouragement. Indeed. I've been rather uninspired/unencouraged at work lately.
5. Nicole needs a new page. If you mean a new home page for the new web site I have yet to publish, but for which I have owned the domain for the past two years -- then yes.
6. Nicole needs to shut her mouth. That's a little rude! And besides, I'm technically not talking through my mouth at the moment.
7. I think all Nicole needs are some boobs and then she'll look better. Seriously, what is it with you and boobs?!
8. Nicole needs a new play. Would a musical count?
9. Nicole's Needs: Exhibitionist & Voyeur This must be a more recent development resulting from my new favorite workout.
10. Nicole needs a lot of help. Clearly.
11. Nicole needs an intervention. Only where Girl Scout cookies (and ice cream) are concerned.
12. Nicole needs to get to a photo shoot. That sounds like fun -- I could use a new headshot.
13. Nicole needs friends. Don't we all need our friends?
14. Nicole needs a man. Done.
15. Nicole needs a babysitter. Only when I'm really drunk.

My Boyfriend the Comedian

Dave came with me on an overnight gig in Lake Arrowhead last week. And here's what he pulled out of his pocket when we checked in to the hotel:
















Yes, it's a ring box. And no, there wasn't anything in it. He thinks it's funny to tease me like this, but I say it's just mean!*

*I should explain this a little more: In Vegas last month, he got very drunk and we got in a bit of a tiff over some of his antics. During his efforts to make up with me, he let it slip that he is planning to propose in the next month. So this is his way of messing with me to try to throw me off, because he wanted it to be a surprise. If I didn't know his intentions, it would certainly be a slap in the face.

A Year in Review

One year ago today, I arrived at the site of our upcoming event to set everything up so I could arrive at a normal time the following morning. I had no idea that you would be there. Or that you would be YOU. I was surprised and delighted to find that you were my age. And you seemed sweet. And normal. And I can't deny that I found you attractive. You were completely unexpected.

I woke up early the next day so I could look my best for you. I mean, for the event. ;-) And, as fate (read: Emily) would have it, my responsibility during the event was logistics. Which meant that I was to spend most of the day with the vendors, including you. I found you so intriguing. Our conversations were so easy and entertaining. I don't know if you noticed, but I went out of my way to spend extra time with you, to talk with you more, to flirt as subtly as I could manage, to do little things for you to make you remember me (I know you'll never forget the Peanut M&Ms). But I was not confident enough to say anything to you when we parted that afternoon. Plus, there was that whole vendor-client thing.

Over the next week, you popped into my head many times. Finally, following a pep talk by a couple of friends, I mustered up the courage to call you. I had been hanging on to the event file at my desk, because it had your cell phone number. You know, in case of emergencies. Or in case I wanted to ask you out, something I had never done before. After practicing what I would say, I nervously called you, praying that you would at least remember me. Even if you were already taken.

And I'm so glad I did call you. And that you remembered me. And that you were interested. And single. (Or, so you said. But I'm glad you stopped seeing that other girl when I called.) And since then we've had so many good times and made so many memories:

• Fantastic Diamond 2005
• Meeting your parents on my birthday
• Labor Day weekend in Las Vegas with Mark and Johnna
• Cabin weekend in Lake Arrowhead with my work girls
• Meeting my family at my sister's wedding
• Your Halloween costume party
• Thanksgiving with your family in Sunriver
• Our first Christmas together
• New Year's Eve at my gig (you're such a good sport, and I love that you're my biggest fan!)
• A very romantic Valentine's Day at Pane e Vino
• Spa weekend and wine tasting in Paso Robles
• Skiing and playing house in Sunriver
• Jen and Jason's wedding weekend in Palm Springs
• Memorial Day weekend at Joel's Santa Barbara house with Aaron and Whitney
• Your birthday weekend in Portland
• Our crazy fourth of July weekend in both Las Vegas and Lake Arrowhead (and the incident in the middle of the desert which I would rather forget!)
• Fantastic Diamond 2006
• Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat with Emily and Mark
• And, of course, all the laughter you bring to my life that make even the day-to-day things seem special

We've had such a fun first year together. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life making more memories with you.

I love you!

You Know You've Become Famous in the Blogosphere When...

...someone on the other side of the country, even if he is the vice-president of my fan club,* writes a post about me.

*Sorry, Carl -- the office of president is reserved for my boyfriend.

Any Dream Will Do

Dave and I saw Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on Sunday with Emily and Mark. The cheese factor was pretty high, but I always enjoy seeing a show. (Wicked was next on our list, but was regrettably sold out the moment tickets went on sale.)

And it got me to thinking...

Why have I never done a musical? I've been singing and dancing all my life, and Lord knows I'm a little bit dramatic. So why haven't I put these skills together and to good use? In high school it wasn't cool to be associated with the drama kids, and being a cheerleader I'm pretty sure that's why I didn't get involved in the musical theater program. And in college I didn't sing as much, so I could focus on my dancing. Then I got into a career, and well, I just never found the time.

But there's nothing quite like the rush of performing to a live audience (although I also love doing studio recordings). I enjoy singing with my three bands and occasionally at church, and I think I would love to be in a musical. Preferrably as the star, but any part would do. A good friend of mine played the lead in Miss Saigon several times, and I always envied that experience just a little bit. I know the music for most of the popular shows, having seen quite a few live and owning the soundtrack for at least 20 more.

So I think I'm finally going to audition -- just for a local production. (After all, my resume is pretty unimpressive in this field. And I don't think I'm the touring type.) So stay tuned...

S is for

Sexy.
Strong.
Sensual.
The Shape of a woman's body.
Striptease.

I've recently become addicted to Sheila Kelley's S Factor. I took my third class today, and already I feel stronger, leaner, more flexible, more feminine and more comfortable in my body.

Now don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying that stripping for money is something I plan to do now or in the future; it's not the point of the classes to teach women how to be strippers (although I imagine that you'd probably do just fine in that profession if this was the only training you ever received!). But a well-timed lap dance for my man is not out of the question, and now I'll have the skills to do it right. Plus, with the incredible workout you get with this program, I'll have the toned-up body and the resulting confidence to do it, too! I didn't realize that strippers are so athletic -- pole tricks are not easy and require a lot of strength, balance and grace. And, it takes a lot of practice to get your muscles strong and limber enough to control and slow your movement to the point that it drips in anticipation.

Anyway, it's really empowering and a much more interesting workout than the gym. So ladies, if there is a studio near you, I highly recommend checking out an intro class. Just beware of the repercussions -- I'm sore and bruised in very unusual places. And of course, Dave wants to install a pole in the house now.

Belly Up

I won a goldfish once at a carnival. I had never had a fish before, but I looked online for instructions on how to care for my new pet.

The first time I changed the water in his bowl, I carefully poured him into a cup with some of the old water while I washed out the bowl and refilled it with clean water. I added the recommended number of drops of whatever that solution was, and it was fit for inhabitance once again.

But then I had a thought — I couldn’t pour the old, dirty water into the new, clean water. That would defeat the purpose of the cleaning I had just completed. And furthermore, my little fish had been swimming around in his own filth. So I decided he should have a bath before he went back into his freshly-cleaned home.

I ran some room-temperature water, gently cupped him in my hands, and ran him underneath the stream twice, back and forth. Then I gently slid him into his clean bowl.

But he just floated there, on his side. I thought maybe he was in shock, or scared, or maybe he was playing possum. But when he still didn’t move after a few minutes, I realized I had killed him.

Regrettably, this was only a couple of years ago. So I can’t even blame childhood innocence for my crime. Thankfully, dogs are much easier to care for. And way more fun to have around.

The Bird

I returned home after work one summer afternoon to find that the door leading from the carport into the kitchen had been left open. Not just unlocked. Wide open. Living in Utah, and especially living close to BYU, this was not much cause for concern (the crime rate there, as you can imagine, is relatively low), but was another frustrating reminder that the two boys I lived with were not exactly the most responsible people.

Nevertheless, I went about my regularly-scheduled business of sorting the mail on the kitchen counter and checking the messages on the answering machine. That's when I noticed that the vertical blinds next to me were rustling, and I could see a dark figure near the base of the sliding glass doors -- about six inches from my feet. At first, I wasn't sure what it was. But I wasn't about to wait around to find out, so I grabbed the cordless phone and hurried into my bedroom down the hall.

Why my gay dance partner was the first person I thought to call, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, he was smaller than I, and certainly no braver. But my boyfriend was still at work, so I called him in a panic.

Me: "Troy, there is a crow in my house. You have to come over right away to help me!"
Troy: "What do you want me to do about it?"
Me: "Kill it, of course!"
Troy: "I'm not killing a bird. Where is it now?"
Me: "I don't know! I'm locked in my bedroom."
Troy: "Go see where it is. Maybe you scared it and it flew out already."
Me: "Okay. Hang on..."

I emerge slowly from the safety of my bedroom, being careful not to make a sound. Peering around the corner, I can see that the large black bird is not in the place of my initial discovery. Maybe he's right, I think. Maybe it has left the house.

As I turn around, I notice to my horror a silouhette in the dark living room, perched on the arm of the sofa. It's looking at me. Directly at me. With glowing eyes, it begins to fly, claws outstretched, making the most terrible sound my ears have ever heard. I scream and drop the phone, run into my room and slam the door, when...

SMACK!

The bird has charged right into my door. It wanted to attack me. It was coming to peck my eyes out!

Now what am I going to do? I left the phone in the living room (I didn't have a cell phone at the time), and I'm home alone. What if it pecks through the door and eats me alive? My mind is racing, when I hear a group of boys in the kitchen calling my name.

Who has come to save me from this evil bird? It's my dance partner and his housemates. Apparently, my scream and the thud that followed caused some concern. So he gathered up the troops and came to save the day. I was free at last. But let me assure you, there is nothing funnier than six gay men trying to shoo a crow out with a broom.

Clearly, Alfred Hitchcock's got nothing on me.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Have an Ulcer

1. Dave and I are trying to save for a house, which in Southern California comes at the bargain price of $600,000. For a two-bedroom condo!
2. And my ring.
3. And our wedding.
4. And our eventual children's college funds. (Okay, so we're not actively saving for this one quite yet, but it stresses me out just to think about it! Or maybe it's the whole having kids thing that stresses me out. Either way, stress!)
5. I am overworked, underappreciated and seriously underpaid (I know, who isn't, right?!) at a job that most days, I hate.
6. So I'm looking for a new one.
7. Of late, the gradual falling out with my sister and with a friend have come to a head.
8. I am going back to school at the end of this month (read: less disposable income and less me-time).
9. Bathing suit season is upon us.
10. Most of the things I want to write about here (read: vent), I can't. But trust me, they're stressful.

So yeah, I could use a Xanax. Or a bottle of wine and a long massage. Or a vacation. Or maybe a cocktail mixing all of the above for optimum results.

A Humble, Not-Pre-Written Acceptance Speech

If you've been reading lately, you either think I've lost touch with reality and should be institutionalized, or know that I participated this past week in Kevin Apgar's genius marketing idea, the Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign for Paul Davidson's forthcoming book, The Lost Blogs.

It was a lot of fun to write as someone else (Helen of Troy, in case you didn't catch it), and I've discovered some great new reads in the blogs of other participants (see the "Lost Bloggers" links at right).

As an added bonus, I was surprised and thrilled to learn that I have been chosen as one of six winners in this contest/exercise by Pauly D himself. (And, of course, I'm super-excited to receive my personally-autographed advance copy of his book.)

So thanks, Pauly D, for this honor. And everyone else, be sure to pre-order your copy of his book!

Lost Blogs: Day Five

How did I get here? From Queen of Sparta to Princess of Troy, and now a refugee. I have lost everything. It wouldn't matter if my love were still here. But I have lost him, too. And I don't know how to start over without him. I don't want to.

I look at the few survivors around me, and I weep. It is my fault that they are here. If not for my affair, they would have remained in the peaceful existence they knew before all of this. But Aphrodite's spell, nay, curse, was too strong to resist. All the women who have lost their husbands. All the children who have lost their fathers. I feel their scornful eyes upon me wherever I go.

I know what I must do. It will not bring back their loved ones. It will not bring back the wonderful kingdom that was conquered by the combined Greek army. And it will not undo the ruin that our city has become. But it might save me in the next life.

-Helen

This post is part of Kevin Apgar's Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign (GRBBMC) for the upcoming release of the very talented Paul Davidson's new book, The Lost Blogs. If you want to read the possible blogs of hundreds of other historical figures (though much better-written, I'm sure), click here to pre-order your copy of Paul's book. At the end of this five-day contest/exercise, the characters of all participating bloggers will be revealed. If you wish, you can leave your guesses in the comments.

Lost Blogs: Day Four

A firey orange glow now envelopes this land that was beautiful just yesterday. We had much time and took precautions to fortify the city in preparation for their attack, yet we did not anticipate a siege of this kind.

They came in the middle of the night, hidden, waiting for the opportune moment when their strike would hurt us the most. We weren't ready. And now our kingdom is being consumed by the flames of a terrible war.

We are far outnumbered, and the carnage is great. Even with some of the greatest warriors on our side, I fear we will lose this battle. Worse, I fear it will be years until the damage is fully done and we can start to rebuild what will hopefully be left of our kingdom.

Paris left me to fight today. He and his brother are no match for Menelaus, though. His brute strength and furious rage will overcome their experience and skill. I can't bear the thought of what is going to happen. And I can't go back to my husband if he kills the man I love. I am leaving the city tonight with my sister-in-law and a handful of other women and children.

This post is part of Kevin Apgar's Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign (GRBBMC) for the upcoming release of the very talented Paul Davidson's new book, The Lost Blogs. If you want to read the possible blogs of hundreds of other historical figures (though much better-written, I'm sure), click here to pre-order your copy of Paul's book. At the end of this five-day contest/exercise, the characters of all participating bloggers will be revealed. If you wish, you can leave your guesses in the comments.

Lost Blogs: Day Three

Preparing for bed tonight, as I was brushing my hair, I nearly lost my breath when I saw the reflection in the mirror. Not of myself, despite the vanity that some may say I possess. But rather, of the horizon. I turned and looked out my window at the sea that stretched out before me as far as I could see. The view was surprisingly and alarmingly tranquil.

Hundreds of ships, possibly a thousand, sails to the calm, quiet night winds, making their way to our shores. They were distant and slow-approaching, but I knew it wouldn't be long before they arrived. And my husband was certain to be on the lead ship.

My love lay sleeping -- peaceful, unaware of tomorrow's inevitable conflict. I couldn't bring myself to wake him with this news. I wanted only to enjoy one more moment of bliss with him before I was forcibly returned to the life I so willingly fled. I wanted to be free for just one more night.

So I drew the curtains closed and pushed the image out of my mind of what was to come. And I lay down beside my love, one last time.

This post is part of Kevin Apgar's Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign (GRBBMC) for the upcoming release of the very talented Paul Davidson's new book, The Lost Blogs. If you want to read the possible blogs of hundreds of other historical figures (though much better-written, I'm sure), click here to pre-order your copy of Paul's book. At the end of this five-day contest/exercise, the characters of all participating bloggers will be revealed. If you wish, you can leave your guesses in the comments.

Lost Blogs: Day Two

I awoke today, numb to the happiness I have known these last few months here, and instead filled with a dark and looming sense of impending doom. I am afraid -- not for my own life, for that is of no concern to me. But for the life of my love. And his family, who have been so kind to me ever since I arrived, unannounced. His father could just as easily have ordered my return, to avoid all this nonsense. His brothers could have thought me a cold, heartless, unfaithful wretch. But instead they chose to welcome me, to embrace and accept me and my choices.

How I dream of a day when we could be free! Free to start over together and leave this all behind. And I would willingly leave it all -- it was never about the money or the power for me. With my new love I feel more beautiful than any man has ever made me feel.

My husband told me I was beautiful, but he never loved me like this. Like all the others, he lusted after me. But he was interested in nothing more than the crown that would be his when my father passed on. The crown that should have been my departed, beloved twin brother's. No, this was never love. Rather, he has been plotting with his powerful brother and forming alliances with other kings and planning our demise. And as he draws nearer, my heart aches, for I know that my dream of a new life will never come true. I know the fate that will befall us. And I am powerless to stop it -- it is our destiny.

Still, I can't help but feel guilty. For although I deserve this horrible fate, I have brought disaster with me to this once peaceful kingdom. I will be the reason for the innocent lives that will surely be lost if this battle occurs. Perhaps I can convince my husband when he arrives to simply take me back and leave the people unharmed. I don't think he could look at me and kill me, anyway. But I must first convince myself that returning to my sad existence with him would be preferable to death.

This post is part of Kevin Apgar's Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign (GRBBMC) for the upcoming release of the very talented Paul Davidson's new book, The Lost Blogs. If you want to read the possible blogs of hundreds of other historical figures (though much better-written, I'm sure), click here to pre-order your copy of Paul's book. At the end of this five-day contest/exercise, the characters of all participating bloggers will be revealed. If you wish, you can leave your guesses in the comments.

Lost Blogs: Day One

Call it boredom. Call it fate. Call me aldulterous. But just don't judge me.

You have no idea how taxing it is, pretending to love a man your father chose for you to marry. A man who is not kind, not intelligent, not funny, not handsome, not charming. A man who to me, has no attractive qualities. Of the thousands of suitors that hoped to inherit my mortal father's throne by marrying me, many so much more handsome and charming than my husband, I was not allowed any say in the matter. This life that I would not have chosen, this forced pretense -- it eats away at me every day.

Of course I feel badly about leaving him. And I feel worse about abandoning our daughter. But for the first time, I felt something -- anything. For the first time I experienced an emotion that I never imagined I could feel in this life. It was as though the gods intervened when we met and gave me a taste of the life I could have had. And now that my senses have come alive, he is all I want. I want to feel, to taste, to touch, to experience love, to be happy.

But I fear that my husband will not allow us much time together. Surely when he returns to find me gone, he will come after us with all the force afforded to a man in his position. The very power that, by my father's decree, made me his wife.

This post is part of Kevin Apgar's Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign (GRBBMC) for the upcoming release of the very talented Paul Davidson's new book, The Lost Blogs. If you want to read the possible blogs of hundreds of other historical figures (though much better-written, I'm sure), click here to pre-order your copy of Paul's book. At the end of this five-day contest/exercise, the characters of all participating bloggers will be revealed. If you wish, you can leave your guesses in the comments.

Bridesman?

What would be the proper name for a male bridesmaid? It's something that I've recently been seeing with increasing regularity at weddings -- men in the bridal party along with the traditional female bridesmaids. Dave was in a friend's wedding over the weekend. On the bride's side. He wasn't on the groom's side, so you wouldn't call him a groomsman. So I've decided that he is a bridesman. Or perhaps a manmaid. ;-) Your thoughts?

In any case, he looked very handsome. And I have to give him credit for being secure enough in his manhood to carry a bouquet! At least he got to wear a tux, instead of a bridesmaid dress!

The wedding was in Palm Springs at a swanky resort, and the weather was perfect. I'm definitely a fan of the destination wedding. It's a nice excuse for a weekend getaway for the guests, and for the couple it helps shrink the guest list to a more reasonable (and affordable) size.

We're thinking a vineyard might be a romantic setting for our own nuptials. But I promise, that's all the planning we've done for now.

Playing House

My boyfriend's parents treated us to a weekend of skiing and relaxation two weeks ago at their Sunriver, OR vacation house. We ate great food (my boyfriend is a fantastic cook!) and drank good wine. We stayed up late, slept in, took naps. We skiied on freshly fallen, perfectly powdery snow. We played games. We soaked in the hot tub after a little coaxing on his part (I was not about to walk outside in a bikini, where it was snowing and zero degrees!). It was peaceful and lovely, and so much fun to play house with him!