What to hear: historically real men prefer The Marilyns with curls and curves

I am 225% an unashamed, unabashed, ridiculously overboard Miranda Lambert fan. She’s from Texas. She’s around 5’3″. She’s blonde. She loves to drink. Clearly we are meant to be BFFs. She just needs to meet me.

You won’t be surprised to know I have been to her Pink Pistol store in Lindale, own multiple Junk Gypsy shirts with her lyrics and of course every single album she’s released. I know every word, have a Miranda Lambert station on Pandora and have seen her live three times, including once at Billy Bob’s, which was phenomenal. Of the songs that have fortunately made it on the radio, Gunpowder and Lead, Heart Like Mine, Only Prettier and Mama’s Broken Heart are my favorites. However, there are so many of her older songs that didn’t make it on air that I play in heavy rotation: Guilty in Here from 2007’s Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and I Wanna Die from 2005’s Kerosene being the top two; and from her last album, 2011’s Four the Record (her most successful to date), Fine Tune (dirty, dirty song y’all!), Same Old You and Easy Living.

150+ words and I’ve not even touched the two Pistol Annies albums yet. It’s a sickness, I know.

Her newest album, Platinum, came out about a month ago and if it was an actual CD, I would have already worn it out. The first track released was Automatic, which country radio has successfully beat into the ground repeatedly. Although it’s a cute song and very timely, in my opinion it’s not the best song on Platinum. It was, however, a guaranteed hit, which was good publicity for the upcoming album. I am in marketing; I get it.

Throwback Thursday: “what might have been” from Crazy Lil Sports Lady

If I had, let’s say, a thousand dollars for every time someone has asked me why I gave up my sports blog I would be well on my way to finding a 21 year-old to adopt as his Sugar Mama. I also have no doubt that if I’d kept up with that blog consistently I would be making some nice cash off it by now. But, as we all know, life happens. I moved back to Texas, got a new job that sucked a lot of life out of me and well, you know the rest. And I’ll be very honest, the Cowboys continued demise undoubtedly contributed the greatest effort to bursting my lovely little sports blog balloon. Cause they friggin suck.

Having said that, loving sports is a big part of who I am and what makes me happy…for the most part. I still have access to most of my posts, not all; I lost a lot when I let one of my accounts go (I can’t think about that right now…). I have many girlfriends who are huge, legitimate fans of various sports and well, Dallas is in the title of this blog. And Dallas loves its teams. Until they fall below .500. Funny how the Stars got REAL popular again last season, huh? #judging

I already have one previous sports related posted, Ladies who love their hockey, a somewhat condensed version of a series of posts from Crazy Lil Sports Lady about my most favorite hockey memories. Basically it’s a dramedy covering my years as an amateur stalker. Good times. So in honor of Throwback Thursday and in effort to keep CLSL alive on some level, below is a post from January 2009. How much I knew about the Cowboys then shocks even me. I am saddened by how much I’ve lost that loving feeling. But it’s also quite humorous to see, these five and a half years later, how very little has changed. Jerry Jones is the physical embodiment of insanity. A few weeks ago I was at AT&T Stadium for the final George Strait concert, to get to our seats we had to pass under Jerry’s suite…and there he was. There was a LINE of stupidity waiting to speak to him and kiss the ring. I wanted to vomit my nachos (but they cost too much). I said – out loud – that is the last human being in this entire stadium of 104,000 people I want to talk to. At which point a young lad of about 19 yelled out, “SEE? That’s how I feel, Dad! Why would I want to go up there?” Good kid, that one.

What to watch: Chef

If you know me personally or have read more than just my last post bemoaning the lazy dating habits of a fair number of modern men (I have yet to wrap my head around the number of visits this silly little blog has had because of that post…) you know that I’ve spent over half my life in the movie theater business in some form or fashion. I started shoveling popcorn as a means to get a car at 16 and somehow made this fabulous career out of it. I thought I was going to have to leave it last year, which was rather traumatizing. But as I told a direct response vendor today, no one who enters this industry ever successfully leaves this industry. At least not for good. You think I’m joking. I’m not. It’s one big collective, never ending game of incestuous musical chairs. But damn we freaking love each other. And booze. We really love booze.

Because going to the movies has always been part of my “job” I’ve not always enjoyed it. It’s hard to turn it off when you walk into a popcorn-ridden, 60 people in line with only two kids behind the concession stand lobby. But during my days playing the batshit crazy singleton of the Real Housewives of the M Streets (read: when I was unemployed) going to the movies is the one thing I allowed myself to spend money on consistently, other than electricity, dog and cat food, and naturally, wine.

Whether you go alone, with one of your best friends or find a guy who will “man up” as the last post suggests and ask you out on that second date, you should probably choose Chef. I am a little late in posting this so the film is not as wide as it was, but if you’re fortunate to still have it in your market — Dallas, you’re good — don’t walk. Run. Oh wait, be sure to stop and eat something extraordinarily delicious beforehand. If not, you WILL return home and gather ingredients that will only suffice for a somewhat passable grilled cheese, then be sorely disappointed because it didn’t turn out anywhere near as good as the one Jon Favreau makes in the movie. And either way, regret will soon follow because you’ll quickly realize you’ll never have Sofia Vergara’s body by eating grilled cheese, gourmet or otherwise. However, you will still absolutely adore this movie.

In other blogs: “Dear single dudes: it’s time to man up”

I have thought this over for four days now and there is no way around the fact writing about this is going to appear as anything less than extraordinarily passive aggressive. So let me just get this out of the way…

Yes. Several things detailed in Matt Walsh’s original article reminded me of my experiences in dating. By several things, I mean pretty much the entire thing. Did I think of specific individuals when I read it? Oh my gosh, of course. But am I choosing to write about this to get my thoughts and feelings across to anyone in particular? No. I do solemnly swear I am not. I don’t even know if anyone I have dated is reading this and really don’t care either way. I am doing this because this article has a plethora of valid points that are a major source of frustration for my single girlfriends, reasons why some of them choose not to date at all. I don’t believe writing about this will change anything; I’m not that naïve.

I do think there are still actual men out there who are capable of “getting serious” and exhibiting the finer qualities for which we seek. I don’t think they’re ALL pieces of shit (despite what I say after vodka #3). Having said that, I wholeheartedly agree with Walsh and believe there is a major epidemic of guys with lazy dating skills. And once you reach a certain age and stage of life, lazy dating is rather unattractive, counterproductive and overall, an extreme waste of time and effort.

Cinderella was on to something…

If you perhaps know me well, you know that I have a very strong passion for shoes. This is something that has been passed down for generations now. First my grandmother, then my mother (though hers mostly manifested itself in the form of cowboy boots, several of which I now own) and then me. My niece is starting to pick this habit up as well. #ProudAuntie

This love didn’t really percolate for me until 2005 or 2006 when I made one of my New Year’s Resolutions to overhaul my shoe wardrobe. I was in the midst of losing a lot of weight and gradually feeling better about myself, so I felt it was time to spice up the footwear. Yeah, I might have overdid it. Up until I broke my ankle in 2012, I had a rotating collection of at least 100 pairs, mostly heels.

Men find many of our habits absurd, which is fine, because there are many things about them I’ll never understand. What they should never do, however, is underestimate the way a pair of dead sexy heels can make a girl feel. In this post I am re-blogging, a pair the author mistakenly bought while Ambien shopping didn’t just change the day she was having upon their surprise arrival, they were the catalyst in a shift of her entire perspective on where her life was at and changes she desperately needed to make. If any shoe can do that, a Stuart Weitzman certainly can.

Sadly, I have not been able to wear heels since I broke my ankle. I recently found out it’s because my tendons are strained, so I am working on this. Many folks tease me for bemoaning my continued inability to wear heels. They’re unable to fathom why I would even want to do so, since the whole reason I actually broke my ankle was due to high heels. But what they don’t get is I truly miss the way the way they make me feel. I am not the world’s tallest person, nor am I always 110% confident when it comes to looks. Previously, heels always made all of that better. Their ability to make any outfit is a given, but as this author says, sometimes they’re so much more.

The Universe According to Snow White

I may be Snow White, but I have to hand it to Cinderella. When the Universe sent her a fabulous pair of shoes she knew it was a sign to transform her life. Okay, maybe not in the most empowered of ways, but the girl knew not to underestimate the power of a great pair of shoes. It took me a while, but I finally learned that lesson as well.

Anyone who knows me, knows that 2011 was the WORST year of my life.  I tore my right Achilles tendon and dealt with the revelation of false friends. But nothing compared to the devastation I felt when my mother passed away that August.

By 2012 I was a mess.  Not even a hot mess.  Just a mess.  I had given up.  I wasn’t working.  I was still drowning in grief.  I felt 90 years old and defeated.  I was approaching…

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What to download: Parqer

There are two things I’ve completely lost the ability to do since moving out of Los Angeles: carry cash and parallel park. It’s like I left both of these skills – yes, consistently carrying cash in the age of plastic is most definitely a learned skill – somewhere in the desert between Palm Springs and El Paso. Better those than my sanity, which is quite easy to forfeit on that particular mindless, drab, dreary, BORING drive. There is one stretch of I-10 (or The 10 for you people out left) in New Mexico that I swear is how and where all horror movies ultimately begin.

I could go on for potentially 16 posts about how bad parking sucks balls in LA. It’s no secret. And as Dallas continues this freakish growth phase, it’s certainly no better. Henderson. Katy Trail. Uptown. Downtown. Lowest Greenville. Northpark on the weekends. All nightmares. If it wasn’t for Uber my girlfriends and I might never leave our houses. However, as much as we all love us some Uber, it’s not always a necessity. (Read: you don’t necessarily plan on drinking that much). Nor is it always an option. Maybe you’re headed straight from the office to a dinner meeting, office happy hour or an early date you’re super anxious to get to (it happens, I hear). It’s 5:30 p.m., 75 is a disaster (shocking!) , you’re beyond irritated and in need of a cold, frosty beverage. You pull up to the Ice House and there is of course no parking to be found this side of Cedar Springs and you have exactly 62 cents in your cup holder.

We have all been there. It’s the worst. But just like Uber has saved the cashless from avoiding taxi rides like the plague, Parqer is now rescuing the non-cash-carrying-hopeless from avoiding valet or having to park six blocks away and most likely illegally.

Parqer, a Dallas-based organization (and in full disclosure, founded by a friend) has partnered with three area valet companies and numerous trendy spots including the Katy Trail Ice House, Three Sheets and Northpark Center, to offer their brilliant cashless valet option. Once users download the app to their smartphones and store payment info, they need only open it up upon checkout and select the location at which they’re participating and confirm the charges. It works for valet fees + tips or tips only. Easy breezy.

Though Parqer is currently available in DFW only, have patience dear friends, it’s expanding to Austin and Houston soon. And from there? In my personal, yet biased, opinion, I see this expanding to all the places in all the country.

The app for my increasingly crappy parallel parking skills, much like my bug killing abilities, is called Find A Husband. Good luck with that, Nikki.

Xo.

 

 

In other blogs: “my husband is not my soul mate”

A couple of weeks ago one of my girlfriends sent me a link to a post on Trusty Chucks entitled “My Husband is Not My Soul Mate.” Given who sent it (we have very similar beliefs about many things dating and marriage related) and the title itself, I knew I was either going to hate it entirely or absolutely love it.

First of all, Trusty Chucks is a fabulous site. I have complete blog envy of Mary Graham and the work she has done. Second of all, how she got the idea for this particular post was both heartbreaking and eye-opening. One of her students, a 7th grader, wrote, “It’s not fair that people with disabilities get judged by how they look. Some adults don’t get soul mates because of how they are looked at.”

Well played, 13 year-old. I both hate and love that you know that. I was less than a year away from thinking Mike Modano was my soul mate at your age. You, my little friend, have a much better grasp on reality, no matter how bad it sucks.

As Mary goes on to say, that student’s statement alone is worth a thousand different topics, but it was the words “soul” and “mate” that got her attention. She said her first instinct was to immediately run home and tell her girls “that soul mates aren’t real. That this isn’t something to dream about, something to wish and hope for. Because it will let you down and make all your real, healthy, and sometimes-disappointing relationships feel less than.”

When I read that I realized even at my advanced age, divorced for five years and still single I have absolutely no freaking idea how I feel about any of that. My first husband was obviously not my soul mate. I have a list of 438 reasons why I am perfectly okay with that, one being I had no intentions of being a level 50 mage when I grew up (yes, that part of my life was totally an episode of Big Bang Theory). But here’s the part that will potentially make you roll your eyes at me: I still believe in soul mates. But I also believe what Mary had to say:

He is my husband, my best friend, my lover, my favorite person to talk to, my biggest cheerleader, and my family.

But he does not complete me, fill me up, or make my world.

He challenges me, encourages me, and talks me down off cliffs, but he isn’t the end-all-be-all of my world. That is a dangerous thing to ask of a relationship because I’m in love with and married to a flawed man. And he married a really flawed Mary.

I could honestly cut and paste the ENTIRE post because it’s that good. But her site is more than worthy of your visit, so I will refrain. The way she described her husband, Chris, is what I personally believe to be the quintessential description of a soul mate. As she says, I also don’t believe in anyone “completing” anyone else. That is absurd. We are in control in completing ourselves. I do, however, want someone to complement me.

I am a grown ass woman. I have many faults. Among them, I despise cleaning and wasn’t exposed to good financial habits growing up. Those are two things I am working on but with which I find extreme, mind-numbing difficulty. But I know how to take care of myself without much help. I’ve never missed rent, my car is paid off and my electricity stays on. Neither I nor any of my animals go hungry (though they’ll try to convince you otherwise). So as much as we all have our moments of lusting for a “sugar daddy” (do not lie, you’ve done it too!) I do not need that or really any man. I proved that to myself by surviving an unexpected eight months of unemployment on my own. But would it be amazing to have a partner in crime with whom to get into shenanigans, navigate the rest of this life, support my bad decisions and screw up our own kids? Abso-freaking-lutely. I don’t need you to find my missing glass slipper and whisk me away to your castle. I just need you to be able to carry me out of the bar when my glass slipper breaks my ankle – cause it’s been known to happen – and take me to our regular sized, maybe kinda messy home. I also need you to kill wasps and make sure the tires on my car are rotated. I don’t have unrealistic expectations here, people!

That was a long explanation of saying I know it won’t be a Jerry Maguire-esque ending of “you complete me”. It won’t be rainbows, butterflies and fairy dust. My pastor recently said that marriage isn’t defined by the for better, for richer and in health moments. And I completely agree with that. It’s the worse, the poorer and in sickness moments when it would be lovely to have someone the most.

Xo, Nikki

How to be: learning how to walk the talk

Anytime a girlfriend or I find ourselves in a sticky situation where we’re not making the best decisions (let’s face it, it’s usually with guys) I always like to stop and say “if you were watching Kate Hudson go through this in a movie, what would you think? What would you want her to do?” It will quickly put things in perspective and sometimes make you realize you’re making a fool of yourself! If you wouldn’t want Kate putting up with that jack ass anymore, why are you?

However, this I know well – it’s quite easy to say something and it’s quite easy to think something. What isn’t easy is the ability or willingness to actually get off your booty and do that something.

For various reasons: travel, work, etc. I hadn’t been to church for awhile until last weekend. So as I was working on some projects last week I fired up the podcast for the sermons I missed. One of the sermons was highly applicable to a situation in which I recently found myself; it was entitled “Actions Reveal (Not Intentions)”. And oddly enough, not two hours later someone quoted the well-known Emerson phrase to me, “your actions speak so loudly, I can’t hear what you are saying.” This is actually something I’ve thought about a LOT lately when it comes to my dating choices. I’ve found myself in the habit of being drawn to guys who say they’re looking for the same things I am, but when it comes down to it, they’re not. This seems to be an epidemic in dating; I know I am not the only woman who has suffered because of it. It’s made me much more strategic when it comes to whom I say yes, that’s for sure! But as often as I’ve thought about “actions speak louder than words” when it comes to silly boys, I’ve never really had to think about it when it comes to my friends.

I haven’t lost a lot of major friendships in my lifetime, for which I’m quite grateful. Have I had relationships strained by time or distance or just because of well, life? Of course. That’s natural. But rarely, if ever, have I been in a friendship that has ended because of any sort of unfortunate incident.

As very well documented on this blog, I have put forth tremendous effort over the past year on working on myself. Who I am. Who I want to be. Ridding bad habits and developing new ones. All this work I’ve done, however, had yet to be tested by anyone other than the voices in my head until a few weeks ago. I had a friend who unintentionally (or so I believe) put me in a very uncomfortable and awkward situation in which I was going have to lie – by omission – to another individual. We’re not talking a little white lie. We’re talking a huge, red, your pants are engulfed lie. I just couldn’t do it. I loved this friend, quite dearly. Our friendship was very special, it meant a lot to me over the past five years and helped me through some really difficult periods. So the decision wasn’t an easy one. I could have SAID anything I wanted to my friend or even to myself; I could have completely justified going along with the lie just to save my friendship. I could have told myself it wasn’t my life so what did it really matter, I get to go home, leave this all a million miles away and even pretend like it never happened. But instead, I spoke up and expressed my feelings. And I walked away. As my pastor said, it’s your actions that reveal your true character, not you intentions.

Taking the actions I did cost me a friend. Although I am sad about this, I don’t regret it. No one should have friends in their lives who expect them to lie, cheat or steal on their behalf for any reason. That’s not what friendship is about. Don’t compromise who you are to make someone else happy or save their ass. This world is filled with many, many wonderful people who are great friends and lovers. I’m sad I had to lose someone in the process of really figuring this out, but I’ve learned staying true to and the relationship we have with ourselves is much more important.

 

A Shout

Posted by one of the blogs I love and follow…I thought it was quite lovely and had to share!

What to watch: television killed the boyfriend (Part 2)

Earlier this year I posted Television killed the boyfriend (Part 1) in which I word vomited my overall love for television and featured my top ten shows of yesteryear. I absolutely loved hearing your thoughts and own favorite oldies both on here and Facebook. I am always down for a lengthy discussion of all things boob tube. Wait, does anyone say that anymore? Regardless, many of us shared shows in common. This is why we are friends, Readers.

I figured it was time to discuss my favorite shows of today. Kids, this was NOT an easy thing to do. If you only knew how many shows I watch you would actually wonder how I have any social or dating life at ALL, or even time to shower. I much prefer to spend my time on the couch in jammies watching most anything on my DVR or Netflix, but apparently one doesn’t find a husband or stay in shape that way? That’s what I’m told. So alas, here is my beloved list of top ten current favorite shows (narrowing it down was torture, you’ll see I totally cheated…twice). Again, they’re listed in alphabetical order because I can’t stomach the thought of trying to rank them.

Anything by Shonda Rhimes

See? I’m a cheat. This woman reigns supreme when it comes to primetime drama. I’ve watched and loved all of her shows: Grey’s, Scandal and Private Practice. I think I’m the only person I know who actually watched every episode of PP. I still want to stab all most of the characters. However, my favorite, Amelia, has made her way to Seattle full-time so I am thrilled. It soothed some of the pain (not all, but some) of having to say goodbye to Yang. Though I will say, as much as I love Grey’s and believe those of us who suffered through the middle years have been rewarded with the excellence of the last few seasons, it’s really time for this show to bow out. Scandal on the other hand? One of the most brilliant shows on television today. OLIVIA + FITZ 4EVER.

The Big Bang Theory

I attempted to watch Big Bang several times before it and I finally clicked. God bless syndication and marathons. The most recent season is the first I watched as it originally aired. I love all the geekdom of course, I have been to Comic-Con after all. But I am such a gooey, hopeless romantic that I seriously teared up when Leonard and Penny at long last got engaged  (um, spoiler alert!) I know it’s fiction people, I really do, but it gives me hope. If it’s meant to be it will always find a way! It was one of the many themes of Sex and the City: Carrie and Big! Charlotte and Harry! Miranda and Steve! And along those same lines…

Bones

Good gosh how long did we wait for Bones and Booth to finally end up together?! I don’t know many others who consistently watch this show. I, myself, started watching it after binging on Netflix (shocking). I’ve also read all 16 books by Kathy Reichs on which the show is based. So clearly I am a fan. The books are set in Charlotte and Montreal, so I had a a bit of a nerd alert moment when I went to Charlotte for the first time earlier this year. Lovely city, by the way.

Criminal Minds

Criminal Minds is another show I picked up thanks to syndication and marathons. I lost a lot of hours (days, really) to this show a few years ago thanks to ION and A&E. I’m not complaining though; it’s utterly fascinating. Who doesn’t want to be a member of the BAU?! I have learned, however, not to let this be what is on TV as I am trying to fall asleep. It will freak a girl out and ain’t nobody want THOSE kinds of dreams. Well, unless they’re involving Derek Morgan, then the more the better!

This is one of those shows which has had iconic moments longtime viewers will never forget: Gideon leaving, Haley’s death and the whole terrifying Foyet storyline, JJ leaving…and coming back, Prentiss dying…and coming back! And aww, JJ and Will’s wedding! So sweet! I will admit though, I never was a fan of Elle! But I’m always a fan of Rossi cooking! And of Morgan or Reid doing, well, anything.