Monthly Archives: November 2011

Happiness & joy from me to you

In no particular order:

That photo to the right? That’s a magnet on my fridge and it rocks. I got it in Maui and no, I don’t know where you can find it in any other locale. But search for it online if it tickles your fancy.

My amazing former-ballerina Pilates instructor in NYC, who kicked my ass into the best shape it’s ever been, has a YouTube channel! People, this woman gave me the long, lean muscles that cause massage therapists to ask, “Are you a dancer?” Oh yeah, that shit’s real, though we won’t talk about the flab layer over said muscles that proves I enjoy eating. I’ve missed Gina’s workouts like they’ve gone off to war or something – and BTW, if you don’t feel breathless and in pain after you do these, you’re fucking them up. Form’s key, y’all. “Scoop” your abs (as Gina says – i.e., pull your belly button away from your shirt) and squeeze the muscles you’re working on as you do these exercises. You’ll die for sure, but you’ll have an ass that can grate Parmesan.

This candle in my living room smells like a pumpkin shit 40 homemade pies and I think everything about that is completely delicious.

Kale and delicata. It’s what’s for dinner.

There’s nothing like a very hipster holiday. I’ve been listening to this like a lunatic. Also, a bit o’ trivia: every time I close my eyes while listening to Zooey Deschanel speak, I hear the identical voice of my NYC biz partner, Demetra. I miss her crazily, but it makes me happy.

My clients are getting these this year. Yes, each and every individual person I work with gets their own box of loot. Aren’t they lucky ducks?! I ordered them all today because I have OCD and problems with anal retentiveness.

I’m totally bewildered by the holiday spirit I’m bursting with this year. It’s been many years since I gave a rat’s nut about the holly-days. I don’t know what the fuck is up, but seize the day and whatnot. I might even buy this because you know I can’t even decorate like a “normal” (*retch* traditional *retch*) person – shock! awe! madness!

Ari’s update from the road in the great southwest made me piss and snort: “In Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Thinking about karma and chimichangas.”

Here’s wishing all of you good karma this Chrismukkahwanzaa season!

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Thanks for a great run, Andy Rooney

You made us laugh, think, and you inspired lots of funny thinker types – especially all of us writer-commentators who will forever look up to you.

Me and JF in particular will miss you.

My private parts are more notorious than me

So while trolling the internet to assemble clips for the soon-to-be-new-and-improved nicolechristie.com, I see that my bikini wax essay made a repeat appearance on Yahoo Shine last summer. “Back by popular demand!” it says. Duuuude.

I think the heir to this throne will be my experience attending the “How to Please Your Man” workshop in NYC. Alone. Because my friend ditched me. And I put a condom on a carrot with my mouth and wondered where the fuck I’d lost my dignity, while the instructor in a Wonder Woman belt extolled the virtues of the “connection” between a couple in the porno she was screening while we all worked our root vegetables.

Encore!

Some stuff of note

I’ve become obsessed with skulls. And not because it’s Halloween! This has been going on for a few months now. It might have something to do with wanting to kill most of my clients (more on that in a mo). I’ve been on the hunt for a fabulous pair of silver skull stud earrings – and coming up dry. So…I’ve commissioned my even-more-fabulous jewelry designer cousin to work his magic for me. He’s way into the macabre stuff and it’s groovy. I’m monstermash-excited.

Stress can suck it. Yes, July – November is always my busy season. But this year’s madness was of gargantuan proportions – we’re talking 14- to 16-hour days for six weeks straight and me writing roughly 50 (I stopped counting at 43) separate communication pieces during that stretch. That includes two 23-page benefit decision guides (titillating, I know), dozens of emails, posters, postcards, letters, banner ads, web content, PowerPoint prezos, Godhelpme. And let’s not forget the strategist and project manager roles of my gig. That’s actually what really was getting me – the mistakes that were being made once I handed work off to the clients (hello people – it’s like a relay race…I pass you the baton, in excellent condition, exactly when I’m supposed to, then you run with it…don’t come back and make me run your leg!). So yeah, it was good times. And yet, not for naught: this level of insanity is what pushed me over the edge with regard to my professional direction. And how drastically – and promptly – it needs to change. People, my ass literally did not move from my desk chair for an inhumane amount of time. And what does that do? It sends one running to the doctor with chest pains, acid reflux, and back pain. Twice in two months. For someone who generally only visits the MD once a year for the tune-up, that ain’t cool.

And here’s what else stress does (at least to my bod): it turns into an egg allergy. An egg allergy!!! WTF! Eggs are my life – for someone who keeps a meat- and dairy-free home (sans the half-and-half…let it go), this is hell on wheels. Plus, let’s not forget how much STUFF has eggs in it!! And yes – THIS is what was causing my chest and back pain, as well as the cough and phlegminess I had going on. Here they were checking me for heart probs and a pulmonary fucking embolism, and it seems I’ve simply had such elevated stress levels that I’m releasing a massive quantity of histamine that has made me sensitive to…eggs. Of note: this happened to me with shrimp and strawberries in my teens, and let’s not forget the hives I developed during the last year of my marriage (for the *entire* year). And so I wait for this too to pass. It’s the curse of being an emotional intuitive. Seriously – click that link and let’s talk about why I’ve had temporary allergies my whole life and a uterus that bleeds off-cycle during times of emotional duress – not to mention when I’m absorbing the emotional pain of someone in my life. Yeah.

In sunnytime news, Maui is a *delight*. There were times over the past few months when I wasn’t sure I’d make it to October 28th – when all my projects would be shipped and I’d be about to ship myself to Alohaville. But they shipped and I shipped, and the next eight days look something like this:

7:30 a.m. (yes, really!) – Wake up to blue skies, sunshine, ocean breezes, and native birds chirping.

8:00 a.m. – Breakfast on the lanai. Legendary veggie scramble is of course kiboshed. Poo. But that’s OK – toast with almond butter suits just fine, especially alongside all the exotic fruit that’s being nibbled. This morning featured a strawberry papaya. Will make like the Terminator and be back for more o’ dat.

9:00 a.m. – 4:00 p.m. – Beach walks/runs, ocean swims, snorkel time, shop perusing, fresh seafood and more exotic fruit eating, island drives, journaling, snoozing.

5:00 p.m. – Beachfront happy hour…sunset…right into dinner.

10:00 p.m. – Lights out. Early to bed = miracle of epic proportions. But so tired…so happy…so cozy.

And the next day, more of this kinda memory-making. Mahalo. 🙂