Say What You Need To Say

So there's this John Mayer song called "Say." And it basically just says "say what you need to say." And as simple as that is to say that little phrase, do you have any idea how difficult it can be to actually just do that?! I think we should say things that drive us crazy, even if it makes our hands sweat and makes our stomach hurt and makes us just want to shut our eyes and cover our ears because we're afraid of what we might hear in response.
I definitely have things that I've kept in me for months, years even, and its about time for this shit to come out. What's the point of holding it in and having nightmares about it and making yourself sick about it? Not to say that I have like a list of people that I need to cuss out. Not at all, actually. But there is at least one person that hasn't heard everything I need to say. I realize I have a lot of anger in me about the way I was treated and how I had to make these terrible decisions in my life when I shouldn't have been thinking about anything bad. I should haven't to have friendship-ending conversations the weekend before my wedding...
Needless to say, I'm just glad that I've found it in myself to actually speak up. And I know that sooner than later I'll get the perfect opportunity to let her know just how I feel about her. So there's this John Mayer song called "Say." And it basically just says "say what you need to say." And as simple as that is to say that little phrase, do you have any idea how difficult it can be to actually just do that?! I think we should say things that drive us crazy, even if it makes our hands sweat and makes our stomach hurt and makes us just want to shut our eyes and cover our ears because we're afraid of what we might hear in response.
I definitely have things that I've kept in me for months, years even, and its about time for this shit to come out. What's the point of holding it in and having nightmares about it and making yourself sick about it? Not to say that I have like a list of people that I need to cuss out. Not at all, actually. But there is at least one person that hasn't heard everything I need to say. I realize I have a lot of anger in me about the way I was treated and how I had to make these terrible decisions in my life when I shouldn't have been thinking about anything bad. I should haven't to have friendship-ending conversations the weekend before my wedding...
Needless to say, I'm just glad that I've found it in myself to actually speak up. And I know that sooner than later I'll get the perfect opportunity to let her know just how I feel about her.

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Ladies' Night... at the Belle

Due to popular demand, I've decided to recap the happy "hour" that occurred on Tuesday. We had plenty of reasons to celebrate: (1) Jayson was in town, (2) Amanda was leaving town, (3) Jayson and Amanda needed to meet and be friends, (4) Catherine wasn't entirely broke, (5) Laura was in town, (6) it was Tuesday, (7) they serve alcohol at happy hour.

We started off at The Mill (this hole in the wall in North Chuck). Madra Rua was apparently too packed out for all of us to hang out together. Damnit. So we entertained ourselves by ordering basically everything on the menu and feeding dollars to the juke box since the damn place didn't even have a radio… side note: the "feeding dollars" situation came into play later in the evening as well. And we really did eat everything – those little pea pods, a massive plate of nachos, some humus, and quesadillas. Between 4 girls, it was pretty impressive.

Rumor got out that it was Jules' company Christmas party… that just so happened to be at Moe's (Catherine's favorite bar) and it also just so happened to be OPEN BAR! Like 10 of us crashed the party. No one cared. It the spirit of the holidays, I found it to be only right to order "Christmas" to drink (beam and ginger). Mmmm, brought back Clemson memories. But then those memories were forgotten because I insisted on drinking my Christmas out of a 24 oz. glass, or something ridiculous like that. Whatever. We were drunk. And we ate even more food here. Freaking chicken wings. Fuck yeah.

Not surprisingly, the idea of the strip club arose. Come to find out, Laura had never been. Ooooh a virgin. We like those. I actually 411'd Thee Southern Belle to find out what night it was. Fucking Ladies' Night! Girls get in free. Oh, we're so there. We sucked down as many more free drinks as we could stand, tried to convince Catherine that is was completely necessary for her to be there, and then piled into the Celica (minus Catherine). Sad face.

Ladies' night was really freaking entertaining. Probably one of the best nights I've had at the strip club in a while. It ended up being Dave, Jayson, John (Dave's coworker), Laura and me. And of course we sat in the front row. The guys were kind enough to buy me and Laura a dance in the back room. We went into this dressing-room-sized room with a curtain… and a mirror behind our heads. Our little nipple-pierced stripper was kinda lame. I have to say I was disappointed in her stripping abilities. Laura was thankful that I was there to feel awkward with her. Ha.

I soon forgot how lame our back-room girl was, because COOKIE was on stage soon after! She's my favorite. And she loves my boobs. I'm not even gonna lie. She's always really excited to learn that they're real. Yes, we have this conversation every time I go up to the stage to feed her dollars. And yes, sometimes I actually do put the dirty money in my mouth. Whatever. Don't judge me.

So Laura decided she liked this one stripper. Michelle was her name, as I've so learned. Well, Michelle also really liked Laura. Maybe it was because Laura and I had lost half the clothing we came in with… she was down to a teeny spaghetti strap shirt, and my boobs were falling out of my sweater since I had taken off the collared shirt underneath. We're so trashy. So yeah, Laura goes up to the stage for Miss Michelle. And Michelle freaking tears down Laura's shirt, spins her around and throws her onto the stage on her back. She then proceeded to fake-69 with her. I have never witnessed anything like that in all of my strip club years! I think I clapped. Laura sat down and was like "Wow, so you just saw my boobs and I basically just 69ed with a stripper. Awesome." Hellova first time at a strip club, huh Laura??

We continued to go up to the stage and get molested until like 2 AM or something retarded like that... on a Tuesday. Who does that?! We all smelled like strippers so bad when we left the place that we had to ride with all the windows down. That smell just gets in your nose. I mean, its nice, but I really didn't want to smell like strippers at 9:30 AM when I decided to roll into work the next morning.

So we had to pick up some Taco Hell and go home. As Jayson put it: "I planned for a laid back night with friends. Insteead, I ended up downtown. Then I ended up at the shoe show. Then I ended up at the Wendy's late night drive-thru. Then I ended up curled up in the fetal position wondering where my dignity went." I couldn't have said it any better myself. Only difference was that my late night drunk food craving was for tacos. No disgusting pun intended, I swear.

It hurt real bad to wake up the next morning. I didn't get out of bed until almost 8:30… which is usually when I come into the office. Dave hurt so bad he had to sit down in the shower 3 times and then take a bath after that. I don't think I was hung over though, I think I was just still freaking drunk. Dave was. He couldn't close his eyes; if he did, he'd spin. Laura also was still drunk the next morning because she fell down a frickin flight of stairs in her attempt to make hangover breakfast. And as she so perfectly put it, "Now my tailbone is bruised and I can't even attribute it to being molested on stage last night." What a shame.

I passed out as soon as I got home from work yesterday. I woke up to watch the last 10 minutes of freaking Tila Tequila and then went to bed. Strip clubs hurt…

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I'm a Wife

I know it's been entirely too long since I actually wrote a blog, but life was kinda nuts for a while with all of the wedding planning, honeymooning and thank you note writing. The wedding really was amazing. And we had a freaking blast at our reception, even if the DJ screwed up "Cononie" and didn't play "Take me home tonight" when we walked into the room. Jackass.

It has been so exciting to hear from our friends and family about how much fun they had and how beautiful the day turned out to be. Having the dessert hour on Friday night after the rehearsal was awesome too because all of our family members got to come together to meet each other – which made everyone more comfortable on Saturday. Oh it was so perfect.

It's way fun to be married to Dave. I have to admit, I don't feel any different. I like that though. And I didn't expect anything to be different since we were already living together. Oh I know, we're such sinners. Pretty much the only things that changed were my last name and the number of rings/diamonds involved. And Dave calls me "wife" instead of "fiance." I win.

I heard that women often end up with post-wedding depression. What the hell. I was pretty relieved to not be planning any more. It got old calling vendors everyday making sure that things were right. And it was difficult because I wasn't one of those girls that planned everything out since I was 4 so I didn't really have some grand vision for how it should be. All I knew was that it needed to be fun and everyone should feel welcome and comfortable. We succeeded – that's exactly what happened.

I guess I'm a little more bored now that I'm not planning. But I'm also less stressed and less spastic. Not depressed though. No way.

I feel like Dave and I can finally enjoy each other. We were constantly back and forth to Greenville so we never had time to just hang out with each other in our new home. And that sucked. It's nice to not have plans on the weekends, and good lord it's wonderful to not drive 400 miles every 7 days.

We've both heard such negative things about marriage (side note: more people have said nice things than mean things, but it's still dumb)– I'm apparently going to morph into some monster bitch that will never want sex again and Dave's going to get fat, mean and boring. What the hell people? Can't you just say "congratulations" and leave us alone? Jesus. Needless to say, I've yet to turn into a psycho and Dave's still pretty fucking hot. I mean, we've lived together for about a year and a half – don't you think we would have noticed by now if the other one was suddenly a completely different person?

Regardless, I really enjoy being a Mrs. And especially a Mrs. Kuhlman. But don't even ask me about babies. I'll be sure to let you know when I start thinking they are less disgusting.

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I'm HA-Larious (or maybe just drunk)

i wrote this tonight on my myspace page and i actually laughed at myself. enjoy:

funny side note: a few years ago, i thought my eyes were going bad. so i went to the eye doctor and ended up with glasses. my parents thought i just wanted to be trendy and get super cute glasses. then they tried on my glasses only to realize that, they too, were blind as shit. they were like "crap! we're blind as shit too." good thing i got glasses. otherwise, there'd be a lot of blind cononies without hot frames driving around.
also, on hangover days, i have to drink milk. i can't drink water because it's too thin and reminds me of things like vodka and three wise men shots. milk reminds me of childhood. and i wasn't drunk then.
i wear a hair tie on my left wrist everyday. it has to match my shirt. i never actually pull my hair back though. don't ask question.
oh, also, i very much prefer plastic cups to glass. i break glass. and sometimes i even break plastic, like my pink plastic wine glass i broke in college because i was drunk and slipped on my too-long pajama pants. i ended up on the kitchen floor with a giant ass bruise, literally, ass-bruise, and a broken wine glass that was plastic. i saved my wine though. and i drank it. then i had to drink milk the next day.

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Hoooo-raise

So, I just have to celebrate! Today, my boss came into my office, and the dialog was something like this:
Boss: Do you have any manila folders?
Nicole: Well, not manila, but folders.
Boss: Okay, what do you have?
Nicole: Green, Orange and Yellow
Boss: What's your favorite?
Nicole: Mmm... green.
Boss: Give me one.

So I gave him a green folder. He stuffed some papers in it and shoved it in my hands and then turned around and left. I just figured it was nasty HR stuff that I had to send out. I opened it and it is an out-of-cycle merit increase, which in lamens terms means boss man is giving me a raise. A BIG raise! It is so completely wonderful to know how appreciated I am. And that goes for everything - work, life, family, friends. When someone lets me know that they respect me and genuinely appreciate what I do for them, that automatically puts this giagantic cheesball smile on my face.

The next wonderful thing of the day: I trusted this fabulous new friend to highlight my hair - 9 days before my wedding! She is Dave's boss' wife. Her name is Winnie. I thought she was cool as hell anyway, and now to know that she can actually do what I ask with my hair, oh, I'm sold for life! And she fed me wine and white cheddar cheese popcorn. Good day!

I know I never wrote a blog about the bachelorette party, but that's mostly because (a) the pictures pretty much explain the weekend, and (b) there quite possibly may not be words to describe just how much I love Erin, Megan, Emily and Catherine. Megan planned the whole penis-filled weekend. She excelled, just as expected. I love you 4 like my own family. God only know where I'd be without you. I had so much fun that weekend and I truly owe it all to you ladies. Thank you!

Might I add, Dave's weekend wasn't too shabby either. I collaborated with his work buddies and his closest out-of-town buddies to put together a bachelor party for him the same weekend. About 15 of them ended up on some crazy sailboat with 2 stippers that Friday night. Needless to say, not one of them could hang Saturday night. The girls could though... all the while I was laying on bartops having shots poured down my pretty little bride-to-be throat. Hell yeah.

All in all, my life is amazing. I am so lucky and damn I know it. I have this amazing man that I get to call my husband in about a week; my friends care about me so freaking much that I don't even know how to thank them for caring about me that freaking much. Even though the move to Charleston was hard at first, look at me now - I have a killer job and a boss who really does think a lot of me. I must admit, I can't ask for much more. I win

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