Uh yeah, my freshman year poetry class called? They want their 'D' quality work back.

So today was a fine day.

I woke up and popped in Goodfellas, which I hadn't seen in AGES. I forgot how much I adore Ray Liotta and why he is on my list of baby daddies.

Why, what do you mean 'Who ELSE is on your list of baby daddies?' Allow me!

(in no particular order)

Adrien Brody.
Ray Liotta.
Dan Ackroyd. No, I don't understand it either.
Robert Plant. Young, hot Robert Plant. Not like, recently.
James Spader.
You.

Ha! Kidding! No, they are all kinda irreverant hey? Not that I have ever been a textbook ANYTHING, but these are all over the place. Interesting as there is really only one blond in there, considering my track record for dating lanky blond boys.

Adrien Brody is bodice-melting hot though. I LOVE guys with big noses. It is totally a sexual thing, I can admit that.

Okay, so forgetting about my melted bodice for a moment, after I reveled in the world of Ray Liotta, I got up and went down to Racine to watch the Bears kick the pants off of the Saints with Paul, Kevin, Jay and Zach.

I cannot believe how much fun just sitting there with those guys was. It was not only good to be watching a little football, but also the deflecting and thrusting of the little barbed comments that I just don't get enough of in my day to day life.

I was also informed that at one point, my darling Michael had decided that it would be a good idea to snort a boullion cube.

Hang on, hang on. . .

A BOULLION CUBE.

This was the guy I wanted to have kids with!? I must have been out of my mind.

I then stopped over for a minute over at my mom's house to drop off some hangers and somehow we started talking about my retiring in the Caribbean and she was insulted that I would wait until she was dead to go down there. I told her she was going to live to be 135 just to make my life a living hell. I described her: skin, tanned to a leathery consitancy, a visor as well as Blu-Blockers, a bikini, chain smoking, a bottle of rum in one hand and riding a Rascal, yelling at me and my children ("No, kids, look, Grandma is not going to listen to me... I can't make her stop trying to seduce the bartender. Look, tell her a Chippendale's show is in town, that will keep her busy for a few hours as she tries to find it.")

Welcome to hell Miss K.

My last stop was to Jackie's to pick up my pair of old glasses that I had left there last summer. I tried them on... maaaan, do I look different without my chunky frames. I thought I would occasionally wear the old ones to "take it down a notch" but as I realised that everyday I am running full force to eleven, there is no such thing as "Nicki, down a notch."

Man, it feels weird blogging again. Just like riding a bike though.

Buenos noches, darlings.

Cheers.