Ono Dos Tres Quatro

Pitbull? Pitbull in a Lanvin ad?! Yes ladies and gentlemen, it has happen, and it may just be the greatest song to ever grace a fashion advertisement. Not only does it have to do with fashion/style but, God alive, Miami/ Cuban culture as well. I mean Pitbull (or as I personally like to refer him as Armando formando escandolo, es cierto) may not be the best representative of  Miami culture (Yes Pitbull, I do doubt your abilities to make a movie like Alfred Hitchcock). But he is literally a superstar. Every time I turn on the radio there he is, speaking spanglish and referencing Miami Dade county<3! I swear if I had a penny for every time Pitbull says "dale", I'd be a very happy lady. And I do shamelessly put up my radio when he raps: "My granny's from Cuba but I'm an American!" That line has been probably been repeated over a million times! Oh hai, my granny is also a Cuban and I'm an American....like that's nuts! People around the world are singing that, along with the "dale's" and the spanglish. People around the world are basically jamming out to my culture. That's insane. And the fact that a song called "Calle Ocho," could be in a fashion ad, one that Steven Meisel worked on and  Alber Elbaz makes a cameo in(oh, he shows those models how its done), is completely, absolutely, and utterly mind blowing! I want to keep explaining how super excited I am!!!!... but I'm too tired.... Score one for the Cubans though!

Coral Gables Silence

There's a moment in the summer, yet before the summer begins
When the sun is going down and the sticky sweat on my brow does not exist
When the humid is high and my hair becomes a frantic lion's maine
When the cares of my mind have easily disappeared
And the sound outside is the perfect summer sound of complete Coral Gables silence
Where the air in my ears becomes the air in the palm trees
Where my footsteps fail to make a sound as the invisible birds sing their song of taunting
Where my dogs nails on the pavement become crunches in the grass
Where the sky above becomes it's infinite reality, and it's blue color seems to coat the day in mist
And where the giant tree on the corner of the street
With it's branches that sway to the sound of the wind
Where from afar looks like the perfect cloud that my body could float upon
And from up close looks like a city bigger than all of Miami could fill.
With it's intricate roads made of wood and buildings made of leaves and branches
Yet so quiet in its Coral Gables silence

ALSO...

This song makes me feel really cool, like strutting with leather jackets being a member of the Strokes cool and I'm not cool........ okay maybe I'm just a little cool but I think you get it. I think I'll go saunter off somewhere and spit or something while this song plays now. coolcoolcoolcoolcool



(whyz I so cheesy? Iz don't know)

PS. its Melissa's birthday tomorrow. If she ever would posts she'd know that I wish her a happy birthday here on this very blog. Ohya

Angles.

This song is made of unicorns and Jesus. (yes I like it that much)

Also Julian Casablancas in Burberry can do no wrong. AmIrightladies?

Original Gangsta (i.e. nicky) breaks from studies

preeeeeaaaach

                              I want Mary Kate hair.

\

Marie??! Ah Oui

What up?!

Gatico? Gatico!

oh Karl makin jokes

mhm.

mmm

I have the same Sperrys. I know, bug the fuh out.

You better recognize

Everything was burritos and nothing hurt.

There I was, sitting in front of 100 kids. 100 kids staring, 100 kids watching, 100 kids judging. I'm not good on the spot, and I knew this could only go one way. My was mouth getting dry, "I need water," I muttered to the seemingly unaffected girl sitting next to me, who made the most sincere face of utter confusion I have seen in response to my statement. How anyone would need something to aid them through this moment of complete calamity was beyond her. I, on the other hand, was desperate, but the boy before me began to talk, so to stand up and retrieve my water bottle that was just a few feet away, calling my name, telling me that if I just took a sip all my problems would go away, would be totally rude, not to mention they'd watch me, all 100 of them. I could only hear the boy droning away on his group. Who cares about what happened in your group! Don't you know I'm in crisis mode! My palms were getting sweaty, "come on Nix you can do this." I thought as I tried to muster as much saliva as possible. "All you have to do is say something, then the world will be saved and the hero gets the girl and everything will be burritos and nothing will hurt. Right?" Wrong. I don't know why my brain goes on strange rants while I'm in crisis mode, maybe that's why I'm not good at this stuff (a Zombie apocalypse probably wouldn't be the best scenario for me, but I digress.) I could hear my heart beating a million miles per hour, but can't everyone in times like this? So what did it matter? Well it mattered to me. I always say something stupid, that's how tall frizzy haired, Nicky's function, off stupid, and then the sudden urge to fester in a giant hole with French bulldog's named Louie the Frenchman, and cats named Nicky.

The thing is I wasn't just "sitting" waiting for my turn to say absolutely nothing. No. I was shafted, forced, almost hoodwinked into it. What kind of a professor does these things?! She said the facilitators of the groups didn't have to do anything but make sure the group does their job. I considered myself lucky, I didn't have to say anything, didn't have to do anything, I didn't even listen, just facilitate. I even told a girl to write notes, just to make sure I was doing my job, I got an eye roll from her! I suffered from being the reciprocator of an eye roll just to get my job done, wasn't that torture enough! Then Professor Evil said we have a special "surprise for the facilitators." Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I generally use profanity in moments of complete and utter doom. I had to tell the entire class what my group discussed, our dynamic, and way that we communicated( I know, I don't know why I'm taking this class either). The other facilitators had notes, I did not. The other facilitators talked for what seemed like hours about their totally awesome groups, and the super way they all discussed the prompt. I, on the other hand, said the word"stuff." Yes,  I said it: stuff. I'm supposed to be this kick ass college student discussing extra intellectual topics and yet I say stuff.

Sure it wasn't my worst stint at public speaking (I was once told I looked constipated during a class presentation, yup my prize moment), but it was still pretty horrifying, terrifying, ghastly; you choose the adjective. I thought once you got into college everything would become all collegey. You'd do things like find yourself and be an academic while still having a ridiculously awesome social life. Yet I see myself as the same frizzy haired nerd, spending all my time on studies to receive C's (bleh), and hanging out with the same two people I did in high school (although I'm definantly not complaining, they are my best friends). I'm not cut out for the collegey thing. Never have been. I find myself acting like a kid less than any adult I know, and the idea of doing adult things seems to be like an alternate universe where I have glossy hair and buy sweet heels on my free time.

But I guess in reality the hero needs to figure out somethings before he saves the girl. So for now nothing is burritos and everything hurts.

I'm bound to pack it up and go away

RIP White Stripes

cut my vocal chords with a razor blade when I'm trying to scream

Her Majesty

OH MAH GAH

You'd think college would be a total ball right? False. Don't get me wrong, its fun, but it can get pretty boring (really boring). Like today for example, see, I'm all revved up(first day of second semester an all), even woke up early to make my hair all cute and look like the doll that I am. I shamelessly jam out in my small car on the way to school, get to my first class at nine, totally fine. My professor looks like a vulcan (live long and prosper) which I'm totally into. I decide he's pretty awesome. Class ends. Time to explore, look for my other classes, you know, so I'm not totally late, when a stranger tells me he's a monk and that i need to give him five bucks for a book (true story, he told me I looked spiritual). Hell no. So I go on, I find my next class but then I feel like people know that I'm aimlessly walking around finding my classes so I retreat to the library for a nap(I barely slept the previous night) but instead I ended up busting out a book and chillin' until it's time to get to class. Read, read, time to leave. Alright so I hit up the elevator when low and behold I find a boy from middle school standing right there, I try to ignore him because I'm awkward and that's what awkward people do but he spots me (considering we were the only two people in a confined space it was inevitable). I do some awkward things we part and I'm off to class. In waiting for my professor I spotted a very handsome Argentinian boy ( or at least I hope he is Argentinian). We're in the class, my professor begins, and I'm totally bored.
What I did: doodle, pretend to listen, make love eyes at the Argentinian lover, then look out the window, pretend to listen, write something down, doodle, fall in love with cute boy with glasses reading a comic book, realize he's from this obnoxious all boys high school (because I'm a stalker and noticed he said hi to a obnoxious boy from the obnoxious high school), get sad for about a second, doodle, look out window, decide I hate boys who match their purple plaid shirts to their beanies, realize I hate most people, doodle, leave.
What I wanted to do: SLAM MY HEAD ON MY DESK,  loudly groan, then loudly sigh, then run.

ukulelelelelelelelelelelele

ME AND MY UKE.
I named her Lady.

Letters

Dear Darren Criss,

I think you should stop making love eyes at Chris Colfer, and start making them at Nicky.

Sincerely,
Nicky

P.S. Hai.

Misery won't you comfort me in my time of need

conversations in my brain?

......"See I'm paranoid, but in this weird way."
"I don't get it."
"It's just off, you know. Like last week I was taking my dog for a walk, well it's not really my dog. It's my brothers, but he's in school. Anyway this girl backed into my neighbor's driveway, and she didn't look like she would do anything incriminating or anything like that. Anyway, as I was walking my brother's dog closer to the car I just imagined me walking past it and her pulling out a gun and shooting me, so I crossed the street, just to avoid walking directly in front of it."
"Well did she have the windows down?"
"What?"
"Did she have the windows down? If she wanted to shoot you she'd probably need the windows down, unless she's want to shoot you through her window."
"Well yeah I guess that's true. But isn't it weird, the way that I'm paranoid?"
"Not really. It just sounds like your normal paranoid."
"Well that wasn't really a good example. I'm bad at explaining things. Like sometimes when I'm falling asleep in my room, you know how my room is secluded and I can't really hear anything because the heater gets to be so loud, and all?"
"Yeah."
"Well sometimes I imagine that the zombie apocalypse is just starting and there's a zombie in my house, and it's already infected my parents. So I freak out and go make sure all the doors are locked."
"Yeah, it sounds like you're just normal paranoid."
"I guess so."

MORE PICAS AND JAMZ..... and this was supposed to be a literary blog. Oh well!

Oh hai

Karl makin jokes

I want LANVIN NOT DICKS

well.....maybe just this one.

LIFE IS SHORT.

Manger

...This song describes my life right now. Also....

...this song.

All of a sudden everything is making sense and no sense all at the same time. Which shouldn't be right, but maybe it is right. I don't know! Jesus, life is confusing. You think it's all good, and then BOOM, it's not. And you're like "For fucks sake." Jeez, little world, I don't know what I'll do next. I think I'll just stick around here fester and grow some mold or something, buy a French Bulldog, name it Louis the Frenchman and call it a day. Plan.
Also I want to be Tennessee Thomas

Or maybe I'll just be Nicky. I haven't decided yet.

P.S. (whoever told me that Angus and Julia Stone was my type of music is a rotten dirty liar. They're good and all, but they're just too much for me)

more eye candy and jams

Sorry Guys

Uh that last post was made out of confusion and anger. Forgive the cheesiness.

Yes, I am that single friend, deal.

Everyone around me has decided to pair. Yes, pair. All of a sudden my best friend has become, has become best friends +1. Everywhere I go I see couples, I even meet people in couples (true story). I walk to market, couples. Go to the mall, couples. Watch TV, couples. Read a book, couples. Couples, couples, couples, couples. Instead of the Zombie apocalypse, I bring you the couples apocalypse, no single friend is spared.  See, I really don't think I'd survive a zombie apocalypse, a couples apocalypse on the other hand, would be an entirely different story. Listening to 10000000000000 plus girls discussing their man problems? I can handle it. Reading 8937462876481664347 love statuses on facebook? Bring it on. 109293874738014892884972958279827492849247297491749164 jealous boyfriends? Easy. 1897398174265826419730`82938928983888845995995999999999999999999999 couples discussing their sex lives? Keep it in the bedroom people. I've got this single friend thing down to a science, that it's almost depressing.
You know, one would think that the last thing two single friends would want to discuss is couples, but it seems that every single person I meet feels the need to tell me about their last relationship. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just pretty obnoxious, is all. And by pretty obnoxious I mean really obnoxious. That's really great that your ex girlfriend had a shirt the same color as the one that that girl  who just walked by had on, and oh no, it's fine, keep on talking about your ex, pretend I'm not even here, just keep going on talking about him, it's not like you've told me this story five times before.
You want to know what's even worse than all this?! When you feel the need to be in a couple because everyone seems to think it's the bee's knees or something. Bleh. It's the worst feeling in the world. Well maybe not the worst, knowing something horribly fateful might be worse, but it's definitely a close second.

You want to know what I say regarding all this? Fuck it. The bee's knees, the pairing up, all of it. I'm young and free and limitless. I may not be happy all the time, but I'm working on it. So to all my fellow single friends who feel the same way I do, give a nice fuck you to the bee's knees and try to find happiness in your own world, then maybe we can avoid the whole couples apocalypse. Just saying.

Amazing Things

I want to see something amazing every single day for the rest of my life.