You know you’ve been away too long when you come back to find the ads pop up for you as Overstock.com and some political campaign. Someone needs to get her priorities straight. Having said that, I have every intention of getting back into the swing of things. If I don’t die of mosquito bite poisoning. For those of you keeping score at home -  Mosquitoes: 26; Nikki: 0. Welcome back to Texas.

So this is what actually happened while you thought I was dead and look! I have pictures to prove it!:

1. The Cowboys beat the Eagles in the last game of the regular season to secure home field advantage in the Wild Card game. Yes, we’re going back that far. Because I can and life was good. Vindication for that bitch slap of a game we went through at the end of the previous year.

My last regular season game with the Cowboys group, sad!

2. The Cowboys ALSO beat the Eagles in the Wild Card game. 100 words could not describe how I felt that night. If God himself came down to Santa Monica and took me away I would’ve offered him a tequila shot and gladly gone with a smile on my face and “Such a Night” playing in my heart. Instead, I was left to my own drunken devices here on Earth. Too much Patron + Cowboys playoff victory that also marked the pillaging of the Eagles THREE TIMES in one season + random encounter with a cute Dallas boy who was also on a victory high = very questionable judgment.

It’s almost a blessing to my emotional state (and reputation) that we didn’t go any further in the playoffs.

I always ended up in the middle of these pictures. But look at that face! It was like my birthday and Christmas and possibly Valentine's Day all ended up on the same day!

...and I never stopped smiling.

Sorry just had to post one more. Best night ever. We waited a LONG time for this. And Mike looks like a pimp in this picture.

3. The Longhorns made it to the National Championship. And that’s about all I have to say to that. Not only did Colt McCoy and Jordan Shipley have to go through the most terrible “what the f**k was that sh*t?!” championship game, um, EVER…they both were rewarded with one-way tickets to careers in Ohio. Insult to injury, much?

They did not hook 'em...

Trust me, there is more…

..Continue reading..

Texas brews its beer just as good as its women. Yeah, that's me in UT orange with a Shiner at a 105-degree party. It's like I never left TX.

Drinking is a funny thing. I realized tonight whilst trying to decide upon a cocktail at dinner that I don’t think I’ve touched (or even sniffed) tequila in over two months. By all means, correct me if I’m wrong…it happens on occasion. Also, if you’ve not visited Texts From Last Night, I HIGHLY suggest you do so (after you finish reading this). It’s chalk full of drunk little ditties. Howev, this is absolutely priceless:

“If it’s vodka, everyone is attractive. Tequila, everyone is dead sexy, single and f*ckable.”

I think tequila and I are on a trial separation. The first fallout I had with alcohol was with red wine after my company Christmas party in 2002. However, looking back it really wasn’t the wine’s fault that I hadn’t eaten all day. That was a knockdown drag out, ass-kicking, physical sort of fight. Death would’ve been better the next day than having to put on a happy face and go to my then boyfriend’s parents’ house and pretend I was a-okay. It took me two years to even smell red wine without wanting to hurl. True story. This fallout with tequila is different, it’s emotional. That’s even worse. But I believe in second chances in most cases, therefore, I have a blind date with what’s supposed to be the best Orange County margarita Saturday after next. We’ll see how it goes. I’m optimistic and will be packing an overnight bag, just in case things go well. *wink*

I’m a firm believer that alcohol and sports are just as much soul mates as chocolate and peanut butter. Or me and Taylor Lautner will be when he’s legal. Seriously, he’s a huge football fan and, AND!!! I even read he’s a Longhorn fan. Hook ‘em.

Anyway, I digress. So my fantasy football draft is the same day as my margarita date. THANKFULLY the draft is hours before things could potentially get messy. Because I have one rule this year: thou shall not be drunk (or still drunk) during thy draft. Last summer was a very messy time for me, I did a LOT of drinking in general, but the night before the draft I hit the WeHo bars pretty hard. Happy hour at 6 p.m. turned into me standing up mid-cocktail around 1 a.m yelling “O.M.G. I have to go, my fantasy football draft is in six hours.”  Trust me, THOSE words have never been yelled in West Hollywood before (or since). Although I had my research done and picks sorted weeks prior to the draft, I was not in good shape otherwise. My league runs on Central time. I, obviously, do not. I had to be online at 6:45 a.m. I slept through my first alarm, woke up around 6:55 a.m. and ran circles around my apartment trying to find my laptop (naturally I forgot I’d actually plugged it in by the bed the day before). I got online, tried to focus and make sure everything was in order and answered my friend Eric’s countless text messages with yes, I promise I was alive…but was pretty sure I was still drunk.

It's a strip club, man! I'm here to work!

I had it all under control until about the time we hit the third round. Oh no, what happened then you ask? I totally started puking between picks. Although that wasn’t exactly ladylike, did I ever miss a pick? No, of course not. I’m a firm believer in puke and rally. Billy Bob would’ve been proud.

P.S. The Cowboys, albeit mostly the fifth string they picked up off the street, will be on my TV Thursday night. Word.