Nikki Yeager

It's official. The pregnancy bug is contagious. After two births, a planned pregnancy and a miracle pregnancy.. my office is permanently contaminated with a harsh virus.

It's call the baby virus and it's recently claimed another victim - my coworker Rachael. Now the remaining un-wed girls in the office are having nervous breakdowns once a month and we're all considering buying BuildingLink chastity belts. It's clearly something in the water.

Which is why I was forced to add us running from the pregnancy scare in my office portrait. Hope it makes you smile

My boyfriend prides himself on being somewhat of a non-conformist. We both do. In fact, whenever we talk about children in the future, it doesn't matter that we might have freakish looking babies (we have VERY different features that could blend disasterously! Imagine a boy who couldn't gain weight for the life of him (we're both skinny minnies), with my ginormous ghetto booty and Daniel's shnoz). But those weird lookin' babies better be able to think for themselves!

Which is exactly what we taught my neice last weekend in OH.

It was a perfectly sunny day spent wandering around in the MetroParks with my brother, sister-in-law and two little kids. The little boy (Quinn) kept drifting off into mud puddles while my brother helplessly chased after him. All the while, Brenna yanked my arm ahead, needing to "lead the way!".

After a few hours of running after her little 5 year old self while wearing 4 inch heels, I decided it was time to go home. So we followed the family to the car and spent a few minutes milling around while Quinn was wrangled into his car seat. Brenna proudly displayed her first loose tooth as we all huddled around, impressed by her oncoming adulthood and debating the best way to remove a shaky incisor.

Which is when Daniel jokingly stuck out his clenched fist and said "Ok Brenna, you just punch my fist with your face and we'll knock that sucker right outta there!"

Kidding, of course.

Brenna looked at his fist, then looked at her mom. Back at the fist. Back at her mom.

Then, without warning, she slammed her face into Daniel's fist without another moment of hesitation.

A second followed where no one could do anything except stare. Shocked. Completely. Shocked.

My brother was the first to crack with a violent burst of laughter. Then came my sister-in-law who swooped to the rescue to comfort her little girl with the sore face.

All the while Daniel and I just stood there. In complete and utter disbelief.

"Well, we taught her to listen to adults!!" My sister-in-law continued to swoon while my brother had to turn around to keep from peeing his pants laughing.

...And now we're convinced that my little neice finally understands - always think for yourself before punching someone's fist with your face. Always a good lesson to learn young.

So I've decided that it's time I really let you all into my life. I'm talking about the deepest, most private, secretive part of my life....

My desk at BuildingLink.

I know I used to post about my eccentric coworkers at reco (who I loved dearly and still do) but I never quite found a way to post about my new job.

So here we go....

I sit at a desk in the little training area of our office. Behind my desk is a white board.. that I've used to creatively render every one of my coworkers with brightly colored markers.

Meet Pam. She's well known for her "Pam Roll," the little scoot-scoot motion she uses to get from one side of the training square to the other.



Here's Andrew. He eats 4-5 bananas within a matter of 5 minutes, at least 3 times a week before going to karate classes after work. And no, I'm not kidding.




Speaking of odd eating habits, here's a little snippet about one of my favorite people, Sharmi. Sharmi weighs about 10 lbs... when wet. And this girl literally eats 10 hershey candies at one time. She's completely indiscriminate about what goes in her belly (aside from leafy green veggies... she strongly opposes those) and is the queen of all things food in NYC. Here's my creative interpretation of Sharmi in her natural habitat:



Last but not least, we have the pregnant girls. I've already been at BuildingLink long enough to see one baby and one grandchild born. Now we have about 2 months until two of our trainers pop out their first babies. My boss is convinced it's something in the water... which is why I only drink bottled at work.



There you have it. BuildingLink on a white board.

The long awaited bull-riding video. Best watched when set to the music of Honky Tonk Bodonkadonk.

I might look foolish but 10 bucks says you couldn't do better!! lol

Here's a little collection of all the fun Easter stuff I found online. Hope you enjoy!!

1. JC & the Gang eCard by JibJab:
One of my favorites for Easter... but they have plenty of passover greetings for all my Torah-worshippin' friends too!  And if you go to the site, you might as well check out Bunny Attack as well. Totally worth it.


2. Monty Python and the Holy Grail's Killer Bunny:
Only the best use of a bunny in cinematic history. Ever.

3. The History of Easter by cracked.com:
Just a jolly little history.

"Later on, according to Christians, God was listening to his heavy metal albums and decided to have a different version of Passover in which the lamb would be God. So during a Passover around 30 AD Jesus was crucified, much to the delight of Mel Gibson. This event is remembered on Good Friday, which was presumably named by Satan. Easter Sunday celebrates his resurrection three days later.

Somewhere along the line, these remembrances of pain, blood and suffering became associated with chocolate, which in some ways wasn't that bad."

4. Eggshellland in Lyndhurst, OH:
For all my Cleveland friends - I have not forgotten about you. In fact, I'm jealous you can claim home in a state that displays "40,180 real eggshells displayed as hot air balloons and characters from the movie, "Up.""
I want to go!!!

Riding mechanical bulls. That's just how I roll during trade shows. Especially during the evening party at a Texas Apartment Association show. And of course, only when the owner of my company's son is along for the ride.

That's when I decide to drag random folks to the dance floor to line dance and gladly hop on the mechanical bull.

And what's a bull ride without the appropriate bull-riding face? Which, if you didn't know, consists of 4 chins, squinted eyes and a half grimace/half grin. Double points if you keep your hand in the air for the ride.



Videos coming late tonight or tomorrow/

Good news! The missing trade show booth was rediscovered and returned safely.

Or something like that.

I got a call from Yousef the cab driver after admitting to myself we’d never see that booth again. I answered the work phone only to hear him describe how I accidentally left my large black box in his trunk (I “left it”, we misunderstood the situation or he stole… just a matter of semantics, right?) and then demand payment for his hard work toting the package around and all. Without giving him much of a response I let him know someone would give him a call to pickup the package.

So our handy dandy DC sales rep headed over to make nice and retrieve the long lost box.

Assuming it was all handled and done with, I saw Yousef pop up on our caller ID about an hour later. Again, demanding his money.

At which point, I handed the phone to our office everything-gal and she masterfully navigated the waters of money, anger and [accidental?] thievery.

All I can say is thank goodness it’s off my hands and if it’s going to happen to any one – of course it happened to me.

For New Year's Eve I had the pleasure of spending a long, fun filled evening with my boyfriend's Russian family. 

Very Russian family. 

After a few cups of champagne for good luck, I begrudgingly hopped into his parents' car and let myself be hauled off to his sister's house. 

10 minutes later I was ushered into an apartment by his little niece and nephew. And then, suddenly, I was in the middle of Russia. 

Surprise!

The center of attention was a huge flatscreen in the middle of the living room playing some incomprehensible New Year's Eve party scene complete with Cossack dancers, perpetual streamers and lots of people in ball gowns. 

And apparently it'd already been going on for hours. 

Which is when I thanked my lucky stars I had a few glasses of cheap champagne before braving the unknown world of foreign holidays. 

Next came the food. Like Mexican, all Russian food seems to be a mixture of the same 4 ingredients: beats, cabbage, sour cream and fat. Some of those combinations are perfectly delightful. Some, not so much. 

So his family chattered on about a million things I'd never understand in a language I'm totally unfamiliar with while I pushed a few items around my plate and actually ate the others. 

Then a look at the tv- Suddenly there was a full grown man with balloon-boobs (literally) shoved in his yellow pantsuit dancing on stage while a fifty year old woman crawled seductively across a cardboard table. Then the balloon-boob man put a big shiny tin-foil star on his head and continued singing to Russian music. 

Cut away to an army of bunnies. I kid you not. About 40 men were dressed in head to toe bunny suits and dancing in the background. 

No one else seemed to find that odd. 

I focused back on my plate to discover about 6 more items that his mom kindly added to my already full dish. She means well, but I really hate when my foods touch. And let me tell you this - there was a very large, unsanitary, food orgy happening on my plate. Most of it with things comprised of beets. Beet salad. Beet salad on top of fish. An egg with cavier on top and some sort of unidentifiable sour cream substance... all running together in a sticky, icky mess. 

His mom took a look at the t.v. for a split second and I snuck a few scoops of food to my boyfriends plate.

He rarely notices when I do that.  Lucky me. 

Then back at the t.v. All of a sudden there was a woman opening a champagne bottle and fluffing her carrot-orange wig. Then came the Santa-Man Number. 

Oh. My. Lord. 

The only black person in the entire show (and the entire venue) took stage in a modified santa costume. It was somewhere between a mix of elf costumes, santa outfits and harem pants. 

Don't ask, I can't make sense of it either. 

In the background similarly dressed men switched from ballet to cossack dancing and back again. Then came a cutaway to the same orange haired woman drinking her champagne, a quick view of the dancing bunny army and then back to the Santa-Men. 

The number came to a grand finale with lots of champagne toasting, the dark skinned man doing the splits and the background dancers pairing up in risque poses. 

Then - BAMMMMM - a fresh batch of streamers fell from the sky and everyone seemed oh so happy to have streamers fall inside their champagne glasses. 

And I giggled while everyone else watched without the slightest hint of amusement.  

....And then continued speaking in Russian while the strange pantsuit man with the tin foil hat took the stage once again. 

Today I'm stuck at home with an insanely painful and humongous stye on my eye (not sure if I should spell it "stye" or "sty" so I'm just going to switch it up every now and again). Not only do I look ridiculous, but I can only use one eye for anything useful. 

Yes, I'm half blind and home from work on my third day at a new job. I am just that awesome. 

But, aside from having nightmares about my boss thinking I'm a liar and a fool, I have to admit that I'm having a blast with my little pus-filled eyelid. 

Why? Well because I may look physically deformed, but the possibilities are endless! Styes pretty much kick any other infection's butt. 

Here's how:

1. General hilarity. How can you not laugh at a face like this? 

2. Dressing up like a pirate. Stys are a legitimate excuse to bust out the eye patch. Arrgggh

3. If I squint my good eye to match the crazy one and insert fake smoke... I can pull off the pothead look. Or at least come really close to it.

4. I am the real life http://www.bambusspiele.de/spiele/jekyllandhyde/jekyllandhyde_cover300_cop.jpg&t=1" target="_blank">Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Or Twoface. Whichever you prefer.  

4. And when all else fails, I can put on my sunglasses to cover the deformity and spend the rest of the day playing Men In Black.... 

...Or sleeping and making stupid pictures with paint all day while hopped up on OTC painkillers. Whatever.

Today most of the trains weren't running.. again. 

But what does it matter when the conductors are singing songs, cracking jokes and (most likely) hopped up on one too many espressos?

Today I hopped on the 'r' train, two days after the sixth biggest snow storm in the history of NYC, and settled in for a long, unpleasant ride.

As we pulled up to the 59th street stop (the first stop with a transfer to an express train from BK to Manhattan), a voice came on the speaker to announce the usual business- what trains you can transfer to, what stop we're at, etc. 

Instead we got the extended version done by an MTA employee who sounded surprisingly similar to Chris Rock. 

Conductor: "We're pulling up to fifty ninth street. Yes, you heard me. Fifty ninth street. The N train and the D train are running today but there are delays across the entire system. The N and the D train are running."

Me: Thank goodness. That saves me 25 minutes. Better stand up now. 

Conductor: Interrupting my thoughts, "But think about this. If you see a crowded platform do you want to get off folks? You might wonder "is the D running?" "is the N running?". Yes, they are running. But there are delays throughout the entire system. You might wait on that crowded platform for twenty minutes. You might be there for a half an hour. "

Me: Good point. Should I sit back down? 

Conductor: "But you're already on the R train, folks. And the R train makes all local stops. We make all local stops and we'll get you to work real fast. We'll get you there fast and we don't ask any questions" 

Me: Well that settles it, I hate questions. 

The train slows a little more as it gets closer to the station and all the headphones come off so people can here this man talking. 

A woman grimaces at the loud voice coming from the ceiling, I giggle at the situation, a little boy next to me eats his mitten. 

Conductor: "Again, this is 59th st and we do have delays all over the system. Now you're already on the R train and the R train is a good train. The R train is a good train." 

Finally the ambiguity of train goodness and badness is settled! 

 Conductor: "The R train is a good train." 

Everyone nods with sudden affection. 

The train pulls into the station and slows to a stop. The doors open to a very crowded (and inexplicably snow-covered) platform. Inside, we sneer at the fools waiting for the N train. 

Little do those people now we're on the good train. The R train is a good train. 

Conductor:"Now make room for your fellow passengers. Let's work together now! Step in and don't forget your children!" Remember we're making all local stops and we're going fast."

Me: Firmly cemented in my seat. 

Conductor: "We're on the R train and we're at 59th street. Please stand clear of the doors..."

Me: Putting my headphones back on 

Conductor: "Unless you want to take the N train...." 

And with that the doors close and off we go. On the good train to Manhattan. 

Before Daniel and I made that huge life decision to combine our worlds, our precious storage space and our crappy Target furniture, we got plenty of criticism. He got constant digs from his friends, "why don't you just marry her then" (as if marriage is the end of all life as we know it) and I got constant questions from family, "are you sure it's not too soon?" 

Well it may have been sooner than logic deems responsible, but I haven't stabbed him in the face with our new set of knives yet. So that's probably a good thing, right? 

In fact, living with a boy is.... dare I say it? Nice. 

And here's why in one word: Negotiations. 

I like to think I'm a darn good negotiator. It turns out that if you know what you're doing you can opt out of litter box duty, 90% of grocery shopping and refilling the laundry card. How? Clever negotiations. 

For example, I don't mind doing the dishes. Daniel on the other hand, views dishes as little gifts from Satan. The leftover crumbs make his skin crawl, the idea of spending an extra five seconds by the sink after consuming enough sushi to feed all of Japan is completely foreign to him (for a small boy, he can eat a surprising amount of Japanese food). If I bring up the fact we've had the same plates sitting in the sink for a month he looks at me like I'm speaking Greek to him. No idea how to solve that problem. In fact, the problem itself is incomprehensible.
"Dishes? What are those?"

On the other hand, I despise cleaning the litter box in the same way I despise being run over by garbage trucks or getting bamboo shards shoved under my finger nails.

However, Daniel seems to be oblivious to the fact that our cat farts out Chlorine Gas - one whiff and I'm convinced I'll die before my next exhale. That cat makes my eyes water, my throat close up and my nose want to commit suicide. And let me just say, no matter what goes into that cat (a piece of Indian food I dropped on the floor, a surprisingly large lint ball , a piece of kitty litter from between his toes or, on occasion, actual cat food from his bowl), it comes out the same- Chunks of semi-watery death wrapped in a sulfur cloud. 

Anyways, I've managed to get out of cat duty for the rest of my life by offering to do the dishes. 

Little does Daniel know how horrendous that litter box becomes after just one use. He's still in the honeymoon stage with our little Macaroni Cheesy Doodles. He's convinced the cat poos flowers and sunshine.

But someday he'll figure it out... and it'll be too late. The handshake has already happened, the deal has been sealed. 

Which is precisely why I love living with a boy. I can talk myself out of all the ickiest chores there are. 

So I realized that every once and a while I have these random recommendation posts. The thing is, when you find websites or content that tickles you the right way, it's impossible not to share. So I've decided to give in and occasional post my favorite sites, videos, etc. Here are a few. 

Enjoy

The Oatmeal  - < That link goes to one of the Oatmeal's more bizarre blog posts, but a must read nonetheless. Seriously, this site is procrastination gold, but be careful, content is highly addictive. 

When Parents Text - "small keypad, old hands". With a tagline like that, how can it NOT be good?!

To a Lifelong Pursuit of Amusement - Aside from the super long title, this is one of my favorite websites. My friend Melissa collects everything good in the world and puts it in one place. Oh, and she is probably the coolest musician you'll ever meet. So check out her YouTube too. 

This morning I saw, by far, the most adorable father in the world. His 6'2" self was dressed in stylish Manhattan garb, complete with $700 sunglasses on his head. Holding his hand was a little 1st grader with bright blonde hair. 

Cute dad: With a no nonsense voice, "21, 24, 27... what's next?" 

Little boy: "mmmm thirty?!" 

Cute dad: Without a pause "Then what?" 

Little boy: With a HUGE pause, "Thirtyyyyyyyyy.......?" 

Cute dad: Silence for another two or three minutes while the boy looked at him with those big blue eyes, waiting for an answer, a hint, anything. "Thirty three. What is thirty three, take away three?" 

Little boy: "Um, maybe it's Thirty?" 

And then they went on to English. The way the dad fired off question after question, it was clear the little blonde kid on his arm probably brought some a really horrendous test in the last few days. 

Cute dad: Plowing on with his finger in a 20 page children's book, "Where was Christopher Columbus trying to go?" 

Little Boy: "NEW YORK! N-e-w-y-e-o-r-k-w-e-r-k-n-e-w-w-y-o-r-k-r-...."

Dad: Without looking up, "Hey. Stop being a wise guy. When you memorize all this you can fool around, not yet." 

Little boy: Big sigh. 

Dad: "Now tell me, what year was Columbus going to Plymouth?" 

Little boy: With complete conviction, "NINETEEN!!!" 

And with that the dad couldn't do anything but chuckle and kiss him on  the forehead. Because why not? Christopher Columbus sailed across the world in the year 19 and that's just how it goes. Good thing that genius little boy set the record straight.  

With that, the handsome daddy closed the book and decided to switch to  I Spy for the next 7 stops.

And then I decided to love them both. 

My friend Ellen is the best person ever at unearthing gems in the world of websites. And as both a traveler and an American I can say this - the map below is disturbingly accurate. 

Original Post 

And FYI: I'm just kidding about it being accurate  

I decided to share a few observations from my ridiculously long commute. Partly because I found them extremely entertaining.. but mostly because my absurd 1 hour trek from Brooklyn means I have to wake up at 7am. And no one who wakes up at 7am should ever be able to write a coherent blog with more than 20 sentences. 

1. Even though I was inadvertently molesting four people around me and being groped by 7 more (oh, rush hour, how disturbingly inappropriate you are), no one on the train said a word for 55 long minutes. Because when you're crammed butt-to-crotch-to-arm-to-chest with the people around you, speaking to your fellow train goers is the biggest sin of all and far beyond forgiveness.

2. I really despise people with two phones. Not because it's utterly unnecessary, but because when people decide to go into that weird zombie-trance the iPhone users get stuck in all the time, they never hear the second phone ringing. But we do. Yes, we hear it... for 11 minutes of jingle bell rock. Which is just lovely.  

3. Lively train conductors are my favorite. Because when you're smothered with sweaty armpits, dealing with an incessant phone ring and praying for 42 St/Times Sq. to appear, hearing a voice pop up saying,  "Seriously, dude. Get out of the train door. I'll let the other passengers push you out if you don't move..For real." makes everything else worthwhile. 

I do love this city.