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Top Secret Mission – Codename: Nightcrawler

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bait 1You can’t conduct a successful mission without a cool codename.  And no, I’m not a Marvel fan so simmer down comic book geeks. It’s a fishing reference.  When I was little, I used to go with my Dad and always felt sorry for those “Nightcrawler” worms he used as bait. Poor things, dangling off a hook, awaiting their doom.  Much like me this week except, I was man bait.

Lambert and I were supposed to go on another stakeout the night after prom, but he cancelled.  Apparently his mother busted her knee falling off a paddle board.  Now we all saw Mother Lambert the night  he was appointed Vice Principal, no way that old bat was getting on a paddle board. I think prom night spooked him. I’m surprised but then, not surprised.  I’m surprised because we were so close on prom night, at one point I actually thought he was going to tell me he loved me.  But I’m not surprised because…he’s a guy, we got close, he panicked.

Not wanting to go to jail, I really needed to find out what happened to Shannon (A.K.A. “Shanny the Nanny”), so I did the stakeout on my own.  Lambert told me to text him if anything happened.  Honestly, I had only planned to stay a couple hours but I wasn’t in front of Senator Richard’s house ten minutes before he came out and took off in his Jaguar.  Still setting up my snacks, I nervously scrambled to get my mini-van started.  My hummus platter fell to the floor as I raced to catch up with him. I tailed him for an hour before he finally stopped to get gas.  I started to freak because it looked like the Senator was headed to the city and Lambert wasn’t returning my texts.

I decided to keep following him.  Even through the Lincoln Tunnel, his Jag was no match for my mini van and years of experience zipping my kids to/from school and practices.  Luckily we only drove a few blocks into the city before he pulled in a secured lot and gave his keys to a valet, who seemed to know who he was. I double parked and watched as he approached a steel door, punched a security code on a keypad then enter.  Shit!!  I should have grabbed my binoculars!

I wasn’t sure what to do.  I sent Lambert another text but still, no reply. As I sat there, a BMW pulled into the lot, a man got out and headed to the door.  This time I grabbed my binoculars and aimed it at the keypad.  “198374”.  Got it, but now what? As the valet got in the BMW I made a snap decision.  I left the car double parked, waited for the valet to pull away then ran over to the steel door.  My hands shook as I punched in the code, 9-1-8-7-3-4.  “ACCESS DENIED”.  Shit! I had the numbers jumbled up.  I tried a couple more times with no success.  The valet saw me as he headed back to his booth.

“Hey!  Are you supposed to be here?” he yelled.

One last chance…1-9-8-3-7-4…the door unlocked.  I quickly slipped in.  Whew.

It was dark inside.  I stood by the door as my eyes adjusted.

Holy shit.  What the fuck is this place?

(to be continued…)

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He stole my panties then he stole my heart…

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You learn a lot about a person when you’re  in a car together for 3, ten hour stake outs.  For example I found out that Lambert is lactose intolerant, plays the trumpet, volunteers at a homeless shelter, taps his fingers incessantly, accidentally killed his horribly abusive step father on a hunting trip when he was 12, rides a unicycle, has five parrots and a third nipple.

I told him stuff too, like when I was 14 I ran away and lived in the woods for 3 weeks when my parents told me they were getting a divorce, I make amazing meatloaf, Jaws scared me out of the ocean forever, cupcakes make me horny, my favorite color is red and I never went to my High School Prom because I was dumped at the last minute.  Like most men, Lambert’s eyes glazed over whenever I talked about myself.  I didn’t think he retained a word I said but he proved me wrong.

At a PTA meeting last week Lambert, in vice principal mode, volunteered me to chaperone the Junior prom.  When my daughter found out she was mortified, but I promised to give her privacy and keep my distance.  So on the day of, when we went to the salon to get her hair and nails did, I had mine done as well.  I wore something nice and “mom-ish” then spent the night trying not to be too much of a buzz kill.   Lambert was busy but when we did see each other we exchanged sexy looks.  He even secretly grabbed my ass when we crossed paths near the refreshments table.

After the kids went off to their post-prom parties, a few of us stayed to clean.  I hadn’t seen Lambert in a while and assumed he left.  As I swept wet confetti off the floor I thought back on my missed prom night.  The douche I was supposed to go with dumped me just hours before when the head cheer ho asked him to go because she and her boyfriend had a fight.  To add to my teenage nightmare, she was crowned Prom Queen.

I guess I zoned out because I hadn’t noticed the other chaperones had gone.  I was alone, standing in the middle of the gym, broom in hand like Cinderella.  Suddenly the lights dimmed, a spotlight turned on, disco ball began to spin and music started.  “We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Segar.  From out of the darkness walked Lambert, dressed in a tux.  God damn he looked good.  I was stunned as he approached me, clear box in his hand, corsage inside.  Was I dreaming?

“Welcome to your prom Nicole”, he said, eyes smoldering.  “You look beautiful”.

I was shaking like a nervous teen as he pinned the corsage on my dress.

“You did this for me?”

Then he pulled something from his jacket pocket.  A rhinestone tiara.  He placed it on my head. “My Prom Queen.” It was too much.  I started to cry.  He pulled me close, we danced.

The next song was Styx, “Come Sail Away” and at the best, most rocking part, the ceiling opened and confetti and balloons spilled out.

prom2

This man not only listened to me but he remembered all the goofy details from my favorite flowers to my dream prom song list.  We danced for a couple more songs, but when Journey’s “Faithfully” started, something came over me.  He had made one of my dreams come true.  I had to have him.  So right there, in the middle of the gym in a pile of wet confetti with 80’s make out music in the background, we added porn to prom.  I’ll probably be pulling confetti out of my hoohaa for days but it was worth it.

I’m screwed.  I can’t stop thinking about him now.  I wonder if he knows what he did to me.  Am I falling in love with him?  How is this possible?  He’s demented.  He’s a panty thief!  We have another stake out tomorrow night and I already have butterflies I’m so excited to see him.  This is really bad but that was the best night of my life.

Tips for a Successful Stakeout

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Whether you’re the police watching a criminal, a private detective snooping on a spouse, a crazy obsessed stalker or just two people trying to find out which perve you’re blackmailing kidnapped a “demented diaperer”, I’ve comprised a list of tips to help you plan a successful stakeout.

The list is in order of major fails, not importance.  For those just joining in, I’m hoping to find answers on the whereabouts of my missing stepsister, Shannon. It’s not that I care about this skanky ho who treated me like crap my whole life and then screwed my husband.  It’s that I’m afraid I’ll be the prime suspect in her disappearance once her sister Carol decides to report her missing.  It’s sort of a no brainer since I broke into her house only days before she vanished.

Anyway, we first chose to stakeout The Honorable George Mason because he seemed to have the most to lose.  We watched the not-so-honorable judge’s home for ten long hours and experienced the failures below.  The whopper of all fails I’m going to make an unwritten tip…make sure you have the right address!  After ten hours of watching we realized we were camped in front of Judge Mason’s rental property occupied by a large Chinese family.

TIPS FOR A SUCCESSFUL STAKEOUT:

1.) MESS-FREE SNACKS – A car probably wasn’t the best place to try and impress Lambert with my cooking skills.  Hot crab dip equals hot mess.

stakeout - appetizers snacks

2.)  BINOCULARS – Yeah.  Pretty fricken important.  It kinda worries me that we missed this one.  Might be why it took us so long to identify Chinese people.

stakeout - binoculars

3.) DON’T DRAW ATTENTION TO YOURSELF.  Let’s just say that Lambert’s bright yellow classic Vette was not a good idea.

stakeout yellow vette

4.) COMFORT – (ties into #3) Bucket seats, gear shift, no backseat.  All bad for stakeouts as well as stakeout foreplay.

5.) BATHROOM – A bigger issue for me than Lambert.  We were parked in a neighborhood.  I couldn’t very well knock on someone’s door and ask to use their “facilities”.  We couldn’t leave because we might miss something.  I was forced to squat behind a bush and air dry since I used all the napkins to clean the crab dip mess.  I’ll be better prepared next time with lots of TP & hand sanitizer.

6.) DON’T DRINK TOO MUCH! – (obviously ties into #5) No Thirsty two ounce sodas from 7-11 !

7.) GAS THE CAR – Another one I’m a little worried we missed.  We called it a night but didn’t even make it to the end of the block before we ran out of gas.  This is the moment when Lambert caught his first glimpse of the real me.  I was tired and so uncomfortable.  All I wanted to do was go home, take a warm bath, put on my jammies and get in bed.  I shot him a look that said “you’d better get gas in this car as fast as humanly possible or I will literally…yes, literally, rip your fucking head right off your shoulders”.  He was back within 20 minutes.  Good boy.

stakeout Run-out-of-gas

We have another stakeout planned for Friday night.  We need to find her fast because I just can’t face Lambert’s “Plan B”.  He thinks we can trap her kidnapper if I pose as…Nicole the Nanny.

I need a catchy title…

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The events of this past month are truly book-worthy.  How about, “The Nanny Napper” or maybe “The Disappearance of the Diapering She-Devil”. Wait…I’ve got it!  “The Scandalous Secrets of Shanny the Nanny”.

“Shanny the Nanny” is what Shannon (my evil step sister),  calls herself.  More importantly, this is what her clients call her.  Shanny’s long client list include not only the newly retired Principal Burke, but many other high-profile names.  How do I know this?  Because Lambert confessed to not only retrieving the bizarre man-baby photo album from Shannon’s house, but grabbing her computer as well.

That was the first bombshell.  Then came the second.

Lambert anonymously used some incriminating information he found on her computer against several of these high-profile clients.  I guess he saw how well it worked with Principal Burke so he thought what the hell, I’ll just bribe, extort and threaten some high-ranking people. He thinks one of these people thought it was Shannon making the threats so they…well…who knows what they did to her but she’s gone!  Was she fitted for cement shoes?  Sent on a one way trip to Siberia?  Put into a wood chipper and is now fertilizer? Right now it’s a mystery only a few of us know about because Carol doesn’t want to report her missing yet.

Now for number three.  Eric was served his divorce papers at work yesterday.  I totally forgot that I had listed his affair with Shannon as one of the reasons for divorce.  Cut to the chase…Eric thinks I’m responsible for Shannon’s disappearance.  Once he realized I knew about the affair and the diaper thing, he put the pieces together and figured out I was the one who broke into Shannon’s house and trashed it.  So of course it looks like I took the photo album and her computer.  Holy crap what a mess.  He threatened to tell the police so I threatened to make his diaper photo and his affair with my step sister public.  We ended in a stalemate…for now.

So what the hell happens now?  Guilt riddled Lambert thinks we should do some detective work.  He had contacted four people on that list so it has to be one of them.  I always wanted to be Nancy Drew. Who should Lambert be?  Sherlock Holmes? (the Robert Downey Jr. version) Or Magnum P.I.?  Nah..I’m not a moustache gal.  I do however, really dig ascots…ZOIKS!

freddie and daphne

Remorse for Repercussions of my Revenge?

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Must I remove myself from reality?  Remain repressed, restrain resentment, regretting my response to reprehensible acts by repulsive riffraff? Ridiculous. I rejoice at the results of my refusal to retreat.  I reject responsibility for any ramifications and recognize that my recovery is relevant. I am relaxed, rejuvenated and resolved to rebound.

That being said, I am not responsible and feel no remorse for the following:

Yep, you heard me right.  The bitch is gone.  Last night Carol called in a panic asking if I’d seen her.  Of course I had not.  Then she asked if I would find out if Eric has heard from her.  This leads me to believe Carol is well aware that Shannon and Eric are messing around.  Jesus, if you can’t trust a cat crazy magnet crafter these days, who can you trust?

So, I asked Eric and it went something like this:

“Eric, Carol called very upset.  She believes Shannon has disappeared and wanted me to ask if you’ve seen her.”

“Why would I have seen Shannon?  She’s your sister.  Why would I have seen your sister? What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything you fucking moron, I’m relaying a message from Carol.  If anyone is implying something, she is.”

“I think you both are, now that you’re best friends.  Hanging out, making magnets together.”

“How did you know I hung out with Carol?  I never told you that.”  Ha!  Let’s hear what you have to say now….

“I know things Nicole.  I know more than you think I know.  I happen to know all about so much around here that my head hurts.  It’s a lot of information and I have it all stored and it’s going to come out at the right time and you’re not going to look so smart when it does come out.”

nascar crashI was mesmerized.  It was like watching an accident in slow motion and his car was spinning out of control.  He kept talking as he nervously began to shove clothes into a bag.

“Like I know you went out and bought all new underwear.  Who did you do that for?  That’s right.  I found the receipt and don’t think I won’t use that in court.  Men know why women buy new underwear so don’t act all innocent with me.  I know what you’re up to, I know.  How dare you accuse me of anything.  I’m not putting up with that.  No sir.  I’m outta here.”

With that he zipped up his bag, threw it over his shoulder and headed up the stairs but before he reached the top I got in a quick response.

You’re really acting like a baby Eric.  Better be careful or you’ll do a poopy in your diaper.”

Through the rail I could see his feet stop on the top step.  I can only guess what was going through his head at that moment.  “Whaaaa.  Whaaaa.  Whaaaa!”

Then he left.  Goodbye fuckwad!

Before my relaxing and celebratory bubble bath I texted Lambert.  We chatted about Shannon and he said he might have an idea what happened to her.  Oh God…now what?  We’re meeting tomorrow night to discuss it.  Calgon, take me away…..

My Favorite Vice…

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Vice:  a behavior or habit generally considered immoral, depraved, or degrading.  Synonyms for vice include:  depravity, sin, wickedness, and corruption.

So what’s my favorite vice?

It’s not chocolate or vodka…or chocolate vodka.

chocolate-vodka-martini

It’s not ice cream or tattoos…or ice cream tattoos.

ice ream tattoo

It’s not johnsons or flashy clothes…or Johnsons in flashy clothes.

dj vice

My favorite vice is…Vice Principal Lambert.

smoulder 3

Officially announced at last night’s school board meeting:  due to “personal reasons” Principal Burke handed in his resignation.  Effective immediately, current VP Beth Little will take over as Principal and Mr. Lambert as Vice Principal.

The meeting was pretty crowded and they both gave brief “thank you” speeches.  Lambert thanked his co-workers for their support, thanked Mr. Burke for his “recommendation” and lastly he said:

“I also want to thank the most important woman in my life.  If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am now”…

I looked around the room trying to figure out who the hell he was going to thank.

“Nicole”…HOLY SHIT!!…”Lambert”…HUH??? “My mother“.

His mother’s name is Nicole? Ding, ding, ding…we have reached the top of the Creep-O-Meter.

“Come up here Mom”.  We all watched old Mother Lambert inch up to the stage with her walker.

“My Mother taught me everything I know.  Thank you Mom.”

Everything? I guess I should thank her too.  Thanks Mrs. Lambert!  Now can you please tell your son to give me my undies back?

Serial Freak

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And no, I don’t mean he’s koo koo for CoCo Puffs. I saw this article today, categorized under “Weird News” in my local paper: “Police are investigating a number of home burglaries in which the suspect(s) only stole female under garments. The incidents, which appear to be related, have occurred over a six month period. Local police urge anyone with information to please come forward.”

panty theifCould it be Lambert?  It’s  just so demented. I Googled “Panty Thief” and was surprised how many cases there were of people doing this. Is it a conspiracy?  Maybe this is Victoria’s secret. She hires men to steal women’s panties so they’re forced to buy new ones.  They could at least leave a freakin’ coupon.

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