Hey kittens,

I know it’s been awhile since I’ve graced you all with a blog post. I apologize for my absence but know that it wasn’t in vain, as I was off fighting tigers with my bare hands in the Cambodian Jungle. Or maybe Rambo did that, I watched some movies too, so I’m not entirely sure. But here I am, revved up on raging and ready to rock.

I crave a lot of things all the time. Chocolate. Whiskey. Human scalps. Wait, I mean trips to the alps. Most of all, I crave summer. I like the ocean air, and skateboarding hottays, and the extra kick in Vitamin D. I’ve also noticed that the skin of scalps tend to be softer. What? I didn’t say something? You must be going crazy.

But how am I supposed to satisfy my hankering for some summertime when ice is falling from the sky in April? Well, I supposed I could move down to South America, but there are a lot of people after me in Colombia, and I’d actually like to keep all 10 of my fingers, so that’s out.

What’s a totally normal and unassuming girl to do? Why make her own summer of course. You can read weather reports and rage at the lying bastard groundhogs, or you can crank bust out the old Beach Boys vinyls, open up a case of Corona and throw a solstice. I know which one I would choose…

So here they are, my secrets to having a summer even when glaciers are falling out of the sky and freezing all of your cut-off wearing dreams:

1. Buy a new swimsuit, wear it in secret: This is the equivalent to wearing a trench coat over lingerie when you go to greet your boo at the airport. It’s definitely more fun when it’s a bikini top and the ties are poking out of your shirt. While I understand that this is primarily a luxury afforded to the ladies, I’ve never been one to tell a man what to wear (unless it’s culottes, a mullet, a chinstrap, a terry cloth jumpsuit, actually consult me before you put on clothes, I lied). Alternatively if you are Daniel Craig, you are always welcum to prance around in those little Casino Royale trunks. No one can object to that!  (And if you find someone who does, please let me know? I need to uh, give them a thorough talking to. Don’t worry, it’s not like anyone will wash up in a back bay hahaha!!! That wasn’t a nervous laugh, I swear.)

Give us this day our daily Craig.

2. Turn up the heat in your living space: It sounds silly, but it’ll make you schvitz, and schvitzing is good for your skin.

3. Make a summer blockbuster with your friends: Summer is the best season to see films that star Chris Hemsworth and will never win Oscars. What more could you ask for? Now is the perfect time to get out your phone camera, and make an action flick with your friends. Or you can be a little more Nikki Yee about it and make a b-movie or grindhouse. I recommend using chocolate syrup for blood splatter, then you can lick it off of your 10 cent version of Chris Hemsworth or Mila Kunis or whichever hot actor you picked up at your local community theater group. And when you’re ready to get off that casting couch you’ll have something simultaneously terrible and amazing  to show your followers just in time for the summer blockbuster season!

4. Celebrate my birthday: My birthday is in the summer and I’m great. Mic drop.

It’s a short list, but all that matters is that your beer is chilled, your shorts are short, and you’re feeling as good as I do on my summer birthday (which I know you are celebrating right now).

Until the sun comes out,

xx

N

This is the photo I sent to Tom Cruise’s girlfriend audition. It’s so glamorous.

As I type this, I am suffering through winter’s biggest thorn in my side:  influenza. Believe it or not I actually try to do the right thing, and get the flu shot, take the vitamins and all of the other preemptive strikes, but mostly I do it because I like needles, pills and preemptive striking.

Still, no amount diligence can stop even the best of us domain owners from getting knocked out by the LL Cool Js of winter lurgy. So I present this guide to you as both a form of recovery and a way of hearing the sound of my own scratchy voice.

Influenza survival kit:

1. Lots of moaning: Woah there horn dog, I’m talking about moaning in pain. Now try not to annoy your roommate or their lover, but sometimes it helps to let it out. Trust me, they’ll do it when their body feels like a pincushion left out in a dumpster. Need some help with expressing yourself? No worries brah I got you covered. Start with a simple “uuuuuuugh” and when you need to reach for some more dayquill move to a more specific, “What is my life?” Don’t be afraid to get existential. When in doubt, always ask for help from a higher being. I always like, “Please Beyonce? Barbara? Britney? Cher? Can anyone hear meeeeee?”

A blessing from a goddess!

2. Good-Bad Movies: Devotees will remember that I believe in the healing powers of movies. If you newbies haven’t caught on yet, well… you’ll figure it out. Now let’s be honest here, you’ll probably be so drugged up in your sickly state that you won’t make it through a memory trap like Memento. Go with something a little easier on the soul too. This ain’t the time for Schindler’s List. What you need is a movie so bad, that it’s good. You need to watch people scream their lines,  to see boom mics on the top of the screen, you need shotty green screen and dropped plot lines. You need The Room. I also like to recommend anything starring Nicolas Cage post 2011, because well, the power of Cage will compel you towards healing. He is a vampire you know.

3. Pie: Sure chicken noodle soup and tea are pretty bombin’, but pie is delicious and there’s a flavor for everyone! Fruit. Cream. Tart. Nuts. Meringue. Crumble. Chicken fucking pot. There’s a pie for everyone!

So there it is. It’s not gonna heal you at warp speed as much as it will Gangnam Style (is this still a thing?) you towards a slightly less torturous case of the go-fuck-yourself that life has handed you. But hey, I never claimed to be a doctor!

With sniffles and snuggles,

xx

N

Merry New Year my cowboys!

So we’ve survived the Apocalypse and the turkey comas, and now it’s time to get down to bid-ness. I’m talkin’ about talking about bettering ourselves for the new year. Now that we’re full blown survivors of a thing that didn’t happen, we should probably do ourselves a BIG favor and actually try a little harder this year to quit gaining weight and lose smoking–whoops, they’re so basic, I mixed them up. Anyways, I’ve made a short list of things I’d like to work on this year, and none of them involve robbing people stupid which is a first for me!

So here they are sweet (HA), innocent (HAHA), cruelty free (HAHAHA), and peachy (meh) as ever!

1. Hold some sort of archery based survival competition to see who I will spare from the mass Facebook unfriending.
2. Hold the same sort of competition to choose the name for the other competition.
3. Capture Daniel Craig in a net, keep him in my home and make him sandwiches when he’s hungry (because he’s a pretty good guy).
4. Capture Tom Cruise in a net, throw him back to Planet Cray where he came from.
5. Legally name someone’s trouser snake Britney.
6. Make a grindhouse film starring my mother called Mrs. Kowalski’s Got a Gun ©
7. Speaking of grinding, get my organs ground by the violet organ grinder himself.
8. Only exercise my right leg to look fit in time for awards season.
9. BECOME BARBARA.
10. NO, CHER.

So there it is hookers! May your new year be filled with lots of kisses and cake. It’s about to get wild west up in here! YEE-HAW!

xx

N

I’m a slave for who?

My dearest, cheeriest readers,

I want to open my holiday annual with an apology. I have been working very hard for a long time to bring a lot of joy to myself, which I did not share with you. After all, that’s what this blog is about right? You celebrating in my sexy gallivanting around North America whilst recording it on this blog in pseudo cartoon character form. Queenly as I am, it is very un-queenly of me to not communicate with you, my readers, subjects, and sometimes lovers. I mean the people can’t fear you if they don’t hear from you in four months, or whatever Machiavelli said about ruling. So nikkiyee.com is back and just in time for Chrismukkah! A very merry, happy, and Mayan calendar ending-free one to you!

So here it is,  unadulterated, drunken, and scandalous as ever: my Christmas wishlist for 2012. Don’t let the hooker hit you on your way in!

1. A time machine into 1920′s British high society

In case you haven’t noticed, the 1920′s are back in a total Western society way. From the lost generation and Owen Wilson filled Midnight in Paris to the upcoming, lawd-knows-why The Great Gatsby 3D, we’ll be doing the Charleston well into the next presidency (who we all know will be Boss Lady). But nothing has excited me like Downton Abbey, the understated on action and overstated on fancy dinners, PBS drama, which you should all be watching if you want to feel sentimental for the days when us gals couldn’t vote and marrying a chauffeur was unspeakable rebellion. Societal flaw aside, have you seen that house? What about the endless wit of videogame boss Maggie Smith? Imagine if I married the Earl of Granthom, people would refer to me as Lady Cobra (because that’s my real name obv). Perhaps I am too much of a drunken sailor to fit in to yesterday’s British High Society, but you build me a time machine for Christmas and I will show you how much of a fucking lady I can be!

2.A “Tough Love Smackdown Champion” trophy

Now I’m sure this is a new concept to y’all because duh, I invented it. However, through my petite life I have encountered a variety of people who are not bad, in either the Michael Jackson sense or the Joseph Kony sense. These are usually pretty decent human beings just trying to get by, but they can’t help but do so with their heads in their asses. You know who I’m talking about, the friend who always borrows money and never pays back, the questionably good looking person who has been leading you on  for months now, the school security guard who is everyone’s buddy but yours. Now you can’t justify sticking your stiletto in their brain, because let’s face it, they haven’t come at you with a knife, but they’ve also been careless towards you for the last time. So what do you bring them? The verbal smackdown of the century. But don’t point at them and call them a name that would make Satan himself blush, because that doesn’t get you anywhere. No, it usually starts with a “I don’t like having this conversation, but you’ve left me no choice…” and take it from there. I’ve been honing my skills in this since I was 13. So let’s start acknowledging this as a thing, and a thing people can be good at. Now allow me to be serious here for one second, I would (and now you) would never have to give people tough love smackdowns if we all just communicated with each other. Write it in a blog, make it a hipster diddy, put a bird on it if you have to. BTW You can send my trophy to PO Box 123 See You In Hell Lane, Riyadh California.

3. Daniel Craig

“Let’s do this. Red shoe diaries. I think you know I have a thing for butt stuff.”

4. MONEY

In only its third year tradition, the Christmas wishlist annual has stood out for its metaphysical creativity. But underneath it all, I just really wanted money this whole time. Screw your best behavior, gimme dem hunnids. Actually gimme dem tens. Has anyone else noticed how much of a TEN Alexander Hamilton is tho? Let’s set that time machine to 1776, “Let’s do this. Red shoe diaries…” you know the rest.

5. A monkey in a coat

Because the news story of 2012 that’s why. Also nice coat, just about my size!

Here it is my little stocking stuffers! T’is the season to be fierce and flawless with everyone in sight. Wishing you nothing but good looking times with even better looking. Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays straight from the naughty list!

xx

N

More like straight from the fierce list.

Hey beach bunnies,

I apologize for the long absence in blog posts. I’ve been busy painting this town Russian red. Fortunately, electronic absence also means that I’ve been neglecting my habit of fretting over my appearance because I had the audacity to torture myself by checking out the “hair” tag on Pinterest.

I’ve noticed a great and terrible habit of L.A. transplants like myself. I’m not going to count the two week tourists who think that The Grove and the Warner Brothers Studio tour are the accurate representations of this city, but bless you all anyways. Meet for drinks in Inglewood? Oh you don’t get it. That’s cute. I’m also not going to count the NorCal transplants, because you’re also from Cali-freakin-fornia. But I may be referring to desert people…I’ve never met one actually. Do any of you know if they have 4 arms? Or is that an urban legend?

I’m talking about the East Coast transplants who fold their pizza and eat it as they walk down the street. The people who “are walkin’ here“, yes I’m talkin ta you buddy! I once knew a woman from this region of the earth. We were talking about work ethic (mine is fucking amazing tbh!!!!!!) She described So-Californians as follows: “I’d much rather be in New York. Everyone in LA thinks that because it’s Summer they don’t have to work, and they should just go to the beach. All they think about is surfing.” Many people from here would counter argue “hey man, that’s not cool. I work hard, I’m just waiting to hear back from this casting director.”

But my city has an unexplored oh-so-Californian happy medium that is not so often associated with the City of Angels. It’s actually a Summer and grand views haven that tends to become the GOB to glamorous Hollywood’s Michael. So while you’re all off dreaming of accidentally bumping into Brad Pitt while you go on a tour bus through Beverly Hills. I’ll actually be bumping into John Krasinski and Emily Blunt while I’m out at a Tuesday night show. (True story btw)

So where to start? I always recommend places where you can act out movie scenes. Be sure to bring your switchblade and your high waist field-trip pants to the Griffith Observatory and run up and down the stairs and put a hole in the next person who calls you a “large Marge”.

“Only Mitt Romney gets away with wearing mom jeans!”

The best place to act out scenes is actually not from the movies…not yet anyways. But Arrested Development fans should be familiar with a certain harbor in Marina Del Rey as a stand in for Balboa Island in Newport Beach. Now I’ve been to both places. The first has the merits of actually being on Arrested Development (plus, it is where I like to go sailing), the second has the benefits of being the gathering place of all bros from California on the 4th of July. It’s wildly entertaining because everyone wears tank tops, blasts LMFAO and is named Dylan like they didn’t make it their own.

Meet ya down at the big yellow joint.

And if you’re into recreating beach scenes from the 1960s surf genre, I highly recommend Surf Rider Beach or Paradise Cove in Malibu. Of course, I have access to the private, paparazzi laden beaches because of my “high profile” celebrity status. And if I see your plebeian ass on my beach, I will shoo the shit out of you.

The shooing shall be fierce.

There’s way more to my long running saga in La La Land and I will be saving some material for a Part 2, 3, 4, and 69. I mean who could resist Christmas in Venice Beach? But virg-elenos should know that L.A. takes a long time discover, in part because it’s so damn huge, we could many Mid-Western capitals inside of it (I’m being serious tho!).

But I love this city, this tangled mess of 405 construction, the dudes abiding on the boardwalk, the boa constrictor who lives on Santa Monica Pier, the NorCal residents who hate driving here, the rightfully reputation conscious Hollywood hustlers who crowd the Starbucks on Santa Monica and Wilshire, the fact that all of us Angelenos think in terms of intersections, and all of the individuals, who range from missed connections to beach buddies, who’ve said, “hey Nikki Yee! LA loves you too.”

Aw, now this sounds sappy. And I hate sap. The next time you’re in my city and you wanna see a real site to behold, just look for the red lipped loca with the California tattoo dancing on top of The Getty Museum.

xx

N

Oh wait, that’s me!