nichol aka jrue aka starting point guard aka mah baby aka nikki aka the real farter in the house….
where do you start here? me and mah baby go back to 6th grade. we became partners in crime the following year, hooked up at various points, drifted apart, came back, got married, got divorced, still got freaky wit’ it, and then got married again. twas and continues to be a long and winding road.
nikki, much like mr. jrue holiday, runs point in our house. appointments, food, transportation, are you still alive? that’s mah baby. i’m a complete and utter idiot so mostly this just applies to me. plus then there’s the kids. she’s the ultimate two-way player. offense or defense, put her in and watch her work. especially if it’s beefin’ into toilets – watch her cook and marvel.
she unlocks squad’s championship potential, throws me sick alley-oops and makes me look good.
on the most personal of notes – no one is more instrumental to my sanity, health, life, happiness: every angle. if we aren’t at work (working sux), there’s a 80% chance she is within an arms length of me. even when it’s not all sunshine and butterflies, the way we get upset with each other is somehow soothing. after 31 years, give or take, i know exactly what i did wrong and how to tickle her to bring her right back.
inescapable.
completeness.
i like to joke with her that on a scale from 1 to 10, i love her a 4. she gets upset and then i explain that i don’t love anyone else above a 1.5. don’t tell her i told you this, but that means i love her with all my heart.
here’s a bunch of the digital artifacts i could find with the two of us. one of these days she’ll get me to smile for her more than once every 5 years.
