The Sisterhood of the Traveling Jerseys

It all started underneath the twinkling lights of the Four Seasons cabana.

And by that I mean the 3am blinding lights of the Ft. Lauderdale airport.

Perhaps I’ve jumped along too far in my narrative and will have to backtrack quite a bit until we end up there, but I had to set the mood.

Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals finally ended with a W, and my sister-in-law and I needed a place to sleep before we made the trek back to Boston.

We had been bee-bopping back and forth from Boston to Miami to Little Rock to Albuquerque like it was nothin’, which turned out to be something after we checked our bank accounts. 

I had just wrapped a movie in New Mexico and was anxiously awaiting Game 7 of the Philly series to see where my fate lay. After a few minutes into the game, that shellacking told me to redirect my return flight to LA to Boston to cheer on the C’s against the Heat.

After an ugly 0-2 start, I quickly realized I was 100% to blame and needed to fly in reinforcements. My sis-in-law, Kori, would do. Of course, she had to be selfish and graduate from med school during Game 3, so I unselfishly decided to fly from Boston to Little Rock to support her in her selfish endeavors, so that I could gain brownie points and make her fly to Miami with me shortly thereafter. On a serious note, congrats, Kori, I could never. #Dr.K

To game 5 we go!

The C’s travel in style. Cue the Four Seasons cabana. After a fantastic victory with my good luck charm and big brother John in tow, we knew what our purpose was— travel to every single game with the team so that they stood a chance at victory. No, it wasn’t Derrick White or Rob Williams who sealed the deal. It was the dynamic duo of Kori and Nicole Kornet sporting #40 jerseys that brought home the dubs. This was a price we were willing to pay.

However, not too high a price.

The team checked out Saturday morning. AKA the free room we had was gone. We girls’ flights were not until Sunday morning.

Hellooooooooooo, Four Seasons cabana. We tanned, we sushi’d, we conquered. Until midnight hit. The squatters felt guilt. And by guilt, I mean Kori felt guilty because I have yet to feel such a feeling. 

S/o to the front desk receptionist who graciously allowed these stanky Kornet gals to lift & shower at the fourth floor Equinox before their sleepover underneath the Four Seasons cabana.

We lasted about an hour until Kori’s guilt-ridden conscience got the best of her.

To the Ft. Lauderdale airport we go!

It was around 1am at this point. The padded cabana bed felt like a flutter in the wind. We had the cold, bright, hard, airport floor to house the once 5-star hotel guests. Kori buried her head face-down into the nasty carpet. I lasted about an hour. For those of you who do not know, I don’t do well in the cold. I had to get out of there. 

To an outdoor bus bench I went!

Kori woke up around 3am. Saw where I once had lain about two hours earlier. A new patron was sprawled across my former armrest-less seat bed.

“That doesn’t look like Nicole,” Kori thought to herself.

“Excuse me, ma’am, I don’t want to alarm you, but was there a tall, blonde girl lying here earlier?”

The very alarmed girl sprang up. “No,” she responded.

“How long have you been here?” Kori asked.

“Since about 3am.”

Looking at her watch, the time read 5am.

“Oh, crap. Nicole has been missing for two hours now.”

Kori scanned every hooded girl on the ground, paced the bathrooms, and zipped up and down the escalators, wincing at every “CAUTION HUMAN TRAFFICKING” sign slapped on every pole in sight. 

The brand new doctor with a fresh scar from an achilles surgery did not feel confident.

“What will I tell John when I have to tell him his sister has gone missing in Miami?”

As a last-ditch effort, Kori approached a gate agent.

Seeing the horror in my sister-in-law’s face, the nice check-in lady asked, “Can I help you with something, ma’am?”

“Can you tell me if someone has checked in yet?” Kori replied.

“No, ma’am, unfortunately that is classified information.”

“Ok,” said Kori, defeated.

“Is something the matter?”

“Well, my sister is missing and has been missing since 1am.”

“Oh my. Want me to do an all-call?”

“Yes, please.”

“NICOLE KORNET, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CHECK-IN COUNTER. NICOLE KORNET, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CHECK-IN COUNTER.”

In my Florida-humidity-gas-fumed-outdoor-curb-sleeping-chamber-induced fog, I heard my name. 

“DID I MISS MY FLIGHT??”

“Where’s Kori?!”

“Where’s my phone?”

“Why am I sweating?”

As this myriad of questions rushed through my head, I located my phone and gathered my thoughts. Ten missed calls later, I ran inside and spotted Kori with the gate agent.

“You rang?”

Immediate disgust from Kori as I explained how I had napped outside all night amongst the human traffickers.

Reunited once more, the girls had a job to do. Game 5 in Boston.

Hours later we found ourselves brushing our teeth in the Boston Logan airport. We changed our smelly socks, threw on our #40 jerseys, and Ubered to the Garden.

One 20-point beat down later, my good luck charm struck again. 

We slept most of the next day away, then found ourselves in a pickle. Flights back to Miami were pricey, and the guys were only going to be there for barely more than 24 hours. 

“Do we go???”

The answer is always go.

It was do or die.

But Kori’s conscience had other plans.

It was expensive. We had just gotten to Boston. Luke’s wife and kiddos needed their aunties. We decided to plant it in Beantown.

Luckily, the most fun watch party with 300 diehard Celtics fans allowed us to channel our inner crazy for 2.5 hours of the most fun basketball in Game 6 history. Thank you, Derrick White. IYKYK.

Game 7 back in Boston. We did it. Emphasis on the WE.

We will spare you the rest of the story, because as most of you know, it wasn’t a happy ending.

I’m now in the backseat of my dad’s Jeep driving to Lexington, KY as I type. I was in Nashville last night at a Boz Scaggs concert with my mom, aunt and uncle. The rise and the fall.

It has been a whirlwind three months. I spent 2.5 of those months in Albuquerque filming another LeBron Springhill Entertainment Netflix movie. I had the best time. 90% of the fun that was had is credited to the one and only Sam Griesel. Remember the name, folks. We all know it’s easy to remember the face. 

He was my adventure buddy as we took on the bleak indoor/outdoor shopping malls, desert hikes, and plethora of coffee shops the city of ABQ has to offer. He booked the lead villain role in the film, which is another terrific story in and of itself. Sam, along with my coworker, Ashanti, and myself became the three best friends that anyone could have.

Thanks to the awesome peeps at The University of New Mexico, we shot at the practice facility M-F for a few hours of early morning individual work. You can leave the game, but the game won’t leave you. I hopped in those Ashanti-led workouts every morning and tried my best to hang with Sam. By tried my best, I mean flourished. This old hag still got it!

We lifted, we swam, we tanned, we hiked, we golfed, we sat at coffee shops (s/o Suenos), we attended murder mystery parties, we drove 6 hours and back to Phoenix to watch the Suns play the Nuggets, and oh yeah, we shot a movie.

As the last day of filming quickly approached, we had to say our goodbyes, leave our summer camp-like best buds, and go our separate ways.

Boston beckoned.

After the Eastern Conference Finals’ bitter ending, I knew I wanted to fly back to Nashville to hang with the ‘rents for awhile.

After every movie, the insanely busy schedule vanishes into thin air, and you’re left with no schedule at all. Time to play the “wait for the phone to ring” game. But there’s beauty in this time off. Time to create a schedule of your own. Wake up, eggs & toast, sprints at Centennial Park, iced coffee at Vandy, tan on the rooftop, lift at Planet Fitness, dinner by dad, and repeat. I love summer.

So, as I peck away on the keyboard in the backset, I reflect on what the last few months have shown me:

1. Kori Bullard is the best good luck charm until she’s not.
2. Let Sam plan.
3. Say yes to 6-hour road trips if Jeff Green leaves you tickets.
4. C’s in 7 needs to be clarified.
5. When in doubt, don’t leave The Four Seasons cabana.

Punch the Clock

I’m going to my high school’s 10 year reunion next month.

10 YEARS.

I’m not supposed to be that old. I remember when I was a kid my parents would always say something along the lines of “Ahhhh yes, this can opener is as old as you are.” 

“20 years ago we bought this couch.”

“Cynthia and I have been friends for 30 years now!”

At the ripe age of 10, I was never phased by those statements. I couldn’t imagine owning a couch for that long. Knowing a friend that long. Being ALIVE that long. So why are you telling me this as if my little kid brain can even fathom such high a number?!

Fast-forward a couple decades and here I am. 28-years-old now, awaiting my high school’s 10 year reunion. That number hits HARD.

I always imagined myself walking through those hallowed halls 10 years later with a husband in tow, maybe a kid or two in my arms.

HA, that’s a big, fat lie.

1. I never imagined going to a high school reunion.

2. I never imagined being 10 years removed from high school.

Let's be real, I can imagine myself strutting through those double doors looking sassy, classy… but with kids?!

Couldn't be me.

...not yet at least. 

I’ve always felt like I’m a good 5 years behind my current age.

At 22, I was seriously dating a guy. A guy I thought I would marry, but I knew at that time in my life I didn’t want to get married. I didn’t know if it was him, or if it was the fact that I wasn’t ready. Today I know it was timing more than anything. Timing really is everything.

At 28, (like last week), I was dating a 22-year-old. Crazy enough, despite the age gap, I thought he was the one. It takes a lot for me to fall for someone, and I was starting to, but despite that... this was the first time in my life I knew I wanted to be married. The first time in my life I could confidently say that I am ready for marriage. But the age gap and living on opposite sides of the country had other plans for the two of us.

With this 10-year-reunion coming out of the woodwork, it’s got me feeling all sorts of emotions. Specifically, it’s got me thinking about the past 10 years. 

Guys, I’ve had the craziest last 10 years. 

Since graduating high school, I’ve been in Los Angeles, CA.

Kinda.

One short stint in Oklahoma led me to LA for the past seven years now— working as a sports coordinator in the entertainment industry— marrying my love for sports and the big screen.

Sometimes my synapses are firing so hard and the trips are so many that I forget what I did last weekend, let alone yesterday. It’s hard for me to remember the amazing experiences that have transpired, because I’m already on the next one before I can even process what happened on the last one. S/o iPhone camera roll for being the memory bank my brain desperately needs.

As I navigate my emotions of the ever-so-daunting “10 year reunion” I want to take a walk down memory lane and share with you what has happened since my last blog. We all know not much happened in 2020. But 2021??? 2022?! I can think of a few things.

The Best Year(s) Ever:

Luke was on the Chicago Bulls. Playing the Lakers. We had In-In-Out post-game on the JW Marriott rooftop in downtown LA.

I was April Ross’ stunt double in a commercial for the Olympics. The Olympics she later won gold medal for in beach volleyball, thus sparking my one-week long burning desire to become an Olympic beach volleyball player myself. Emphasis on the one week.

I dated an MLB player. Great guy, but not THE guy.

I was a TK-aid for 4-year-olds at the cute, little Catholic school across the street from me in LA.

I played a basketball player in the new Cheaper by the Dozen movie and signed my first contract as an actual ACTRESS. No lines, but still, it said ACTRESS.

I worked the Big Shots premiere for Disney+ with a famous fitness friend on a rooftop at The Grove and dribbled around John Stamos all night.

Luke signed a one-year deal to the Boston Celtics.

My grandpa passed away.

My older brother proposed to his girlfriend.

Space Jam 2 came out. LeBron shut down Six Flags Magic Mountain and we partied the night away for what was one of the most incredible, unique experiences of my life.

I shot a feature for my mom’s news station about taking down “The King” in a couple shooting competitions back in Nashville.

I drove to NYC from Nashville for a friend to sign his first modeling contract with Wilhelmina.

I moved to Philadelphia for 8 months to work a movie called Hustle with Adam Sandler. 

I played Jordan Clarkson in ping pong. The series is currently 2-1, but I really think I will come back and take him down if I ever see him in a room with a ping pong table again. 

My goddaughter got baptized.

I texted Pete Davidson for a week and then he dumped me for Kim Kardashian.

Pete went to Disney.

I explored NYC several times with my coworkers every off-weekend we got while in Philly.

One of my best friends from OU got married in Abilene, Texas.

Luke signed to the Maine Celtics and we spent Thanksgiving in Maine.

Luke signed a 10-day for the Cleveland Cavaliers and we spent Christmas in Cleveland.

Luke signed a 10-day for the Milwaukee Bucks and I spent every game night in Philly in front of my tv screen.

I filmed a commercial with Vince Carter in LA.

Luke signed for the rest of the year with the Boston Celtics!!!

I finallyyyyyyy went back to LA. Just to leave to Atlanta a few months later for a football movie.

There, I met another guy. A guy who I ended up dating, and thought I would marry, until he broke up with me two weeks ago. Turns out all this traveling and the fact that he lives on the Atlantic and I live on the Pacific doesn’t bode well for long-term commitment.

Nevertheless, I had one heck of a summer with him.

My mom got her MBA.

I watched Justin Bieber in the pit thanks to Adam Sandler giving my coworker and me his tickets.

Luke went to the NBA Finals.

My mom and I went to SF for games 1 & 2.

My dad and John went to Boston for games 3 & 4.

I went to the Hustle premiere in LA that same week.

Talk about one of the best weeks of my life. One day you’re walking the red carpet (or falling…sorry, mom), and the next you’re on the family bus with the families of the Boston Celtics on our way to the Chase Center to watch your little brother play Steph & co.

I filmed White Men Can’t Jump 2 with Jack Harlow for a few days as a bball player.

I filmed a Gatorade commercial and was a player for the Chicago Sky for a day.

I spent the summer with my parents, Luke, his wife, and daughter in Nashville.

I went to Bend, Oregon to visit a couple of my best friends.

I went to Orlando, Florida to see my mom’s side of the family and wakeboard.

I went to Austin, Texas to celebrate my sister-in-law’s bachelorette.

John got married in Little Rock, Arkansas. 

I went to NYC to film a Google Pixel commercial with Giannis, Joel Embiid, and Jayson Tatum.

And that brings us to yesterday.

The day I got my notification on FB for the 10 year reunion. 

I may not have a husband or kids in tow, but I have a heck of a lot of experiences that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

I’ve been praying hard for community as of late, and boy has God provided. Fun events don’t mean as much if you don’t have people to share them with. God has sprinkled in some of the best friends, some new, some old, who have come into my life at the perfect time. Because, if I’m being honest, the “boyfriend” thing has hit me harder than I have ever thought it would.

I met this guy named Sean right after I graduated from UCLA. My first boyfriend. He’s the most amazing man I have ever met still to this day. I googled his name last night. He has started this YouTube series called “The Best Year of my Life” and it was about this global adventure he went on in 2021. He’s the one who actually inspired me to write this blog today. My 2021 didn’t go global, but it was prettyyyyyyy epic here in the states. Watching his videos made me so happy for him. He looked so happy. And if anyone deserves to find happiness in this world, it’s THAT guy.

Which brings me to baseball boy. Another fabulous human. But I knew he wasn’t the one and tried to end it as soon as I realized that.

A year passed until I met my last boyfriend. I really liked him. He liked me. But we lived on opposite sides of the country. He was a lot younger, and he didn’t want to keep trying so hard to make it work. It was a mature decision, one that I didn’t want to face, but at least I knew what it felt like. I knew what it felt like to be all-in, and that’s something I’ll forever be grateful for.

When I got the FB notification yesterday that was the first thing that popped into my head. I’m going to be SINGLE at my 10 year reunion??? If anyone knows the south, the rest of my classmates are married and on baby #2 already. I really think there is only one other single classmate out of the 100 humans in my graduating class. And that human is my former high school prom date, who I adore, and wish was coming, but is currently living in Amsterdam.

As I sit in this coffee shop on Charlotte Ave. in Nashville, TN, days before I make the cross-country trek back to LA in my little brother’s Toyota Camry (my car kicked the bucket earlier in the year, forgot to mention that in the highlights), I think about the title of this blog: Punch the Clock. I’m being literal here. PUNCH IT SQUARE IN THE FACE. There is no clock for when it’s all supposed to be figured out. Whether it’s a husband you’re searching for, or a job or promotion, who cares how old you are when it happens?? Because it will happen. It’s only a matter of time. Time that God knows you need. He knows I need it. I may think I’m ready, but God is the only one who really knows. He has been the architect for the story of my life thus far and there isn’t a single thing I would want to change about it. 

Trust me, that’s a lot easier to write than feel at times, but I’m writing to reinforce it in my own head as well. Who cares if you show up single to your 10 year reunion? Who cares if your life doesn’t look like the classmates’ next to you? 

We all have that thing. That one thing that keeps nagging at us. The fly that won’t stop landing on your leg. The ingrown toenail that brings excruciating pain with every footstep. Graphic, I know, but I’m driving home the big finale here. The point is you feel like you can’t run away from it. You feel like everything will be right with the world if you just get what you’re asking for. My annoying fly and ingrown toenail might be a husband at the moment, but I know if/when I get that, everything won’t be right with the world just because I got what I wanted.

So, now, today, at this very moment, what I can do is appreciate what I do have. As I just blabbed about in this blog for the last 30 minutes, God has given me a laundry list of cool experiences and people in my life. I want to get out of this funk, sure. I want to practice what I preach. I want to stop searching for THE guy in every room I walk into. I’ve never been this girl before, but only because I’ve never really wanted this before. My “5 years behind my current age” thing is finally catching up to me. I want marriage. I want HIM. And I know he will come, just like everything else I have put total faith & trust in God towards. He has given me the desires of my heart when I wasn’t searching for them. He has given me what I needed and wanted when I didn’t even have the words to articulate what it was I needed or wanted. I can articulate the man I want. I journal about his sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and 6’5”+ness fairly often, but maybe that’s why I haven’t met him yet. Maybe that’s why I won’t. I need to close my eyes and blindly trust God wholeheartedly. I need to let go of control. I need to get off of Instagram. I need to stop thinking I'm running out of time.

I need to PUNCH THE CLOCK.

Taco Tuesday

August 20, 2019

Anyone who deems themselves a shooter needs to be put to the test. After a few days on set, LeBron begged the question: Who was the best shooter in the gym? And could they take down The King?

LeBron had his own private court that Warner Bros. created for him, and he invited us all to shoot one morning. The catch: call times were at 7am... so we were looking at a 5am alarm in order to do so.

We couldn't wait til 5am the next day. People were already chirping. LeBron looked over at the Goon Squad and asked who the best shooter on the team was. Everyone looked at me.

The day wore on, business as usual, until LeBron got up to shoot a particular scene. He was shooting around and waiting for the director to get settled.

He called out my name. 

“Alright Kornet. It’s go time.”

I looked up, and smiled. Oh boy. I hadn’t touched a ball since I graduated, but here goes nothin. 

The first game was simple— five shots from five spots. He won three games, I won two. He got me.

The next game we decided to up the ante. We had to make each shot from each spot in a row to advance to the next spot, and if you didn't... you went back a spot. 

That was confusing. Let me break it down for you:

From the baseline you had to make your first shot to advance.

From the wing, you had to make two in a row to advance.

From the top of the key, you had to make three in a row to advance.

From the opposite wing, you had to make four in a row to advance.

From the opposite baseline, you had to make all five in a row to win.

If you miss any shot at all, you immediately go back to your last spot.

LeBron got off to a hot start and made it all the way to the top of the key, until he missed his last shot and went 3 for 4.

My turn.

I missed the first shot.

His turn.

He went two for three.

Time to work my way back.

Swish.

Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

He's in my ear. Side by side with the big fella.

I miss.

Back to Bron.

He makes his way to the opposite wing. 3 out of 4.

Okay, Kornet. Focus.

I make three in a row.

On to the wing!

I make one, then two, and then the Second AD comes over.

"Alright, guys, let's clear the court. We need to get rolling."

"No, no, no. She’s feeling it right now. Give us a few more minutes," replied LeBron.

I make the third shot, and then the fourth.

Last spot. Five more and I take the crown.

I make the first one. Net the second one. Hold the follow through on the third, turn to LeBron and look him dead in the eyes...

"Did that go in?”

It rattles in and he retorts back, “Ooh you were scared, though, huh??”

I square up for the fifth and final shot. As soon as it left my hand I took off straight to center court Steph Curry style.

Cash.

Everyone went nuts.

All one hundred supervillain extras stampede the court. The cast, crew and anyone with legs came running towards me with arms open wide.

LeBron, too, gave credit where credit was due, and dapped me up. 

"12 in a row, not bad."

One of the prop guys pulled me aside and handed me the coveted silver ball.

“Keep it.”

"And get him to sign it too!"

"Woah, woahhhh woahhhh," clapped back LeBron. "The series is even now. She's not getting a signature until she truly tops me."

As soon as we wrapped at 8pm, LeBron challenged me again. He was in his flip flops, until I started feeling it. The flip flops came off, and the laces came on.

We probably went back and forth for 45 minutes and shot 100 shots going 90 for 100 from 3. Neither of us hardly missed.

Until I didn't.

And beat him again.

Just for kicks, we decided to do another round. This time off the dribble.

(I won that one too).

Before we left, LeBron told me we had to end on a make. I tossed up an NBA three from the wing. 

Cash.

The basketball gods were with me that evening.

As we were making our way back to our trailers, LeBron snagged the ball from me, and finally signed it.

As I was making my way to base camp, I was getting congrats from left and right from people on different stages who weren't even a part of the Space Jam production.

LeBron's bodyguard saw me and let out an “Oooo girl, you earned that signature!”

LeBron heard all of the hoopla from his trailer, peeped his head out, and yelled out for me to come in.

“So you out there boastin’???”

I walked in, took a seat on his couch, crossed my legs, and said with a smile on my face, "Just wait til I can post about it."