Over the weekend I went with ED to the country to do some work at his family’s farm. I’m sure to the majority of you this does not sound like fun. But to me? It’s a little bit of heaven.

I guess I have a bit of a country soul. Plus I am more equipped to be a ranch hand than to help out in the kitchen. Granted I am a ranch hand who wears designer boots, Coach sunglasses and keeps her iPhone next to her at all times. But still. I’m not afraid of a little hard work.  In fact, I even earned the title of a “work horse” by ED’s father.

Trust me, that is a major compliment!

I did my best to capture a little bit of the country charm to share with you. All photos were taken with my iPhone.

More pictures, one’s with faces and whatnot, can be found on my Flickr page.

Blogfully yours (and yeehaw too),

Summer

Finding Home, Out and About

The other night I went to visit my dear father. Due to recent knee replacement surgery, he was heavily medicated. When he was able to get audible sentences out, he was hilarious!

My adorable niece was also there and wanted to be a part of the action. However, her patience with grown-up conversations started to dwindle. She tried to get attention using every four-year-old trick in the handbook. We would appease her for a minute and then go back to our conversation. Soon she gave up…  or so we thought.

She disappeared into the other room, and when she returned she was wearing this:

When she walked out in her finest gown with smeared, red lipstick on her face, I had to laugh. It’s no wonder women get all dolled up before they leave the house. We learn at a very young age that it gets us attention. Even my Dad, in his drugged up state, took the time to tell her how cute she looked.

I’m not saying this is good or bad, just that it finally makes sense to me. I get ready before I leave the house because I like to feel pretty. I don’t need anyone to validate me or give me attention like my adorable niece does — I do that for myself. My outfits are typically a notch or two more low key than hers was, but I do feel better about myself when I look made up and yes, sometimes my confidence comes from an extra coat of mascara and a little lipstick.

It’s my fail proof pick-me-up.

Well that, or having my Dad tell me I look nice.

OK, so maybe I haven’t grown up so much after all.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Lessons Learned, Uncategorized

Creatives work better in a creative environment.

Nobody understands this better than my work. I’ve been working here less than a month and we’ve already had three company parties. One of which was a vegetable carving competition. No set rules per se, just use a fruit or vegetable to create a face, or person or animal.

The results were just too good not to share.

First place winner. Obviously because sex sells.

A sad unicorn.

Mr. Potatohead's inbred relatives.

Orange you glad to see me?

And what did this little medal winner create?

I call her Mrs. Peppersworth. She is an ex-Vegas showgirl afraid to let go of her youth.

Clearly, working at the circus has it’s perks.

My third place prize?

Pink dryer balls. What else?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Circus life, Random

I need to get something off my chest.

It has been bugging me for a while, so I’m just going to come right out and say it:

Akon, you are a douche bag.

Why?

Well, there are several reasons, but the one I am referring specifically to is your song “Sexy Bitch” or “Sexy Chick” as the radio friendly version calls it.

Here is a slice of the lyrics to get things started:

She’s nothing like a girl you’ve ever seen before
Nothing you can compare to your neighbourhood hoe

I’m tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful

The way that booty movin I can’t take no more
Have to stop what i’m doin so I can pull up close

I’m tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful

Dam girl
Dam you’se a sexy bitch
A sexy bitch
Dam you’se a sexy bitch
Dam girl

Dam you’se a sexy bitch
A sexy bitch
Dam you’se a sexy bitch
Dam girl

Really, Akon?

Really?

OK, here’s the thing, why not just come right out and say that you have no respect for women and only see them as sex objects, Akon? Why throw in the absurd line that you are not trying to be disrespectful? Because guess what Akon, calling someone a “sexy bitch” or saying someone is not your average “neighbourhood hoe” is shockingly not a complement. It actually is disrespectful.

Do you see what I’m talking about, Akon?

Also, it doesn’t help your case when you and your no-name buddy, David Guetta, film yourselves in a music video that completely objectifies women. I’m sure many men dream about a house/pool filled with almost naked women and only two dudes. Good for you that you have the money to film a music video that looks like soft core porn. That is your artistic right I suppose. But don’t lie and say you are trying not to be disrespectful, because, again, you are, Akon. You are.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

sometimes I get on a soap box

Sometimes my logic is slightly off.

For example, I’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past forever. Sleeping medications have been a godsend for me, but I can’t help feeling that popping pills every night is not the “healthiest” thing to do.

Now I’ve never meditated before in my life, but for some reason I get the crazy idea stuck in my head that meditation is the answer to all of my sleep woes. It sounds so holistic and relaxing and shit. How could it not help me?

But how does one learn to meditate? Well if that one is me, and it is, it’s only a quick trip to iTunes away and BAM! Instant zen!

Because learning to meditate is just that easy.

Only it’s totally not, but that doesn’t stop me trying.

I found a series of free pod casts from an Australian meditation organization, downloaded the “beginner” one plus two others that sounded interesting, lay down in bed and listen to my first 23 minute meditation tutorial.

Sadly meditation is hard and I was still wide awake when the Aussie guru thanked me for sharing my journey with him so I took a pill and figured I’d try again the next day. The guru said I should meditate upright anyway after all.

The next day my mind was still on meditation. As I walked to my car from my morning classes, I had the most brilliant idea ever! Why not listen to the “Work” meditation, on my way to work? Makes total sense, right? That way I would totally be all zenerific and ready to kick ass by the time I rolled into the parking lot.

So I buckle up and hit play and the next thing I know I am going 75 mph on the freeway chanting I am not my body. I am not my body. I am not my body. While trying to make myself unaware of my surrounding and not feel my physical body.

Right…

Then the Aussie guru tells me to take more deep breaths and calmly chant: I am my soul. I am my soul. I am my heart, and I am my soul!

Of course I’m doing so as I cut people off while trying to merge onto the off ramp as I laugh at just how ridiculous I am.

People, I was trying to cram in time to learn how to meditate! WHILE DRIVING!!!

When I rolled into the parking lot, I was still not convinced I had reached my desired level of Zen. I popped my ear buds in and continued listening and chanting as I walked across two intersections and rode the elevator to the second floor. By the time I got to my work station I was really in tune with my soul.

And by soul, I mean the back of my head from rolling my eyes so much.

Perhaps meditation is lost on me. I really did give it an honest try. Alright, maybe half ass try is more appropriate, but still, I gave it shot. That’s better than NOT giving it a shot, right?

*Sigh*

Meditating while driving… I told you my logic was slightly off.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Story Time

Last September I lost my iPhone.

Two months later I lost my best friend to a drug overdose.

Today I finally got a replacement iPhone. It is the “new model.” It took me two hours to figure out how to sync everything up and get all of my old apps to download.

Do you know, it saved everything?

Including my last text message to my dear friend Zach, which was spoken in anger. And all I can think, is fuck you, iPhone.

Fuck you very much for that painful reminder staring me right in the face. It’s bad enough that I take the long route from school so I don’t pass by his work, and it really sucks that Facebook won’t stop telling me to “reconnect” with him. But you, dear iPhone, take the prize.

Here’s my open wound, please, feel free to pour salt into it.

Fuck you, because while you are replaceable, my friend will never be! Those words you so kindly remembered are words I can never take back and I hate myself for ever typing them.

Honestly, iPhone, the least you could do is come with a warning.

CAUTION: SYNCING WILL RESULT IN PAINFUL MEMORIES THAT WILL LIKELY LEAVE YOU A BLUBBERY MESS.

Then maybe add a precautionary:

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO PROCEED?

Because then? I would have answered NO. No, iPhone, I do not want to relive the last thing I text to my dead friend.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Uncategorized

Now that I have landed my dream job and have been working there for just over a week, I’ve gotta tell you, being a circus performer is hard effing work!

Not that I can’t handle it, because I totally can.

It’s just that I am also in college full time too. I know, what was I thinking, right? But the good news, which I keep reminding myself of, is that it’s only until May. After May (this semester), I am dropping the number of credit hours I take. This will likely mean that I’ll finish my degree about the same time as my six year old niece will, but hey,  the price of sanity is filled with four year degrees that take twenty to complete.

Now if you’ll excuse me, the clown car just rolled up and it’s my turn to drive.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Back to School

My boyfriend ED is ridiculously strong. I’m talking Incredible Hulk strong, or at least he seems that way to me. Obviously this means that any chance I have to call him a sissy, is one I do not hesitate to act on.

Saturday night after our exciting night of working out together, getting Indian food (curry not campfire) and fighting for 30 minutes in Blockbuster over which movie to rent, ED gave me the perfect opportunity to challenge his strength.

We were home, and had just gotten into our movie watching clothes, when he started to complain about having sore legs from a workout a few days earlier.

Wimp.

ED: I don’t think you understand, I was squatting more than double what you weigh!

Me: Psssh! You couldn’t squat me.

At which point ED picked me up, put me over his shoulders and proceeded to prove me wrong by doing not only deep squats, but lunges as well. WITH ME ON HIS SHOULDERS laughing uncontrollably.

ED: I could probably bench press you too.

Me: No way. For one thing I couldn’t hold still enough for you to lift me because I’d be having a giggle fit and would probably fall on your face and break your nose.

ED: Giggle fit?

Me: What?

ED: Just adding another reason to the list.

Me: The list of why I am so awesome?

ED: No, the list of things you never grew out of.

He has me there. I do have a pretty long list of things I’ve never grown out of, but it is also a list of things I never want to grow out of.

Giggle fits, playing in makeup for hours, finding magic in the first snow fall, wanting to discover the end of a rainbow, and being the first to jump into any large body of water – just a few of the things I never, ever, want to grow out of.

What about you? What’s on your list of things you never want to grow out of?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

ED is not Emotionally Disturbed