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Archive for May, 2010

Biker Bitch… For Charity

May 27th, 2010

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I am an uber charitable person.

Mostly I’m in it for the free booze. That, and it gives me something fun to do while activating my warm-fuzzy-feel-good sensors.

But sometimes,  on the rare occasion, I puts my sensors into major overload. Take the charity motorcycle ride I did for example.  We went to six different stops, at each stop the participants got amazing food and a poker card (except the last). At the final destination the winning  poker hand won $100. They also had a killer raffle drawing, live music and more amazing food. DSC02972

Sounds super fun, right?

And it was…

Until I met the reason for the ride. Child cancer patient, Andrew. Then, Andrew’s mother hugged me.

It went from super fun to super real, really effing fast.

I suppose I should back up and say that I actually helped organize and promote the charity ride for my client. That would explain the mother hugging me and all.

Freaking heart breaking.

But you know what? We raised over $2,400 that day for the Hess Cancer foundation.

THAT is the true reason I get involved with charity events.  Seeing how one event can make such a huge difference in someone’s life.

It’s just awesome.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Out and About, sometimes I get on a soap box

Cooking Club – Luau Style

May 25th, 2010

This month, my cooking clubs theme was “Luau.”

When trying to come up with something impressive to make, the first thing to cross my mind was roasting a pig over an open flame. But, since that sure as shit was not an option for me, I resorted to the chef of all chef’s for help.

Google.

After poking around for a minute or two I came across the next best thing to a roasted pig, Ham and Pineapple skewers. Of course they made is sound fancier, by calling it “Luau Ham and Glazed Pineapple Snacks.” Regardless, the recipe had less than five items, one of which was booze,  so I knew I could handle it.

I decided to take my five ingredients over to my parents house to cook because A) they have a barbeque and I don’t  B) supervision is always recommended when I cook and C) I wanted an excuse to openly bring booze into their house.

I don’t think my mom was too pleased.

Mezcal, orange marmalade, ham, limes and pineapple

Mezcal, orange marmalade, ham, limes and fresh pineapple

The recipe was simple. Create Kabobs, put glaze on and BBQ.

I had my pops shorten the sticks for me.

I had my pops shorten the sticks for me.

Did you know that Mezcal is basically Tequilla with a worm in it? Yeah, that made showing it to my mom that much cooler!

Did you know that Mezcal is basically Tequilla with a worm in it? Yeah, that made showing it to my mom that much cooler!

I glazed them with the marmalade, mezcal and lime mixture

I glazed them with the marmalade, mezcal and lime mixture

Then threw them on the BBQ, with my Dad looking over my shoulder, of course.

Then threw them on the BBQ, with my Dad looking over my shoulder, of course.

They actually turned out pretty damn awesome if I do say so myself. I mean, they were nothing compared to the other dishes with ten to 20 ingredients, but they kicked the shit out of my last dish.

You can see a full list of the dishes prepared over HERE.

Of course on that list of “dishes” are three different Luau cocktails. But beware, booze makes the natives frisky!

Dirty little islander!

Dirty little islander!

Check out more candid pictures of our luau over HERE.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Cooking AKA Drinking club

At least I didn’t leave my panties

May 20th, 2010

Generally speaking, parents love me. Last weekend, despite my best efforts, this fact still remains true.

It was ED’s best friends graduation party. I took the opportunity as an excuse to buy a cute little dress, matching cardigan, a spray tan and shiny blue heels.

Jason grad 3

I was dressed the role of the casual yet sophisticated guest and was doing a good job of acting the part too.

Then along came two glasses of wine… followed by a few too many margaritas… and shots of Pendalton for the graduate.

The new law school grad, John and ED

The new law school grad, John and ED

Me and Karina the Russian shortly after discovering Jose Cuervo's cousin

Me and Karina the Russian shortly after discovering Jose Cuervo's cousin

ED and I, you know I'm tipsy when I start tipping over in pictures.

ED and I, you know I'm tipsy when I start tipping over in pictures.

Soon the rest of the party had dispersed except for a small group. The men of this group, graduate included, decided that it was now time to jump in the pool.

Jason grad 11

Of course us girls were too smart to join them...

Of course us girls were too smart to join them...

that is, until we saw them in the steam room.

that is, until we saw them in the steam room.

Seeing them all steamy and warm was just too much to bare.  So we found some towels, and some suits, and joined them.

Mysteriously the camera and the pictures stop there. At least I think so.

The rest of the night is a little bit…hazy.

I woke the next morning in a panic trying to remember everything. Did we get in the pool? Yes. Did we have suits on? Yeees? Where did I change? Was it in the basement? Was it in the parents room? Did I change back into my clothes before we left? Oh my god where are my underwear? Please, please, lord tell me I didn’t leave my underwear in their basement. Wait, what underwear was I even wearing? Please tell me they were somewhat decent. Knowing my luck they probably had holes in them!

I left the house early the next morning to go to a client’s event. It wasn’t until later that night that I finally met up with ED (his phone got water damage so we were communicating through email. Talk about frustrating!). I asked him, “do you think Jason’s parents hate me? Did I make an ass out of myself?”

Ed assured me that I am crazy and that they were just happy we all had a great time.

Whew!

My reputation remains untarnished and hopefully I will get an invite back again soon. I promise I’ll wear appropriate underwear next time.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Out and About, Posts Grandma won't approve of

I’m not a runner, but sometimes I pretend to be

May 17th, 2010

I have friends who absolutely love doing cardio. They run, or bike, or take aerobic classes, or stair step, or hula hoop for hours on end.

I don’t get them.

Don’t get me wrong. I am a little bit of a gym rat, which means I go two or three times a week (on a good week). Only when I go? Cardio gets the shaft. I warm up for 10, sometimes 15 minutes on the treadmill and that is it. I guess I’m just more of a weights and machines type of gal.

Sometimes though, I get a little crazy and think that running sounds fun.

Kind of like how I always try orange juice at breakfast. I keep thinking that one day I will actually like it. Then I remember that without vodka or champagne in it, it’s just acidic and sour.

The same thing happens with running. I see other people running and think “hey, I should really give running another shot” only to end up sweaty, out of breath and with shinsplints. In other words, feeling acidic and sour.

A few weeks ago, Utah took a break from pretending like it’s still January long enough to have one sunny beautiful day. Driving home I passed a dozen or so runners. Of course I took that as a sign that I too should go for a run.

To be honest, it was a fairly nice little jog. When I finished, I figured I was good on the running front for another month or two.

The next day ED invited me to run in a 5K with him.

Eff!

So much for my sampling and discarding routine. Now I actually have to…try. Of course I could have said no, but ED assured me I had two weeks to train and that’s plenty of time to prepare to run three miles.

Yeah…

The race is now in five days and I’ve ran three time (including last night). None of which were for a full three miles at a time.

I feel like such a fitness failure.

Maybe I’ll just buy some snazzy, overpriced running clothes so I look the part. That way I can fake an injury and hobble across the finish line and no one would be the wiser that I am actually not a runner. Then, when they ask if there is anything they can get me, I’ll tell them orange juice.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Bag full of complaints, Healthy shmelthy

Interviewing Russian Children

May 13th, 2010

Now that I’ve successfully gotten an A out of my newspaper writing class, I am practically an expert reporter. However, even experts need practice or they will lose their skills. So while visiting Karina the Russian last night I decided to put my newly acquired skills to good use by interrogating her two lovely children.

Interview # 1
Pasha the Russian
Age 3

Me:  Pasha, do you have a boyfriend in your class?

PTR:  Yesss….. Bengellie!

Me:  Is he pretty?

PTR:  NO! He’s awesome.

Me:  OK, so what does Bengellie like?

PTR:  Jelly Beans.

Me:  I see, and what else does he like?

PTR:  Fishes.

Me:  Anything else?

PTR:  Chicken nuggets.

Me:  So what does he look like?

PTR:  A gingerbread man.

Me:  Hmm… so has Mr. Gingerbread Man Bengellie ever given you a… hug?

PTR:  very shy nod of the head with a huge smile

Me:  Well what does he want to be when he grows up?

PTR:  A dog.

Me:  Oh honey, that’s just a given.

Interview #2
Dimitri the Russian
Age 7

Please note: the majority of this interview was done while Dimitri was laying on his back, legs and butt in the air, attempting some sort of little boy contortionist act.

Me:  Dima, do you have a crush on anyone?

DTR:  NO!

Me:  What about in your whole school?

DTR:  NO!

Me:  What about Olivia?

DTR:   NOOOOO!

Me:  What’s wrong with Olivia?

DTR: She has freckles.

Me:  You don’t like freckles?

DTR:  N.O.

Me:  What color of hair do you like?

DTR:  I like… blond… and brown hair.

Me:  So you don’t discriminate? I suppose that’s good. What about Olivia, what does she look like?

DTR:  I don’t re-member! I only re-member when I am at school, NOT when I am home!
***

Moral of the story?

Little girls fall in love waaaay too early and often with the first dog who offers them Jelly Beans. Meanwhile, boys grow up not knowing their heads from their asses.

I kid! I kid!

Mostly.

However, the cuteness of their responses was just something I had to share.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

K to the R stories, Story Time

Happy one week anniversary of Cinco de Mayo

May 12th, 2010
Ole!

Olé!

Holidays, Random

Sisters do it different

May 11th, 2010

For a while now, my little sister and I haven’t been getting along. There is no single definable reason as to why, we have just have been at odds.

My mother says it’s because we are both selfish – but that’s a post for another day.

When my sister and I fight, we find not talking to each other to be the best form of punishment. We are both sensitive and love each other too much to yell, so we just bide our time until one of us caves and tells the other that we miss them.

It’s a battle of who can stay silent the longest.

Truth be told neither of us ever lasts very long.  We’re close and ridiculously lost without each other. So you can imagine my relief when I got the following text from her:

I guess we are still not on the best of terms, but Royal Bliss will be at the Huka Bar this Friday and it won’t be worth going if I didn’t go with you…

Needless to say, my heart melted.

I asked ED if he wanted to go and that my sister had extended the invite. He didn’t hesitate. He simply said, “I guess that’s our plans for Friday night then.”

Any question as to why ED agreed to go?

Any question as to why ED agreed to go?

Such a good man.

Concerts don’t really allow for much time to talk and I can’t say we sorted through any of the reasons why we were fighting in the first place, but damn if it wasn’t good to have a drink or three with her while enjoying a band that we (including our friend Karina the Russian) have history with.

I’d say I was the officially winner of our fight because she contacted me first, but truthfully the real reason I am the winner is because there is now an open line of communication back up between us. That’s the best part of the whole damn concert – getting my sister back.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Concert whore, Loved One(s)

And just like that, it was all totally worth it

May 10th, 2010

The past five months have accumulated to what will forever be known as the hardest semester EVER.

Last December, because business was a little slow, I approached my then boss with a proposition to cut my hours back so I could invest them in furthering my education. He agreed, and I enrolled in 13 credit hours (four classes).

I still worked 32 hours per week so not only was I eligible for  benefits, I was finally able to take some classes that were not offered at night.

Everything went smooth in the beginning. That is, until I got offered and accepted a position at a company I have wanted to work for for years. I explained to my new employer my situation with school. Even though the position was not a 32 hrs per week position, they agreed to work with me.

I don’t think I left the office before 7 p.m. for the first two months I was there.

I put my social life on hold, stopped blogging as regularly as I like to and committed myself to not dropping any of my classes and not losing my new job. Every day I would tell myself, “It’s only until May. I can do anything for that long. It’s only until May.”

I gave up the expectation of keeping my straight A average two weeks into my balancing act – survival was the new standard.

I also gave up rights to a full nights sleep – five hours became the new eight.

It was hell.

But guess what?

I’m so happy I could cry because IT’S MAY! Halle-freakin-lujah! The semester is over and I survived!

Technically the semester ended last week but I haven’t let myself get overly excited because most of my grades have not been posted. I’ve been stressed as to what the final outcome of all my sleepless nights would amount to be.

Then I got an email from my journalism and reporting class professor:

Your blog reads well — keep w/it –
Course GRADE: A

As part of the final for this class, I had to turn in a portfolio of published works. Since I only had a few of my articles published by the student paper, I included a post from Blogfully Yours that I was particularly fond of. I even went so far as to chose Blogfully Yours as my signature work in an analysis of my portfolio. I honestly wasn’t sure how well that would go over. But, now I know. My professor thinks my blog “reads well” and because of my cumulative writing over the semester I got an A!

Do you have any idea how cool that is?

His simple words let me know that I am not a hack and that I should continue to write. This comes at a time where I teeter on the edge of giving up and often wonder if it’s all worth it. And THANK GOD he did, because I’m not ready to quit yet. I enjoy writing, so as long as the Internet remains a place where I can put my random thoughts, stories, fears and heart ache completely out there to be read, judged and often shit upon – I’m going to do so!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Back to School, Circus life

Astrology is for Hippies

May 3rd, 2010

Last weekend I did something I’ve never done before. I paid a woman money to toy with my emotions, take me back to painful memories and cause my boyfriend to tease me to no end.

No, I did not see a hooker.

To tell the truth, I’ve never really been into astrology or tarot cards – that’s more my hippie sister’s thing. I’m the skeptical sister. I try to be open minded. Really I do! But mostly I roll my eyes at the thought of someone telling my future based off of what some crazy cards say. I mean how absurd is that notion to begin with?

I have been curious though, especially since I’ve never actually had a real reading done. So when Sarah asked me if I wanted to go with her to get cards read I didn’t hesitate.

When we entered Victoria’s mystic layer, filled with trinkets and fairies everywhere you looked, my hopes were not high. We told her our dates and times of birth, she told us our magic number and what they meant. We took turns shuffling cards while saying our names and thinking of a wish. I wished for lunch to be provided with the reading, but apparently that was not in my cards.

I made Sarah go first for our “long readings,” because 1. this whole thing was her idea and 2. I was a little chicken. Her future, according to the cards, involves money, pining over lost love, a move and travel. Not too shabby, but maybe not exactly what she was hoping for.

When it was my turn Victoria reprimanded me several times for crossing my arms. Something about it blocking my energy. But I guess my block wasn’t too strong because my cards were fairly good. Love, move, exciting changes, fighting with family, contention with lover, make up with lover and so on.

All true things, except, couldn’t all these things be the same for someone else? I mean, cards were flipped, Victoria would tell us their meaning and we would find a way to interpret them to mean something to us, to make them fit. Some things were shockingly accurate and the fit was not forced. Other things were like putting on a pair of shoes a size too small. You like the way they look, but it takes some determination to pull them off.

When we left, I think we both felt emotionally drained because the first thing out of both of our mouths was “I need a drink.”

Nothing like a tarot card reading to bring out the alcoholic in you.

I joke a lot about the reading, partially because I want to believe that my fate is not already determined, partially because some of the things she told me were super personal and actually made me cry, and partially because ED is like I need to know if you really believe in this stuff because if you are going to go all magic crystals checking your cards before leaving the house and giving up deodorant on me then we need to talk!

Mostly though, I joke because it took me two days of obsessing over every thing Victoria told me before I came to the conclusion that tarot card readings are fun but they are not magic and they still are not my thing.

Guess one hippie is enough for every family.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Out and About, Story Time