I’m going to New York.

Wait, let me try that again.

I am going to New York City for my very first time ever. And? I will be celebrating my 30th birthday there. Which means I will also be celebrating the final days of my 20′s,  in New York City.

I have no idea what to pack. I think I’ll just pack one of everything I own. Better to be over prepared, right?

Did I mention I’m going to NEW YORK FREAKING CITY?

Sorry, I keep thinking if I say it enough times it will actually sink in that I really am going, to New York City, for the first time EVER.  

I’m pretty sure this city is going to eat me alive and spit out my remains. Of course I get off on that kind of abuse so I will likely fall in love with the city and pine to move there and live a pennyless existence in a 400 sq foot apartment.

Doesn’t it just sounds so romantic?

New York City…

I guess I should make mention that the real reason I am going is for a blogging convention called BlogHer (see those adds on the side of my blog? Yeah, that’s who puts on the convention).

This will be my second year attending. In fact, you can read all about my Chicago BlogHer adventure HERE.

Chicago was awesome, but I have a feeling it won’t hold a candle to New York.

So, when do I leave?

Taking the red eye out tonight.

So, am I packed?

Haven’t packed a thing.

Who am I traveling with?

My amazing friend Susan!

What do I plan to do while I am there?

Outside of drinking? I’m not really sure. Maybe take a double decker tour bus to see the city, go to Central Park, try not to get mugged, scream, “up yours buddy!” to somebody on the street while giving them the bird.

You know, the normal things.

NEW YORK CITY BABY!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

BlogHer10, Vacations, blogging

Leave it to the lovely Karina the Russian to unknowingly score two free tickets to see a concert at one of the nicest venues Utah has to offer.

I mean, normally that’s my job.

“Summer, remember how I told you about that musician I met at a bar a few months back? Well I guess his band is coming to concert. Will you go with me? Of course we don’t have to pay. I don’t know who the band is but he said they are playing up in the mountains? Deer…Deer Valley?”

Oh my darling Russian. How I love you.

Turns out the band was actually Michael Franti and Spearhead. 

She did have the venue correct though, Deer Valley.

Being personally invited by one of the band members (and by band member I mean stage crew) has huge perks.

Like trading in our adult juice boxes and lawn seats…

For seats on the side of the stage. 

And of course our new stage crew friends wouldn’t let us sit there looking all thirsty. Nope. Beer was promptly brought for our consumption.

One problem though. After downing beer number two, finding a bathroom became a major necessity.

Like, life or death severity here people.

So we wandered around to the back of the stage, doing our best to make our potty dance walk look like we are just really into the music. Only between the stage and the salvation of the restrooms lay an asshole security guard who probably has a small wiener. I mean, I obviously don’t really know the size of his wiener, but his respect-my-authority bully complex made it pretty clear that  he was overcompensating for something.

Not that I am bitter. Not at all.

So the asshole security guard told us we didn’t have the proper back stage credentials. Even though we clearly explained to him that we just came from the two chairs on the side of the stage, chairs that were purposely put there for our sitting pleasure, he would have none of it.

“I’ve asked you nicely several times. If you don’t leave now I am going to have to forcibly remove you.”

Seriously?

Do I look like someone who needs to be forcibly removed?

Since our stage crew contact was running around working, doing whatever stage crew guys do, we begrudgingly fell from our backstage VIP credential-less status, to the regular concert attendee status.

That is, of course, after we found the bathroom.

Stupid bladders.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Concert whore, Out and About

Attention class.

Today’s lesson is a very useful one. Not only is it short and to the point, it will also serve you well as a conversation starter the next time you are sipping a cold one with your buddies.

Beer.

Beer was originally invented in Egypt. True story. Apparently some dude was really thirsty and drank water that bread had been sitting in for a few days.  May sound gross to you, but this is the discovery of a life time. Soon they were slow boiling grains all the time and this brew became the Egyptians preferred drink of choice. So much that they began to chose beer over water.

News to you? It is to most people.

Now go out and enjoy a cold one. It is Wednesday after all.

Class dismissed.

Blogfully yours,

Ms. Summer

Summer School

I’ve decided to move closer to Salt Lake City. Right now I commute 30 minutes each way to work. While I love my place and living with my amazing friend Heidi, I want to be closer to the downtown action.

Recently, I found my dream house. I’m not kidding. It is beautiful and old; rich with history, creaky floors and a Secret Garden style yard — filled with flowers and make believe and love!

Now, I’ve never been a believer in love at first sight, but I fell in love with this house.

I seemyself in it. I see all of my furniture perfectly fitting and of course matching like it was meant to be. I see coming and going for years to come, and despite it’s quirkiness, I see myself happy because it has a personality that matches mine.

Honestly, I can not get this house out of my head.

Why?

Because it’s like the lover you are passionately, crazy about who is absolutely no good for you. And even though it KILLS you, and you know you will always wonder, you let him go.

In short, this no-good-dream-house of mine doesn’t. allow. cats!

A life without the one constant I’ve had through six moves and countless breakups over the past five years, is just not one I am prepared for.

Before you call me a sap, or tell me it’s just a cat, please allow me a moment to go crazy cat lady on you.

My cat is a Bitch with a capital B. She hates EVERYONE. She hisses at small children and makes them cry. In the year and a half that ED and I dated, she never warmed up to him. I have to sedate her to take her to the freaking vet because it’s the only way they will see her!

But…for some reason she knows I am her mom and she doesn’t hate me. She loves me and cuddles me and lobbies for my attention amidst homework and other distractions.

She is the kid that only a mother could love.

When I first fell in love with the no-good dream-house it actually crossed my mind to try to find a good home for Aurora. The thought lasted all of 10 seconds before it had me tears because no one would want her. No one would ever love her like me because she wouldn’t let them get close enough to even touch her! She is my loyal bitchy kitty and I’d freaking die without her!

So long beautiful, charming, magical, old house! Parting is sweet sorrow, but if you can’t accept me as I am, then obviously we are no good for each other.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

*This post was originally written a few weeks back and slightly modified due to recent occurrences. I have since found a place that I am ecstatic about. Not only is it adorable, but it accepts me and all of my baggage.

Meow

Bitch kitty, Finding Home

I keep thinking if I run fast enough, occupy my life and mind with enough activities, then the reality won’t be true. The moment I slow down I am overwhelmed by emotions and the next thing I know I’m driving 75 with blurred vision.

“You know Summer, you can’t do this forever. You need to deal with this, have a break down. It’s not healthy to do what you are doing.” Caring words I know to be true, spoken by a loved one.

“Maybe tomorrow,” is all I reply. 

Today is tomorrow.

You’d think with as many break-ups as I’ve been through I’d be a pro at going through them. Which, maybe I am. Only this time it’s so much harder because it wasn’t a two month let’s try this out sort of relationship. This was a you’re the one I am going to spend the rest of my life with kind of relationship.

Cue the water works.

Rather than publicly hash out the details of our break-up I wanted to write about all the ways I have NOT been dealing with it over the past week. You see, when you are in a relationship you get used to always checking in with your significant other. Not in a controlling way, more in a how was your day way. Now that I have no one to check in with, I thought I’d just check in with you, Internet.

ED and I broke up on a Monday night. It still seems so weird to say.

Tuesday I took a half day off work (which was a life saver because I couldn’t stop crying, nor could I concentrate to save my life) and went boating with my parents, Karina the Russian, and our Russian children.

Being at the lake was theraputic for me. I have gone boating every summer since I can remember. There is a bit of magic in the mountain water and for brief moments of time I was able to forget that my life had just been drastically altered. 

Wednesday I made it through an entire day of work, went to class, and went to the 311 concert with Karina the Russian and my sister Staci.

I drove seperately. I said it was because I had to work early the next day – which I did – but it was also because I knew I wouldn’t be able to fake happy all night long, especially since the last time I saw 311 in concert was with ED. 

I called up my friend Sarah on the drive home to talk me off of a ledge.

Thursday I went to dinner and then to the Twilight Concert (a free outdoor concert put on every Thursday during the summer) with some co-workers and Karina the Russian. It got done fairly early and despite my co-worker taunting me that I don’t know how to let go and just have fun, I decided to go home. Only I didn’t. The thought of going home to an empty house was too much so I deviated my course into the arms of my wonderful friend Susan who opened the door with a large glass of wine in hand for me. She let me cry until the wine dried up the tears.

Friday I went back up to the lake with my family for some more water therapy.

Friday night was my cousin’s birthday (Happy Birthday Emmie!). The day before she had text to invite ED and I to come out for her birthday. I had a minor break down at the realization of how many people have known us as a package deal and how many people I am going to have to tell that we broke up. But I digress.

I met Emmie, my sister Staci and a group of Emmie’s friends for a few drinks. Can I just say that I was soooo not ready to be at a popular bar downtown on a Friday night? Within the first ten minutes of arriving I saw three people who I had previously dated. Obviously Salt Lake City is too small of a town. Luckily I had my sister watching over me and survived without being auctioned off at the meat market. I spent that night curled up next to her in bed, again not wanting to be home alone.

Saturday I did laundry and looked for a new place to live (more on that later this week). Then I went to my parents house for a BBQ and to light fireworks. For those of you reading this who are not from Utah, the 24th of July is Pioneer Day. It’s celebrated like a second 4th of July only we are lighting fireworks to celebrate our state being settled by the Mormon pioneers instead of the nations independence.

Saturday night I went home alone, in bed by 10 and completely sober.

Sunday… my day to deal with things. I spent my morning cleaning, writing and reflecting then took a mid-day break for lunch and shopping with Sarah. My evening was spent with vodka and sappy movies.

What? We all cope differently.

From this post I am sure you can see that I have the worlds greatest friends and family. They have been in a constant rotation of checking on me to make sure I have enough alcohol and moral support. I feel so fortunate that they are in my life. I would be a wreck without them.

One week down, forever to go.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating, ED is not Emotionally Disturbed, Emotions get the best of me, Loved One(s), NOT light and fluffy, Out and About

All my life my family has teased me that they don’t know where I cam from. I have an older sister and a younger sister who both look like, well, sisters. I, on the other hand, look nothing like them.

This was taken a month ago, on Fathers Day.

My younger sister and I used to stare at ourselves in the mirror trying to find a resemblance. Eyes? No. Mouth? No. Nose? No.

Nothing.

Even still, I don’t particularly look like my parents either. A fact my nephew recently brought to my attention.

“Summer, stand next to grandpa. I need to see if you’re related.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“You just need to stand next to him and I’ll take a picture and my Nintendo DS will say what percentage you are related.”

“This is so not going to end well for me.”

Resemblance: 1%. Unrelated.

“Look Summer. You’re not related!”

“Imagine that.”

“Let’s take your picture with grandma now!”

“Do we have to?”

Resemblance 9%. Unrelated.

If that’s not solid proof right there, I don’t know what is.

Hmm… maybe that’s why my mom is so religious – she is making up for the sins of her youth!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Loved One(s), Random

June’s drinking cooking club theme was traditional/local Utah cuisine.

Cuisine might be a bit of an overstatement…

Despite my overwhelming urge to make lime Jello with shredded carrots in it, I chose to take the high road. And by high road I mean eatable.

My family has made strawberry frozen yogurt every summer since I can remember. However, up until now I’ve only ever participated in eating it. Shame too because it is about the easiest most time consuming thing you can ever do outside of sleeping.

The recipe has 3 ingredients, two of which are healthy for you.

2 c. Strawberries

2 quarts non-fat yogurt

2 c. Sugar

I tried to get fresh strawberries from the farmers market but sadly there is more hemp necklaces, crafts and tie-died shirts being sold than fresh produce so I had to go with store bought strawberries.

To give the frozen yogurt a head start, you blend all ingredients together then put the mixture in the freezer for 2-3 hours.

My family has one of the old school electric ice cream makers which is awesome, but LOUD. I put it on the back porch while it churned for another hour and a half.

Then presto! Frozen yogurt!

Remove the panel, lick it clean and put the canister in the freezer until ready to serve.

Now that’s my kind of cooking!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – in case you are wondering what other “cuisines” were served, visit our lovely event coordinator’s blog: Beach Bake-a-holic.

Cooking AKA Drinking club

Whew… first day of class. Teacher is a little nervous.

tap tap tap

Attention class. Attention! Today’s lesson is going to be on football and a little thing called “The Pac-10.” Now girls, don’t roll your eyes, this is important as you will likely never hear the end of it – especially those of you who live in Utah, Colorado or any other state with a Pac-10 school.

However, since this is Summer School, all lessons will be condensed and put into easily digestible tidbits. Wouldn’t want anyone to work too hard after all.

So. Here is all you need to know about the Pac-10.

The Pac-10, or Pacific-10 Conference, is made up of ten really important, fancy-shmancy colleges like Stanford and UCLA. Recently, the big shots at the Pac-10 got together and decided why the hell not add two more schools into our elcusive little club. So they did.

The University of Utah and the University of Colorado.

Still with me?

I’m not sure why they aren’t calling it the Pac-12 now. You’d think that would be a no brainer… but I digress.

Now, being invited to be a part of this conference is like, a really, really, big figgin deal! They only invite schools who excel in not only sports, but also academics. So since the University of Utah is a research school who, well, excels at research, they felt we were qualified. So yeah… go us!

To be able to hold your own in a conversation about the University of Utah and the whole Pac-10 thingy, I’ve developed a few lines for you to use when you find yourself in that situation, and you will, if you live in Utah, Colorado, or any other Pac-10 state.

“I hear that in 2011, when Utah joins the Pac-10, that they will serve beer in the stadium. That totally rocks! Now we don’t have to lose our buzz after the tailgating party or sneak booze in. Score!”

“I hear that since we are now a part of the Pac-10 that means one of the U of U girls will get to be in Playboy. That totally doesn’t suck.”

“I hear that since more of the games we play in will be televised the school will get like, millions of additional dollars so they can recruit even better players to the school. We are totally going to dominate now!”

My personal favorite.

“Isn’t it great how the U of U is going to be in the Pac-10 Conference while BYU is still stuck in the Mountain West Conference? Sucks to be them.”

That wasn’t so bad now was it?

This whole teaching thing is going to be a breeze.

Oh yeah, class dismissed.

Blogfully yours,

Ms. Summer

Summer School

I’ve had this fuzzy idea clinking around inside my head for quite some time.

Like, maybe a month or something.

It started out with a, hey, that might be funny to add to my blog.

Then, I sat on it.

But it didn’t go away. It kept  getting… fuzzier and clinking louder.

Because in my head fuzzy things clink.

Until the next thing I know I’m naming the damn thing, hiring a makeup artist, wardrobe consultant and photographer. And by hiring I mean I asked friends and supplied booze.

“Summer School,” a new weekly feature here on Blogfully Yours, will officially be unveiled in the next day or so.

Until then, here is a sneak peak of the fuzzy idea’s visual transformation.

First coat of mascara, applied by the talented Karina the Russian

Red lips and a zombie impression

Eye shadow

Eye liner

Second, maybe third, coat of mascara

Wardrobe change and last minute decision to add red nails into the mix.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lesson to prepare.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer School

The best part of drinking wine with a group of gay men is not their incredible sense of style, their lovable nature, or the witty conversations – although those are all on the list.  No, the very best part of drinking wine with a group of fabulous, cultured gay men is the fact that they completely validate me by having the EXACT SAME FAVORITE movie as me!

A movie that ED thinks is, ahem, dumb.

If the cultured gay community agrees with me that Moulin Rouge is one of the all time best love movies EVER, then obviously you, Mr. ED, are in the wrong.

I’m right, and I win.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Random