One of my favorite nights in New York was surprisingly enough NOT the night I broke my foot.

It was the night before.

There was an art expo of sorts at one of the BlogHer parties where a woman was painting words on people at the party. I recognized the inspiration behind the writing instantly as the Everyone is Beautiful project that my blogging hero, Jenny the Bloggess, participated in. I also recognized that I had to be painted.

After waiting in a short line, the woman doing the painting asked me what I would like to have written on me. I wasn’t sure so she asked me to tell her a little bit about me.

“Well, I recently went through a really rough break-up, but, you know, I’m staying strong and…”

“That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“‘Staying strong.’ You just said it brilliantly. Where would you like it?”

“On my thigh.”

“You got it, sugar. I think that is perfect.”

I posed for several pictures taken with my camera, friends cameras and the BlogHer photographer’s camera.

Honestly, it was the perfect choice. I felt sexy. I felt strong. And the best part was, when I finally put down my skirt and stopped posing for pictures, I felt as though I had a powerful secret with me for the rest of the night.

My friends, on the other hand, being the extroverts that they are, chose to wear their writings in more of an in your face way.

I don’t talk about this often, in fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever addressed this directly on my blog, but I have anxiety attacks. Not in the debilitating day to day sort of way, more in the put me in a large group of strangers – especially men – and I will feel like I am going to have a heart attack sort of way.  Which is why I love these two bitches even more.

Their writing helped detract attention away from me.

Did I still have an anxiety attacks? Several. Was I medicated? You bet your ass I was. Did I strike up any conversations with actual New Yorkers? Not one.

But what is really importantly to note here is not that I have anxiety, but that I still had one of the funnest nights ever in spite of it. In fact, the next morning, as the three of sat for breakfast lunch – completely hung over and still with writing on various parts of our bodies – we looked around the room and agreed that no one else at the conference could possibly be having as much fun as we were.

How’s that for staying strong?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

BlogHer10, Out and About, Vacations

I write about a lot of funstuff. Crazy drinking stories, wild concerts, vacations, embarrassing stories, you know, fun stuff.

I am sure to some I might seem rather carefree, or possibly like an alcoholic. 

The truth is, lately, underneath it all, I’ve been a bit of a wreck. The only thing that has kept me sane is my support system. The strongest of which is Karina the Russian.

When I made the decision to publicly change my Facebook status to “Single” after my recent break up, I imidately got flooded with the obligatory ”I’m sorry” and “What happened???” remarks. I don’t doubt that those comments were well intentioned, but they were also overwhelming. As soon as Karina saw the direction the comments were headed she immediately changed her status and mine to say that we are “Married”. She then wrote on my wall saying, “We are facebook married!!!! Deal with it!”

Instantly the mood went from pitty to laughter.

When I decided to throw myself a birthday party the same weekend I had a five page essay and finals to prepare for, Karina showed up at my door the morning of and helped me whip my disaster of a place into backyard BBQ party central.

(Pictures are HERE)

When I had school and work both consuming all of my free time and hadn’t packed a single item for my trip to New York, who showed up the night of to make sure I packed enough shoes, an extra pair of pajamas (Cat you can thank her later for that one!) and drive my ass to the airport? Karina, of course.*

When I got back from New York, all busted up and barely able to hobble my sorry ass to the restroom, Karina was there. She came over, helped me unpack all of my luggage*, washed three loads of laundry and spent the night. In the morning she made me breakfast, helped me get in and out of the bathtub without injuring myself, put my laundry away and cleaned my kitchen.

People pay for this shit and I get it for free!

Well, sometimes she does make me spoon her… and I do have to love her Russian children like they are my own… and sometimes she beats me, but only when I deserve it…

Seriously people, I feel super-duper lucky.  

I mean, sure I have a broken foot and the doctors are telling me I will be on crutches for the next six weeks, and, yes, I am planning on moving in two weeks and don’t have a thing packed…

But I’m not stressed (I totally am), because besides my amazing family and friends, I have a Russian wife with an amazingly strong back who are all here to help (hint, hint).

Blogfully yours,

Summer

*I would be a total bitch if I didn’t make mention of a few more people who totally have gone above and beyond to help me, although they did not Facebook marry me so honestly, they may not deserve to be mentioned after all.

- Staci, thank you for helping pack/unpack/take me to the hospital/love me like a sister.

- Susan & Cat, thank you for taking care of me while I was in New York. What the eff would I have done without you guys???

Anklegate, BlogHer10, K to the R stories, Loved One(s)

As many of you know, I spent my 30^th birthday in New York City. In theory it was the absolutely most perfectest place to spend a milestone birthday.

That theory was bullshit.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE New York and for the most part I had fantastic time. It’s just that I don’t get along with birthdays all that great to begin with.

My actual birthday was spent moving in slow motion due to pre-birthday celebrations. And I mean SLOW MOTION.

I don’t think we left the hotel once that day.

It took a great deal of effort, but we did make it to two of the three conference sessions (no one can say we didn’t make it to any of the actual conferences). Afterward we got dolled up for dinner and a night on the town to celebrate my “real” birthday.

Cat, Susan and I went to a fancy-schmancy New York style dinner, then back  to the hotel for the estrogen filled party known as Sparklecorn 2010.

Since it was my birthday, and the birthday girl gets to call all the shots, I decided that I wanted to change from my short, sassy, pink dress into jeans and a black top that always makes me feel like a million bucks.

Now, here comes the embarrassing part.

I’m not even going to pretend like alcohol was not involved…

We headed up to the room where I asked my birthday bitches, Susan and Cat, which panties I should wear… don’t ask me why. I ended up deciding to try on both pairs so they could appropriately asses the extent of panty lines that may or may not be showing through my super tight pants.

So I jumped, and I shimmied, into the worlds most non-stretchy jeans.

Then, as I was pulling out the last acrobatic movement to slipping them over my ass, there was an earth-shatteringly loud POP. And then I dropped to the floor. And then I died.

When the girls finally got me to stop screaming, they lifted me onto the bed to examine the source of the pop, the source being my ankle, which now  looked like there was a baseball attached to it.

I fucking kid you not.

From this pint on our plans were drastically changed. No more hitting the town, going form bar to bar. Instead Susan and Cat ran to the local convenience store to get bandages and ice while I laid in the hotel room drinking like the lush-birthday-princess-gimp I was.

,

After wrapping up my ankle, they located a double-wide wheelchair from the hotel lobby and wheeled me downstairs to the hotel bar.

No sense in letting the birthday celebrations end because of a possible broken bone, right?

After a sleepless night the adventure of getting me from the hotel, to the airport and through airport security began. Again, no easy feat and quite possibly the most humbling, humiliating experience I have ever had to go through.

I waited until I got home to go to the doctor. Guess what? My drunken skinny jeans adventure has landed me with a broken 5th meditarcel. I don’t know what that means, but I find out tomorrow if I need to have surgery.

Yay?

I guess now that I’m thirty I need to start wearing “mom jeans” and taking calcium pills.

Seriously, what’s next? Memory loss? Hot flashes? Depends? Reading glasses? Dentures?

Hell, I may as well take up mall-walking now… that is, of course, after my foot is healed.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – More pictures can be seen HERE

Anklegate, Bag full of complaints, BlogHer10, Out and About, Vacations, blogging

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