Last weekend I went to a piano bar to celebrate a friend’s birthday/college graduation. While there I couldn’t help but laugh as I remembered the last time I took Karina the Russian to a piano bar.

For those of you who are not familiar with piano bars in general, let me paint the scene for you. There are two pianos on a slightly elevated stage with two piano players. Patrons of the bar request songs for the piano players to perform. With each song request you attach a little bit of cash. The higher the dollar amount the more priority your request gets. The piano players play any song – so long as they know it.

In my experience, piano bar crowds are typically the loudest and the most intoxicated.  There is a unique culture to piano bars, a drunken one, but one nonetheless. Shots are passed around and bar tabs are never small. Everyone sings along at the top of their lungs. There are even a certain chants that take place which the artists, I’m sure, never intended to be inserted. Such as Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline Bum Bum Buuuum! Or Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffet. Salt! Salt! Where’s the F**king Salt!

Piano bars are a rowdy good time.

So now imagine you have lived in the United States for less than ten years and your friends drag you to a bar that primarily plays songs from the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s and everyone but you is smashed and singing along to every song. Then your friends have the drunken audacity to say things like, “I can’t believe you don’t know this song! How can you NOT know this song?”

Poor Karina, at first she was a good sport, until someone (ahem) pushed it too far and said to her, “Come on now, you HAVE to know this song! It’s freaking PIANO MAN by Billy Joel!”

She looked at me and said, “Next time I am going to take you to a bar in Russia and ask you why YOU don’t know all of the songs that everyone is singing along to!”

Point taken.

We’ve never gone to another piano bar together since.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

K to the R stories, Story Time

The other day I was driving in the car with my BFF, Karina the Russian. One of the trendy “top 40’s” radio station decided to play a re-mix of the old classic “Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer“. Now I have heard this song countless times, I am pretty sure we even sang it in Elementary school for a Christmas concert. It has always been just a silly, funny, harmless song. That is, until I saw it through Karina’s eyes.

Karina: “Are you listening to what this song is saying? This song is so messed up! Are they saying what I think they are saying? Listen!”

“and incriminatin’ Claus marks on her back. Oh! Grandma got run over by a reindeer, walking home from our house Christmas eve. You can say there’s no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandpa we believe.”

Luckily the remixed version of the song, with all it’s electronic drum beats, stopped there and mixed itself on to a different song. I’d hate to think of what Karina would have thought if she heard the rest of the song go on to talk about Grandpa watching football and drinking beer or the dilemma of opening Grandma’s gifts or sending them back. I’m sure that would have made her completely loose faith in Americans forever!

He. Will. Pay.

Summer

*This post was originally posted last year, but it is one of my favorite holiday stories about Karina the Russian so it bares repeating.

Holidays, K to the R stories, Story Time

My kitchen, which I am actually starting to use as more than a room to store wine and cottage cheese, is dark. I’ve been ignoring how dark it is by turning on the light above the stove and the one above the sink every time I go in there, for, I don’t know, THREE MONTHS NOW!

I decided on Sunday I would break down and buy light bulbs. Only problem was, they are the long skinny florescent ones. Waaaay more complicated than the regular (cork screw CFL) bulbs I buy for lamps.

So I did what any girl would do. I called for reinforcement from my BFF Karina the Russian.

We decided the “smart” thing to do would be to have the measurements with us, but since neither of us had a pen and paper handy–and by handy I mean in our hands at that very moment–I grabbed my POS phone and snapped this lovely pic.

I don't know why there are lines. I do know that I freaking miss my freaking iPhone!

We left the house in search of the land of orange, also known as Home Depot, where we quickly spotted the isle with light bulbs that look like they belong in a Star Wars movie. We stood there staring blankly at the bulbs until a helpful orange-caped superhero walked up, ready to save us.

Little did he know, we came prepared. I whipped out my phone and, careful not to show him the kissyface photo I sent to ED earlier in the day, showed him exactly what we needed.

He tried really hard not to laugh at us.

Then he asked us if we knew what the length was.

“Length? You mean that wasn’t in the picture?” I asked, completely dumbfounded. Apparently our plan was not so fool proof after all.  “Umm… about this long?”  I say, now holding out my hands to motion what I later found out was two feet and no, not in the picture.

Feeling slightly retarded, we got our receipt and left our minimum wage superhero with a smirk of amusement from the two bimbos trying to buy a light bulb. Karina looked at me and said, “you know, either this would be the greatest phone commercial ever or the greatest blond joke ever.”

I tell her, “I know! Right? How many blonds does it take to buy a light bulb? Only I’m not blond…”

“Now watch, we will get home and it will be the wrong size!”

And, of course…

We get home, stand on our tippie toes, unscrew the old bulbs (what? We are both super tall. We don’t need no stinkin stools!) and replace them with the new ones.

And… they don’t work.

They were the right size, but for some ridiculous reason that has eluded me, my kitchen is still freaking dark!

So how many blonds does it take to change Summer’s light bulbs? You fill in the blank.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

K to the R stories, Nerdom, Story Time

Step 1. Find a time and location that works for both of you where there will be minimal distractions.

Step 2. Make sure there is plenty of wine and/or vodka.

Step 3. Upon seeing each other for the first time in over a week, hug until you can not breath.

Step 4. Cry.

Step 5. Pour two glasses of wine to the brim and make sandwiches.

Step 6. Put children to bed, pour second glasses of wine and sit on couches holding pillows.

Step 7. Have “the talk”. Apologize, accept responsibility, come up with a plan to never fight again and promise to prioritize your friendship.

Step 8. Cry some more. Hug some more. Top off wine glasses.

Step 9. Watch three episodes of Weeds. Compare the characters to people you actually know.

Step 10. Pause weeds. Microwave home waxing kit. Wax each others eyebrows and peach fuzz. Laugh at how ridiculous you both look in the mirror.

Step 11. Text boyfriend to let him know you got your best friend back but you are missing an eyebrow. Laugh hysterically when he believes you.

Step 12. Realize the time. Hug again, say goodbye and I love you. Text when arriving home safely. Finally sleep through the night.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

K to the R stories, Lessons Learned

What can I say? This weekend was an emotional one for me. It started out with a humongus fight between Karina the Russian and myself. This year has been a hard one for us. We have gone through more ups and downs than ever. It was less than two months ago when I wrote about our last fight, or rather, our last make up. This fight has been particularly hard on me, a lot of harsh things were said–on both of our parts–and I have had no way to get a hold of her due to her cell phone going AWOL.  We are both stubborn individuals and we are both hurting. I’ve blubbered about it to my sister and I’ve lashed out at ED when he didn’t deserve it. The only thing I could think of to make me feel better is shopping… and boy did I shop!

I am moving next weekend (insert happy dance) to my new place! To catch you up, I have been temporarily living with my parents for the past month until my new place is ready. IT’S FINALLY READY!!! And since I sold a lot of my old decorations to rid myself of bad juju, I needed to get new stuff. Retail therapy–I don’t care what anybody says–is great. Although I can’t say it helped me forget that I was fighting with my best friend. In fact, it made me miss her more.

Sunday I decided to abuse my body and rejuvenate my soul by going for a four mile downhill hike. My knees hate me right now, but look how totally beautiful it was!

The view from the top of Snowbird Resort

It was a little Chilly right after getting off the tram

But the hike is oh so worth it

The leaves are starting to change!

making mountain sides look on fire with bright oranges, reds and yellows

The wild flowers are still in bloom towards the bottom of the trail

But this has to be my favorite picture from the hike!

You’d think with the shopping and nature therapy I did this weekend I would be quite content – but I am not. I miss my best friend and I need to find a way to get over myself and get things back to the way they used to be. Life is too short to spend it upset and good friends are hard to come by. I just hope she’s come to the same conclusion!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Hiking, K to the R stories, Moving Blows

Yesterday I spent a lovely lunch with my best friend, Karina the Russian. As we are getting ready to go she asked me how my school was going.

Me: “Ugh. I have to give a speech tonight. The teacher told us we could give it on anything we wanted.”

Karina the Russian: “Oh really?”

Me: “Guess what I picked.”

KtR: “Tell Me!”

Me: “How to Shave a Cat in Three Easy Steps.”

KtR: “Oh my God! Let me get this straight… you are giving a speech on shaving your pussy?”

Me: “Yep.”

KtR: “You HAVE to say pussy in your speech! Please. PLEASE? You have to throw it in there! At least once? I promise you will get everyones attention. In fact, I bet you will get an A plus! DO IT! Say pussy in your speech!”

Me: “Honey I can’t do that! They are recording our speeches to review later. This is like, for a real grade.”

KtR: “DO IT!”

Me: “NO!”

KtR: “Pussy.”

Apparently Karina’s entertainment is more important than my grades, which makes her a shitty friend. OK, that’s a lie. She is totally the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

In case you are wondering, because Karina was, no, I did not use pussy in my speech. Maybe I am a coward, but at least I am a coward who got an A on her speech.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

K to the R stories, Story Time

For the past month I have been at odds with my best friend, Karina the Russian. It has been eating at me and tearing me apart because this girl has been there for me through so much.

She moved me out of the haunted house on the mountain, only a week after meeting me, because she knew what it was like to get out of a toxic relationship. She taught me how to smile again when I didn’t think I had it in me. She told me that I am amazing and beautiful and my hair smells nice too, because I needed to hear those things.

Whenever I had a bad day, she was there. Whenever I needed to take care of a wild hair up my ass, she was there – vodka in hand. We’ve laughed together, we’ve cried together, we have memory after countless memory together, many of them documented on this blog.  She was my non-lesbian date through all of the holidays. She broke into my apartment when I lost the key. She supported me going back to school. She made me breakfast and bought me cookies, “Sandy Mandy” cookies (one of my personal favorite posts). She has been my rock. She has been my best friend.

Going a whole month without her has been horrible! The worst part being I had no idea what was causing the strain between us. I pretended like it didn’t bother me, but it was eating me alive! It even gave me nightmares.

We finally spoke! I hate that it was over the phone, but we spoke none the less and it was more then the “so what ‘cha been up to” crap. Oh sure it started out that way but in no time we were both blubbering over the phone telling each other all about hurt feelings this and afraid to tell you thats. I don’t know that we came up for air for about an hour. By the time we had both calmed down and we (mostly I) apologized for not being there for one another I felt like a giant weight had been lifted off my chest. NO, better yet, I felt like I just got handed a giant chocolate bar with toffee and caramel and almonds all mixed together in a perfect gourmet blend with zero calories and zero guilt AND this perfect chocolate bar was handed to me right after having PMS for 2 weeks straight!

I HAVE MY BEST FRIEND BACK!

I’m telling you, once you go Russian you never go back… Russian BFF that is.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

K to the R stories

CAUTION: Please have your earmuffs (or eyemuffs?) ready because Russians talk dirty.

Oh Karina, Karina, Karina. What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?
Before I begin this tale of woe, I want to first clarify that I am doing so with full permission from the lovely Karina the Russian, as this truly is one of her most embarrassing moments.

The other night, as Staci, Karina and I were gathered to color my hair, we were all talking like we do about random chick things when out of the blue Karina looks up from her phone, gets this panicked look on her face and says, “Oh no… OH NO! OH SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!”

Immediately both Staci and I are like “what’s wrong? What happened?” But all Karina can do is shake her head with a look of disbelief and horror and say “Fuck my life!”

After a little bit of coaxing we finally found out that her boyfriend, The Dirty Rocker, had been texting her from 2 phones while he was away visiting his family. He asked her to save both numbers so she would know it was him when he called or text.

Now, Karina is not what one would call shy about her sexuality. Let’s just say she is a woman who knows how to keep things interesting…  So when she told us she accidentally sent a message requesting a picture of  The Dirty Rockers dick… to the wrong number, the only question to ask was whose number was it?

She explained, in between a combination of crying and laughing, that she had saved the second number The Dirty Rocker had given her under THE EXACT SAME NAME! So when she got “Who is this?” as a reply she instantly realized her blunder.

By this point she has dropped down to the floor and is continuing to mumble a combination of “Oh my god. Oh my god.” and “Fuck my life. Fuck my life.” over and over so we ask her again, who’s number she sent the message to.

Karina clears her throat, looks right at me and says, “The Dirty Rockers MOTHER!!!”

You can imagine the howls that started in after that! Both Staci and I chiming in with “NO WAY” and “YOU DIDN’T!” and laughing so hard tears started forming in our eyes too! At this point Staci grabs a camera because this moment of  Karina’s ultimate horror and humiliation was too precious not to capture and we knew (once her humiliation subsided) she would appreciate it. May sound odd to you, but we like to capture all types of moments — not just the happy ones!

I am happy to report that The Dirty Rockers mother has an excellent sense of humor and Karina is still welcome to come around. She is working on double checking every text before it goes out and keeping her head held high.

Feel free to share any of your most embarrassing moments in the comments. It will make Karina the Russian feel better.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

K to the R stories, Posts Grandma won't approve of, Story Time

My lovely BFF, Karina the Russian had a birthday! Every year her birthday is a time to celebrate. This year by comparison was a lot more toned down than last years 5 day long celebration, but still an amazing time complete with the most important things: friends, food and cocktails.

The standard pre-party picture.

Staci and Codi

The girls! I love when they put me in the middle.

We were all so happy my babe ED could make it… that is until he invited a Red Headed Slut to join our party…

That bitch makes things all sorts of crazy!

Karina I love you so much! We have been through so much in such a short time. I hope that 27 (the second anniversary of your 25th birthday) brings you all the love, passion, success and “moments” you deserve! Thank you for always being there for me. You’ll never know how much it has meant to me.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – no actual Red Headed Sluts were hurt in the celebration of Karina the Russians birthday party. They were however consumed by way of shots

K to the R stories, Loved One(s), Uncategorized

I have some very exciting news! I’m going to MEXICO! Si! Es true. In 2 months I will be laying on the beautiful white beaches of the Riviera Maya with my babe ED.

We have been talking about taking a trip together in between summer and fall semesters. Both of our birthdays are in August (Leo’s rule! Rawr!) and it will be the big 3-0 for ED, so we figured what better way to celebrate than by spending 6 days and 5 nights plastered in a foreign country.

We booked our trip Sunday night and of course I had to text Karina the Russian to let her know that it was really happening.

Me: OMG! ED and I just booked our trip! It’s official work out, tan and save money like crazy time!

KTR: Yeah! That is so cool! OK, I’m going to start working on your to do list!

So the “to do” list is something Karina gives me before I leave on any and every trip I take. It started when we went to California last year and she made me pretend to be from England and flirt with local surfers. Then it continued when I visited ED’s parents for the first time in the country and “have sex in a barn” was on the list. The most recent list came from my trip to Zions National Park where I had to scream from the top of my lungs that I was the queen of the world, much to EDs ultimate embarrassment.

KTR: 1st! Find a hot pink taco and eat it!

KTR: 2nd! Have sex in a sombrero!

KTR: 3rd! Watch a donkey show!

KTR: Drue (random new guy friend) says you need to bring me a grain of rice with my name on it too. Oh, and eat a bacon wrapped hot dog from a street meat cart!

Me: Um… we are not going to Tijuana… we are staying at a classy place!

KTR: Don’t worry, I’ll have more for you later. I’m watching playboy Hef and he has a new girlfriend named Christal!

Seriously I can’t help but love that girl!

If you have items to add to my “to do” list for Mexico, preferably one’s that don’t involve donkeys or eating questionable food, let me know.

Gracias!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

K to the R stories, Vacations