Why yes, I am SUPER athletic.
Oh how I love my friends. This picture is the result of an overly creative mind who happens to be a pro at Photoshop (and making me laugh).
Blogfully yours,
Summer
Last week I came into work to find a hand drawn book a co-worker had left on my desk. This is the same co-worker who put truck nutz on my car and the same person who gave me a hand drawn piece of art for a house warming gift.
As a point of clarification to the “Ginormica” reference, it is a name I once called myself in response to a picture he had photo shopped of me.
"Just call me Ginormica"
Without further ado, I present the not-kid-friendly Ginormica cartoon book.
Hilarious, right?
Subtle, not-so-much.
My prankster co-worker made a delicious dessert for a pot-luck style party I had back in August and made the mistake of leaving the leftovers with me. Apparently he would like his pan back, only I’m not so sure I want to give it back now.
Work is so much more fun when you find unexpected, semi-mocking gifts.
Blogfully yours,
Summer
Practical jokes can be funny…
But this is a first…
The apology was actually better than the actual joke!
Blogfully yours,
Summer
I have this really great story to tell about getting the inside of my thigh painted in New York, only my brat kid-sister, whose bed I am sharing, won’t stop bugging me. Seriously it’s like we are kids again. I can’t get a thing done because she is so A.D.D and it is rubbing off on me and to be honest, I think I have enough A.D.D without her rubbed on share.
“Summer, how do I make Twitter work?”
“Summer, what profile picture should I choose?”
“The weather right now is 82 degrees.”
“I found another picture. Just look at this one, I promise it’s the last one.”
“I can’t believe you post pictures of my daughter on the Internet but don’t send them to me.”
“Look at my belly, I am so bloated.”
“Did you just call my phone dumb? Not all phones can be labeled ‘smart phones’, Summer.”
“Check out this boy on Facebook. Yeah, his posts about vaginas and honey are so funny.”
“What do I write for my Twitter bio? La de da de, we likesta party? Men suck vaginas rule? Looking for a sugar daddy?”
AHHHHHHHHH!
This one time, when I was about 10 years old, my sister wouldn’t leave me alone so I jumped on my bike and took off at full speed down the hill we lived on. At the bottom of the hill was a sharp turn. I hit gravel, slid, crashed, and skinned up my knee and busted my bike. A neighbor took me home in the back of her truck. When I got home and walked through the door, knee all bloody, my sister ran upstairs and got me a handful of band aides.
After that I quit running away from her.
Sometimes it’s just nice to live in the moment and laugh out loud with your sister. I think it’s therapeutic. And honestly, it really doesn’t matter if you are 10, 30, or 130. Laughter is good for the soul.
Guess the story of the wetness between my thighs can wait another day.
Blogfully yours,
Summer
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
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
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
After months of my sister asking to bang me, I finally caved.
I got banged.
By my sister the hair stylist.
What do you think?
Blogfully yours,
Summer
Over the weekend, along with doing things like drinking wine with the girls, getting my butt kicked in a country-style training session, going to a free Utah JAZZ game (8th row, baby!), being tortured at a piano bar, going up on the perfect powder ski day only to be turned away because the “resort was full” AND doing homework; I dog sat.
It’s like babysitting, only without any poppy diapers. You simply play with them as much as possible, feed them the correct amount and get puppy snuggles all night long.
Dogs have a great way of making people happy.
These two girls put a smile on my face after returning home slightly scarred from more than “off-key” drunks singing Journey, Ice Cube and Garth Brooks at a piano bar.
Now THAT’S saying something!
Blogfully yours,
Summer
