My days are spent not talking.

Let’s examine this a little bit, shall we? I work full time. At work I sit alone in my office and write things for clients like news letters, press releases and marketing plans, I research the latest marketing trends, responding to emails and attend meetings. I then go to school where I listen to teachers lecture and take notes. In the evenings I am reading my text books, studying and doing homework.

Oh the exciting life I lead. It’s an rare night in deed if I can find the time to work out or watch TV.

I spend so much time reading and listening that when I finally do get placed in a situation where I have to use my audible communication skills my words fail me. They just flat out disappear. I have no backspace, cut and paste or delete keys to rely on and I can’t just “Google” what I am looking for. I find myself simply listening to whatever conversation I am in and not really speaking up too much because when I try to contribute or tell a story I simply can not get through it without help. “You know that one thing with the four wheels and you drive it? Yeah, a car! So I was in the car and I was listening to, oh crap, what’s the name of that one band that sings that one song? Remember? We saw them in concert that one time?”

You get the picture. And heaven forbid you ask me my opinion! Because that answer will leave you so lost you will think you have just been talking to mentally challenged person. I swear, it’s still me! I am just out of practice at… talking?

Maybe I just need to get more sleep or take some ginkgo biloba or whatever vitamin makes your brain work more better. I’ve seriously  got to do something though because all this learnin’  and edumacation is making me unsmart.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Back to School, Bag full of complaints, Random

I took my car to get the oil changed on my lunch break. It’s only about 5,000 miles over due for one, yeah,  I’m a responsible car owner like that. So I am sitting in the little waiting room by myself when another patron walks in to join me. This guy, let’s call him Gus, has had too much coffee, or possibly crack, for breakfast and can not sit still. I’m playing solitaire on my phone to avoid eye contact and the chance of having to engage in conversation while Gus sighs exhas…..

You know what I hate? I hate when I can’t think of the right word. Normally I can’t think of it because it’s a larger word that I don’t use in my everyday vocabulary, but I know it exists because I’ve heard it used before, normally by my father. It’s not so bad when I am writing because I can Google that shit. It is bad when I am having a conversation and end up sounding like a moron. For example, I’ll say, “Gus sighed exhasturbatedly” and then whoever I am talking to will say, “What? He was masterbating?” and I’m all, “NO! You know when you sigh and you blow air out your mouth really hard and it makes your lips bounce off each other? Yeah. What’s that called?” and I then I get BLANK STARES for a good 15 seconds. Then they are all, “you mean he was annoyed?” and I’m all “yeah, that works.”

EXASPERATEDLY!!!!

Yep. That’s a real word and everything.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Gus was… annoyed and/or bored and/or on crack and/or exasperated. Come to think of it, I don’t really like that word anyway…

So Gus decides to throw the rules of waiting room etiquette right out the window. He starts to sing a tune that is only playing in his head. Then when one of the air powered machine thingamabobs starts to click at a metronome pace, Gus starts his own drum solo on the plastic chairs. By this point I am too distracted to even play my mind-numbing game of phone solitaire when the Jiffy Lube employee walks in.

“Summer? We are ready to go over your invoice with you now if you will just follow me to the register.”

THANK GOD! Not a minute too soon. I smile politely at Gus as I make my way out of the waiting room. Gus, being the complete stranger yet cracked out gentleman that he was, did a giant air drum symbol crash and gave me a wink as I left the room. I’m not sure if I should be flattered. I mean he was a pretty decent chair drummer after all and apparently his performance was, in part, for my entertainment too. I think I may have blushed a little.  Really I suppose I should have thanked him for making my lube change an interesting experience.

The world is full of peculiar yet interesting people like Gus – helping to make the drab tasks of day to day life entertaining. I guess our job is to recognize them as such and avoid being put off or irritated by them. Because after all, wouldn’t the world be a boring place without the Gus’ of the world?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Random, Story Time

Slasher dreams.

Ever had one of those?

I’m not prone to nightmares. Crazy messed up Alice In Wonderland dreams are more my thing. My younger sister is the same way. Growing up we used to swap dream stories over breakfast every morning.

I woke up this morning to the complete opposite of my normal confusing-yet-innocent dreams. This dream was a psychological thriller mixed in with all of the gore you would expect from the latest Hollywood horror flick, complete with a crazed serial killer who created horrible torturous ways to test me. There was no running away from him, because he would always be wherever I ended up – one step ahead of me.

ED was in my dream too. The bad guy would created twisted moral dilemma situations where, in the beginning, I was hung by my arm in a rusty bear trap and ED and I had to find a way to get me out of it before I bled to death, but we had to hurry because a school bus full of children was being lured right to the killers blood bath creepy mansion, which is, of course, down a dirt road and has dismembered bodies and sharp objects littering the yard, AND to top it all off, we were trying to make it to dinner with our friends on time.

The craziest part?

My alarm clock goes off and I don’t jolt awake in a disturbed upset panic. No, I hurry and push snooze so I can get back to figuring out what the bad guy has done with ED (because he is missing now), I can’t find anything to wear (apparently in slasher dreams it is very important to have the perfect outfit on) and I’m pretty sure all of the children on the bus might be dead.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I slap the snooze button. Again. Pissed that it dare disturb my mission.

I find ED and he is with a bunch of his friends laughing and joking and SMOKING A CIGARETTE! I’m fuming mad at him because a) he doesn’t smoke so WTF? and b) I have a psycho killer after me and there could or could not be a bus full of dead children! I insist he takes a shower, a shower in the basement of the killer’s house, which we are apparently renting, while I look for something to wear so we can continue trying to escape.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

SNOOZE!!!

Finally, FINALLY we are out the door and running. We are holding hands and we are running through a mall… or maybe it was an airport, I’m not really sure. I look over at ED and it is not ED at all! It is the killer’s henchman who starts dragging me back to the blood bath creepy mansion and telling me I have to come with him if I ever want to see ED alive and with all of his body parts again!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Already? Are you kidding me?

SNOOZE!!!

My body and my mind are starting to regain consciousness. I can hear the cat meowing right next to my face and I brush her off the bed. Doesn’t she realize how important it is for me to fall back asleep? I have to find ED and not get killed or get blood on my clothes because I have to go to work and crap, what about the bus full of kids? Come on sleep! Come get me! I’ve got to save the world before I get up and go to work!!!

It’s too late. I’m awake.

I lay in bed, petting my whining cat who has jumped right back up on the bed. I try not to be disturbed by the amount of blood and gore I just witnessed in my own subconsciousness. I’m slightly upset I was not able to save everyone but I’m more upset by the realization I am capable of dreaming up a monster like the diabolical serial killer in my dream. I created him! What does that say about me? Am I a horrible person? Do I have a dark side to me scratching the surface to get out???

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Urgh…

Begrudgingly I get out of bed, climb into the shower and try to wash the blood and guts away.

Dreams are crazy. I have no idea what this dream means. Hopefully it is not one of those foreshadowing dreams cause that would totally suck. I am so not a fan of torture, dead children, running or having nothing to wear.

Do you have crazy dreams? Like seriously messed up dreams? Please tell me I am not alone in the world of disturbing dreams.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Random

I had to delete a friend from Facebook.

Now, let’s be honest for a minute here. There are very few things that one can do to make me feel the need to cut them out of my “virtual friend network” because really it’s not like they are “real” friends. Don’t get me wrong, a handful of my Facebook friends are real life friends as well as virtual friends, but I’d be lying if I told you I had over 200 real friends; I’m just not that cool nor do I have the energy to be a friend back to that many people. But I digress….

Really there are only 2 ways to get me to delete you. The first is to insult me, my friends or my family. The second is to show intolerance and/or prejudice to another race or lifestyle. In this particular instance both offenses were committed.

Delete.

Sometimes saying goodbye is not so hard. In fact, it is as simple as the click of a mouse.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Random, sometimes I get on a soap box

The hair, it was a flyin’ at my place last night!

I would like to go on the record with saying that I do NOT recommend anyone try this at home. Even with Jenn’s professional grade electric shaver and our year of cat shaving experience, I still managed to get a few battle wounds.
But look how cute she looks in her little hooker boots, with her evil glaring eyes.

What can I say? I, like a lot of people out there, like my cat to be shaved.

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Bitch kitty, Random

Truly, I had the best of intentions. You see, I have been getting my cat Aurora shaved 1 to 2 times per year for the past, oh I don’t know, 4 years. I started out taking her to a vet/groomer where my best friend Jenn worked at the time. They would sedate her and she would wake up looking like a lion. It was awesome! But after Jenn left the vet and the “friends and family” discount was gone, we decided to start shaving Aurora as well as Jenn’s cats on our own.

For some reason last night was the night that I felt she HAD to be shaved. Only problem was, Jenn has the fancy-shmancy professional clippers and she was not available. So I decided to pick up a pair and give it a whirl myself, and by myself I actually mean with the help of Karina the Russian.
I know I look evil in this picture… But believe me, we are both MUCH happier when she is shaved. I get to de-hair my place and she gets loved a whole lot more due to the fact that I don’t get a handful of hair every time I pet her.
Truth be told I’m lucky my neighbors didn’t call to complain once we got started. Cats are not easy to wrestle, even if they love you, they do not want to be restrained (go figure). Ultimately I think the problem was that I only spent $35 on clippers. They gave out about 2 strokes into the hair cut.
But we kept on trying…

Poor kitty looks like a cross between a chemo patient and a road kill victim. I feel like the mom who cuts her kids hair crooked and makes them go to school anyway. Good thing she’s a cat and can’t feel embarrassment or she might hate me forever.
I sent this picture to Jenn and she felt sorry for my cat and is coming over tomorrow to help me finish shaving her.
Thank god for friends who are willing to help you shave your… cat.

K to the R stories, Random, drinking when posting

There are few things better than the first true sunny spring day at the park. I work a few blocks away from Liberty Park and I often spend my lunch breaks there eating in the car. Rarely have I ever gotten out of the car, but yesterday was different. The sun was out and I couldn’t bear the thought of not soaking it in – fear be damned! I spotted the perfect location, a gazebo out in the middle of the pond. No one was sitting there. It had my name written all over it. I exited my comfort zone of confined car door walls, and started the short walk over to my lunch destination. Walking along in my business attire, sharp heels aerating the lawn as I stepped on the moist grass. I felt the soft breeze swirl around me and wished I had the sense to pack a light jacket. I had been so excited to hear that the temperature would be in the 70′s that nothing else mattered, outside of wearing the new sleeveless spring top I had purchased 3 weeks prior.

Just me, Random

Some of you who know me know that I serve on the board of directors for the American Advertising Federation of Utah (AAF-Utah). We are the Utah chapter of a non-profit organization meant to bring the advertising community together. As a fund raiser to keep our club healthy and active we are holding a “Not-So Silent” online auction.

Random

I watched my niece Brielle on Saturday for a few hours. We painted our finger and toenails (pink of course) while watching Spiderman and eating chocolate. I only have one “real” kid movie, and Bri didn’t feel like watching it, so Spiderman was the next best thing.

Once we had our fill of all things unhealthy and we both started getting cranky for a nap, I called up Brielle’s mom to come and get her. She cried when she had to leave. It was strangely satisfying to know that she had that good of a time.

I am obviously an amazing aunt/babysitter.

When it comes to my own demon child, my cat Aurora, I am not such a good mother. I honestly think she is either possessed or enjoys driving me crazy. She bitches (meows) at me non-stop. I pet her for a minute, but then she just goes right back to it. I let her out on the patio (I’m on a second floor and she is too chicken to jump) and she’ll be happy for maybe 5 minutes then she is meow-meow-meowing again. She is getting worse too. She has now decided that I do not need to sleep. It is much more important to wake up at 3 AM to pet her. She will voice this in one of 3 ways: the traditional meowing, making noises by batting the blinds or opening drawers, and the very worst of all – licking my hair!
I have learned of only 2 things to make her temporarily shut her trap:

1) a squirt bottle of water. I keep one by my bed and one in the front room.

2) The vacuum. It will make her hide under the bed for at least a good hour.

But does it make me a bad parent/pet owner to use either method, just to get her out of my hair? It seriously makes me wonder what I would do with a screaming child! Right now I am considering hiring a pet psychic, THAT’S HOW BAD SHE IS! I just need to understand how to make her happy.

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Loved One(s), Random

1. “Come on! Suck it up Sally! One more! It’s the last one that makes a difference! Hate me now – love me later!”

2. “That weight must have been to light for you, you hardly struggled at all. I’m going to up it by five.”

3. “No, the 15 minutes of cardio we already did was to warm up. We still have 30 more to go. Let’s head up to the step machines now.”

There were too many witnesses around to strangle him and now I am too sore to even try. He did make up for abusing me by spending 2 hours cooking me a fantastic dinner (rack of lamb anyone?), so I can’t really stay mad at him. Plus my arms are starting to get some killer definition… so I suppose I’ll keep him around for a little longer. At least until I’m ready for swimsuit season anyway.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Random