Thursday, January 30, 2014

Oh Crap! Another Hilarious Story from my Tragic Life.

Apparently I only update this blog when something truly horrific or disgusting happens in my life.

Enough said, you've been fairly warned. 

(Disclaimer: While reading this post, should you feel a need to gag, wretch, or lose control of any bodily functions, you're absolutely on your own to clean that mess up. I take no responsibility for your business.)

Today I woke up late.
That was my first mistake.

I had twenty minutes to push my oldest off to junior high, move my next two boys through their morning teeth-brushing and hair combing routine, and drag a decent outfit (minimal stains, mildly wrinkled) on my sleepy girl's body. Then after pulling her hair into something less worthy of a homeless person and whipping up breakfast (an oatmeal packet), I cleaned last night's mascara off my face and dressed in exercise garb. After dropping the boys off at school, because I moonlight as a taxi service, I had ten minutes to rush to the gym where I teach a step aerobics class. (And no, step didn't die in the 90s.)

I was making good time! So I decided, hey why not live a little and go to the bathroom? (Yes, yes I did just take the story there.)

"Henry," I called down the stairs. "It's your turn to watch the dogs. Make sure to take Britta out if she barks. I'm gonna run to the bathroom real quick. Ok?"

"K, Mom."

Mistake #2. How silly of me to think I could go to the bathroom and all hell wouldn't break loose. Just as I relaxed into my business (Yes again, yes I did just go there.), Britta, my cute, cute, cute--gotta keep reminding myself she's cute--four month old goldendoodle, barked. And barked. And barked. And whined.

"Henry! Take out the dog." I'm a pretty good yeller from the bathroom when the situation calls for it.

More barking. A shuffle or two. Then--

"Sick!"

"Gross!"

"Momma, Britta pooped in the house. A lot."

A lot? What does a lot entail? I was up, hands washed, and down the stairs in record time.

And, holy
crap

crap

crap

CRAP!

By the door, Britta dropped four piles of steaming, stinky poop. My three uber-helpful kids stared at the stench scene screaming about how disgusting it was.
Like I didn't know.

"Don't just stand there, you need to clean it up," I told Henry as I rushed for cleansing supplies.

"Why me?"

"Because you were the one watching her and she barked and whined to go out. What were you doing?"

"Uh," he glanced away. "I was walking around."

"Walking around? Is that code for playing?" I asked. I didn't pop him outta my lady parts yesterday and I'm keen on his evasive maneuvers.
He nodded and so, his chore began. Armed with paper towels and a bag, he started cleaning up the doggie doodoo.

Mistake #3. Kid+Pooptastrophe = Worst. Day. Of. My. Life.

2.5 piles later Henry heaved and heaved and then puked on the poop, and then making a bee-line for the door to finish vomiting, he walked right though the mess like Moses parting the poop sea. Except there was no parting. Only lots and lots of squishing under his shoe.

Right then I wanted to run screaming down the road, but I hunkered down, and cleaned the poop-puke fiasco, scrubbing the floor and base boards and walls (because my kids excel in projectile purging). At that point the boys were 20 minutes late to school, and I had minutes to get to the gym. I grabbed my purse and rushed the kids to the van, and turned the key . . .

And when the van revved once and then died, and the clock on the dash glared 9:22 am, I knew two things: I wasn't going to make it on time for work, and I should've just stayed in bed today.

I hope your day isn't nearly as craptastic as mine!

For the record, I'm taking the rest of the day off. 

Do you have a funny story you want to share? I could use your comments or humor to brighten my day!










Monday, November 18, 2013

McDonalds - A True Horror Story


Really, this post should be labeled: Why Do I Keep Going There? (Bangs Head Against Wall). Regardless, you'll understand why both titles are appropriate soon enough.

A few years ago I had a fast food coming to Jesus moment when I watched Super Size Me. You remember that lovely little flick starring Morgan Spurlock. The guy ate McDonalds and only McDonalds for a month. By the end of the harrowing ordeal, I swear I was watching an extended version of Fear Factor for all the wretching and belching packed into the 90 minute show.

After that, I severely cut back on my fast food addiction.

However, every now and then, the Devil himself worms into my soccer-mom brain. And on a busy night like tonight (after running four kiddos to their various practices and games), I don't have time to make dinner. Heck, if I had a chance to use the bathroom without my five year old banging on the door, I probably wouldn't know what to do with myself.

Tonight I went to McDonalds. MISTAKE #1.

My kids were moaning like Katniss starving for Peeta's bread as we waited in the drive-thru. If I didn't get them fed immediately, Hunger Games MMXIII was gonna go down in the Mini (minivan).
I ordered two hamburgers, a box of chicken wings, a BBQ ranch burger, drinks and fries. After paying, I pulled forward and accepted my food from the employee.

Because this ain't my first time at the rodeo, I DID NOT pull away. No, I've been shorted by enough McDonald's establishments to know you hand out food to each of your kids before leaving. (Mark that down as a life tip.)

I handed out fries, drinks, chicken wings and two burgers. But hold up! There was no BBQ ranch burger.

I turned back to the window and waited. After three long minutes while my second oldest boy was dying of hunger pains (or so he complained), I knocked on the window.

"Yeah?" the girl said when she opened the slider. Always nice to see customer service at it's best.
"I didn't get the BBQ ranch burger."
She gave me a look--same look I give my kids when I know they're full of it.
"Really," I insisted. "I didn't get it." After listing what I did get, and then pointing to my one unfed son, the girl left for a moment and returned with a bag that contained my son's burger.

Grateful, I passed the bag to my son, and pulled away from the drive-thru. MISTAKE #2. 

We were exiting the parking lot when my son said, "Uh Mom, what's this?"

I looked over. Blinked twice.
He held two buns that contained a whopping load of ranch-type-mayo-sauce, four Fritos, and a piece of cheese. No burger. Seriously, no burger.

I went to the drive-thru again.

"My son didn't get any burger with his BBQ burger."

"Yeah, it's supposed to have the burger," the girl said.

Um. Really?

"Ok, could he get another BBQ burger?"

She took the patty-less buns with the wrapper from me. I watched as she went to the assembly table and said to another guy, "Hey, you forgot the meat. Can you put a piece of meat on this?"

My jaw dropped.

Sixty seconds later she returned with the same burger I'd just handed her, now with a piece of meat on it. Gag. Really, I gagged.

"Uh, I was hoping we could get a new one," I said, trying to politely not point out that her hands had just been all over the bun and had broken the piece of cheese.

She scowled at me. "You want another one?"


What was I thinking, expecting a new sandwich after someone else has manhandled and fondled the thing? Call me crazy. 


"Yes," I said. MISTAKE #3. 

She rolled her eyes and marched to the assembly line. "The lady wants another one," she told the other employee. Then she left us to wait for 8 minutes. I didn't realize making a BBQ burger would take so long, but in an effort to remain positive, I figured they had to grill another patty. Maybe that's what was taking 8 whole minutes.
The girl returned and handed me a burger wrapped in paper that looked crumpled and barely holding itself together. I looked at the creased paper, then at the cold burger inside that held a bent piece of cheese, a slathering of ranch-mayo-concoction and FOUR Fritos.

"You just gave me back The. Same. Burger!" I was shocked. And a little ready to throw down. Don't mess with a momma bear when her baby cubs are hungry!

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "How do you know?"

Oh yeah, that's what she said. I looked around for the candid camera crew. Or Jamie Kennedy. They were no where to be found.

"It's cold." I pointed to the broken cheese. "This is where you bent the cheese when you examined it. And I'm pretty sure it's not standard to only put four Fritos on your BBQ burger."

"So, what do you want me to do?"

I'm gonna let my original thought to her question slide because this is a family blog. What I ended up saying was: "Can you make me a new one, for real this time?"

"There are other people in line, Mam. If you want to go through the drive through again . . ."

"Alright," I said, losing it. "Just get me your manager."

The girl left and her manager replaced her. I explained the entire story to the lady. It was at the end of my rant that I realized she didn't understand everything I was saying. I don't fault her for this, because English as a second language can be a trial. So I explained it once more, hoping it made sense. And when I was done, she said:

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Well, this was one of those moments when you realize, you're fighting a lost cause. When you have to walk away and just accept nobody's perfect. And that customer service is a dying form. (At least at the McDonalds on 1600 North and State Street in Orem, Utah.)

Next time, I'll have to remember Morgan Spurlock's sage advice and steer clear of McDonald's because if it isn't the food that'll kill you, it'll be the customer service.





Friday, October 18, 2013

Meet Natascha Jaffa - Editor at SPJ Editing

A few weeks back, I had the opportunity to shoot Natascha Jaffa (cue geeky chuckling...sorry the photography humor never gets old). Because my full time job as a professional photographer is filled with opportunities to meet gobs of people, I'm ecstatic when I get the chance to capture images of people in the writing community. After all, writing is my first love. 

Besides being a brilliant editor, Natascha is also absolutely, and ridiculously stunning. Check out her head shots and her bio below!


Natascha Jaffa established SPJ Editing in 2011. With a degree in psychology from Utah Valley University and a bachelors from Nevada State College, she considers herself a teacher rather than solely an editor and strives to help new and veteran authors reach their publishing goals.

Her recent projects include books placed with SirenBookstrand, Evernight Publishing, The Wild Rose Press, Secret Cravings Publishing, Ellora's Cave, Beyond the Page Publishing and Melange Books. She continues to actively build her client list and is currently seeking work in the following genres: Romance (historical, romantic suspense, paranormal, category, contemporary, erotic), urban fantasy, women’s fiction, mystery, thrillers, science fiction, fantasy and young adult.

She is an active PRO member of Romance Writers of America, a member of Mystery Writers of America and a member of International Thriller Writers.

Published in both suspense and romance, she writes under the pen name Nichole Severn.



If you would like more information about Natascha, or you'd like to book a photography session, email me at erinsummerill(at)hotmail.com.

Have a great Friday!

Tuesday, October 01, 2013

A phone call.


My phone rang. 

"Hello," I answered in my polite voice. I didn't recognize the number. 

"Mom, it's Henry." Ah, I should probably add the school's number to my contacts.

"What's up?"

"So . . . I punched a kid."

Jaw to the floor. "What?!?"

"Just kidding. You forgot to sign up for parent teacher conferences. My teacher wants to know when you're coming in."


This little scene from today has taught me two things: 
1. Maybe I'm more of a slacker mom than I actually berate myself for. 
2. My 10 year old is HILARIOUS! 

Hope you enjoy this little Tuesday Tidbit!



Monday, September 30, 2013

Jimmy Fallon for your Monday morning, Anyone?

This morning, this little lovely pretty much sums up my feelings of Twitter, Facebook, and all those other social media sites. And it gave me a pretty good laugh. Dang, Justin Timberlake can drop the comedy like the best of them.

Enjoy your Monday!



Saturday, September 28, 2013

Remember When . . .

Remember when I used to blog?
When my posts were random, and sometimes witty?
Or not. Whatever. But you know what I'm saying, right?
There was a time when I blogged more frequently here, and less over there.

Well my friends, I realized that I kinda miss this old, random, and sometimes witty blog of mine. It's not that I no longer love shooting people and posting ridiculously fabulous images over there.
It's just, I miss you. (Cue swell of symphony music)

I want you to know I'll be hanging out here again. Now and then. And over there too.

There are a few more secrets left in me (like 70).

You don't want to miss those.

luv, erin

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Come to my new/old blog...

Hey ya'll, I'm sorry that I've been MIA. I decided to combine my photography blog and my writing blog!

If you want to stop by, you can check me out: