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Carmen cleans up her act

twenty-one days to a new me

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Last week was filled with all kinds of dreamy thoughts about something you and I probably both love equally.

Summer, summer, summertime!

Even though I’m a devoted Washingtonian, and I really don’t mind the rain at all, there’s nothing quite like the first days of sunshine on those beautiful blue-sky breakthroughs.

I love sinking my teeth into barbecued corn on the cob, busting out my favorite tank tops and shorts, and watching my skin turn bronze.

But to keep pace with the promise of a great summer, Natasha and I have jointly vowed to a three-month challenge. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, we’re going to eat healthy and exercise at least four times a week.

We both know that it takes 21 days to form a habit, and we figure if we run this mission throughout the summer, it’ll more than likely be a habit that sticks around all year long.

So dear, wonderful Tacoma restauranteurs, please don’t take it personally when you don’t see either Natasha or I as often as you used to. We’re just busy taking better care of ourselves for the summer.

The mini skirts that we love to wear deserve it.

Weekend responsibility and recklessness

On Friday I decided to take it easy and I just headed to the Cloverleaf Tavern on Sixth Avenue after collecting a W with my softball team. After one enjoyable beer, I went home and tucked myself into bed.

That was a great move because Saturday was National Clean Up Carmen’s Act Day. That’s a day in which I deep clean my house, run errands, get myself super organized, and take care of the important things in life, like painting my toenails.

But the yin and yang of it all was that this level of responsibility was met with sheer chaos by night. 

Hazel 8, Little Leah, Natasha and I went on one of our usual Tacoma escapades, but all four of us wound up in some sort of train wreck by the end of the night.

We started at the Ale House, where all was good and well. Then we made a mad dash to The Beach Tavern to say hello to bartender Chad. Everything was still going great.

I should’ve known that danger was in the air when Little Leah took down two gin and tonics in record time at Doyle’s Public House.

After giving some love to everybody’s favorite Marty Campbell and Cousin Amber from Omaha (you MUST move to T-Town, Amber!), we took off for our final destination where everything fell apart: The Swiss.

Natasha continued to order Vitamin C shots, which inevitably sent Little Leah home early.

After that, I looked over at Hazel 8, and she was bleeding. Of course I didn’t make it any better by saying, “You’re bleeding! Why are you bleeding!?!” For a second I thought someone had hit her while I wasn’t watching, and I was ready to throw blows. Come to find out that she and Darling Damon had been throwing ice at one another, and one chunk pelted her by her eyebrow, which led to the bleeding.

So one girl was down, another was bleeding, and then that Nasty Natasha was MIA, only to be found on the dance floor getting sassy with some bitchy girls while dancing with cute guys who were complete strangers.

As all of this action was occurring, I let my guard down, and some Gaylord Focker jacked my cell phone that was sitting on the bar.

I was super disappointed and frustrated then, but I’m over it now because I’m a firm believer in karma, and I know that what goes around comes around.

After that last bit of drama, I grabbed Natasha and dragged her from the dance floor, and we took a cab back to our homes where all was safe and peaceful.

To make the best of my situation, in addition to purchasing a new phone, I bought a disk with extra storage space and spent much of my relaxing Sunday downloading 600 new songs to my phone. Now I’m an even bigger rock star than ever before.

Take THAT, you stupid Focker!

I’m Carmen, your new chameleon.  Drop me your favorite parties here.

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