Susan's dog went to Heaven on day twenty four.
The regular veterinarian, who Susan allowed to inspect the dog only when absolutely necessary, wanted an outrageous sum to put her down. The last time Susan's dog required this vet's services it cost Susan over eight hundred dollars, half when Susan left the dog, the other half when she picked her up. They sucked the money out of Susan's check in less time than it took her to write it out, then they handed it back to her.
Here, take it with you and go.
Anyway, they weren't getting her dog now.
Susan's dog went to nice Dr. Bob who took his time and helped deliver her to the afterlife gently, without pickpocketing her owners. Susan's daughter was very sad and sniffly so Susan cheered her up by saying 'pull my finger' then took her into the kitchen to bake some anisette toast.
11.24.2009
11.23.2009
Day twenty three and Susan is shot;
she's tired, short on time, unhappy at work and her dog has stopped all meaningful interaction.
Susan's parents arrived late in the evening to begin a week of sleeping in her basement, she tried to recruit them into taking the dog to the killers, but they were having none of it.
Susan anticipates she'll be doing alot of anxiety related baking and she started with cranberry orange bread.
she's tired, short on time, unhappy at work and her dog has stopped all meaningful interaction.
Susan's parents arrived late in the evening to begin a week of sleeping in her basement, she tried to recruit them into taking the dog to the killers, but they were having none of it.
Susan anticipates she'll be doing alot of anxiety related baking and she started with cranberry orange bread.
11.22.2009
Susan and her daughter shared a bar of dark chocolate laced with chili and now that's all that either of them can think about. The chili provided no flavor, only a wonderful sensation of heat in the back of the throat which crept slowly across the tongue until the entire mouth was jumping up and down.
Susan wasted no time in recreating this treat at home in the form of a brownie. Brownies are Susan's go-to dessert, she buys ten boxes of mix at a time whenever they're on sale. She's eaten brownies made from scratch but she doesn't like the texture and they give her indigestion. She's always looking to substitute a portion of the oil with a healthier lubricant like applesauce or black beans, she's not always successful. Today she added 1.25 teaspoons of cayenne pepper into the mix and reduced the oil in half by substituting a 1/4 cup of pumpkin.
The pumpkin cayenne brownies were perfection.
Just enough heat and the pumpkin didn't mess with the texture too much, making them more cake-like than dense.
They're on the Thanksgiving menu.
Susan wasted no time in recreating this treat at home in the form of a brownie. Brownies are Susan's go-to dessert, she buys ten boxes of mix at a time whenever they're on sale. She's eaten brownies made from scratch but she doesn't like the texture and they give her indigestion. She's always looking to substitute a portion of the oil with a healthier lubricant like applesauce or black beans, she's not always successful. Today she added 1.25 teaspoons of cayenne pepper into the mix and reduced the oil in half by substituting a 1/4 cup of pumpkin.
The pumpkin cayenne brownies were perfection.
Just enough heat and the pumpkin didn't mess with the texture too much, making them more cake-like than dense.
They're on the Thanksgiving menu.
11.21.2009
Except for her little sister, Cousin Lisa and sometimes her mother Susan doesn't like to talk on the telephone.
She never sez Call me!, she doesn't want you to.
The husband has been instructed to inform all her callers only that she'll be told they called, nothing else. Similarly, family or friends who encounter anyone inquiring about what Susan's phone number might be are not permitted to provide it. She hates it when the phone rings in her house & hates it even more when it's for her. And the cell phone? What a pain it is to hold that thing up to her ear for anything longer than Hello. Pick up milk? OK. Goodbye.
Susan likes her communications to be conducted in person and when that's not possible she doesn't mind writing them down. E-mail and Susan go perfectly together, she writes when she has time and everyone answers when they have time. She finds texting very effective for keeping in touch with Wild Bill and she likes to write letters, although she doesn't hand write them anymore. She hand writes her notes and sometimes draws a little picture of her face complete with red hair if she's got a red pen. Forget about cards, they're not even on her radar, the only ones she sends are to the husband's old aunties for Xmas. She doesn't twitter because who cares and she doesn't IM because typing out her conversations in real time is insane.
Lastly, Even though she's got a Facebook page it drives her nuts with all the misspellings, LOLs and exclamation points!!!! OMG!!!!! She's got it set so that nobody can find her.
She never sez Call me!, she doesn't want you to.
The husband has been instructed to inform all her callers only that she'll be told they called, nothing else. Similarly, family or friends who encounter anyone inquiring about what Susan's phone number might be are not permitted to provide it. She hates it when the phone rings in her house & hates it even more when it's for her. And the cell phone? What a pain it is to hold that thing up to her ear for anything longer than Hello. Pick up milk? OK. Goodbye.
Susan likes her communications to be conducted in person and when that's not possible she doesn't mind writing them down. E-mail and Susan go perfectly together, she writes when she has time and everyone answers when they have time. She finds texting very effective for keeping in touch with Wild Bill and she likes to write letters, although she doesn't hand write them anymore. She hand writes her notes and sometimes draws a little picture of her face complete with red hair if she's got a red pen. Forget about cards, they're not even on her radar, the only ones she sends are to the husband's old aunties for Xmas. She doesn't twitter because who cares and she doesn't IM because typing out her conversations in real time is insane.
Lastly, Even though she's got a Facebook page it drives her nuts with all the misspellings, LOLs and exclamation points!!!! OMG!!!!! She's got it set so that nobody can find her.
11.20.2009
This post is a total cop out because Susan was left unprepared for day twenty.
Susan had another in a series of brutal f*cking days at Acme Sweatshop which has left her wondering if she'll be a sweatshop seamstress for much longer.
After work she went out by herself to the mall where she was stunned to find that some of her favorite stores are now selling absolute crap.
Ann Taylor LOFT she's talking about you.
When the mall kicked Susan out & turned off their lights she popped into the Big Chain Book Store to buy her favorite expensive decorating magazine then headed for home. On the way Susan returned her pal Cyndi's phone call (yes, she really spells it that way). Susan enjoyed the private time with her friend so much she continued the conversation while sitting in her driveway even though the family kept coming outside to interrupt. She ate a bowl of cereal at 11pm for dinner and crawled into bed with the laptop where she started working on day twenty but she realized that she'd never finish it on time so she's substituting this one.
Susan had another in a series of brutal f*cking days at Acme Sweatshop which has left her wondering if she'll be a sweatshop seamstress for much longer.
After work she went out by herself to the mall where she was stunned to find that some of her favorite stores are now selling absolute crap.
Ann Taylor LOFT she's talking about you.
When the mall kicked Susan out & turned off their lights she popped into the Big Chain Book Store to buy her favorite expensive decorating magazine then headed for home. On the way Susan returned her pal Cyndi's phone call (yes, she really spells it that way). Susan enjoyed the private time with her friend so much she continued the conversation while sitting in her driveway even though the family kept coming outside to interrupt. She ate a bowl of cereal at 11pm for dinner and crawled into bed with the laptop where she started working on day twenty but she realized that she'd never finish it on time so she's substituting this one.
11.19.2009
The last two mornings Susan had a little meltdown as she left the house for work. Neither was created in a vacuum, the husband's mouth was present.
Yesterday's explosion was immediate, and it only took a little nudge. Today's was just as quick and ended with Susan throwing a banana.
In each case the cause of the argument wasn't really significant except for the one where the husband started a conversation then lost interest when it was Susan's turn to talk.
Incoming!
Yesterday's explosion was immediate, and it only took a little nudge. Today's was just as quick and ended with Susan throwing a banana.
In each case the cause of the argument wasn't really significant except for the one where the husband started a conversation then lost interest when it was Susan's turn to talk.
Incoming!
11.18.2009
Susan forgot to tell her everyone about something that made her LOL back on day twelve;
an Xmas tree already lit up in someone's livingroom window.
She hopes you don't feel cheated but this is Susan's offering for day eighteen.
She'll see you tomorrow.
an Xmas tree already lit up in someone's livingroom window.
She hopes you don't feel cheated but this is Susan's offering for day eighteen.
She'll see you tomorrow.
11.17.2009
Day 17 finds Susan making Deb's spaghetti squash.
She hasn't tasted it yet because the squash is still resting but the husband has already declared that it 'smells good'. That's because butter, garlic, cumin, coriander, cayenne and seasoned salt smell good.
Susan's low on enthusiasm and ideas tonight. She's been having a devil of a time at her job as a sweatshop seamstress and still feels as though she might have a f*cking heart attack at any moment if she doesn't have a f*cking stroke first.
Susan also wants to climb into her big soft bed and stare into space as soon as she can.
Susan can't think of anything funny to type.
Courage.
(Courage was kind of funny. What's the frequency, Kenneth?)
She hasn't tasted it yet because the squash is still resting but the husband has already declared that it 'smells good'. That's because butter, garlic, cumin, coriander, cayenne and seasoned salt smell good.
Susan's low on enthusiasm and ideas tonight. She's been having a devil of a time at her job as a sweatshop seamstress and still feels as though she might have a f*cking heart attack at any moment if she doesn't have a f*cking stroke first.
Susan also wants to climb into her big soft bed and stare into space as soon as she can.
Susan can't think of anything funny to type.
Courage.
(Courage was kind of funny. What's the frequency, Kenneth?)
11.16.2009
Susan would love to read a book again.
She used to read them. In fact she read so many books during her four hours on the train each day that she carried a back up book just in case. By the time she stopped commuting she was a little burnt out and took a vacation from reading. She still had the newspaper and magazines but they were different, so she started reading in the car while waiting for her son outside Tae Kwon Do
or during her daughter's guitar lessons
or while both kids were on the soccer field.
She read on the potty, while her family picked out their Xmas tree and while people had conversations with her. Obviously, if they were going to talk to her while she was reading they didn't care if she paid attention, so she kept reading. When she fell down the rat hole of unemployment she turned on the computer and read everything she had ever bookmarked which led her in all sorts of other directions including into the blogosphere.
Then she got a job and hasn't had time for anything with a binding and a title in months.
She knows she's pretty maxed out with obligations during the week, but maybe she can begin by squeezing an hour each Saturday & Sunday for a book.
She's going to think about what she's in the mood for.
She used to read them. In fact she read so many books during her four hours on the train each day that she carried a back up book just in case. By the time she stopped commuting she was a little burnt out and took a vacation from reading. She still had the newspaper and magazines but they were different, so she started reading in the car while waiting for her son outside Tae Kwon Do
or during her daughter's guitar lessons
or while both kids were on the soccer field.
She read on the potty, while her family picked out their Xmas tree and while people had conversations with her. Obviously, if they were going to talk to her while she was reading they didn't care if she paid attention, so she kept reading. When she fell down the rat hole of unemployment she turned on the computer and read everything she had ever bookmarked which led her in all sorts of other directions including into the blogosphere.
Then she got a job and hasn't had time for anything with a binding and a title in months.
She knows she's pretty maxed out with obligations during the week, but maybe she can begin by squeezing an hour each Saturday & Sunday for a book.
She's going to think about what she's in the mood for.
11.15.2009
When Susan was in her twenties the normal frustrations of life would inspire some pretty immature behavior; she might throw her keys from one side of a restaurant dining room to the other, flip her chair over at work, engage in shoving matches with her sister or chase after cars that cut her off. The last one resulted in a few hairy confrontations including having a man come after her with a two by four and another threaten to take her middle finger from one place and put it in another. Susan has grown into a mature wife and mother who can hardly believe she used to act that way, but she knows that she did because she was there.
She figures that you're all thinking, but didn't she just stick her middle finger up at a guy yesterday? And you're correct, but that's not her normal behavior or wouldn't you have read about it by now?
Susan still loves to yell, scream and throw things but not at strangers, she saves that behavior for her family because she's just civilized that way. She combats the frustrating minutiae of her life by banging furiously at a keyboard cranking out TWISTED Susan posts day after day after day. Her modest fan base is right there with her letting her know she's not alone.
Day fifteen for anyone who's counting.
Susan is.
She figures that you're all thinking, but didn't she just stick her middle finger up at a guy yesterday? And you're correct, but that's not her normal behavior or wouldn't you have read about it by now?
Susan still loves to yell, scream and throw things but not at strangers, she saves that behavior for her family because she's just civilized that way. She combats the frustrating minutiae of her life by banging furiously at a keyboard cranking out TWISTED Susan posts day after day after day. Her modest fan base is right there with her letting her know she's not alone.
Day fifteen for anyone who's counting.
Susan is.
11.14.2009
Susan took her daughter out early on Saturday morning to run errands. They started at We Do It All Dental Care where Susan saw the b*tchy office c*nt again, and ended in the food store. Susan prefers one food store while the husband likes another, Susan was closer to the husband's so that's where she went. His food store was good for some things but not for others. For example, Susan stocked up on vegetables, canned tomatoes and spices but couldn't find acceptable toilet paper or laundry detergent.
Susan's daughter likes to push the shopping cart, which is fine by Susan because she prefers to be up on point scouting the aisle. The aisles are smaller than Susan's regular store and the patrons think nothing of cutting each other off without so much as a neighborly smile or a nod. Not the worst thing in the world, but Susan thought it rude. Susan and her daughter were navigating a turn into the soda aisle to pick up Susan's seltzer but were blocked by a store employee stocking shelves. He had a movable hand cart, sort of like the thing they transported Hannibal Lecter around on, filled with boxes. Susan said 'Excuse me' then waited for him to respond. Which he didn't. She knew that he heard her because she was standing immediately behind him and spoke clearly and in his native language.
Susan moved the cart herself as the store employee turned and gave her a look. 'This is what I meant by excuse me' she said, educating him to how he failed the small task she gave him. She turned her back and continued toward the seltzer, then spun around to give him the finger. She was happy when he caught her.
Susan's daughter likes to push the shopping cart, which is fine by Susan because she prefers to be up on point scouting the aisle. The aisles are smaller than Susan's regular store and the patrons think nothing of cutting each other off without so much as a neighborly smile or a nod. Not the worst thing in the world, but Susan thought it rude. Susan and her daughter were navigating a turn into the soda aisle to pick up Susan's seltzer but were blocked by a store employee stocking shelves. He had a movable hand cart, sort of like the thing they transported Hannibal Lecter around on, filled with boxes. Susan said 'Excuse me' then waited for him to respond. Which he didn't. She knew that he heard her because she was standing immediately behind him and spoke clearly and in his native language.
Susan moved the cart herself as the store employee turned and gave her a look. 'This is what I meant by excuse me' she said, educating him to how he failed the small task she gave him. She turned her back and continued toward the seltzer, then spun around to give him the finger. She was happy when he caught her.
11.13.2009
Susan rubbed elbows with a room full of emerging artists last night. Elbows and feet and rear ends, it was very crowded. The eldest of Susan's three nieces is in sleep away art school and was one of a group chosen to have their work exhibited in a gallery. Susan and her little sister's family went to the reception and had a lot of fun trying to maneuver from one side of the room to the other in order to see everything.
Susan's favorite was a pyramid shaped mixed media piece illuminated from within, sort of like an extroverted diorama. It was a collection of everything from horseshoe crabs to dolls heads, framed photographs, painted beer bottles & little boxes filled with Susan couldn't even see what. Susan also liked a very detailed collage, acrylic and painted panel on canvas which she got ample opportunity to admire while waiting her turn for the toilet. Of course she liked her niece's contribution, two panels screwed directly into the gallery wall that made Susan think of a colorful Guernica. Susan will admit to not liking everything her niece does, but what she likes she usually really likes.
In densely packed crowds Susan prefers never to mingle without alcohol but this evening she resisted the wine and was all over the thick chunks of dark chocolate served alongside cheese, fruit and pink frosted donuts.
One memorable moment came when Susan's niece introduced her to a tall blonde who extended her hand and informed Susan of her name while turning completely away to begin a conversation with the person next to her.
So rude to meet ya.
Anyway, it was a fun evening and now day thirteen is done.
Susan's favorite was a pyramid shaped mixed media piece illuminated from within, sort of like an extroverted diorama. It was a collection of everything from horseshoe crabs to dolls heads, framed photographs, painted beer bottles & little boxes filled with Susan couldn't even see what. Susan also liked a very detailed collage, acrylic and painted panel on canvas which she got ample opportunity to admire while waiting her turn for the toilet. Of course she liked her niece's contribution, two panels screwed directly into the gallery wall that made Susan think of a colorful Guernica. Susan will admit to not liking everything her niece does, but what she likes she usually really likes.
In densely packed crowds Susan prefers never to mingle without alcohol but this evening she resisted the wine and was all over the thick chunks of dark chocolate served alongside cheese, fruit and pink frosted donuts.
One memorable moment came when Susan's niece introduced her to a tall blonde who extended her hand and informed Susan of her name while turning completely away to begin a conversation with the person next to her.
So rude to meet ya.
Anyway, it was a fun evening and now day thirteen is done.
11.12.2009
A few years back Susan used to take the train to work. She liked walking the few blocks from her house to the station and if she had time she would stop at the newspaper stand and get a cup of coffee because the guy at the newspaper stand made good coffee. He spoke English as his second language and sometimes people would be short tempered with him so Susan always made sure that she said thank you extra sweet.
Every once in a while a politician would be waiting to ambush the commuters in front of the train platform. Oy, how Susan hated to waste any of the precious moments of her life ducking politicians. One morning when Susan didn't have any available time to spare she spied an old timer in khakis approaching commuters, accepting donations and handing out poppies. Drats! The old timer was right in her path, there was nowhere to go. Susan prepared herself for the encounter by reaching into her bag to grab a dollar but came up with a twenty. Fear stabbed her in the heart when she realized that's all she had.
Susan walked up to the veteran, conversated briefly and slipped him the twenty. He smiled a big smile, took a step back and saluted her.
Every once in a while a politician would be waiting to ambush the commuters in front of the train platform. Oy, how Susan hated to waste any of the precious moments of her life ducking politicians. One morning when Susan didn't have any available time to spare she spied an old timer in khakis approaching commuters, accepting donations and handing out poppies. Drats! The old timer was right in her path, there was nowhere to go. Susan prepared herself for the encounter by reaching into her bag to grab a dollar but came up with a twenty. Fear stabbed her in the heart when she realized that's all she had.
Susan walked up to the veteran, conversated briefly and slipped him the twenty. He smiled a big smile, took a step back and saluted her.
11.11.2009
Susan gave permission for her daughter to stay overnight in the home of complete strangers.
Later, she went over there with the husband and some brownies to see if she could get rid of a queasy feeling that she had.
Susan liked the strangers and it wasn't just because she was handed a plate of warm apple fritters topped with icecream faster than she was able to calculate how much fat & sugar they might have.
There was much lively conversation and the strangers had a ballsy romantic backstory that Susan found appealing.
It was a good first date and Susan would like to see them again.
Later, she went over there with the husband and some brownies to see if she could get rid of a queasy feeling that she had.
Susan liked the strangers and it wasn't just because she was handed a plate of warm apple fritters topped with icecream faster than she was able to calculate how much fat & sugar they might have.
There was much lively conversation and the strangers had a ballsy romantic backstory that Susan found appealing.
It was a good first date and Susan would like to see them again.
11.10.2009
Black Bean Chili
Day ten is brought to you courtesy of Susan's pal Dawn (hi, doll) who was intrigued by Susan's addition of pumpkin to her black bean chili. Throwing pumpkin into chili doesn't mess with the flavor, unless you want it to, then just add a little cinnamon.
1 large ONION, chopped
2 GARLIC cloves, minced (add more if you want more)
2 teaspoons ground CUMIN
2 tablespoons CHILI POWDER
4 cups canned black BEANS (make any bean substitution you like)
1 cup water
1/4 cup bottled chipotle sauce (Susan substitutes Goya CHIPOTLE PEPPERS in Adobo sauce)
1 tablespoon SUGAR
1 28 ounce can DICED TOMATOES
1/2 to 1 cup of PUMPKIN
*a few strips of turkey BACON, diced
Heat 1 tablespoon oil in pan, add turkey bacon & saute for five minutes then add onion and garlic, saute for another five until everything begins to brown.
Add the spices, cook 1 minute stirring constantly
Add beans and the remaining ingredients, stir to combine.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat & simmer 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
*Susan loves turkey bacon, not because it's going to fool anyone into thinking that it's real bacon, but because it provides a wonderful smoky sweet flavor.
The chipotle is what makes this Susan's favorite.
Plus it's easy.
And fast.
1 large ONION, chopped
2 GARLIC cloves, minced (add more if you want more)
2 teaspoons ground CUMIN
2 tablespoons CHILI POWDER
4 cups canned black BEANS (make any bean substitution you like)
1 cup water
1/4 cup bottled chipotle sauce (Susan substitutes Goya CHIPOTLE PEPPERS in Adobo sauce)
1 tablespoon SUGAR
1 28 ounce can DICED TOMATOES
1/2 to 1 cup of PUMPKIN
*a few strips of turkey BACON, diced
Heat 1 tablespoon oil in pan, add turkey bacon & saute for five minutes then add onion and garlic, saute for another five until everything begins to brown.
Add the spices, cook 1 minute stirring constantly
Add beans and the remaining ingredients, stir to combine.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat & simmer 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
*Susan loves turkey bacon, not because it's going to fool anyone into thinking that it's real bacon, but because it provides a wonderful smoky sweet flavor.
The chipotle is what makes this Susan's favorite.
Plus it's easy.
And fast.
11.09.2009
In Susan's chilly little corner of the universe it was warm on Sunday. For lack of anything better to do the husband proclaimed it Family Fun Day and handed everyone a rake. Susan wore a patch of skin off her hand in ten minutes,
a few people stepped in poop, and the yard got cleaned.
Susan even saw two ladybugs, unless the one inside was the same one that was outside and some mosquitoes showed up. How does that happen? They must reconstitute above a certain temperature. The husband played basketball in the street with the kids and time moved slowly, in a nice way.
Susan's front stoop is now swept and neat, colored lights frame the doorway and her threadbare welcome mat was recycled when she flipped it over.
A well placed sunny Sunday can make a big difference in Susan's mental outlook. At least temporarily.
a few people stepped in poop, and the yard got cleaned.
Susan even saw two ladybugs, unless the one inside was the same one that was outside and some mosquitoes showed up. How does that happen? They must reconstitute above a certain temperature. The husband played basketball in the street with the kids and time moved slowly, in a nice way.
Susan's front stoop is now swept and neat, colored lights frame the doorway and her threadbare welcome mat was recycled when she flipped it over.
A well placed sunny Sunday can make a big difference in Susan's mental outlook. At least temporarily.
11.08.2009
It's day eight but Susan's wants to blog about how she spent day seven cooking and baking to take her mind off of how f*cking broke she is. If having no available cash weren't bad enough, she ran out of garlic and is almost entirely out of flour and laundry soap.
Susan started the morning by stepping in dog pee.
Let's just assume that she steps in dog pee every day this way she won't have to waste energy mentioning it again and again.
In the shower she thought she was going to have a heart attack, Susan had to get a grip.
The only way out of this level of anxiety was to bake.
Earlier in the week she had opened a large can of pumpkin for who remembers what and her goal was now to use up the rest. Susan was sauteing the onions for her chili when she found out about the garlic. Argh.
She added the rest of the ingredients including a cup of pumpkin, she likes to add pumpkin to her chili.
She moved on to making two loaves of pumpkin bread while the chili simmered.
Susan mixed the last of the pumpkin into the batter for two brownies that she microwaved in cups, then she prepared some butternut squash for roasting.
The bread came out of the oven, the squash went in,
then the squash came out and in went a pan of brownies into which Susan had swirled peanut butter and jelly.
The husband likes them.
While she was waiting Susan made a simple orange glaze to pour over the bread.
Susan was able to relax enough to enjoy her Little sister's family when they came over to eat the brownies and watch a Woody Allen movie.
NaBloPoMo, who sez quality suffers?
Susan started the morning by stepping in dog pee.
Let's just assume that she steps in dog pee every day this way she won't have to waste energy mentioning it again and again.
In the shower she thought she was going to have a heart attack, Susan had to get a grip.
The only way out of this level of anxiety was to bake.
Earlier in the week she had opened a large can of pumpkin for who remembers what and her goal was now to use up the rest. Susan was sauteing the onions for her chili when she found out about the garlic. Argh.
She added the rest of the ingredients including a cup of pumpkin, she likes to add pumpkin to her chili.
She moved on to making two loaves of pumpkin bread while the chili simmered.
Susan mixed the last of the pumpkin into the batter for two brownies that she microwaved in cups, then she prepared some butternut squash for roasting.
The bread came out of the oven, the squash went in,
then the squash came out and in went a pan of brownies into which Susan had swirled peanut butter and jelly.
The husband likes them.
While she was waiting Susan made a simple orange glaze to pour over the bread.
Susan was able to relax enough to enjoy her Little sister's family when they came over to eat the brownies and watch a Woody Allen movie.
NaBloPoMo, who sez quality suffers?
11.07.2009
Even though Susan knows better she'll still pick up a Martha Stewart Living magazine if she sees one lying around. Susan doesn't dislike Martha or anything, she just finds her to be unrealistically labor intensive and a bit much with the table settings and fancy pie crusts.
The other day Susan found the current MSL sitting unattended so she grabbed it.
MSL starts off with Martha's Calendar and is filled with things like apply bonemeal to planted spring flowering bulbs and work it into the soil using a cultivator and
seal stone terraces. But it's not all ridiculous because she's also got stock liquor cabinet scheduled early in the month.
Martha shows us how to make a simple birdseed and suet bird feeder molded in a wonton soup container, but first we must rend two pounds of suet. Next.
How about cooking a spatchcocked turkey? It requires that we cut out the backbone, open the turkey like a book & then break the breastbone on each side so that the turkey lies flat.
Glitter painting could be adapted into a cute craft if Susan gave a crap.
There were a number of quick breads that looked to be right up Susan's alley but they each required two sticks of butter. That's a stick and a half too much.
There were plenty of recipes and crafts and articles but Susan wasn't interested in any of them. The one thing that stood out were how many advertisements there were for Martha's own products; Martha Stewart Weddings, Martha Stewart's Dinner at Home, Martha Stewart Tinsel Glitters, Martha Stewart for 1-800-Fowers.com, Martha Stewart for grandinroad and Martha Stewart in a Got Milk? ad.
Susan will be dropping MSL into the magazine recycling bin at her library over the weekend.
Day seven's in the books.
The other day Susan found the current MSL sitting unattended so she grabbed it.
MSL starts off with Martha's Calendar and is filled with things like apply bonemeal to planted spring flowering bulbs and work it into the soil using a cultivator and
seal stone terraces. But it's not all ridiculous because she's also got stock liquor cabinet scheduled early in the month.
Martha shows us how to make a simple birdseed and suet bird feeder molded in a wonton soup container, but first we must rend two pounds of suet. Next.
How about cooking a spatchcocked turkey? It requires that we cut out the backbone, open the turkey like a book & then break the breastbone on each side so that the turkey lies flat.
Glitter painting could be adapted into a cute craft if Susan gave a crap.
There were a number of quick breads that looked to be right up Susan's alley but they each required two sticks of butter. That's a stick and a half too much.
There were plenty of recipes and crafts and articles but Susan wasn't interested in any of them. The one thing that stood out were how many advertisements there were for Martha's own products; Martha Stewart Weddings, Martha Stewart's Dinner at Home, Martha Stewart Tinsel Glitters, Martha Stewart for 1-800-Fowers.com, Martha Stewart for grandinroad and Martha Stewart in a Got Milk? ad.
Susan will be dropping MSL into the magazine recycling bin at her library over the weekend.
Day seven's in the books.
11.06.2009
Project Runway
Day 6.
How come Susan's not all excited about PR this season?
I mean, she still watches it but she doesn't bother calling her little sister the next day to talk about it, she doesn't care about who makes what, there's not even anybody who bugs her. What's wrong? Do you think it's Susan? Because she thinks it's them.
On second thought, there are a few things that have bugged her this season; she totally doesn't want to watch the designers interact with eachother unless they're ganging up to b*tch about someone. She's had it with faggy boys who giggle and run like girls. Had it.
Epperson kind of bugged her but she can't remember why. At any rate, she's glad she doesn't have to look at his forehead or listen to anyone say 'Epperson' anymore.
She didn't like Nicholas' fat face, greasy hair and boring blather. She was glad when he got booted off too.
Are you a little surprised to see Susan turning ugly? A little disappointed? Susan believes that TV people have signed up for this sort of nasty scrutiny and she doesn't feel bad for providing it.
Susan found that she likes Christopher's voluminous ruffly things, it makes her all weepy for everything that Christian made last season. Christopher is lucky he made it this far, he won't live much longer.
We all know that the mean girl, Irina is going to win because she's the most talented and has the stomach for cutthroat business interactions.
How come Susan's not all excited about PR this season?
I mean, she still watches it but she doesn't bother calling her little sister the next day to talk about it, she doesn't care about who makes what, there's not even anybody who bugs her. What's wrong? Do you think it's Susan? Because she thinks it's them.
On second thought, there are a few things that have bugged her this season; she totally doesn't want to watch the designers interact with eachother unless they're ganging up to b*tch about someone. She's had it with faggy boys who giggle and run like girls. Had it.
Epperson kind of bugged her but she can't remember why. At any rate, she's glad she doesn't have to look at his forehead or listen to anyone say 'Epperson' anymore.
She didn't like Nicholas' fat face, greasy hair and boring blather. She was glad when he got booted off too.
Are you a little surprised to see Susan turning ugly? A little disappointed? Susan believes that TV people have signed up for this sort of nasty scrutiny and she doesn't feel bad for providing it.
Susan found that she likes Christopher's voluminous ruffly things, it makes her all weepy for everything that Christian made last season. Christopher is lucky he made it this far, he won't live much longer.
We all know that the mean girl, Irina is going to win because she's the most talented and has the stomach for cutthroat business interactions.
11.05.2009
Day five; Dental issues.
Over the weekend Susan's temporary cap fell out and she bit it in two. She's already fed up with her dental practice even though it's a relatively new relationship. She had four teeth requiring attention when she sought the intervention of We Do It All Dental Care. The first problem was left over from 2001 when she bit into a Baby Ruth candy bar and swallowed half her tooth. The most recent problem was earlier this year when she bit into a soft piece of macaroni and said 'Ouch!'
Anyway, We Do It All was very nice while they were courting Susan but once she turned herself over to them they were all You owe us $150 for today's visit every bloody time she went. Then, when Susan was sitting in the chair about to have a permanent tooth installed she was invited to leave and come back six weeks later, the length of time it took them to clear up a previous insurance discrepancy. Susan wasn't down with that at all and didn't go back for months and months and months until she got a letter saying that We Do It All was cutting Susan loose and where did she want her dental records sent?
Susan returned this past Saturday to have them finish what they started. However, since she'd been avoiding them for so long the permanent tooth didn't fit and another one would have to be made at an additional cost. They cemented the old temporary back in and sent her to the b*tchy office c*nt to make an appointment for two weeks later. Susan sat directly in front of the b*tchy office c*nt for a full three minutes and was never told that she still had some powdery white cement on her chin. Susan found this out in public when she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror.
Later that evening after Susan bit her temporary cap in two she phoned We Do It All and got their service.
We Do It All except phone Susan back apparently.
Over the weekend Susan's temporary cap fell out and she bit it in two. She's already fed up with her dental practice even though it's a relatively new relationship. She had four teeth requiring attention when she sought the intervention of We Do It All Dental Care. The first problem was left over from 2001 when she bit into a Baby Ruth candy bar and swallowed half her tooth. The most recent problem was earlier this year when she bit into a soft piece of macaroni and said 'Ouch!'
Anyway, We Do It All was very nice while they were courting Susan but once she turned herself over to them they were all You owe us $150 for today's visit every bloody time she went. Then, when Susan was sitting in the chair about to have a permanent tooth installed she was invited to leave and come back six weeks later, the length of time it took them to clear up a previous insurance discrepancy. Susan wasn't down with that at all and didn't go back for months and months and months until she got a letter saying that We Do It All was cutting Susan loose and where did she want her dental records sent?
Susan returned this past Saturday to have them finish what they started. However, since she'd been avoiding them for so long the permanent tooth didn't fit and another one would have to be made at an additional cost. They cemented the old temporary back in and sent her to the b*tchy office c*nt to make an appointment for two weeks later. Susan sat directly in front of the b*tchy office c*nt for a full three minutes and was never told that she still had some powdery white cement on her chin. Susan found this out in public when she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror.
Later that evening after Susan bit her temporary cap in two she phoned We Do It All and got their service.
We Do It All except phone Susan back apparently.
11.04.2009
On day four Susan got her hair cut.
She likes to keep it short, lesbian short. Susan's former therapist said that she made herself a visual target,
why can't Susan just like her hair short?
She goes to a neighborhood place where Kitty cuts her hair for twelve dollars. They each have a boy in the same grade and a girl in the same grade, so they compare disciplinary strategies. Susan and Kitty agree that jumping up & down and screaming is essential for the relaxing after-effect it has on the screamer. It's not so good as a motivational tool.
Susan used to go to a friend's salon and pay forty dollars for the haircut, forty for the color and ten dollars to the girl who washed her hair. But that was one job & a recession ago, now Susan buys a box of L'Oreal #6R and likes the color better.
Periodically Susan gets the impression that some may think her hairstyle too short, but that's alright. Susan's almost fifty (well, next year) and doesn't mind when someone isn't in love with her hair as long as they keep it to themselves.
Can't wait till day five, eh?
She likes to keep it short, lesbian short. Susan's former therapist said that she made herself a visual target,
why can't Susan just like her hair short?
She goes to a neighborhood place where Kitty cuts her hair for twelve dollars. They each have a boy in the same grade and a girl in the same grade, so they compare disciplinary strategies. Susan and Kitty agree that jumping up & down and screaming is essential for the relaxing after-effect it has on the screamer. It's not so good as a motivational tool.
Susan used to go to a friend's salon and pay forty dollars for the haircut, forty for the color and ten dollars to the girl who washed her hair. But that was one job & a recession ago, now Susan buys a box of L'Oreal #6R and likes the color better.
Periodically Susan gets the impression that some may think her hairstyle too short, but that's alright. Susan's almost fifty (well, next year) and doesn't mind when someone isn't in love with her hair as long as they keep it to themselves.
Can't wait till day five, eh?
11.03.2009
Day three and Susan has nothing to write about.
She told you all that this would happen and yet,
you encouraged her. She hopes you're happy now.
Sit back and hear why Susan was unsatisfied with her lunch today.
One of the perks of Susan's workplace, Acme Sweatshop, is that lunch is provided for the employees. Susan isn't about to b*tch about the hand that feeds her because she generally enjoys her lunches, but not always.
Today, Susan got to lunch late and found a solitary plate of cold pizza waiting for her. This was totally not going to be enough food to carry Susan through the afternoon, neither was it a good looking plate of cold pizza. She went into the kitchen to see what else was available and found a plate of lettuce. Not salad greens with some olives or a tomato, just a plate of lettuce. Even Susan's mother served a better salad back in the '70s.
Susan took the plate of lettuce and the plate of cold pizza and a cup of salad dressing over to a table to join an old Real Estate section of the Times already waiting. She cut up her pizza, dumped it onto the lettuce and poured the dressing over it. She ate it without enthusiasm while reading how it takes over an hour for a fella from Brooklyn to mass transit himself to his girlfriend in upper Manhattan, 14 miles away.
Susan will see you tomorrow.
She told you all that this would happen and yet,
you encouraged her. She hopes you're happy now.
Sit back and hear why Susan was unsatisfied with her lunch today.
One of the perks of Susan's workplace, Acme Sweatshop, is that lunch is provided for the employees. Susan isn't about to b*tch about the hand that feeds her because she generally enjoys her lunches, but not always.
Today, Susan got to lunch late and found a solitary plate of cold pizza waiting for her. This was totally not going to be enough food to carry Susan through the afternoon, neither was it a good looking plate of cold pizza. She went into the kitchen to see what else was available and found a plate of lettuce. Not salad greens with some olives or a tomato, just a plate of lettuce. Even Susan's mother served a better salad back in the '70s.
Susan took the plate of lettuce and the plate of cold pizza and a cup of salad dressing over to a table to join an old Real Estate section of the Times already waiting. She cut up her pizza, dumped it onto the lettuce and poured the dressing over it. She ate it without enthusiasm while reading how it takes over an hour for a fella from Brooklyn to mass transit himself to his girlfriend in upper Manhattan, 14 miles away.
Susan will see you tomorrow.
11.02.2009
Susan has been preparing for the final days of her elderly, semi-continent, arthritic dog by giving her food from the table, letting her sleep on the couch and by not over reacting when she pees on Susan's feet.
The twelve year old boxer has slowed down but still able to enjoy her usual compliment of activities; roaming the yard, licking grease from the barbecue, having a nosh from the compost pile, trying to hump the neighbor's dog. Then last week she took to the couch and didn't leave except to eat and go potty, by invitation. When Susan came home from work the dog would barely look up, making no effort to move around or even wag her tail. Sad stuff. Susan knew that the dog would not be around to beg for food at Thanksgiving.
Susan took an old quilt and threw it on top of the dog's bed for when she couldn't make it back onto the couch. Susan watched as the dog attempted to position herself on the quilt, obviously in pain, but collapsed instead and fell asleep as if she had no strength at all to make the teeniest adjustment to her limbs or head. From this point on Susan began checking that the dog was still breathing and discussed with the husband about where they would bury her.
Friday night Susan had a date with her little sister to watch 'All About Eve' at cousin Lisa's house. She told everyone of her impending loss, got a little sympathy then they all sat down to watch watching Bette Davis and Celeste Holm grow to hate Anne Baxter.
Saturday morning Susan's neighbor came over to let his dogs run in her yard, this attracted the elderly, deaf dog's attention so she got off the couch and hobbled outside to see what was up. She seemed to make a teeny bit of a comeback keeping her distance from the other dogs but walking and pooping with much less of a labored effort.
For the rest of the afternoon she was barking at trick or treaters, following people into the kitchen and walking down the back steps of the deck instead of falling down them. At dinner she took her usual spot underneath the dining table instead of sleeping through it in the living room.
This is all Susan needed to cheer her up and banish the dog from the couch once again.
The twelve year old boxer has slowed down but still able to enjoy her usual compliment of activities; roaming the yard, licking grease from the barbecue, having a nosh from the compost pile, trying to hump the neighbor's dog. Then last week she took to the couch and didn't leave except to eat and go potty, by invitation. When Susan came home from work the dog would barely look up, making no effort to move around or even wag her tail. Sad stuff. Susan knew that the dog would not be around to beg for food at Thanksgiving.
Susan took an old quilt and threw it on top of the dog's bed for when she couldn't make it back onto the couch. Susan watched as the dog attempted to position herself on the quilt, obviously in pain, but collapsed instead and fell asleep as if she had no strength at all to make the teeniest adjustment to her limbs or head. From this point on Susan began checking that the dog was still breathing and discussed with the husband about where they would bury her.
Friday night Susan had a date with her little sister to watch 'All About Eve' at cousin Lisa's house. She told everyone of her impending loss, got a little sympathy then they all sat down to watch watching Bette Davis and Celeste Holm grow to hate Anne Baxter.
Saturday morning Susan's neighbor came over to let his dogs run in her yard, this attracted the elderly, deaf dog's attention so she got off the couch and hobbled outside to see what was up. She seemed to make a teeny bit of a comeback keeping her distance from the other dogs but walking and pooping with much less of a labored effort.
For the rest of the afternoon she was barking at trick or treaters, following people into the kitchen and walking down the back steps of the deck instead of falling down them. At dinner she took her usual spot underneath the dining table instead of sleeping through it in the living room.
This is all Susan needed to cheer her up and banish the dog from the couch once again.
11.01.2009
NoMoToSay
As TWISTED, smart & funny as Susan may be she's unable to consistently come up with anything worth reading. Beginning right this second Susan has decided to enter NaBloPoMo and force herself to write a blog post every day for a month. Oy. Susan's better suited to WipeHerHineyEveryDay because she's pretty confident that she can work it into her schedule.
Susan's not sure what constitutes a regulation post with NaBloPoMo. Four sentences? She doesn't know if she can even think up four sentences every day and then squeeze them in between all the other things she's got to do, like;
managing her economic anxiety
wiggling her broken tooth
giving her elderly dog cookies for no good reason
muting all the television commercials
and making Hamburger Helper again for dinner.
This is barely even a post, but it'll have to do.
managing her economic anxiety
wiggling her broken tooth
giving her elderly dog cookies for no good reason
muting all the television commercials
and making Hamburger Helper again for dinner.
This is barely even a post, but it'll have to do.
10.25.2009
Sunday Papers
Susan waits all week for the Sunday papers.
She reads the cheeky lowbrow NY Post along with the know it all NY Times. Susan herself doesn't know it all because she only reads the sections that she's in the mood for. This generally means no politics beyond who's where doing what and sometimes barely that much.
When Susan chose to stop commuting four hours a day to a job that she loved in NYC she had to quit reading
The Post because it just made her sad. Eventually she got used to waking up with the sun and goofing off at an easy civil service job, um, toiling in service for the citizens of
New York state and was able to enjoy The Post again.
She thinks Alfred E. Neuman writes it.
Sunday morning always finds her at the table with a cup of coffee and her index finger pointing to the last word she read before the husband started talking. His own paper is open & he's usually making a crack about the president while Susan rolls her eyes and tells him he sounds like a bitching housewife and will he finally stop talking so she can continue reading.
He doesn't.
Susan enjoyed reading this story.
She reads the cheeky lowbrow NY Post along with the know it all NY Times. Susan herself doesn't know it all because she only reads the sections that she's in the mood for. This generally means no politics beyond who's where doing what and sometimes barely that much.
When Susan chose to stop commuting four hours a day to a job that she loved in NYC she had to quit reading
The Post because it just made her sad. Eventually she got used to waking up with the sun and goofing off at an easy civil service job, um, toiling in service for the citizens of
New York state and was able to enjoy The Post again.
She thinks Alfred E. Neuman writes it.
Sunday morning always finds her at the table with a cup of coffee and her index finger pointing to the last word she read before the husband started talking. His own paper is open & he's usually making a crack about the president while Susan rolls her eyes and tells him he sounds like a bitching housewife and will he finally stop talking so she can continue reading.
He doesn't.
Susan enjoyed reading this story.
10.23.2009
Obviously Susan Needs Some Attention
Susan has been fantasizing about reorganizing her recipes. She's been thinking about which ones she'd copy from her cookbooks, slip into plastic sleeves then place into a central binder. She was daydreaming about all the squash recipes she's saved but never tried. She wishes she were lucky enough to have a big beautiful refrigerator like Cousin Lisa where nothing ever ends up as a sticky black puddle. She knows that everything in her life would improve if only she could repaint the benches in her dining room.
Other times Susan fantasizes about smashing everything in her house, but that's only when her son walks into her line of vision.
Susan seeks refuge in her bed more and more lately.
She doesn't mind having company, as long as her companion has not been previously banished from her sight. Sometimes she takes the laptop or a section from last Sunday's paper or a glass of wine. She finds herself thinking about when she's an old lady and wonders where she'll end up, will little sister be with her and how early they'll be able to have a cocktail.
Other times Susan fantasizes about smashing everything in her house, but that's only when her son walks into her line of vision.
Susan seeks refuge in her bed more and more lately.
She doesn't mind having company, as long as her companion has not been previously banished from her sight. Sometimes she takes the laptop or a section from last Sunday's paper or a glass of wine. She finds herself thinking about when she's an old lady and wonders where she'll end up, will little sister be with her and how early they'll be able to have a cocktail.
10.19.2009
Middle School Progress Reports
The next five weeks of Susan's son's immediate future have been modified to exclude video games, television, the computer, and weekend interaction with his peers. Initially the son replaced the loss of these activities with sleeping but after a day or two he began considering some crazy alternatives, like reading books and helping mommy cook. He now knows how to roast red peppers, crush garlic and use the food processor.
Susan's modest fan base is already familiar with her son Fuckleupagus, newcomers may catch up here and here and here.
Susan enjoys plunging her son's world into a dark pit of boredom but she'd give it up if he'd just start handing in his assignments.
He doesn't have difficulty with comprehension, just execution. Sometimes a teacher will accept a late assignment for fifty percent credit. Susan's son explains that the absent assignment only accounts for a small percentage of the grade & therefore lacks true significance. To him, it's acceptable to complete one hundred percent of the work for half on the dollar because he also operates under the misguided idea that knowing the material is enough.
This is the third year in a row that Susan has been unable to manage her son away from this counter productive behavior. She understands that he doesn't value grades so she must find a way to inspire him to value having a calm and happy mother. She attempted this by screaming at him as loud as she's ever screamed in her life. She screamed at him so loudly she thought her eyeballs would explode and her throat would burst open and gush blood. When she was done she turned total responsibility for him over to the husband and then banished him from her sight indefinitely.
Susan's modest fan base is already familiar with her son Fuckleupagus, newcomers may catch up here and here and here.
Susan enjoys plunging her son's world into a dark pit of boredom but she'd give it up if he'd just start handing in his assignments.
He doesn't have difficulty with comprehension, just execution. Sometimes a teacher will accept a late assignment for fifty percent credit. Susan's son explains that the absent assignment only accounts for a small percentage of the grade & therefore lacks true significance. To him, it's acceptable to complete one hundred percent of the work for half on the dollar because he also operates under the misguided idea that knowing the material is enough.
This is the third year in a row that Susan has been unable to manage her son away from this counter productive behavior. She understands that he doesn't value grades so she must find a way to inspire him to value having a calm and happy mother. She attempted this by screaming at him as loud as she's ever screamed in her life. She screamed at him so loudly she thought her eyeballs would explode and her throat would burst open and gush blood. When she was done she turned total responsibility for him over to the husband and then banished him from her sight indefinitely.
10.18.2009
Sabado Gigante
Last night Susan saw the show that TV was invented for, Sabado Gigante.
Susan's not sure what was going on but it appeared to be a low end talent show, all in Spanish. There was a sleazyish host, a masked person costumed in silver and black, a dancing midget dressed as Dracula and a series of regular folk with bad coiffures who took the stage to sing then leave. Periodically there was a line of girls in tighty tight outfits jiggling to beat the band, nothing new there. The Dracula midget was by far Susan's favorite, she wishes there was one in every show on TV.
Later in the program the sleazyish host took to the street to interview Spanish food cart vendors in Harlem.
Exciting stuff.
He chose the ear of one unfortunate female vendor into which to whisper but she totally blew him off. Good girl.
He was able to attract a number of bystanders who wanted to sing for him including a Spanish cowboy, hat and all.
Susan's already highlighted this program in her TV Guide for next week.
Susan's not sure what was going on but it appeared to be a low end talent show, all in Spanish. There was a sleazyish host, a masked person costumed in silver and black, a dancing midget dressed as Dracula and a series of regular folk with bad coiffures who took the stage to sing then leave. Periodically there was a line of girls in tighty tight outfits jiggling to beat the band, nothing new there. The Dracula midget was by far Susan's favorite, she wishes there was one in every show on TV.
Later in the program the sleazyish host took to the street to interview Spanish food cart vendors in Harlem.
Exciting stuff.
He chose the ear of one unfortunate female vendor into which to whisper but she totally blew him off. Good girl.
He was able to attract a number of bystanders who wanted to sing for him including a Spanish cowboy, hat and all.
Susan's already highlighted this program in her TV Guide for next week.
10.15.2009
Susan Turns On The Heat
Not the sexy heat or the persuasive heat, Susan turned the dial on the thermostat and made her house warm.
At this time last year Susan was unemployed and wouldn't turn on the heat unless someone in the house reported seeing their breath. It takes 8 weeks to run through a tank of heating oil, every day she didn't use the heat would mean an extra day of being warm when it was really cold. But, it already was really cold and getting through the unemployed days became a feat of endurance.
Some days it was warmer outside.
Susan rarely left the house, she'd throw her big gray hooded sweater over whatever she was wearing then go into the kitchen to cook curry. If she spent the day on the computer, another favorite activity during that period, she'd wear two sweaters and a blanket on her lap. Everybody bundled up to go to bed.
Ultimately, the husband was responsible for pulling the plug on the freezing house. He turned on the heat November 15th, Susan remembers the date.
This year Susan briefly considered running the endurance contest again, then a cold gray windy rain rattled her windows and snapped the patio umbrella in half.
She turned on the heat and braced herself for warmth.
At this time last year Susan was unemployed and wouldn't turn on the heat unless someone in the house reported seeing their breath. It takes 8 weeks to run through a tank of heating oil, every day she didn't use the heat would mean an extra day of being warm when it was really cold. But, it already was really cold and getting through the unemployed days became a feat of endurance.
Some days it was warmer outside.
Susan rarely left the house, she'd throw her big gray hooded sweater over whatever she was wearing then go into the kitchen to cook curry. If she spent the day on the computer, another favorite activity during that period, she'd wear two sweaters and a blanket on her lap. Everybody bundled up to go to bed.
Ultimately, the husband was responsible for pulling the plug on the freezing house. He turned on the heat November 15th, Susan remembers the date.
This year Susan briefly considered running the endurance contest again, then a cold gray windy rain rattled her windows and snapped the patio umbrella in half.
She turned on the heat and braced herself for warmth.
10.11.2009
Church, Week 6
Who were those people sitting in front of Susan who kept touching throughout the service? They were no kids, they were parents of teenage children for crissakes!
As she has previously mentioned the Church of Susan's Experiment is small and anything happening in the pew ahead of Susan will be happening in her personal space. So, hugging, touching, hair stroking, scooting unusually close together, all this is right in her face. Perhaps they came directly from their Marriage Encounter weekend. Whatever.
Susan likes her spouse as much as the next frustrated over-extended tired suburban working mother and is content to hold his hand in close social situations, but enough with the touching.
Susan thinks church is growing on her.
This week she liked how they sang a gospel song in a white people way.
She almost got her son to investigate the youth group after the service.
Maybe next time.
As she has previously mentioned the Church of Susan's Experiment is small and anything happening in the pew ahead of Susan will be happening in her personal space. So, hugging, touching, hair stroking, scooting unusually close together, all this is right in her face. Perhaps they came directly from their Marriage Encounter weekend. Whatever.
Susan likes her spouse as much as the next frustrated over-extended tired suburban working mother and is content to hold his hand in close social situations, but enough with the touching.
Susan thinks church is growing on her.
This week she liked how they sang a gospel song in a white people way.
She almost got her son to investigate the youth group after the service.
Maybe next time.
10.09.2009
Susan was messing around on the computer and discovered that it was Jackson Browne's birthday. OMG! Jackson Browne is like an old pal who helped shape Susan in to who she is today.
He started when she was fourteen and would lie next to her on the cold carpeted floor of her ancestral home singing to her through giant headphones until they were like one person. She was attracted to all that moody sadness and emptiness because that's how she felt. She loved his imperfect voice, angular face and the way his hair was always falling into his eyes. His lyrics took up much of her emotional energy, she wondered how he could be so clever to think them up in the first place and then fit them into songs. As she matured she was happy to find that love isn't always sad, disappointment is relative and there were people on whom she could always rely.
Susan eventually moved on to the Clash and Nine Inch Nails and Modest Mouse, she was living her life, not thinking about who she would become. She didn't need Jackson Browne anymore because he had already done his work. He taught her that she is responsible for wherever she ends up, that things wouldn't always work out but she has to keep trying, and it's her job to find the meaning in her own life.
This is Susan in a nutshell.
Oh, and on her honeymoon Susan found herself standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona and was a little surprised to see what a dump it was.
He started when she was fourteen and would lie next to her on the cold carpeted floor of her ancestral home singing to her through giant headphones until they were like one person. She was attracted to all that moody sadness and emptiness because that's how she felt. She loved his imperfect voice, angular face and the way his hair was always falling into his eyes. His lyrics took up much of her emotional energy, she wondered how he could be so clever to think them up in the first place and then fit them into songs. As she matured she was happy to find that love isn't always sad, disappointment is relative and there were people on whom she could always rely.
Susan eventually moved on to the Clash and Nine Inch Nails and Modest Mouse, she was living her life, not thinking about who she would become. She didn't need Jackson Browne anymore because he had already done his work. He taught her that she is responsible for wherever she ends up, that things wouldn't always work out but she has to keep trying, and it's her job to find the meaning in her own life.
This is Susan in a nutshell.
Oh, and on her honeymoon Susan found herself standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona and was a little surprised to see what a dump it was.
10.07.2009
Tomorrow's Another Day
Susan became completely unhinged while on the phone with the husband the other night. She caught the dog sneaking back upstairs after it had peed on the carpeting. The dog pees all the time and Susan doesn't care because it's on wood and linoleum, but she doesn't need a f*cking carpet cleaning job to take care of when she's not even keeping up with the regular cleaning jobs. Grrrrrr!
Her frustration over the dog compromised the protective barrier she maintains to hold back all the rest of her frustration. Everything exited through her mouth,
over the phone, into the husband's ear.
All her anger, private opinions and general hopelessness that anything in the world will ever work out was now open for discussion, which isn't really what she wanted to do. Luckily, the husband has a deep understanding of his TWISTED Susan and treated her tirade like any other conversation.
She calmed down, waited for him to get home, watched Top Chef and went to sleep.
Her frustration over the dog compromised the protective barrier she maintains to hold back all the rest of her frustration. Everything exited through her mouth,
over the phone, into the husband's ear.
All her anger, private opinions and general hopelessness that anything in the world will ever work out was now open for discussion, which isn't really what she wanted to do. Luckily, the husband has a deep understanding of his TWISTED Susan and treated her tirade like any other conversation.
She calmed down, waited for him to get home, watched Top Chef and went to sleep.
10.05.2009
Susan's Fall Wardrobe
Susan took the opportunity afforded by the seasonal rotation of her clothing to get rid of half of what she owned. There wasn't much to begin with, just what her closet will accommodate, roughly two weeks worth of outfits. She has a lot of black because she can always find something black, but she does what she can to incorporate things that aren't black as well. When she's got money she loves nothing more than to try spending it on clothing in nice stores with coffee bars. But, when funding is tight Susan relies heavily on the thrift store.
Susan and the thrift store had a rocky start; she was home with small children and needed to compile a work wardrobe on the dirt cheap. She was filled with shame and dread that someone would discover her poking through other people's old clothes. That was until she found something she liked.
Susan can remember exactly what she purchased in those early days; the fitted jackets vaguely reminiscent of the '40s, a black and white herringbone skirt, a large tote with a great lining and fake Kate Spade label, the strands of pearls with pretty clasps. She's not immune to mistakes with her thrifty choices, like a certain shiny gray tailored shirt, some short pleated skirts and a pair of mom jeans. There's more, but Susan learns from her mistakes, she's also developed some rules for how to wear other people's old clothes.
Only one piece of vintage at a time.
If something is a little extreme like a tapestry jacket with three quarter sleeves everything else has to be simple.
It's OK to spend fifteen dollars in alterations on a five dollar skirt.
On Saturday Susan turned twenty five dollars into two tailored shirts and a soft white button down sweater, the type that I Love Lucy might wear. Then she went home, did her laundry and spent an hour ironing everything in her closet. She didn't mind at all.
Susan and the thrift store had a rocky start; she was home with small children and needed to compile a work wardrobe on the dirt cheap. She was filled with shame and dread that someone would discover her poking through other people's old clothes. That was until she found something she liked.
Susan can remember exactly what she purchased in those early days; the fitted jackets vaguely reminiscent of the '40s, a black and white herringbone skirt, a large tote with a great lining and fake Kate Spade label, the strands of pearls with pretty clasps. She's not immune to mistakes with her thrifty choices, like a certain shiny gray tailored shirt, some short pleated skirts and a pair of mom jeans. There's more, but Susan learns from her mistakes, she's also developed some rules for how to wear other people's old clothes.
Only one piece of vintage at a time.
If something is a little extreme like a tapestry jacket with three quarter sleeves everything else has to be simple.
It's OK to spend fifteen dollars in alterations on a five dollar skirt.
On Saturday Susan turned twenty five dollars into two tailored shirts and a soft white button down sweater, the type that I Love Lucy might wear. Then she went home, did her laundry and spent an hour ironing everything in her closet. She didn't mind at all.
10.03.2009
Friday Night Date
Even after so many, many years together Susan's husband is still a spontaneous romantic.
Friday night immediately after dinner he announced that he was taking Susan out.
Just like that, out!
They kissed the kids, grabbed the keys and disappeared.
They didn't have to go far because there was a place right in the neighborhood that was perfect. It was all decked out in fall splendor with pumpkins and pot upon pot of golden mums and purple kale.
Susan and the husband walked around and talked about all sorts of things. The husband spent even more money than he spent on Susan's birthday. In fact he looked a little shocked when everything was added up. But, then Susan pulled out her coupons and they packed up their groceries and went home.
Friday night immediately after dinner he announced that he was taking Susan out.
Just like that, out!
They kissed the kids, grabbed the keys and disappeared.
They didn't have to go far because there was a place right in the neighborhood that was perfect. It was all decked out in fall splendor with pumpkins and pot upon pot of golden mums and purple kale.
Susan and the husband walked around and talked about all sorts of things. The husband spent even more money than he spent on Susan's birthday. In fact he looked a little shocked when everything was added up. But, then Susan pulled out her coupons and they packed up their groceries and went home.
10.01.2009
Middle Eastern Shepherd's Pie
The night before payday and Susan had one red pepper and one pound of ground turkey in the back of her refrigerator. As if by magic, a recipe she tore out of somewhere long ago requiring those two ingredients and not many more revealed itself to her. She doesn't know how ketchup, cumin and raisins make something middle eastern but she didn't care because she had all the ingredients and she was committed. Her expectations were low. It didn't smell like much as she cooked and no one had a word to say while they ate. She was delighted to discover that her family loved dinner and gave permission for her to make it again which is fantastic because it's bloody simple.
POTATO TOPPING;
2 lbs POTATOES, scrubbed
1/2 cup chicken BROTH (bouillon, whatever)
1 tablespoon OLIVE OIL
1/4 teaspoon SALT
Prick potatoes all over, microwave for 7 minutes, turn & give them 7 more (unless they're small potatoes, in which case you won't need the additional seven minutes).
Cut in half & let cool.
MEAT FILLING;
1 lb GROUND TURKEY (ground beef, whatever you like)
1 RED PEPPER, diced (substituted from the original green pepper)
1 ONION, chopped
2 tablespoons CAPERS (Susan hates these & left them out)
1/2 teaspoon CUMIN
1/2 teaspoon SALT
1/4 teaspoon CINNAMON
1/8 teaspoon BLACK PEPPER
1/4 cup RAISINS
1/4 cup KETCHUP
Preheat oven to 425*
Combine ground turkey, cumin, cinnamon, salt, black pepper, red pepper & onion in a skillet. Cook over medium high, stirring to break up meat until it's no longer pink and vegetables are tender. Stir in capers (yuck), raisins and ketchup, cook a few more minutes until mixture is fairly dry. Transfer to pie plate or any similarly sized receptacle and press to flatten.
Scoop out potato flesh and combine with broth, olive oil & salt. Mash and spread evenly over top of meat. Into the oven for 15 minutes or until potatoes begin to brown.
This serves four, but next time Susan's going to double the recipe and make it in a lasagna pan.
Ed. note: Susan modified the cooking process thusly: Saute the diced pepper & onions first, cook the turkey, drain. Combine everything and cook for the last few minutes.
POTATO TOPPING;
2 lbs POTATOES, scrubbed
1/2 cup chicken BROTH (bouillon, whatever)
1 tablespoon OLIVE OIL
1/4 teaspoon SALT
Prick potatoes all over, microwave for 7 minutes, turn & give them 7 more (unless they're small potatoes, in which case you won't need the additional seven minutes).
Cut in half & let cool.
MEAT FILLING;
1 lb GROUND TURKEY (ground beef, whatever you like)
1 RED PEPPER, diced (substituted from the original green pepper)
1 ONION, chopped
2 tablespoons CAPERS (Susan hates these & left them out)
1/2 teaspoon CUMIN
1/2 teaspoon SALT
1/4 teaspoon CINNAMON
1/8 teaspoon BLACK PEPPER
1/4 cup RAISINS
1/4 cup KETCHUP
Preheat oven to 425*
Combine ground turkey, cumin, cinnamon, salt, black pepper, red pepper & onion in a skillet. Cook over medium high, stirring to break up meat until it's no longer pink and vegetables are tender. Stir in capers (yuck), raisins and ketchup, cook a few more minutes until mixture is fairly dry. Transfer to pie plate or any similarly sized receptacle and press to flatten.
Scoop out potato flesh and combine with broth, olive oil & salt. Mash and spread evenly over top of meat. Into the oven for 15 minutes or until potatoes begin to brown.
This serves four, but next time Susan's going to double the recipe and make it in a lasagna pan.
Ed. note: Susan modified the cooking process thusly: Saute the diced pepper & onions first, cook the turkey, drain. Combine everything and cook for the last few minutes.
9.30.2009
An Apology
Susan would like to apologize to her modest fan base for her recent period of lax posting and explain why it's not her fault.
Her job as a sweatshop seamstress keeps her away from home for so long each day that her family no longer waits dinner, instead she finds a plate covered with tinfoil on the dining room table. If she has a glass of wine with dinner then there's no hope of posting for the evening or doing laundry or anything else. If she doesn't then she's got to get in line for the laptop behind three people who don't give a crap about her BLAHg schedule.
There is a noticeable difference in the quality of her posts when she begins blogging after everyone's gone to bed and doesn't end till 1am. Her brain grinds slowly, recollections elude her and creativity sez screw you, I'm tired.
Access to the computer doesn't guarantee anything because there's plenty of times that Susan has absolutely nothing to say. I mean, her topics are pretty slim to begin with. She was toying with the idea of substituting recipes for actual material. In fact, she was thinking of the simple salsa Cousin Lisa made the other day; mango, tomatoes, black beans, onion, cilantro, lime juice. Who knew that mango & black beans could inspire someone to eat until they were sick? An avocado was supposed to be added but Cousin Lisa used it for something else.
Anyway, please forgive Susan if she falls behind every once in a while. She really tries her best and hopes that you'll stick with her as she slowly cranks out her exciting true life adventures.
Her job as a sweatshop seamstress keeps her away from home for so long each day that her family no longer waits dinner, instead she finds a plate covered with tinfoil on the dining room table. If she has a glass of wine with dinner then there's no hope of posting for the evening or doing laundry or anything else. If she doesn't then she's got to get in line for the laptop behind three people who don't give a crap about her BLAHg schedule.
There is a noticeable difference in the quality of her posts when she begins blogging after everyone's gone to bed and doesn't end till 1am. Her brain grinds slowly, recollections elude her and creativity sez screw you, I'm tired.
Access to the computer doesn't guarantee anything because there's plenty of times that Susan has absolutely nothing to say. I mean, her topics are pretty slim to begin with. She was toying with the idea of substituting recipes for actual material. In fact, she was thinking of the simple salsa Cousin Lisa made the other day; mango, tomatoes, black beans, onion, cilantro, lime juice. Who knew that mango & black beans could inspire someone to eat until they were sick? An avocado was supposed to be added but Cousin Lisa used it for something else.
Anyway, please forgive Susan if she falls behind every once in a while. She really tries her best and hopes that you'll stick with her as she slowly cranks out her exciting true life adventures.
9.26.2009
Little Sister's Birthday!
The other day was Little Sister's birthday.
As little sisters go, Susan thinks hers is the best. She can't vouch for the absolute accuracy of her statement because she hasn't met every last little sister in the world, but Susan figures hers is close. She's Susan's best and only.
Now, Susan's little sister isn't perfect; she's a bit passive-aggressive, likes to take charge of everything and engages in political pontification, but Susan manages to navigate around these defects by taking a nap on the couch.
Or by telling her to shut up, even on her birthday.
Susan's little sister is pretty smart, very funny and can still retain most of what she reads in the newspaper. She can can throw a punch, feed a house full of people with no notice and still likes to play soccer even though she should have been retired years ago.
Little sister is a model of self sufficiency; she works a full time job, runs a business of her own, troubleshoots the computer, build steps to the hot tub, fixes any number of things that break in the house and digs the hole to bury dead pets.
Susan's little sister has let pre-approved family members flop at her house without departure dates,
including Susan. Twice.
It is now the permanent residence of Wild Bill's daughter who they are all happy to have near.
Wild Bill is still in the vicinity, although contact of late has been minimal.
Susan's little sister is talented at gift giving. Recent favorites include the assortment of Jesus sticky notes, a wooden wick candle that smelled terrific and lasted all winter and the big orange pocketbook that Susan wouldn't allow her to buy from a guy on the street last weekend. It was a nice oversized pocketbook in a favorite color but Susan's little sister is just as broke as Susan, plus they were verging on being late to see Carrie Fisher at the old Studio 54 and couldn't dedicate any more time to the transaction.
The sisters had a full weekend of togetherness; Friday night for birthday cake, Saturday night with Carrie Fisher and then all the next day at a soiree with their beloved girl cousins. By 10pm Sunday night the sound of little sister's voice made Susan's brain hurt.
As little sisters go, Susan thinks hers is the best. She can't vouch for the absolute accuracy of her statement because she hasn't met every last little sister in the world, but Susan figures hers is close. She's Susan's best and only.
Now, Susan's little sister isn't perfect; she's a bit passive-aggressive, likes to take charge of everything and engages in political pontification, but Susan manages to navigate around these defects by taking a nap on the couch.
Or by telling her to shut up, even on her birthday.
Susan's little sister is pretty smart, very funny and can still retain most of what she reads in the newspaper. She can can throw a punch, feed a house full of people with no notice and still likes to play soccer even though she should have been retired years ago.
Little sister is a model of self sufficiency; she works a full time job, runs a business of her own, troubleshoots the computer, build steps to the hot tub, fixes any number of things that break in the house and digs the hole to bury dead pets.
Susan's little sister has let pre-approved family members flop at her house without departure dates,
including Susan. Twice.
It is now the permanent residence of Wild Bill's daughter who they are all happy to have near.
Wild Bill is still in the vicinity, although contact of late has been minimal.
Susan's little sister is talented at gift giving. Recent favorites include the assortment of Jesus sticky notes, a wooden wick candle that smelled terrific and lasted all winter and the big orange pocketbook that Susan wouldn't allow her to buy from a guy on the street last weekend. It was a nice oversized pocketbook in a favorite color but Susan's little sister is just as broke as Susan, plus they were verging on being late to see Carrie Fisher at the old Studio 54 and couldn't dedicate any more time to the transaction.
The sisters had a full weekend of togetherness; Friday night for birthday cake, Saturday night with Carrie Fisher and then all the next day at a soiree with their beloved girl cousins. By 10pm Sunday night the sound of little sister's voice made Susan's brain hurt.
9.25.2009
Lock the F*cking Door Already
Again Susan came home to find that her family left the back door unlocked. Sometimes she finds it open, but usually she just finds it unlocked. Susan expects her medium sized children to not give a crap about doors and locks but apparently the husband doesn't either.
She doesn't hide her frustration when she tells him that the f*cking back door was left unlocked again. Of course he's got something to say about it. What is there to say other than I'll never do it again.
Why does she have to tell a college educated man that he didn't check to make sure the f*cking back door was locked? Again.
Doesn't he think that one day his family might come home to find somebody in their house who doesn't belong there? Is Susan being paranoid? She will admit to having a bit of leftover paranoia from her twenties, but she didn't think that was bad.
Susan has a recurring fantasy where she opens a big beautifully wrapped box to find a flamethrower. She takes it out and totally f*cking annihilates everything in sight.
She doesn't hide her frustration when she tells him that the f*cking back door was left unlocked again. Of course he's got something to say about it. What is there to say other than I'll never do it again.
Why does she have to tell a college educated man that he didn't check to make sure the f*cking back door was locked? Again.
Doesn't he think that one day his family might come home to find somebody in their house who doesn't belong there? Is Susan being paranoid? She will admit to having a bit of leftover paranoia from her twenties, but she didn't think that was bad.
Susan has a recurring fantasy where she opens a big beautifully wrapped box to find a flamethrower. She takes it out and totally f*cking annihilates everything in sight.
9.20.2009
Church, Week 3
The Church of Susan's Experiment is interactive which is something Susan is not comfortable with.
In that other church, one could slip in unnoticed, sit in the back & scoot out early.
Not here.
The building is small and a family of four arriving late will have all available eyes upon them as they take their seats.
Up front, because the back rows fill first.
In addition, someone will come over to let them know that bored youth might prefer to go downstairs to Sunday school. Susan's bored youth want no part of this.
Early in the service the congregation turns to greet one another, they do this with a handshake, a nod or by walking over from the other side of the room to say hello. After service the pastor hotfoots it outside to chat as everyone exits just like Susan has seen done in the movies. Anyway, her point is that she's not getting out of there before having to speak with a person or two every week.
On the plus side, the Church of Susan's Experiment is adorable. A real charming white clapboard country church set on a winding road with a cemetery. The lady pastor is interesting to listen to and Susan likes the church's inclusiveness and charitable projects but she's a long way off from joining anything.
In that other church, one could slip in unnoticed, sit in the back & scoot out early.
Not here.
The building is small and a family of four arriving late will have all available eyes upon them as they take their seats.
Up front, because the back rows fill first.
In addition, someone will come over to let them know that bored youth might prefer to go downstairs to Sunday school. Susan's bored youth want no part of this.
Early in the service the congregation turns to greet one another, they do this with a handshake, a nod or by walking over from the other side of the room to say hello. After service the pastor hotfoots it outside to chat as everyone exits just like Susan has seen done in the movies. Anyway, her point is that she's not getting out of there before having to speak with a person or two every week.
On the plus side, the Church of Susan's Experiment is adorable. A real charming white clapboard country church set on a winding road with a cemetery. The lady pastor is interesting to listen to and Susan likes the church's inclusiveness and charitable projects but she's a long way off from joining anything.
9.18.2009
Fifteen
Susan and the husband made it across the finish line to their fifteenth wedding anniversary. What stamina!
What is their secret?
Be nice, tell the truth, apologize as soon as you figure out you're wrong. This is all pretty obvious. Susan has also established some bad behavior standards that she will not sink beneath, such as calling him names or embarrassing him. This has nothing to do with yelling & screaming at him like a crazy shrew, because making him mad is ok.
Susan has figured out how to keep her low libido from eradicating the romance in her marriage by limiting the amount of I'm too tireds in a given period.
Sometimes Susan even does things that she never did before, like make the bed every morning, just because she knows the husband likes it.
Susan doesn't keep quiet, she sez whatever she needs to say and she won't back off from a fight, but this only extends to the husband, with anyone else she backs off.
After so many years manacled together Susan is still interested in hearing his opinion on a range of topics. She might also request that he refrain from offering his opinion because she's trying to read the paper or listen to the TV or she just can't stand to hear him say one more word.
Fifteen years and Susan's not tired of her man yet,
but there's always next year.
What is their secret?
Be nice, tell the truth, apologize as soon as you figure out you're wrong. This is all pretty obvious. Susan has also established some bad behavior standards that she will not sink beneath, such as calling him names or embarrassing him. This has nothing to do with yelling & screaming at him like a crazy shrew, because making him mad is ok.
Susan has figured out how to keep her low libido from eradicating the romance in her marriage by limiting the amount of I'm too tireds in a given period.
Sometimes Susan even does things that she never did before, like make the bed every morning, just because she knows the husband likes it.
Susan doesn't keep quiet, she sez whatever she needs to say and she won't back off from a fight, but this only extends to the husband, with anyone else she backs off.
After so many years manacled together Susan is still interested in hearing his opinion on a range of topics. She might also request that he refrain from offering his opinion because she's trying to read the paper or listen to the TV or she just can't stand to hear him say one more word.
Fifteen years and Susan's not tired of her man yet,
but there's always next year.
9.13.2009
Church, Week Two
Susan woke up early again and made her children to go to church, they weren't happy but Susan didn't care. Nobody cared that Susan wasn't happy when she was their age. The circle is complete.
This church doesn't bug Susan the way that other church did. Going to church has already begun paying dividends in Susan's life; she unloaded the 1993 Volvo!
Thanks, God.
This church doesn't bug Susan the way that other church did. Going to church has already begun paying dividends in Susan's life; she unloaded the 1993 Volvo!
Thanks, God.
9.12.2009
Something Else Susan Hates
Banks.
Susan had some banking to do today, something that required her to walk inside and seek assistance from one of the uncooperative drones behind a desk.
Susan has a long history grappling with passive-aggressive bank personnel. If they can tell Susan no, they find a way to do it then ask with a have a nice day smile on their stupid face if there's anything else they can help Susan with today.
Susan felt anxious during the drive over, she was uncomfortable having to be in such close proximity to the undesirables. She didn't want to breathe their air or touch their pens or get their cooties. By the time she got to the parking lot she was full-on aggravated. She walked into the bank with the same look on her face she must have when she picks up her dog's poop.
At noon on Saturday the bank was hopping.
Tellers were informing bank customers of their eligibility for one of the bank's credit cards, one that offers points for some bullsh*t or other. Susan knew that they were only eligible to be tricked then brutalized, poor slobs.
She wanted to scream 'Don't do it!', but she's not crazy so she didn't scream.
The bank was set up with the tellers in full view and the offices down a hallway, out of view. If the offices couldn't be seen, neither could the poor slob customers be seen by those in the offices.
There was no one assigned to say Hello, how may we help you? No one assigned to give a sh*t.
Susan stood around with her arms folded across her chest and her dog poop face on. She descended into TWISTED anger at the prospect of giving the last & only bit of her money to people who ignore her.
F*ck them, she walked out.
Tune in next week to hear Susan's opinion of doctors' office staff.
Susan had some banking to do today, something that required her to walk inside and seek assistance from one of the uncooperative drones behind a desk.
Susan has a long history grappling with passive-aggressive bank personnel. If they can tell Susan no, they find a way to do it then ask with a have a nice day smile on their stupid face if there's anything else they can help Susan with today.
Susan felt anxious during the drive over, she was uncomfortable having to be in such close proximity to the undesirables. She didn't want to breathe their air or touch their pens or get their cooties. By the time she got to the parking lot she was full-on aggravated. She walked into the bank with the same look on her face she must have when she picks up her dog's poop.
At noon on Saturday the bank was hopping.
Tellers were informing bank customers of their eligibility for one of the bank's credit cards, one that offers points for some bullsh*t or other. Susan knew that they were only eligible to be tricked then brutalized, poor slobs.
She wanted to scream 'Don't do it!', but she's not crazy so she didn't scream.
The bank was set up with the tellers in full view and the offices down a hallway, out of view. If the offices couldn't be seen, neither could the poor slob customers be seen by those in the offices.
There was no one assigned to say Hello, how may we help you? No one assigned to give a sh*t.
Susan stood around with her arms folded across her chest and her dog poop face on. She descended into TWISTED anger at the prospect of giving the last & only bit of her money to people who ignore her.
F*ck them, she walked out.
Tune in next week to hear Susan's opinion of doctors' office staff.
9.11.2009
Eight years ago Susan worked in New York City.
After five years of staying home to yell at her children Susan got the opportunity to wake up every morning at 4:45, sit on a train for two hours and emerge on the street to find there were people already drunk and arguing with each other.
At first, Susan wasn't all too enthused about working in New York but little by little the city chipped away at her until she got used to it.
In no time they were going steady.
Susan ate Indian food, sushi and falafel for lunch, bought Italian boots on sale and watched elephants walk down Eighth Avenue. Plus, she made friends and grew to understand that New York was a series of neighborhoods just like anywhere else.
Eight years ago Susan stood at the window with her co-workers and looked three miles south.
They saw a sliver of a tall building on fire.
Later she stood on the street with a million people all trying to get home.
Susan has her own thoughts and feelings about that day, as does everyone. She doesn't want it designated as Patriot's Day or a national day of service or anything other than what it is, September 11.
After five years of staying home to yell at her children Susan got the opportunity to wake up every morning at 4:45, sit on a train for two hours and emerge on the street to find there were people already drunk and arguing with each other.
At first, Susan wasn't all too enthused about working in New York but little by little the city chipped away at her until she got used to it.
In no time they were going steady.
Susan ate Indian food, sushi and falafel for lunch, bought Italian boots on sale and watched elephants walk down Eighth Avenue. Plus, she made friends and grew to understand that New York was a series of neighborhoods just like anywhere else.
Eight years ago Susan stood at the window with her co-workers and looked three miles south.
They saw a sliver of a tall building on fire.
Later she stood on the street with a million people all trying to get home.
Susan has her own thoughts and feelings about that day, as does everyone. She doesn't want it designated as Patriot's Day or a national day of service or anything other than what it is, September 11.
9.07.2009
Church, oy.
The other day Susan did something that she never does; she woke up early on her day off and went to church.
Anyone who knows Susan is familiar with the depth of her distaste for the pedophilic society and hypocritical hierarchy who inhabit the church of her youth. The former altar boy she married shares her viewpoint, their children are unbaptised heathens doomed never to see the Gates of Heaven. Tough luck, kids.
Anyway, thirty years ago Susan studied orthodox Judaism for a little while. She must mention a significant twist to her studies; the community she spent time with believed in Jesus. But, they kept the sabbath, kept kosher, read both sides of the bible and so forth. She really liked Judaism but got a little burned out by it so she took a long break.
She tried going back to church after she had her kids.
The only requirement was that it be pretty on the inside to give her something to look at for an hour, but it still made her squirm. Then she did the best she could to teach them about God and Jesus on her own, but she knows just enough to raise them in a Godless universe.
Susan needed help.
There's a Congregational church two towns over that Susan and her family have attended on the average of once a year. It's as different in style from that other church as necessary to make her feel comfortable, sort of, although there's plenty of discomfort for Susan being in church.
Susan views it as an experiment and will keep you posted.
Anyone who knows Susan is familiar with the depth of her distaste for the pedophilic society and hypocritical hierarchy who inhabit the church of her youth. The former altar boy she married shares her viewpoint, their children are unbaptised heathens doomed never to see the Gates of Heaven. Tough luck, kids.
Anyway, thirty years ago Susan studied orthodox Judaism for a little while. She must mention a significant twist to her studies; the community she spent time with believed in Jesus. But, they kept the sabbath, kept kosher, read both sides of the bible and so forth. She really liked Judaism but got a little burned out by it so she took a long break.
She tried going back to church after she had her kids.
The only requirement was that it be pretty on the inside to give her something to look at for an hour, but it still made her squirm. Then she did the best she could to teach them about God and Jesus on her own, but she knows just enough to raise them in a Godless universe.
Susan needed help.
There's a Congregational church two towns over that Susan and her family have attended on the average of once a year. It's as different in style from that other church as necessary to make her feel comfortable, sort of, although there's plenty of discomfort for Susan being in church.
Susan views it as an experiment and will keep you posted.
9.05.2009
Susan Can Smell Her Dog from the Other Room
Susan's elderly, deaf, flatulent dog is inching toward the end of her life. She's just short of 84 but still pretty spry. She doesn't use a walker, smear her lipstick across her face or repeat the same stories over and over, but she has a bit of an incontinence issue and needs help with her personal grooming. Susan's not cleaning poopie off hineys yet, just some boogery eyes and blood.
The dog has been drinking more water than usual lately and has required entire afternoons of beauty sleep although the latter has done nothing to improve her looks, poor girl.
The dog's always in a good mood unlike some TWISTED people she lives with and will hop up from a dead sleep to follow anyone going anywhere in the house hoping there'll be food at the end.
Susan's hipped her medium sized children to the impending expiration date on their dog and watched as they've been extra sweet to her or reward her with cookies for doing nothing and then talk with animated excitement about replacing her with a furry puppy.
The dog has been drinking more water than usual lately and has required entire afternoons of beauty sleep although the latter has done nothing to improve her looks, poor girl.
The dog's always in a good mood unlike some TWISTED people she lives with and will hop up from a dead sleep to follow anyone going anywhere in the house hoping there'll be food at the end.
Susan's hipped her medium sized children to the impending expiration date on their dog and watched as they've been extra sweet to her or reward her with cookies for doing nothing and then talk with animated excitement about replacing her with a furry puppy.
9.01.2009
Tattoo You
Susan grew up in the seventies when girls didn't get tattoos. At least not girls in her neighborhood or the next few adjoining neighborhoods. Susan considered getting a tattoo through the eighties but she couldn't figure out where to put one, then she was afraid of getting AIDS then she went back to not knowing where to put one.
She ultimately gave up because there's so many reasons for Susan not to be tattooed.
The one thing above all else that has kept her unmarked is the blue ink, she doesn't like how the black ink turns blue. Another thing is Susan's fear of pissing herself at first sight of a long haired guy with a vibrating needle.
Susan remembers the first tattoo that impressed her;
a large, open winged eagle spread across the bicep of a young woman. This was eons before girls started showing up all sleeved out.
The silliest series of tattoos Susan saw were bands inked across the upper arms of some pretty young things in bridesmaid attire, forever branding them 1995.
This evening, Susan's (relationship deleted to spare their mother) paid a complete stranger to stab her in the hip with ink filled needles. Susan is thankful for the decision of (relationship deleted) to confine her body art to a personal spot, one that wouldn't be peeking out from anywhere forcing Susan to roll her eyes.
She ultimately gave up because there's so many reasons for Susan not to be tattooed.
The one thing above all else that has kept her unmarked is the blue ink, she doesn't like how the black ink turns blue. Another thing is Susan's fear of pissing herself at first sight of a long haired guy with a vibrating needle.
Susan remembers the first tattoo that impressed her;
a large, open winged eagle spread across the bicep of a young woman. This was eons before girls started showing up all sleeved out.
The silliest series of tattoos Susan saw were bands inked across the upper arms of some pretty young things in bridesmaid attire, forever branding them 1995.
This evening, Susan's (relationship deleted to spare their mother) paid a complete stranger to stab her in the hip with ink filled needles. Susan is thankful for the decision of (relationship deleted) to confine her body art to a personal spot, one that wouldn't be peeking out from anywhere forcing Susan to roll her eyes.
8.29.2009
Barefoot
Susan never walks in her bare feet. Ever. Anywhere.
If she sleepwalks in the middle of the night she puts something on her feet first.
Susan can't tolerate stepping on the dog hair, crumbs & sticky bits of she doesn't even want to think about what that carpet her uncarpeted floors.
Just thinking about it now makes her all cold and shivery.
In her youth she ran barefoot like everyone else, she even attended a wedding in her bare feet, she was nineteen of course. She got splinters from the boardwalk, stepped on glass, in dogsh*t and on a slug, which required an unusual amount of scrubbing off.
Susan's very protective of her feet, they require a lot of maintenance just to stay in working condition. The summer is particularly brutal, if she doesn't keep to a daily lubrication schedule her feet will quickly transform into a miserable mess. It generally takes two full days to recover from one afternoon spent at the beach.
She's never even had a proper pedicure. She's given herself plenty but has only fantasized about having someone else do it for her. She came close to a pedicure a few years ago, but it didn't work out.
Common is the sound of her screaming 'Stay off my FEET!'
Dogs step on them. Her medium sized children drive shopping carts into the back of them. Susan even managed to scrape all the skin off her big toe a few years back when she was teaching her daughter to ride a bike.
It bled and bled and bled then took the entire summer to heal.
Susan loves shoes, all sorts of shoes.
She's got many in-store tests they must go through before she brings them home. However, she thinks nothing of handing off a pair of brand new beautiful shoes if they don't make the cut. Just ask the husband's daughter,
the one with a size 10 foot.
If she sleepwalks in the middle of the night she puts something on her feet first.
Susan can't tolerate stepping on the dog hair, crumbs & sticky bits of she doesn't even want to think about what that carpet her uncarpeted floors.
Just thinking about it now makes her all cold and shivery.
In her youth she ran barefoot like everyone else, she even attended a wedding in her bare feet, she was nineteen of course. She got splinters from the boardwalk, stepped on glass, in dogsh*t and on a slug, which required an unusual amount of scrubbing off.
Susan's very protective of her feet, they require a lot of maintenance just to stay in working condition. The summer is particularly brutal, if she doesn't keep to a daily lubrication schedule her feet will quickly transform into a miserable mess. It generally takes two full days to recover from one afternoon spent at the beach.
She's never even had a proper pedicure. She's given herself plenty but has only fantasized about having someone else do it for her. She came close to a pedicure a few years ago, but it didn't work out.
Common is the sound of her screaming 'Stay off my FEET!'
Dogs step on them. Her medium sized children drive shopping carts into the back of them. Susan even managed to scrape all the skin off her big toe a few years back when she was teaching her daughter to ride a bike.
It bled and bled and bled then took the entire summer to heal.
Susan loves shoes, all sorts of shoes.
She's got many in-store tests they must go through before she brings them home. However, she thinks nothing of handing off a pair of brand new beautiful shoes if they don't make the cut. Just ask the husband's daughter,
the one with a size 10 foot.
8.25.2009
Susan knows some folks who are going through dark times. Not to denigrate divorce or foreclosure, but they're not dark enough. Imagine being chased off a cliff by monsters and you're in the ballpark.
Currently Susan's wrestling with being broke. But who isn't.
It's like having a boil on her butt, a throbbing, angry, miserable boil. But it's temporary. She's still free to enjoy the simple pleasures that each day brings, like the breeze thru a window, the smell of coffee brewing or the sound of the dog drinking from the toilet because the kids have neglected to fill the water bowl.
Susan is lucky because she's got a family who needs her.
The husband needed her to assist in picking him up off the driveway yesterday after he tripped over a bicycle.
The emotional, pre-menstrual daughter has needed her every night to make a space in bed when she comes in crying. The son just needs her to keep on buying food.
Susan doesn't know what the future holds she just knows what she has right now. She hopes when it's time for her to go over the cliff she'll do it the best way she knows how.
Currently Susan's wrestling with being broke. But who isn't.
It's like having a boil on her butt, a throbbing, angry, miserable boil. But it's temporary. She's still free to enjoy the simple pleasures that each day brings, like the breeze thru a window, the smell of coffee brewing or the sound of the dog drinking from the toilet because the kids have neglected to fill the water bowl.
Susan is lucky because she's got a family who needs her.
The husband needed her to assist in picking him up off the driveway yesterday after he tripped over a bicycle.
The emotional, pre-menstrual daughter has needed her every night to make a space in bed when she comes in crying. The son just needs her to keep on buying food.
Susan doesn't know what the future holds she just knows what she has right now. She hopes when it's time for her to go over the cliff she'll do it the best way she knows how.
8.23.2009
Hands Off Susan's Breakfast!
Susan practically stabbed her son through the hand with a fork as he tried to snatch from her plate a piece of English muffin saturated with egg yolk.
Susan doesn't share her food ever. She doesn't care if you're one of those Biafran babies with distended bellies from her childhood. Get away from her plate NOW.
Susan has to eat at regular intervals or her symptoms will be many and her decompensation swift.
Aging hasn't helped either.
Susan's bottom right desk drawer at work is filled with oatmeal packets and Luna Bars, her upper right drawer has hard candy & dark chocolate covered espresso beans. Susan carries emergency sugar packets in her bag which she once downed with such a crazed ferocity she scared her children. Sugar packets are her big needle filled with adrenaline.
Susan knows what everyone is thinking,
go to a doctor!
She went to an internist earlier this decade and his diagnosis was 'Maybe you're just hungry'. Maybe she is.
In the meantime, Susan's able to manage her symptoms by eating properly and regularly. So, as long as she's not living outside a society with supermarkets she'll be fine. She's not forgetting the little candy bar thing she kicked earlier this season, that was due more to accessibility than actual addiction.
But, she doesn't take the little candy bar thing lightly,
no she doesn't. She understands the warm, happy sugar high and how it applies to her. She once heard an interview with Eric Clapton, the epic heroin addict and guitar player, identify his first addiction as sugar.
Can Susan have an Amen?
Susan doesn't share her food ever. She doesn't care if you're one of those Biafran babies with distended bellies from her childhood. Get away from her plate NOW.
Susan has to eat at regular intervals or her symptoms will be many and her decompensation swift.
Aging hasn't helped either.
Susan's bottom right desk drawer at work is filled with oatmeal packets and Luna Bars, her upper right drawer has hard candy & dark chocolate covered espresso beans. Susan carries emergency sugar packets in her bag which she once downed with such a crazed ferocity she scared her children. Sugar packets are her big needle filled with adrenaline.
Susan knows what everyone is thinking,
go to a doctor!
She went to an internist earlier this decade and his diagnosis was 'Maybe you're just hungry'. Maybe she is.
In the meantime, Susan's able to manage her symptoms by eating properly and regularly. So, as long as she's not living outside a society with supermarkets she'll be fine. She's not forgetting the little candy bar thing she kicked earlier this season, that was due more to accessibility than actual addiction.
But, she doesn't take the little candy bar thing lightly,
no she doesn't. She understands the warm, happy sugar high and how it applies to her. She once heard an interview with Eric Clapton, the epic heroin addict and guitar player, identify his first addiction as sugar.
Can Susan have an Amen?
8.21.2009
The Cupboard Is Bare
Susan was between paychecks last week so she didn't go food shopping. There was still plenty of paper towels and laundry soap but every day found less and less to eat.
Susan has an emergency meal for such a situation;
linguine and clam sauce. The sauce is totally from a can, but it's quick to prepare and everyone likes it. If she plunges a head of broccoli into the boiling pasta water, chops it up then artfully places it on top of the sauce she could serve it to company.
She put the water on the stove to boil, retrieved the clam sauce from the shelf but when she reached for the linguine she found there was only half a box left. No way was half a box of linguine going to feed four people, two of whom don't know when to stop eating. The only other macaroni available was mezzo ditale which Susan uses in her pasta e fagioli because it's the same size as the beans.
The husband told Susan to break the linguine in half so that it will seem like more, Susan knew it didn't make sense but complied because she wanted to believe.
She went to open the clam sauce but couldn't locate the can opener. When she inquired as to where it might be the husband said 'Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you.'
The can opener was no mas.
This of course started a ruckus over how the f*ck is she supposed to know anything if nobody tells her and why wasn't it put on the f*cking shopping list?
The shopping list is a constant complaint of Susan's.
At least once a week someone makes Susan scream about something that needs to be replaced but that's not on the list. She'll scream as much as she has to because logic dictates that when people get tired of being screamed at they'll figure out what to do to make it stop.
In the meantime, except for the husband's plan to try busting open the can with a knife, there was still nothing available for dinner.
Susan had onions, so she began sauteing some in a pan. Susan had garlic. Wait, no. Susan didn't have garlic anymore.
Susan had very garlicky salsa that her little sister brought over last weekend when she came three hours late for dinner. Susan also had a roasted eggplant and tomato dish from the same time period sitting in a tupperware in the back of the fridge.
Everything got sauteed with the onions then poured over the linguine and eaten with alot of Parmesan cheese.
It was great, even one of the kids agreed.
Susan has an emergency meal for such a situation;
linguine and clam sauce. The sauce is totally from a can, but it's quick to prepare and everyone likes it. If she plunges a head of broccoli into the boiling pasta water, chops it up then artfully places it on top of the sauce she could serve it to company.
She put the water on the stove to boil, retrieved the clam sauce from the shelf but when she reached for the linguine she found there was only half a box left. No way was half a box of linguine going to feed four people, two of whom don't know when to stop eating. The only other macaroni available was mezzo ditale which Susan uses in her pasta e fagioli because it's the same size as the beans.
The husband told Susan to break the linguine in half so that it will seem like more, Susan knew it didn't make sense but complied because she wanted to believe.
She went to open the clam sauce but couldn't locate the can opener. When she inquired as to where it might be the husband said 'Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you.'
The can opener was no mas.
This of course started a ruckus over how the f*ck is she supposed to know anything if nobody tells her and why wasn't it put on the f*cking shopping list?
The shopping list is a constant complaint of Susan's.
At least once a week someone makes Susan scream about something that needs to be replaced but that's not on the list. She'll scream as much as she has to because logic dictates that when people get tired of being screamed at they'll figure out what to do to make it stop.
In the meantime, except for the husband's plan to try busting open the can with a knife, there was still nothing available for dinner.
Susan had onions, so she began sauteing some in a pan. Susan had garlic. Wait, no. Susan didn't have garlic anymore.
Susan had very garlicky salsa that her little sister brought over last weekend when she came three hours late for dinner. Susan also had a roasted eggplant and tomato dish from the same time period sitting in a tupperware in the back of the fridge.
Everything got sauteed with the onions then poured over the linguine and eaten with alot of Parmesan cheese.
It was great, even one of the kids agreed.
8.19.2009
An Eleven Year Old With A Cell Phone
Susan's very minor daughter has a cell phone.
Susan refused for more than a year to be baited into any sort of premature cell phone related conversations. Unfortunately, when it became time to change from one disappointing wireless plan to another Susan let the husband talk her into doing something she didn't want to do. He has a much more lenient policy toward giving unnecessary nonsense to children and was able to influence Susan when she was tired.
The daughter accumulated extra charges the very first month because texting every minute of every day adds up.
She also got into the habit of calling Susan at work to find out when she would be leaving. Susan doesn't normally keep her cell phone handy, so the daughter would just call and call and call until Susan noticed the 15 missed calls and called her back.
Another call would usually follow a half hour later to make sure that Susan was en route. Once again, if Susan didn't answer because the phone was lying in the bottom of her bag, the daughter would call and call and call. Then she'd call using someone else's phone.
Susan hates taking calls in the car. Since she doesn't have air conditioning she rides with all the windows down and it makes quite a racket. Rolling the windows up to take a phone call will trigger a total f*cking heat-stroked meltdown.
The other day Susan had already handled the when are you leaving? and are you on your way? phone calls when the phone rang with the where are you? call.
Susan tried to explain that it didn't make any difference where she was because it had already been established that she was on her way home. The conversation lasted until Susan walked through the front door, cell phone in her ear and met the daughter in the livingroom, cell phone in her ear.
Susan refused for more than a year to be baited into any sort of premature cell phone related conversations. Unfortunately, when it became time to change from one disappointing wireless plan to another Susan let the husband talk her into doing something she didn't want to do. He has a much more lenient policy toward giving unnecessary nonsense to children and was able to influence Susan when she was tired.
The daughter accumulated extra charges the very first month because texting every minute of every day adds up.
She also got into the habit of calling Susan at work to find out when she would be leaving. Susan doesn't normally keep her cell phone handy, so the daughter would just call and call and call until Susan noticed the 15 missed calls and called her back.
Another call would usually follow a half hour later to make sure that Susan was en route. Once again, if Susan didn't answer because the phone was lying in the bottom of her bag, the daughter would call and call and call. Then she'd call using someone else's phone.
Susan hates taking calls in the car. Since she doesn't have air conditioning she rides with all the windows down and it makes quite a racket. Rolling the windows up to take a phone call will trigger a total f*cking heat-stroked meltdown.
The other day Susan had already handled the when are you leaving? and are you on your way? phone calls when the phone rang with the where are you? call.
Susan tried to explain that it didn't make any difference where she was because it had already been established that she was on her way home. The conversation lasted until Susan walked through the front door, cell phone in her ear and met the daughter in the livingroom, cell phone in her ear.
8.13.2009
22 Things Susan Likes About The Husband
Susan's husband had a birthday the other day, and even though it ended in a zero Susan didn't feel compelled to do anything about it other than make him coffee in the morning and submit to a personal request later on.
Susan isn't much for ceremony, she doesn't require it for herself and she doesn't provide it for others. She's not running out to spend four dollars on a card at the store, so don't wait for one. And, if you've told her more than every single time that you don't like the gift she's chosen for you, she's not giving you any more.
But, after so many years manacled together in wedded bliss, and even though she's got to force him to sit down and read her BLAHg, he still makes her happy.
Here's some reasons why;
- He makes fantastic meatballs
- Describing the birth of his son he said 'I never knew how exhausting it was to yell at someone for four hours'
- He sings
- He is very adept at winning arguments, but takes it easy on Susan
- He runs around in the yard with the kids
- He can be counted on to complete any disagreeable task
- He tells funny stories from his youth about neighborhood brawling
- He apologizes by saying 'I've decided to forgive you'
- He cracks Susan's toes
- He doesn't build himself up by making others feel small
- If he doesn't know something, he knows a guy who knows
- He ingores Susan when she gets all TWISTED and acts like a baby
- He doesn't worry about things he can't control
- He makes Susan's coffee exactly the way she likes it
- He can Lindy
- He liked the same moody 1975 album that Susan did
- He thinks Susan is funny
- He ordered a bushel of clams and didn't know what to do with them so he called up his friend George for suggestions & ended up making fantastic garlicy, steamed clams for Susan's birthday
- He's impressive with a yo-yo
- He sez that being mad at Susan is like being mad at a puppy
- He turns Susan's compost heap every week
- He raised two smart, independent, caring & wonderful girls before he was married to Susan that have always been terrific big sisters.
8.10.2009
Let's Learn About Susan's Folks
Susan's parents were married fifty years ago the other day. In lieu of a big party, or a card, or even a timely phone call of acknowledgement Susan is going to redeem herself by writing something nice about them.
Susan's parents created a very stable home environment. Some might say rigid, but Susan's not sayin' nuthin'. Even though a portion of Susan's decisions are based solely on doing the opposite of what her parents would have done, they created a sturdy framework for Susan to live her life.
Susan's parents didn't care if their children got mad at them and proved this by saying NO! as often as they wanted. Thanks to this Susan doesn't take any crap from her own kids.
Susan's parents like to read, so does Susan. Susan's old man used to buy so many books that her mother made him build a little room to keep them in. Unfortunately, it didn't keep her from yelling every time he brought home more.
Susan's old man fixed airplanes for a living. This meant he also fixed cars and bathroom sinks and whatever else was on the list in the kitchen. Susan doesn't actually fix things but she married a man who does.
Susan's mother sews, crochets, hangs wallpaper and has put the colors turquoise and orange together. Susan is very artsy fartsy herself.
Susan's old man has been a practitioner of Transcendental Meditation for thirty years. Susan took after her mother and relieves her stress by using filthy words.
Susan's old man had panic attacks. Susan had panic attacks!
Susan's mother likes blue cheese. OMG, Susan adores blue cheese!
Susan's parents like church.
This is where Susan and her parents part company.
Happy Anniversary, folks.
Susan's parents created a very stable home environment. Some might say rigid, but Susan's not sayin' nuthin'. Even though a portion of Susan's decisions are based solely on doing the opposite of what her parents would have done, they created a sturdy framework for Susan to live her life.
Susan's parents didn't care if their children got mad at them and proved this by saying NO! as often as they wanted. Thanks to this Susan doesn't take any crap from her own kids.
Susan's parents like to read, so does Susan. Susan's old man used to buy so many books that her mother made him build a little room to keep them in. Unfortunately, it didn't keep her from yelling every time he brought home more.
Susan's old man fixed airplanes for a living. This meant he also fixed cars and bathroom sinks and whatever else was on the list in the kitchen. Susan doesn't actually fix things but she married a man who does.
Susan's mother sews, crochets, hangs wallpaper and has put the colors turquoise and orange together. Susan is very artsy fartsy herself.
Susan's old man has been a practitioner of Transcendental Meditation for thirty years. Susan took after her mother and relieves her stress by using filthy words.
Susan's old man had panic attacks. Susan had panic attacks!
Susan's mother likes blue cheese. OMG, Susan adores blue cheese!
Susan's parents like church.
This is where Susan and her parents part company.
Happy Anniversary, folks.
8.09.2009
Summer Vacation Thus Far
Except for the barbecuey smell, Susan has barely noticed summer speeding by. She has yet to accumulate vacation time in her new career as a sweatshop seamstress and the combination of cool weather & being broke have conspired to make sure that she does nothing.
Susan's children do slightly more than nothing.
For the first month of summer Susan's son had a non-paying gig as a camp counselor at the local intermediate school. His former English teacher assisted him by writing a wonderful letter of recommendation, one which Susan keeps folded up in her pocket and takes out to read whenever she wants to brain him.
The second month of his summer has been spent either as a guest at various friends' homes or lying on his bed playing Call Of Duty 4 until he's requested at the supper table.
Susan's daughter is dropped off before work at Uncle Erik's Summer Program where she hangs with her cousins to swim, play video games, watch TV and eat chicken salad.
Susan's house guest was nice enough to take Susan's daughter and a companion to the mall one day and then reported back to Susan everything that the girls talked about.
The library & local branch of a formerly thriving video rental corporation have all played their part in keeping the daughter occupied.
Susan's summertime recreation has consisted of drinking sangria after dinner or anytime she's not required to do anything remotely responsible. The end.
Susan's children do slightly more than nothing.
For the first month of summer Susan's son had a non-paying gig as a camp counselor at the local intermediate school. His former English teacher assisted him by writing a wonderful letter of recommendation, one which Susan keeps folded up in her pocket and takes out to read whenever she wants to brain him.
The second month of his summer has been spent either as a guest at various friends' homes or lying on his bed playing Call Of Duty 4 until he's requested at the supper table.
Susan's daughter is dropped off before work at Uncle Erik's Summer Program where she hangs with her cousins to swim, play video games, watch TV and eat chicken salad.
Susan's house guest was nice enough to take Susan's daughter and a companion to the mall one day and then reported back to Susan everything that the girls talked about.
The library & local branch of a formerly thriving video rental corporation have all played their part in keeping the daughter occupied.
Susan's summertime recreation has consisted of drinking sangria after dinner or anytime she's not required to do anything remotely responsible. The end.
8.05.2009
Is It Hot Or Is It Susan?
Susan decompensates when she's hot.
Absolutely everything in Susan's universe falls into an angry pit of fire. The same breakdown occurs when she's hungry. She'll fling f*cking sh*ts and motherf*ckers quicker than a regular person might say I feel hot.
Susan wasn't always this way, but pregnancy and a surprisingly early menopause took their toll.
All in all, Susan's made friends with her menopause. It's enabled her to trade in the tiresome maintenance of birth control for the simplicity of sex, although she's noticed the tiniest little bit of a diminished libido. Luckily, Susan's like an old lawnmower and the husband doesn't mind yanking the cord over & over until he gets her running.
The bloody, crampy misery of her menstrual cycle is also gone, leaving in its place some hot flashes.
Pretty Chinatown fans are all she needs to cool herself off but if she can't get to one fast enough, watch out.
The contents of her bag will be dumped, with extreme prejudice, into the middle of whatever she's doing.
The standard three days of heightened emotions? Goodbye. But Susan welcomed a sort of reactive hysteria which is disbursed over the course of an entire month. Hardly noticeable, just ask the husband.
Absolutely everything in Susan's universe falls into an angry pit of fire. The same breakdown occurs when she's hungry. She'll fling f*cking sh*ts and motherf*ckers quicker than a regular person might say I feel hot.
Susan wasn't always this way, but pregnancy and a surprisingly early menopause took their toll.
All in all, Susan's made friends with her menopause. It's enabled her to trade in the tiresome maintenance of birth control for the simplicity of sex, although she's noticed the tiniest little bit of a diminished libido. Luckily, Susan's like an old lawnmower and the husband doesn't mind yanking the cord over & over until he gets her running.
The bloody, crampy misery of her menstrual cycle is also gone, leaving in its place some hot flashes.
Pretty Chinatown fans are all she needs to cool herself off but if she can't get to one fast enough, watch out.
The contents of her bag will be dumped, with extreme prejudice, into the middle of whatever she's doing.
The standard three days of heightened emotions? Goodbye. But Susan welcomed a sort of reactive hysteria which is disbursed over the course of an entire month. Hardly noticeable, just ask the husband.
8.02.2009
Scary Snacks
Susan has been enjoying the company of a house guest for the last few days. Her house guest often drives across the country by herself, but this trip took along the smallest of her dogs for company. Susan's elderly, deaf, flatulent dog is not in the habit of sharing domestic space with another of her kind, yet has done relatively well. Susan would not classify them as friends, but neither are they combatants.
Susan's house guest also travels with snacks, which are then incorporated into Susan's diet. Currently there are Chips Ahoy Peanut Butter Chunky cookies in the cabinet and Reese's Peanut Butter cups in the fridge, two boxes of donuts & a crumb cake having already been eaten by the occupants of Susan's house. Susan is unaccustomed to being in such close contact with so many scary snacks, she'll eat them in other people's homes but she doesn't keep them at hers.
Last night Susan's house guest took everyone out for ice cream then made a crack indicating there might be something wrong with Susan for opting out. Susan will admit that there was an underlying hysteria in her voice when she rolled herself up into a ball and repeated 'No, no, no, no, no' in the middle of Carvel. But, except for the lack of a 'thank you', Susan doesn't think her behavior was all that unusual. For her.
Susan thinks nothing of baking biscotti at 11 o'clock at night or blueberry-lemon bread or glazed anisette cookies or a simple cake with halved plums dropped into the batter. She's comfortable having these in her house and has a plan in place to keep from eating them all at once. She has no such strategy for the Chips Ahoy.
Susan's house guest also travels with snacks, which are then incorporated into Susan's diet. Currently there are Chips Ahoy Peanut Butter Chunky cookies in the cabinet and Reese's Peanut Butter cups in the fridge, two boxes of donuts & a crumb cake having already been eaten by the occupants of Susan's house. Susan is unaccustomed to being in such close contact with so many scary snacks, she'll eat them in other people's homes but she doesn't keep them at hers.
Last night Susan's house guest took everyone out for ice cream then made a crack indicating there might be something wrong with Susan for opting out. Susan will admit that there was an underlying hysteria in her voice when she rolled herself up into a ball and repeated 'No, no, no, no, no' in the middle of Carvel. But, except for the lack of a 'thank you', Susan doesn't think her behavior was all that unusual. For her.
Susan thinks nothing of baking biscotti at 11 o'clock at night or blueberry-lemon bread or glazed anisette cookies or a simple cake with halved plums dropped into the batter. She's comfortable having these in her house and has a plan in place to keep from eating them all at once. She has no such strategy for the Chips Ahoy.
7.29.2009
Pooped
Susan no longer has the stamina for:
Drinking alcohol in the heat
Long newspaper articles
Answering Why? questions from her medium sized children
Service fees
Staying up late combined with getting up early
Sullen cashiers
Searching for sh*t in the bottom of her bag
Tweets
and holding her head up.
Drinking alcohol in the heat
Long newspaper articles
Answering Why? questions from her medium sized children
Service fees
Staying up late combined with getting up early
Sullen cashiers
Searching for sh*t in the bottom of her bag
Tweets
and holding her head up.
7.28.2009
Flourless Peanut Butter Cookies
Susan was reading cuisinenie when she saw a stack of Jane's peanut butter cookies.
Oh, the joy that is peanut butter!
If Susan weren't so tired she might have started a cookie baking project right then because she knows her peanut butter cookies would totally mop the floor with Jane's.
Susan's cookies are flourless, which is much better because nobody needs any extranneous ingredients to get in the way of all the lovely peanut butter and sugar.
2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 eggs, beaten
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups chunky peanut butter
350* oven
Combine sugar & soda; stir in eggs & vanilla, add peanut butter. Stir until combined.
Does everyone know the water displacement method to measure peanut butter? Fill a large measuring cup with 2 cups cold water, add peanut butter until the level of the water is raised to 4 cups.
Form into 1" balls & drop onto a cookie sheet three inches apart.
Bake for 10 minutes or until bottoms are golden brown.
Oh, the joy that is peanut butter!
If Susan weren't so tired she might have started a cookie baking project right then because she knows her peanut butter cookies would totally mop the floor with Jane's.
Susan's cookies are flourless, which is much better because nobody needs any extranneous ingredients to get in the way of all the lovely peanut butter and sugar.
2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 eggs, beaten
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups chunky peanut butter
350* oven
Combine sugar & soda; stir in eggs & vanilla, add peanut butter. Stir until combined.
Does everyone know the water displacement method to measure peanut butter? Fill a large measuring cup with 2 cups cold water, add peanut butter until the level of the water is raised to 4 cups.
Form into 1" balls & drop onto a cookie sheet three inches apart.
Bake for 10 minutes or until bottoms are golden brown.
7.26.2009
Thanks, Pop.
Saturday morning Susan's old man phoned her to say that
this movie was on TV later that evening.
Susan immediately invited her little sister's family over.
After eating a big meal, shattering some glassware, breaking a table leg and making a pot of coffee
everyone sat down and peed their pants.
this movie was on TV later that evening.
Susan immediately invited her little sister's family over.
After eating a big meal, shattering some glassware, breaking a table leg and making a pot of coffee
everyone sat down and peed their pants.
Look, a Picture!
Susan has decided to reward her modest fan base with a picture of herself and apologises for taking so long.
Under normal circumstances uploading a photograph to a blog should be no big deal unless there doesn't happen to exist a decent photograph of a certain TWISTED subject, even when her little sister is a professional photographer. The biggest factor working against Susan is that she just doesn't know how to smile for a photograph. Plus, Susan's face is often shiny, which is why she has few wrinkles for her 49 years, but it also makes her appear as though she's rinsed off in olive oil.
Susan's little sister was nice enough to make up a disk of recent family photographs and when Susan got tired of looking for the perfect representation of herself she cropped out Cousin Lisa and used the one above.
Under normal circumstances uploading a photograph to a blog should be no big deal unless there doesn't happen to exist a decent photograph of a certain TWISTED subject, even when her little sister is a professional photographer. The biggest factor working against Susan is that she just doesn't know how to smile for a photograph. Plus, Susan's face is often shiny, which is why she has few wrinkles for her 49 years, but it also makes her appear as though she's rinsed off in olive oil.
Susan's little sister was nice enough to make up a disk of recent family photographs and when Susan got tired of looking for the perfect representation of herself she cropped out Cousin Lisa and used the one above.
7.25.2009
Susan's Dress Goes to the Opera
Four years ago Susan purchased a dress to wear for her husband's daughter's wedding. It was off the rack from a nice store and Susan was very excited because it was everything she wanted in a dress. The neckline was flattering, the fabric was the proper weight to glide gracefully o'er her bumpy parts and there was enough support in the bodice to get away without wearing a brassiere.
The other evening while conversating with the husband at the dining room table, Susan was casually looking through an Arts section from the New York Times that was two months overdue for the recycling bin.
Down at the bottom of page C 5 was a big, beautiful soprano wearing Susan's dress.
The other evening while conversating with the husband at the dining room table, Susan was casually looking through an Arts section from the New York Times that was two months overdue for the recycling bin.
Down at the bottom of page C 5 was a big, beautiful soprano wearing Susan's dress.
7.24.2009
Fruit Salsa
Susan has a friend named April who moved far away back when the Go Gos were playing on the radio. Sometimes Susan flies on a plane all by herself to go visit April and during one trip April made some fruit salsa.
Here's her recipe.
1/2 ripe cantaloupe, diced (Susan substitutes cantaloupe for the original papaya)
1 onion, diced
1 green pepper, diced
1 red pepper, diced
1 can crushed pineapple, drained
1 15 oz can black beans (any sort will do), drained & rinsed
*hot peppers (please see note below)
juice from 1 lime
Mix everything together and serve with tortilla chips or as an accompaniment to fish.
*Since Susan can never figure out which peppers in the supermarket are hot she uses a few spoonfuls of crushed red peppers from a jar. She also adds a few shakes of Tabasco sauce and might add some black pepper. She tastes as she goes along to make sure she doesn't over do it with the heat.
This is a staple in Susan's house during the summertime, she makes it every weekend along with a pitcher of sangria because she lives in hope of company.
Here's her recipe.
1/2 ripe cantaloupe, diced (Susan substitutes cantaloupe for the original papaya)
1 onion, diced
1 green pepper, diced
1 red pepper, diced
1 can crushed pineapple, drained
1 15 oz can black beans (any sort will do), drained & rinsed
*hot peppers (please see note below)
juice from 1 lime
Mix everything together and serve with tortilla chips or as an accompaniment to fish.
*Since Susan can never figure out which peppers in the supermarket are hot she uses a few spoonfuls of crushed red peppers from a jar. She also adds a few shakes of Tabasco sauce and might add some black pepper. She tastes as she goes along to make sure she doesn't over do it with the heat.
This is a staple in Susan's house during the summertime, she makes it every weekend along with a pitcher of sangria because she lives in hope of company.
7.23.2009
Ow. Hugs Hurt.
For the length of time Wild Bill is in NY he has a home at Susan's house and a job ninety minutes away. After a few weeks of getting home in time to sleep for four hours before he has to get up again he's taken to bunking at a buddy's house. This is a nice arrangement for him, at least until the buddy's wife decides she's had enough of the loud, guitar strumming stranger sleeping on her couch.
In the meantime both Susan's kids ask 'When's Uncle Billy coming home?' until someone answers them.
His current schedule is to show up every three or four days, stay a day or two, then split. Even with this abbreviated arrangement his sisters are happy to have him close because this is the most amount of time they've spent with their brother since they were all kids.
Wild Bill wears a khaki fishing vest, it's got a crap load of pockets that he fills with all his belongings.
It's like his pocketbook.
Anyway, the other night he shows up just shy of midnight and gave Susan a crushing bear hug which drove something bumpy and metal into her chest.
By the time she realized that she was being impaled by something in his pocket, she was released.
The next day Susan was sporting a bump just south of her collarbone, a little inside. Ow, she couldn't resist pressing the bump making it hurt.
The day after that the bump still hurt. Ow.
Three days later the bump is a little smaller but still hurts. Ow, because Susan keeps pressing it.
In the meantime both Susan's kids ask 'When's Uncle Billy coming home?' until someone answers them.
His current schedule is to show up every three or four days, stay a day or two, then split. Even with this abbreviated arrangement his sisters are happy to have him close because this is the most amount of time they've spent with their brother since they were all kids.
Wild Bill wears a khaki fishing vest, it's got a crap load of pockets that he fills with all his belongings.
It's like his pocketbook.
Anyway, the other night he shows up just shy of midnight and gave Susan a crushing bear hug which drove something bumpy and metal into her chest.
By the time she realized that she was being impaled by something in his pocket, she was released.
The next day Susan was sporting a bump just south of her collarbone, a little inside. Ow, she couldn't resist pressing the bump making it hurt.
The day after that the bump still hurt. Ow.
Three days later the bump is a little smaller but still hurts. Ow, because Susan keeps pressing it.
7.21.2009
Frank's Brother
Frank McCourt has gone to meet his Maker and even though Susan didn't like any of his books ('Tis true)
she wishes him well in his new endeavor.
Susan much prefers Frank's brother, Malachy the author of 'A Monk Swimming'. Malachy makes Susan laugh and uses words like spifflicated, querulousness, concomitantly, promulgating, desultory and avoirdupois. Susan knows what promulgating means because it was part of a couplet in a junior high school bathroom stall and has stuck with her for three decades. Some of the other words Susan has seen around the neighborhood but she really doesn't know them and two are flat out strangers.
Let's make friends with some new words, shall we?
SPIFFLICATED
1920s slang for drunk
Damaged beyond repair
QUERULOUSNESS
A related form of QUERULOUS; inclined to find fault,
often complaining
CONCOMITANTLY
Occurring simultaneously, accompanying,
existing with something else often in a lesser way
PROMULGATING
Announcing, making known
DESULTORY
Lacking in consistency or visible order, disconnected
AVOIRDUPOIS
Excess body weight
she wishes him well in his new endeavor.
Susan much prefers Frank's brother, Malachy the author of 'A Monk Swimming'. Malachy makes Susan laugh and uses words like spifflicated, querulousness, concomitantly, promulgating, desultory and avoirdupois. Susan knows what promulgating means because it was part of a couplet in a junior high school bathroom stall and has stuck with her for three decades. Some of the other words Susan has seen around the neighborhood but she really doesn't know them and two are flat out strangers.
Let's make friends with some new words, shall we?
SPIFFLICATED
1920s slang for drunk
Damaged beyond repair
QUERULOUSNESS
A related form of QUERULOUS; inclined to find fault,
often complaining
CONCOMITANTLY
Occurring simultaneously, accompanying,
existing with something else often in a lesser way
PROMULGATING
Announcing, making known
DESULTORY
Lacking in consistency or visible order, disconnected
AVOIRDUPOIS
Excess body weight
7.19.2009
Is Anyone Interested In A Potato Salad Recipe?
Susan's little sister was over for a certain eleven year old's birthday party and had nice things to say about Susan's potato salad.
Susan doesn't like her potatoes cold and slathered in mayonnaise, but she likes this recipe because it uses sweet potatoes, garlic and balsamic vinegar. Susan's recipe allows for all sorts of substitutions but she will stick close to the original form.
1.5 pounds of small red potatoes (or any potatoes really), scrubbed & quartered
1.5 pounds of sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced (add more)
1/2 onion, finely chopped (use the whole thing)
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro, basil or oregano, whatever's handy
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
3 tablespoons plain yogurt (feel free to use fat free,
Susan does)
1/4 teaspoon salt
pepper
Susan has also been known to chop up a red and/or green pepper for a little crunch.
Simmer potatoes 15-20 minutes until tender. Drain & rinse under cold water.
Combine vinegar, oil and garlic in a LARGE bowl.
Add the onion and potatoes, toss to coat.
Combine the cilantro, basil or oregano with the mayonnaise, yogurt, salt & pepper.
Pour over the potatoes and toss to coat.
Refrigerate until cold.
Susan finds it tastes best the day she makes it.
Will anyone be put off to learn that it's a WW recipe?
Susan doesn't like her potatoes cold and slathered in mayonnaise, but she likes this recipe because it uses sweet potatoes, garlic and balsamic vinegar. Susan's recipe allows for all sorts of substitutions but she will stick close to the original form.
1.5 pounds of small red potatoes (or any potatoes really), scrubbed & quartered
1.5 pounds of sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced (add more)
1/2 onion, finely chopped (use the whole thing)
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro, basil or oregano, whatever's handy
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
3 tablespoons plain yogurt (feel free to use fat free,
Susan does)
1/4 teaspoon salt
pepper
Susan has also been known to chop up a red and/or green pepper for a little crunch.
Simmer potatoes 15-20 minutes until tender. Drain & rinse under cold water.
Combine vinegar, oil and garlic in a LARGE bowl.
Add the onion and potatoes, toss to coat.
Combine the cilantro, basil or oregano with the mayonnaise, yogurt, salt & pepper.
Pour over the potatoes and toss to coat.
Refrigerate until cold.
Susan finds it tastes best the day she makes it.
Will anyone be put off to learn that it's a WW recipe?
7.17.2009
Happy Birthday, Sunshine!
Susan is lucky enough to have two children who she prefers over all other children, except maybe for children who don't whine when they're told to do something,
but she has yet to meet any.
Susan's son was born in the winter and every year she has to hold an off-premises birthday party because she can't accommodate a braying herd of boys in her house.
Her daughter was born in the summer and thank goodness for backyard parties. Susan loves backyard parties because although they require that she cleans the house, they also require much less money. Assuming she pays attention.
When her daughter was little Susan had to shame mothers into RSVP-ing or beg them to bring additional offspring in order to ensure a decent turnout.
Now that her daughter is eleven, chasing after guests is no longer necessary. The eleven year old took on the responsibility of writing all the invitations and each invitee called up to accept or decline on their own.
What mature girls!
Mothers' involvement is now limited to transportation,
not communication, which is fine with Susan.
In the past Susan has had to provide a series of games or crafty activities for the party guests, but not any more.
A simple above ground pool, water balloons and music is all that's necessary leaving Susan free to sit on the deck and drink sangria while her husband makes hamburgers.
Even when the party guests turn into overnight company a PG-13 movie and green nail polish keep them happy.
Susan was unsuccessful in abolishing the goody bags. Drats!
The eleven year old allowed Susan to simplify the contents to a gimmicky toy, a deck of cards and candy.
Happy Birthday, Sunshine!
but she has yet to meet any.
Susan's son was born in the winter and every year she has to hold an off-premises birthday party because she can't accommodate a braying herd of boys in her house.
Her daughter was born in the summer and thank goodness for backyard parties. Susan loves backyard parties because although they require that she cleans the house, they also require much less money. Assuming she pays attention.
When her daughter was little Susan had to shame mothers into RSVP-ing or beg them to bring additional offspring in order to ensure a decent turnout.
Now that her daughter is eleven, chasing after guests is no longer necessary. The eleven year old took on the responsibility of writing all the invitations and each invitee called up to accept or decline on their own.
What mature girls!
Mothers' involvement is now limited to transportation,
not communication, which is fine with Susan.
In the past Susan has had to provide a series of games or crafty activities for the party guests, but not any more.
A simple above ground pool, water balloons and music is all that's necessary leaving Susan free to sit on the deck and drink sangria while her husband makes hamburgers.
Even when the party guests turn into overnight company a PG-13 movie and green nail polish keep them happy.
Susan was unsuccessful in abolishing the goody bags. Drats!
The eleven year old allowed Susan to simplify the contents to a gimmicky toy, a deck of cards and candy.
Happy Birthday, Sunshine!
7.14.2009
The Car's Got To Go
Susan's new old car has an oil leak which means that she can't park it in the driveway.
It also means there's a smoky exhaust smell.
She knew it had no air conditioning, but discovered it had no heat when she tried to dry her hair by aiming the blowers at her head.
It squeaks and rattles but that's almost not worth mentioning.
Susan walked in the door this evening with the taste of a city bus in her mouth and approached the husband.
'We have to sell the car.'
He didn't object.
It also means there's a smoky exhaust smell.
She knew it had no air conditioning, but discovered it had no heat when she tried to dry her hair by aiming the blowers at her head.
It squeaks and rattles but that's almost not worth mentioning.
Susan walked in the door this evening with the taste of a city bus in her mouth and approached the husband.
'We have to sell the car.'
He didn't object.
7.13.2009
Susan Telephones Her Daughter From Work
Hello, sweetie.
Hi, mommy.
What are you doing?
Nothing.
Did you have fun today?
It was okay.
Did you see your cousins?
No.
I thought daddy was dropping you with your cousins.
No.
Did you go to work with daddy?
Yes.
Were you bored?
Yes.
How come daddy didn't drop you off with your cousins?
I dunno.
Was Uncle Erik home?
No, he was a witness to a bank robbery and he had to talk to the police.
Huh?
Hi, mommy.
What are you doing?
Nothing.
Did you have fun today?
It was okay.
Did you see your cousins?
No.
I thought daddy was dropping you with your cousins.
No.
Did you go to work with daddy?
Yes.
Were you bored?
Yes.
How come daddy didn't drop you off with your cousins?
I dunno.
Was Uncle Erik home?
No, he was a witness to a bank robbery and he had to talk to the police.
Huh?
7.12.2009
Twisted Susan's Car
Recently much of Susan's life has been eaten up by her new career as a sweatshop seamstress.
As a result she hasn't had time to do anything other than work like a DOG.
But, she's managed to squeeze in a few things over the last twelve days, such as;
paint her toenails
plan a backyard camping trip
watch a movie with her brother
take a nice drive
bake eggplant, tomatoes & garlic in olive oil @ 500 degrees for 15 minutes
and participate in the purchase of a car.
For the last few years Susan and the husband had been in the habit of driving new cars. This was nice for a while but ultimately became a terrible burden which was relieved,
to some extent, by a tow truck. Immediately afterwards, Susan was happy to drive her little sister's van until it required too much money to repair. Lately, Susan and the husband had been sharing one car while they searched for a suitable used car. Susan was enthusiastic when the husband showed her a reasonably priced Volvo.
It was reasonably priced because it was made in 1993.
That's older than Susan's marriage!
The privilege of purchasing this car necessitated a trip one state over because there are no 1993 Volvos for sale in Susan's home state. This notwithstanding, Susan was excited because she would have her own car again. So, one evening last week Susan & the husband went to pick it up. Susan approached her new old car, stuck her face in the window and said 'It smells'.
Susan was not allowed near it again until yesterday when she spent an hour scrubbing the inside with one of her green cleaning cocktails. Then she drove it.
It runs good and goes fast. It doesn't have air conditioning but there's a working sun roof and power windows.
It doesn't have a cup holder but there's space to wedge her coffee cup between the center console and the seat.
It doesn't have a CD player but the speakers are good and Susan likes listening to the radio too.
Susan likes her new old car.
As a result she hasn't had time to do anything other than work like a DOG.
But, she's managed to squeeze in a few things over the last twelve days, such as;
paint her toenails
plan a backyard camping trip
watch a movie with her brother
take a nice drive
bake eggplant, tomatoes & garlic in olive oil @ 500 degrees for 15 minutes
and participate in the purchase of a car.
For the last few years Susan and the husband had been in the habit of driving new cars. This was nice for a while but ultimately became a terrible burden which was relieved,
to some extent, by a tow truck. Immediately afterwards, Susan was happy to drive her little sister's van until it required too much money to repair. Lately, Susan and the husband had been sharing one car while they searched for a suitable used car. Susan was enthusiastic when the husband showed her a reasonably priced Volvo.
It was reasonably priced because it was made in 1993.
That's older than Susan's marriage!
The privilege of purchasing this car necessitated a trip one state over because there are no 1993 Volvos for sale in Susan's home state. This notwithstanding, Susan was excited because she would have her own car again. So, one evening last week Susan & the husband went to pick it up. Susan approached her new old car, stuck her face in the window and said 'It smells'.
Susan was not allowed near it again until yesterday when she spent an hour scrubbing the inside with one of her green cleaning cocktails. Then she drove it.
It runs good and goes fast. It doesn't have air conditioning but there's a working sun roof and power windows.
It doesn't have a cup holder but there's space to wedge her coffee cup between the center console and the seat.
It doesn't have a CD player but the speakers are good and Susan likes listening to the radio too.
Susan likes her new old car.
6.30.2009
Wild Bill's Car
Wild Bill and his daughter drove up from the mountains of N.C. in a gigantic Buick. It was purchased the week they left and it's the sort of car his parents would drive.
In fact, it looks exactly like the car they drive.
It's not a new car, but it's larger than some of the rooms in Susan's house and very comfortable. It has many switches to do things like move seats and regulate the temperature.
Of course such a wonderful car has an alarm system.
Just before 9 on Sunday morning Susan was standing at the kitchen window. She was able to be in that location at that time because she does not attend church. Not unless her little sister makes her go to hear Susan's niece sing like an angel. Like an angel!
Anyway, Susan was standing at the window when a car alarm went off. It took her no time at all to figure out that it was Wild Bill's car. She ran downstairs to inquire as to the whereabouts of his keys. They were in his pocket.
He stumbled up the steps & staggered outside like Frankenstein on four hours sleep and turned off the alarm. Susan was relieved that it wasn't any earlier,
her personal viewpoint is that no apologies are necessary at 9 am, even on Sunday.
Monday night was warm so Susan and her husband slept with all the windows open in their bedroom.
At 4 am Susan slowly became aware of a rhythmic beat. Oh no!
All at once she sprang up in a panic and ran to the living room to verify what she already knew. Luckily Wild Bill was right there sleeping on the couch, keys in his pocket.
He staggered outside to turn off the alarm and Susan went back to bed.
A half hour later Susan bolted upright from a sound sleep and ran like a crazy woman into the living room.
The f*cking alarm!
She twisted her brother's toe and opened the front door then stomped back to bed where she tossed and turned for the next 90 minutes until she fell asleep again.
In fact, it looks exactly like the car they drive.
It's not a new car, but it's larger than some of the rooms in Susan's house and very comfortable. It has many switches to do things like move seats and regulate the temperature.
Of course such a wonderful car has an alarm system.
Just before 9 on Sunday morning Susan was standing at the kitchen window. She was able to be in that location at that time because she does not attend church. Not unless her little sister makes her go to hear Susan's niece sing like an angel. Like an angel!
Anyway, Susan was standing at the window when a car alarm went off. It took her no time at all to figure out that it was Wild Bill's car. She ran downstairs to inquire as to the whereabouts of his keys. They were in his pocket.
He stumbled up the steps & staggered outside like Frankenstein on four hours sleep and turned off the alarm. Susan was relieved that it wasn't any earlier,
her personal viewpoint is that no apologies are necessary at 9 am, even on Sunday.
Monday night was warm so Susan and her husband slept with all the windows open in their bedroom.
At 4 am Susan slowly became aware of a rhythmic beat. Oh no!
All at once she sprang up in a panic and ran to the living room to verify what she already knew. Luckily Wild Bill was right there sleeping on the couch, keys in his pocket.
He staggered outside to turn off the alarm and Susan went back to bed.
A half hour later Susan bolted upright from a sound sleep and ran like a crazy woman into the living room.
The f*cking alarm!
She twisted her brother's toe and opened the front door then stomped back to bed where she tossed and turned for the next 90 minutes until she fell asleep again.
6.28.2009
Susan Eats Guacamole
When Susan was growing up people in her neighborhood didn't eat anything exotic like guacamole. She was probably in her thirties before she even knew what it was made out of. But, now one of the perks of summer is mixing together avocado and cilantro and tomatoes and garlic and lime juice and salt and cumin.
Did she forget anything?
She doesn't add onion, but wouldn't discriminate if someone put some in there & gave it to her to eat.
A year or two ago she'd smash up an avocado, add a packet of store bought spices and call it a day.
But, now she knows better. And she likes it chunky, not whipped like her little sister made it that one time.
Today Susan made some guacamole then ate more than her share. During the course of the afternoon her stomach expanded so much that she had to change into her stretchy pants.
Did she forget anything?
She doesn't add onion, but wouldn't discriminate if someone put some in there & gave it to her to eat.
A year or two ago she'd smash up an avocado, add a packet of store bought spices and call it a day.
But, now she knows better. And she likes it chunky, not whipped like her little sister made it that one time.
Today Susan made some guacamole then ate more than her share. During the course of the afternoon her stomach expanded so much that she had to change into her stretchy pants.
6.27.2009
Family Fun
Susan and her little sister have a brother named Wild Bill
and Wild Bill has a daughter.
Two days ago Wild Bill and his daughter drove from
Dueling Banjos, N.C. to Suburban Civilization, N.Y.
for an open-ended visit.
Wild Bill is a true middle child who remains faithful to many of the behaviors and activities he enjoyed growing up.
This makes for some lively debate between his sisters in his absence.
But, for a brief period all the siblings and parents were together to make fun of each other and eat Chinese food. Then the parents went home because they like to leave as much as they like to visit.
Susan's going to miss having this conversation with her mother;
'Your coffee is too strong, Susan.'
'No, it's not.'
As much as she'll miss having this one with her father;
'You want some coffee, Pop?'
'Yes, please.'
and Wild Bill has a daughter.
Two days ago Wild Bill and his daughter drove from
Dueling Banjos, N.C. to Suburban Civilization, N.Y.
for an open-ended visit.
Wild Bill is a true middle child who remains faithful to many of the behaviors and activities he enjoyed growing up.
This makes for some lively debate between his sisters in his absence.
But, for a brief period all the siblings and parents were together to make fun of each other and eat Chinese food. Then the parents went home because they like to leave as much as they like to visit.
Susan's going to miss having this conversation with her mother;
'Your coffee is too strong, Susan.'
'No, it's not.'
As much as she'll miss having this one with her father;
'You want some coffee, Pop?'
'Yes, please.'
6.24.2009
I Feel Badly
Susan has noticed that people say 'I feel badly' all the time, even smart people with good jobs. Jobs on TV.
When someone says that they feel badly, what they're really saying is that their mechanism for feeling has been compromised.
They're bad at feeling.
Sorry man, can't feel. I don't know, it's just bad.
These people might think that badly sounds smarter than plain old bad. If so, then Susan feels bad for them.
Strunk & White's 'Elements of Style' advises us not to 'dress words up by addling -ly to them, as though putting a hat on a horse.'
Susan agrees.
Susan would like to help steer people from using badly in an improper manner by asking them to consider that if one can feel badly can one also feel goodly?
When someone says that they feel badly, what they're really saying is that their mechanism for feeling has been compromised.
They're bad at feeling.
Sorry man, can't feel. I don't know, it's just bad.
These people might think that badly sounds smarter than plain old bad. If so, then Susan feels bad for them.
Strunk & White's 'Elements of Style' advises us not to 'dress words up by addling -ly to them, as though putting a hat on a horse.'
Susan agrees.
Susan would like to help steer people from using badly in an improper manner by asking them to consider that if one can feel badly can one also feel goodly?
6.21.2009
Ouch
Susan's parents drove up from the heat stroked wasteland of eastern-middle Florida to bunk with her family for a week. Susan's little sister had been hosting them for fifteen years and now it was Susan's turn.
She doesn't mind because you know, they raised her.
Anyway, they're pretty good guests.
They play cards with her kids, put up with the deaf, flatulent dog and pitch in with the chores, even the ones Susan doesn't want them to do.
Susan's old man washes the dishes by hand although Susan has explained that the dishes go in the dishwasher. This isn't an arbitrary rule, if the dishes start getting washed by hand then there won't be enough dishes to run the dishwasher and then they'll all have to get washed by hand. This is a scenario Susan avoids at all cost.
The last time Susan caught her father at the sink he was washing a lasagne pan and she gently reminded him to knock it off.
The next morning Susan was in the kitchen preparing to make a cup of coffee when she saw the lasagne pan.
She picked it up & walked toward the cabinet to put it away but she hit a wet spot. She slid across the floor and didn't stop until all 160 lbs of her, and the lasagne pan, crashed into the wall.
Susan's daughter was reading in the next room and surely heard the sound of the wall stopping her mother's trajectory, yet there was no inquiry. As Susan sat there, she reviewed whether she heard a bone snap. She did not. Eventually, the daughter came in and assisted Susan by taking the lasagne pan so that Susan could crawl across the floor, hoist herself up and make coffee.
She doesn't mind because you know, they raised her.
Anyway, they're pretty good guests.
They play cards with her kids, put up with the deaf, flatulent dog and pitch in with the chores, even the ones Susan doesn't want them to do.
Susan's old man washes the dishes by hand although Susan has explained that the dishes go in the dishwasher. This isn't an arbitrary rule, if the dishes start getting washed by hand then there won't be enough dishes to run the dishwasher and then they'll all have to get washed by hand. This is a scenario Susan avoids at all cost.
The last time Susan caught her father at the sink he was washing a lasagne pan and she gently reminded him to knock it off.
The next morning Susan was in the kitchen preparing to make a cup of coffee when she saw the lasagne pan.
She picked it up & walked toward the cabinet to put it away but she hit a wet spot. She slid across the floor and didn't stop until all 160 lbs of her, and the lasagne pan, crashed into the wall.
Susan's daughter was reading in the next room and surely heard the sound of the wall stopping her mother's trajectory, yet there was no inquiry. As Susan sat there, she reviewed whether she heard a bone snap. She did not. Eventually, the daughter came in and assisted Susan by taking the lasagne pan so that Susan could crawl across the floor, hoist herself up and make coffee.
Ogred Weary
Susan was thinking about Edward Gorey today.
He first caught her attention here when she was a young teenager and she's crossed paths with his artistic talents often enough since then. Last summer, while on a Cape Cod vacation with Cousin Lisa's family, Susan's husband made a wrong turn & they found themselves directly in front of Edward Gorey's House.
It's Edward Gorey's house!
Susan was both excited and accurate.
A quick hop out of the car to peek in windows and rattle door knobs revealed that it was now a museum which had closed for the day. Susan took note of the location and made a plan to return.
Susan's family had rented a cottage on the beach with Cousin Lisa's family for a week. However, Susan prefers to characterize it as a beachfront sh*t hole. It was too small to comfortably fit both families, the appliances appeared to be prototypes of their kind and there wasn't so much as a fan to assist in moving the stifling air about.
Who knew Massachusetts got so hot?
Every morning thousands of tiny spiders could be found sleeping out on the deck after a full night of spinning webs & embedding themselves into everything in sight.
Susan could write volumes about how much she hated the sh*t hole, but she won't because she really just wants to write about Edward Gorey's house.
Susan and Cousin Lisa returned to the house two days later without kids or husbands. It was during this trip that Susan discovered that she has more confidence in maps than talking boxes giving directions.
Edward Gorey's house was old and creaky with a fresh coat of white paint. Mr. Gorey had been a collector of much and a particular pack ratter of books which Susan learned through the photographs on the walls and by talking to the docent. He kept so many books while he lived there that certain rooms were un-navigable. Even with much of the contents removed, Susan found there was plenty to look at and all of it was entertaining.
Cousin Lisa however, was not down with the whole musty house experience & retreated to the outside pretty quickly leaving Susan to poke around undisturbed.
Susan liked Mr. Gorey's tongue in cheekiness. She was especially fond of a hand sewn doll displayed on a windowsill with its head underneath a large rock, and another visible only as a set of legs sticking out from beneath a rug.
Before Susan left she rewarded herself with a few of Mr. Gorey's books, her favorite of which 'The Curious Sofa' made her laugh out loud as she read it, in his house.
He first caught her attention here when she was a young teenager and she's crossed paths with his artistic talents often enough since then. Last summer, while on a Cape Cod vacation with Cousin Lisa's family, Susan's husband made a wrong turn & they found themselves directly in front of Edward Gorey's House.
It's Edward Gorey's house!
Susan was both excited and accurate.
A quick hop out of the car to peek in windows and rattle door knobs revealed that it was now a museum which had closed for the day. Susan took note of the location and made a plan to return.
Susan's family had rented a cottage on the beach with Cousin Lisa's family for a week. However, Susan prefers to characterize it as a beachfront sh*t hole. It was too small to comfortably fit both families, the appliances appeared to be prototypes of their kind and there wasn't so much as a fan to assist in moving the stifling air about.
Who knew Massachusetts got so hot?
Every morning thousands of tiny spiders could be found sleeping out on the deck after a full night of spinning webs & embedding themselves into everything in sight.
Susan could write volumes about how much she hated the sh*t hole, but she won't because she really just wants to write about Edward Gorey's house.
Susan and Cousin Lisa returned to the house two days later without kids or husbands. It was during this trip that Susan discovered that she has more confidence in maps than talking boxes giving directions.
Edward Gorey's house was old and creaky with a fresh coat of white paint. Mr. Gorey had been a collector of much and a particular pack ratter of books which Susan learned through the photographs on the walls and by talking to the docent. He kept so many books while he lived there that certain rooms were un-navigable. Even with much of the contents removed, Susan found there was plenty to look at and all of it was entertaining.
Cousin Lisa however, was not down with the whole musty house experience & retreated to the outside pretty quickly leaving Susan to poke around undisturbed.
Susan liked Mr. Gorey's tongue in cheekiness. She was especially fond of a hand sewn doll displayed on a windowsill with its head underneath a large rock, and another visible only as a set of legs sticking out from beneath a rug.
Before Susan left she rewarded herself with a few of Mr. Gorey's books, her favorite of which 'The Curious Sofa' made her laugh out loud as she read it, in his house.
6.18.2009
Procrastination
Susan's had the same Netflix movie sitting up on top of her television set for a ridiculously long time. She took it with her when she went here and that was months ago!
She has no clear recollection of what movie it is although she's sure it was an interesting choice.
Susan's had a pile of neatly folded clothing sitting on top of the dryer since last summer when she thought it might be a good idea to sell them on eBay. Susan doesn't understand how she's lived for such a long time without being able to use that space for the storage of any number of other things, like her current laundry.
Susan keeps piles of reading material at the ready just in case she finds herself with any time at all to read.
She's fond of keeping her favorite sections of the NY Times folded in quarters for upwards of two months or longer, until she gets around to them.
It's almost summer but Susan hasn't removed her winter coats from the hall closet yet. Neither has she gotten rid of the large plastic bin which holds gloves, ear muffs and woolly winter scarves. All she has to do is make one of her kids carry everything downstairs where there's adequate room for off-season storage.
In Susan's defense she has;
switched her winter/summer clothes and footwear
recycled a ton of magazines/newspapers
reorganized two closets
and generally managed to keep her house stocked with food & toilet paper
She has no clear recollection of what movie it is although she's sure it was an interesting choice.
Susan's had a pile of neatly folded clothing sitting on top of the dryer since last summer when she thought it might be a good idea to sell them on eBay. Susan doesn't understand how she's lived for such a long time without being able to use that space for the storage of any number of other things, like her current laundry.
Susan keeps piles of reading material at the ready just in case she finds herself with any time at all to read.
She's fond of keeping her favorite sections of the NY Times folded in quarters for upwards of two months or longer, until she gets around to them.
It's almost summer but Susan hasn't removed her winter coats from the hall closet yet. Neither has she gotten rid of the large plastic bin which holds gloves, ear muffs and woolly winter scarves. All she has to do is make one of her kids carry everything downstairs where there's adequate room for off-season storage.
In Susan's defense she has;
switched her winter/summer clothes and footwear
recycled a ton of magazines/newspapers
reorganized two closets
and generally managed to keep her house stocked with food & toilet paper
6.14.2009
Grrrrrrr !
Susan hates it when she bangs her shin into the hard plastic container in which she stores the elderly, deaf, flatulent dog's food. Particularly when she kicks it out of frustration and knocks everything all over the floor and onto the piles of laundry she's been throwing into the machine all night.
And, why is the husband in the room asking what she's doing as she's flinging dirty clothes and dog food all over the place?
He's obviously there to make her scream at him to
leave her alone and she'll take care of it, a few times,
and bang sh*t before stomping off to drag the wet/dry vac up the stairs from the basement.
She hates all of it, including catching the kids in the crossfire by yelling at them to clean their room
and go to bed
and vacuum the house
and brush their teeth.
The last thing she hates is the sore throat she gets when she's done.
And, why is the husband in the room asking what she's doing as she's flinging dirty clothes and dog food all over the place?
He's obviously there to make her scream at him to
leave her alone and she'll take care of it, a few times,
and bang sh*t before stomping off to drag the wet/dry vac up the stairs from the basement.
She hates all of it, including catching the kids in the crossfire by yelling at them to clean their room
and go to bed
and vacuum the house
and brush their teeth.
The last thing she hates is the sore throat she gets when she's done.
6.13.2009
Guess Who
Susan and her husband enjoyed an evening out at the home of one of her co-workers. They had fun talking and eating and drinking Polish beer.
Eventually they returned home to find an idling van partially blocking their drive way.
The husband tapped the horn.
The van moved up a bit.
The passenger door swung open and a leg came out, followed by another leg.
Shortly an entire disheveled female body came tumbling out. Susan immediately became aware of a bit of extra flesh. Unfortunately the Disheveled Tumbler's skirt had ridden down far enough to expose some ass cleavage.
Can you guess who's ass Susan was looking at?
Sure you can.
Eventually they returned home to find an idling van partially blocking their drive way.
The husband tapped the horn.
The van moved up a bit.
The passenger door swung open and a leg came out, followed by another leg.
Shortly an entire disheveled female body came tumbling out. Susan immediately became aware of a bit of extra flesh. Unfortunately the Disheveled Tumbler's skirt had ridden down far enough to expose some ass cleavage.
Can you guess who's ass Susan was looking at?
Sure you can.
6.10.2009
Susan Had A Stinky Birthday
Susan learned a few rotten things about herself on her stinky birthday.
Sure, she woke up to find an adorable hand made card from her sweet daughter.
And everybody was nice to her all day, even the folks who didn't know it was her birthday.
And, what could be better than ending up at her little sister's house for a cocktail and dinner and a funny card and a home baked cheesecake?
But somewhere in between all of that she got her
fat birthday ass kicked by someone who took a look at the scam Susan was running and called her out.
Susan spent the bulk of the day alternating between wanting to die of embarrassment and wanting to cry,
but since she couldn't decide, she did neither.
She did, however, get a stomach ache that still hasn't gone away and she enjoyed a bad night's sleep.
Anyway, Susan values introspection particularly when it's jump-started by having her nose rubbed in her own mess.
She can't wait till she's 50.
Sure, she woke up to find an adorable hand made card from her sweet daughter.
And everybody was nice to her all day, even the folks who didn't know it was her birthday.
And, what could be better than ending up at her little sister's house for a cocktail and dinner and a funny card and a home baked cheesecake?
But somewhere in between all of that she got her
fat birthday ass kicked by someone who took a look at the scam Susan was running and called her out.
Susan spent the bulk of the day alternating between wanting to die of embarrassment and wanting to cry,
but since she couldn't decide, she did neither.
She did, however, get a stomach ache that still hasn't gone away and she enjoyed a bad night's sleep.
Anyway, Susan values introspection particularly when it's jump-started by having her nose rubbed in her own mess.
She can't wait till she's 50.
6.07.2009
Saturday Night
Susan's birthday is imminent.
She's wanted nothing more in the way of celebration than to sit in a movie theatre with the husband's arm draped over her shoulder on a Saturday night.
Simple enough.
However, over the 13.4 years that they've been raising children it has been almost impossible to
(a) find a movie worth seeing and
(b) get out of the house to see it.
History has revealed that Susan will most likely detest what she watches but she has chosen to live in hope.
Susan had no argument with the price of the tickets.
Why bother? She may as well argue about the price of everything in the world. But Susan had a tremendous TWISTED response to the foul assortment of television commercials she was exposed to before the movie began.
Television commercials at the movies, Mary, mother of God!
Susan has taught her children that commercials are packaged lies used to manipulate money from hardworking people. She makes this point at every available opportunity drilling it into their soft, impressionable brains.
Susan complained bitterly and without restraint to the husband as each deplorable and unimaginative commercial assaulted her. In the past Susan has boo-ed the movie screen at the first whiff of a commercial, only to be boo-ed back by an audience of brainless zombies. She hopes they're happy to have gotten what they wanted.
Oh, she liked the movie.
She's wanted nothing more in the way of celebration than to sit in a movie theatre with the husband's arm draped over her shoulder on a Saturday night.
Simple enough.
However, over the 13.4 years that they've been raising children it has been almost impossible to
(a) find a movie worth seeing and
(b) get out of the house to see it.
History has revealed that Susan will most likely detest what she watches but she has chosen to live in hope.
Susan had no argument with the price of the tickets.
Why bother? She may as well argue about the price of everything in the world. But Susan had a tremendous TWISTED response to the foul assortment of television commercials she was exposed to before the movie began.
Television commercials at the movies, Mary, mother of God!
Susan has taught her children that commercials are packaged lies used to manipulate money from hardworking people. She makes this point at every available opportunity drilling it into their soft, impressionable brains.
Susan complained bitterly and without restraint to the husband as each deplorable and unimaginative commercial assaulted her. In the past Susan has boo-ed the movie screen at the first whiff of a commercial, only to be boo-ed back by an audience of brainless zombies. She hopes they're happy to have gotten what they wanted.
Oh, she liked the movie.
6.05.2009
A Lifetime of Stubble, Enjoy.
For weeks and weeks Susan's sweet little crybaby of a daughter had been requesting to shave her legs.
Each time she did Susan stuck one of her own legs up under her daughter's nose and screetched 'This is what they'll feel like if you shave them!'
The very popular 'I don't care!' was offered back.
Followed by, 'All the girls in my class shave them.'
Susan knew her days in control were numbered.
She reviewed the situation;
Shaving was inevitable. How long did she really think she could put her daughter off with summer just around the corner?
Susan is very sedentary, did she have the energy for a battle over leg hair?
Oy. Susan was talking herself into it.
The daughter had been wearing her brassiere.
Susan noticed but said nothing.
The daughter knew that Susan knew.
And Susan knew that the daughter knew she knew.
They had sort of an unspoken understanding and this is what ultimately tipped the leg-shaving scale in the daughter's direction.
Susan's daughter was on her way to the shower. Susan stopped her and handed over a well worn down razor. Susan retrieved her Trader Joe's Honey Mango shaving cream and handed that over too. Then she went off to sob into a load of laundry.
Each time she did Susan stuck one of her own legs up under her daughter's nose and screetched 'This is what they'll feel like if you shave them!'
The very popular 'I don't care!' was offered back.
Followed by, 'All the girls in my class shave them.'
Susan knew her days in control were numbered.
She reviewed the situation;
Shaving was inevitable. How long did she really think she could put her daughter off with summer just around the corner?
Susan is very sedentary, did she have the energy for a battle over leg hair?
Oy. Susan was talking herself into it.
The daughter had been wearing her brassiere.
Susan noticed but said nothing.
The daughter knew that Susan knew.
And Susan knew that the daughter knew she knew.
They had sort of an unspoken understanding and this is what ultimately tipped the leg-shaving scale in the daughter's direction.
Susan's daughter was on her way to the shower. Susan stopped her and handed over a well worn down razor. Susan retrieved her Trader Joe's Honey Mango shaving cream and handed that over too. Then she went off to sob into a load of laundry.
6.04.2009
Susan's Blog List
Is everyone checking out Susan's Blog List up there to the right? She hopes so because her blogging sisters need readers. And, who knows, maybe you'll fall in love a little, the way Susan has.
This one is sort of an exception, but it's written by the meanest girl in eleventh grade and Susan insists that you read it.
i am bossy kept Susan company during the last few months of her unemployment and hipped her to a whole new universe from the dining room table. Thanks, Bossy!
Dawn In Austin was next. Currently she's on her way to Greece via Abu Dhabi with the husband.
Cupcake Murphy, Vanessa and Sunny Side Up all have a big fan in Susan.
Best of Craigslist has a deceptive format which only makes it funnier.
Isle Dance is all ballsy adventurousness and led Susan to Veggie Wedgie.
Lost and Found in India is Susan's next reading project.
finslippy is brand new for Susan and bloody hilarious.
Mrs. G is an entire sisterhood rolled into one feminist hallucination.
And lastly, Susan would like to leave you with Sevedra and Stephanie.
Kisses, ladies!
This one is sort of an exception, but it's written by the meanest girl in eleventh grade and Susan insists that you read it.
i am bossy kept Susan company during the last few months of her unemployment and hipped her to a whole new universe from the dining room table. Thanks, Bossy!
Dawn In Austin was next. Currently she's on her way to Greece via Abu Dhabi with the husband.
Cupcake Murphy, Vanessa and Sunny Side Up all have a big fan in Susan.
Best of Craigslist has a deceptive format which only makes it funnier.
Isle Dance is all ballsy adventurousness and led Susan to Veggie Wedgie.
Lost and Found in India is Susan's next reading project.
finslippy is brand new for Susan and bloody hilarious.
Mrs. G is an entire sisterhood rolled into one feminist hallucination.
And lastly, Susan would like to leave you with Sevedra and Stephanie.
Kisses, ladies!
6.03.2009
Fuckleupagus is back
Things had been going well for Susan's son.
She kept him under the microscope by maintaining weekly contact with the bulk of his teachers (the reader will forgive her for being unconcerned with gym or Family Consumer Science), monitoring his assignments and eventually re-thinking her disciplinary strategy.
She gave him a few short term goals so that he could win back one of his precious electronics and as soon as he did all available attention was diverted away from his schoolwork.
Susan does a pretty good job keeping on top of all the grown up things she has to do, but she's not above getting sidetracked. It's the byproduct of a life filled with trying to do too many things at once. It doesn't help that advancing decrepitude has taken it's toll on her memory, like when she sticks her head in the fridge & has no recollection of what she's looking for or can't remember words like regulation and garbage can.
Middle School Progress Reports were mailed out last week.
Some of the son's grades were impressive, as is expected, but a smaller amount made Susan want to throw up.
She immediately reinstated his Fuckleupagus status, stripped him of every available liberty, even ones he never had then started with the threats. When Susan was finished jumping up & down and screaming her head hurt, she had a twitch and needed a big glass of orange juice. With vodka.
She kept him under the microscope by maintaining weekly contact with the bulk of his teachers (the reader will forgive her for being unconcerned with gym or Family Consumer Science), monitoring his assignments and eventually re-thinking her disciplinary strategy.
She gave him a few short term goals so that he could win back one of his precious electronics and as soon as he did all available attention was diverted away from his schoolwork.
Susan does a pretty good job keeping on top of all the grown up things she has to do, but she's not above getting sidetracked. It's the byproduct of a life filled with trying to do too many things at once. It doesn't help that advancing decrepitude has taken it's toll on her memory, like when she sticks her head in the fridge & has no recollection of what she's looking for or can't remember words like regulation and garbage can.
Middle School Progress Reports were mailed out last week.
Some of the son's grades were impressive, as is expected, but a smaller amount made Susan want to throw up.
She immediately reinstated his Fuckleupagus status, stripped him of every available liberty, even ones he never had then started with the threats. When Susan was finished jumping up & down and screaming her head hurt, she had a twitch and needed a big glass of orange juice. With vodka.
5.31.2009
A Little Drunks Story
Early Saturday evening Susan borrowed her little sister's membership card & set out with her children to the local discount warehouse to purchase $170 worth of olive oil, dog biscuits and Craisins. The husband was left in peace to watch his beloved Yankees from a favorite seat,
the chair in their bedroom. It's a nice set-up, the chair is close to the TV and next to the window, the ledge of which he uses as a perch for his cup of tea and whatever trash he produces while he sits there.
The view from the window looks diagonally across the street to the front of the Drunks' house.
Susan recalled that she had seen Mr. Drunk earlier in the afternoon, shirtless and slightly unsteady as he stood in the front yard surveying his newly varnished fence.
The husband soon became aware of a small commotion in the street. Apparently, Mr. Drunk had wedged himself into a child's Big Wheel. Susan doesn't understand how Mr. Drunk could fit himself into a Big Wheel, but this is what the husband told her, which was later corroborated by her next-door neighbor, so obviously this is possible. Anyway, Mr. Drunk rode the Big Wheel between his house and another house a few doors down the hill connecting them, which triggered a shouting match.
It's Susan's understanding that Mr. Drunk and the resident of the other house have a history of mutual aggitation, so it's natural that Mr. Drunk would wheel himself back home cursing and yelling.
The object of Mr. Drunks' adolescent tirade did not follow him up the hill, so Mr. Drunk stood alone in his yard spewing a sloppy soliloquoy of threatened ass-kickings.
At some point Mrs. Drunk came out to calm him down. This was a new role for Mrs. Drunk, she must have been a few cocktails behind her husband and therefore held on to some semblance of normal thought.
Susan's husband reports that Mr. and Mrs. Drunk continued yelling at each other for 20 minutes. Susan doesn't know how it ended because when the husband realized she was going to blog about it he stopped giving her information.
the chair in their bedroom. It's a nice set-up, the chair is close to the TV and next to the window, the ledge of which he uses as a perch for his cup of tea and whatever trash he produces while he sits there.
The view from the window looks diagonally across the street to the front of the Drunks' house.
Susan recalled that she had seen Mr. Drunk earlier in the afternoon, shirtless and slightly unsteady as he stood in the front yard surveying his newly varnished fence.
The husband soon became aware of a small commotion in the street. Apparently, Mr. Drunk had wedged himself into a child's Big Wheel. Susan doesn't understand how Mr. Drunk could fit himself into a Big Wheel, but this is what the husband told her, which was later corroborated by her next-door neighbor, so obviously this is possible. Anyway, Mr. Drunk rode the Big Wheel between his house and another house a few doors down the hill connecting them, which triggered a shouting match.
It's Susan's understanding that Mr. Drunk and the resident of the other house have a history of mutual aggitation, so it's natural that Mr. Drunk would wheel himself back home cursing and yelling.
The object of Mr. Drunks' adolescent tirade did not follow him up the hill, so Mr. Drunk stood alone in his yard spewing a sloppy soliloquoy of threatened ass-kickings.
At some point Mrs. Drunk came out to calm him down. This was a new role for Mrs. Drunk, she must have been a few cocktails behind her husband and therefore held on to some semblance of normal thought.
Susan's husband reports that Mr. and Mrs. Drunk continued yelling at each other for 20 minutes. Susan doesn't know how it ended because when the husband realized she was going to blog about it he stopped giving her information.
Blessed? Shut Up.
Blessed is the word that bugs Susan the most and unless Jesus is speaking she doesn't want to hear it.
Other things that bug her are;
modern baby names
the bagels in her neighborhood
TV news
when she breaks a tooth
the price of the NY Times
being interrupted
Drew Barrymore
LOL
wet laundry left in the machine long enough to be washed again
the bastardized American version of any foreign movie
political pontification
small dogs in shopping carts
Frank McCourt's books
To be continued...
Other things that bug her are;
modern baby names
the bagels in her neighborhood
TV news
when she breaks a tooth
the price of the NY Times
being interrupted
Drew Barrymore
LOL
wet laundry left in the machine long enough to be washed again
the bastardized American version of any foreign movie
political pontification
small dogs in shopping carts
Frank McCourt's books
To be continued...
5.30.2009
Susan Likes Kate Gosselin
She's not saying that K8 isn't a b*tch because she certainly appears to be one.
Susan likes K8 because she's not a fawning idiot like everyone else is on TV.
Susan likes K8 because she's real and frustrated and personally limited, and knows it.
She's scared of surprises & doesn't like the outdoors.
She gave vomiting children their own pails and set them up for naps on the floor in the laundry room.
She washed clothes based on which kid they belong to, not by color, for organizational purposes.
Susan likes that K8 drove the very pleasant Steve Thomas to say she was hard on the outside, like her oatmeal cookies.
Most of all Susan likes that K8 cracks the whip,
she's no cool mom.
Susan doesn't like cool moms.
Susan likes K8 because she's not a fawning idiot like everyone else is on TV.
Susan likes K8 because she's real and frustrated and personally limited, and knows it.
She's scared of surprises & doesn't like the outdoors.
She gave vomiting children their own pails and set them up for naps on the floor in the laundry room.
She washed clothes based on which kid they belong to, not by color, for organizational purposes.
Susan likes that K8 drove the very pleasant Steve Thomas to say she was hard on the outside, like her oatmeal cookies.
Most of all Susan likes that K8 cracks the whip,
she's no cool mom.
Susan doesn't like cool moms.
5.28.2009
Where's The F*cking Craisins?
Susan bakes to relax. She likes things in loaf pans because then she can take a slice with her for breakfast.
Susan's current favorite things to bake are cranberry orange bread, zucchini carrot bread and banana bread with Chinese 5 spice powder.
Lately she's been in the mood for soda bread,
it's moist & sweet with lots of raisins & caraway seeds. Susan ran out of caraway seeds around St. Patrick's Day for obvious reasons and hasn't been able to pick any up, particularly when they're $3.99 for a few teaspoons. Anyway, she eventually found caraway seeds for a price she could live with and was all set. Except for the flour, she only had whole wheat in the house. She would be making whole wheat soda bread.
Susan keeps a bag of Craisins in her cabinet because she likes the option of throwing them into her baked goods. There's always a bag up there. Sometimes her son finds them, or the husband and then it's not unusual for the entire bag to be eaten in one sitting. Susan has gone f*cking insane often enough when someone eats the last of something & doesn't include it on the shopping list,
it shouldn't be an issue any more. I mean, she's not asking for anything crazy, just write the sh*t down on the list. It's always in the same spot, centrally located, not hard to find.
And where's the bag of Craisins?
Susan went through her normal TWISTED hystrionics; shouting, slamming, cursing, slamming and cursing. When she was done she cut up some figs, or dates, Susan gets them confused. She threw them into the whole wheat flour and baked her soda bread.
It came out good.
Susan's current favorite things to bake are cranberry orange bread, zucchini carrot bread and banana bread with Chinese 5 spice powder.
Lately she's been in the mood for soda bread,
it's moist & sweet with lots of raisins & caraway seeds. Susan ran out of caraway seeds around St. Patrick's Day for obvious reasons and hasn't been able to pick any up, particularly when they're $3.99 for a few teaspoons. Anyway, she eventually found caraway seeds for a price she could live with and was all set. Except for the flour, she only had whole wheat in the house. She would be making whole wheat soda bread.
Susan keeps a bag of Craisins in her cabinet because she likes the option of throwing them into her baked goods. There's always a bag up there. Sometimes her son finds them, or the husband and then it's not unusual for the entire bag to be eaten in one sitting. Susan has gone f*cking insane often enough when someone eats the last of something & doesn't include it on the shopping list,
it shouldn't be an issue any more. I mean, she's not asking for anything crazy, just write the sh*t down on the list. It's always in the same spot, centrally located, not hard to find.
And where's the bag of Craisins?
Susan went through her normal TWISTED hystrionics; shouting, slamming, cursing, slamming and cursing. When she was done she cut up some figs, or dates, Susan gets them confused. She threw them into the whole wheat flour and baked her soda bread.
It came out good.
5.26.2009
Susan's A Weight Watcher Again
Susan is back in WW but she doesn't mind. She doesn't fight the process; the meetings, writing down what she eats, watching her portions. Susan draws the line at weighing her food though, that's a bit too much.
She eyeballs things.
Susan's on board with the whole healthy eating scene anyway, she just veers off course every once in a while. Like, from Thanksgiving to spring and all summer.
Susan is attending the same meeting she's been to in the past. Even with a whole new group of participants she's noticed an unusual pattern.
Oy, they're boring.
Now, Susan can sit and talk about food endlessly. No manner of food related conversation has ever bored her. Tonight, one girl told a painfully detailed story about how her husband speculated to a stranger purchasing a large brownie that it likely had many points. Everyone roared. Susan wondered if she were being watched from Heaven by Allen Funt.
No one who spoke had any thought for those who were listening. At one point two people were speaking at once, no one was listening and all was chaos.
The last time Susan joined WW she shared the weekly meetings with a thirty-something woman who talked oppressively. Susan cut her alot of slack because the the thirty-something woman baked 1 point treats for the group and gave out good recipes. However, a terrible thing happened; the thirty-something woman's husband died suddenly leaving her with two young children.
Everyone felt bad, including Susan. How could she not? Nonetheless, Susan enjoyed the silence for the short period of time that the thirty-something woman stayed home from the meetings. When she came back she was angry, sad and didn't bring treats.
Susan couldn't take it. Every time the WW widow began to talk Susan covered her ears and dove under her chair. This wasn't therapy, Susan had no obligation to listen to the person who was slowly driving her mad. Ultimately, the WW widow was responsible for chasing Susan away.
Susan ran fast and hard.
She eyeballs things.
Susan's on board with the whole healthy eating scene anyway, she just veers off course every once in a while. Like, from Thanksgiving to spring and all summer.
Susan is attending the same meeting she's been to in the past. Even with a whole new group of participants she's noticed an unusual pattern.
Oy, they're boring.
Now, Susan can sit and talk about food endlessly. No manner of food related conversation has ever bored her. Tonight, one girl told a painfully detailed story about how her husband speculated to a stranger purchasing a large brownie that it likely had many points. Everyone roared. Susan wondered if she were being watched from Heaven by Allen Funt.
No one who spoke had any thought for those who were listening. At one point two people were speaking at once, no one was listening and all was chaos.
The last time Susan joined WW she shared the weekly meetings with a thirty-something woman who talked oppressively. Susan cut her alot of slack because the the thirty-something woman baked 1 point treats for the group and gave out good recipes. However, a terrible thing happened; the thirty-something woman's husband died suddenly leaving her with two young children.
Everyone felt bad, including Susan. How could she not? Nonetheless, Susan enjoyed the silence for the short period of time that the thirty-something woman stayed home from the meetings. When she came back she was angry, sad and didn't bring treats.
Susan couldn't take it. Every time the WW widow began to talk Susan covered her ears and dove under her chair. This wasn't therapy, Susan had no obligation to listen to the person who was slowly driving her mad. Ultimately, the WW widow was responsible for chasing Susan away.
Susan ran fast and hard.
5.24.2009
West Side Story
Susan has already bored her family talking about West Side Story, so they can just skip right over this post if they want.
Susan is able to trace a few aspects of her personality back to their roots in her childhood. For example, Susan's parents used to drive their children down to D.C. during the steamy month of August to stand on long lines and be dragged through museums. The grown-up Susan loves museums and architecture and cities.
Loves them.
When Susan's mother wasn't screaming at Susan or breaking a wooden spoon across her ass, she would let Susan sit with her and watch the Million Dollar Movie on Sunday afternoons. The grown-up Susan loves old movies.
Loves them.
She also loves tragic movies, the sort that leave her with real grief for fake people.
When Susan was in Junior High she sat downstairs over the course of two nights to watch West Side Story.
She doesn't recall what attracted her to West Side Story, she just remembers that it took two evenings and left her devastated. Wrecked. Destroyed.
Susan walked around for weeks with a broken heart. She knew what tragedy was because she FELT it. Deeply, like a suburban thirteen year old.
Anyway, fast forward thirty five years. Susan is lying in bed late one night and finds West Side Story on the TV, three quarters of the way through. Susan hasn't watched it since that first time when it left her broken and crying in silence, praying not to be discovered.
(Sidebar: the grown-up Susan will still not cry in front of anyone unless it's completely unavoidable).
Susan was powerless to change the channel.
Tony had already killed Bernardo and was in Maria's room. The next scene found Tony in Maria's bed without his shirt on. Maria was draped fully clothed, cross intact, alongside him.
Susan knew what had just happened. Good for Maria!
Tony sings then Anita knocks on the door.
The lovers arrange to meet later that night and Tony jumps out the window. He's running down the street as Anita is let in and figures out what just happened.
Anita angrily sings to Maria about her choice in boyfriend and Maria sweetly sings back that she's in love and Anita should be able to relate, even though Anita's boyfriend was just killed by Maria's boyfriend.
Oy!
Guess who's lying in bed crying?
Susan is able to trace a few aspects of her personality back to their roots in her childhood. For example, Susan's parents used to drive their children down to D.C. during the steamy month of August to stand on long lines and be dragged through museums. The grown-up Susan loves museums and architecture and cities.
Loves them.
When Susan's mother wasn't screaming at Susan or breaking a wooden spoon across her ass, she would let Susan sit with her and watch the Million Dollar Movie on Sunday afternoons. The grown-up Susan loves old movies.
Loves them.
She also loves tragic movies, the sort that leave her with real grief for fake people.
When Susan was in Junior High she sat downstairs over the course of two nights to watch West Side Story.
She doesn't recall what attracted her to West Side Story, she just remembers that it took two evenings and left her devastated. Wrecked. Destroyed.
Susan walked around for weeks with a broken heart. She knew what tragedy was because she FELT it. Deeply, like a suburban thirteen year old.
Anyway, fast forward thirty five years. Susan is lying in bed late one night and finds West Side Story on the TV, three quarters of the way through. Susan hasn't watched it since that first time when it left her broken and crying in silence, praying not to be discovered.
(Sidebar: the grown-up Susan will still not cry in front of anyone unless it's completely unavoidable).
Susan was powerless to change the channel.
Tony had already killed Bernardo and was in Maria's room. The next scene found Tony in Maria's bed without his shirt on. Maria was draped fully clothed, cross intact, alongside him.
Susan knew what had just happened. Good for Maria!
Tony sings then Anita knocks on the door.
The lovers arrange to meet later that night and Tony jumps out the window. He's running down the street as Anita is let in and figures out what just happened.
Anita angrily sings to Maria about her choice in boyfriend and Maria sweetly sings back that she's in love and Anita should be able to relate, even though Anita's boyfriend was just killed by Maria's boyfriend.
Oy!
Guess who's lying in bed crying?
5.22.2009
The End Of A Long Week
How is it possible that as soon as Susan pours herself a glass of wine there's a dead fruit fly in it? There's not even any fruit in the house unless you count limes.
Susan removed the wee fly undeterred & continued as if it were still in flight.
Long ago Susan drank a whole collection of fruit flies in the bottom of a glass of sherry. She mistook them for some fruit pulp. It took a few sips to realize there's no pulp in sherry. But, that was back when she was more in the habit of drinking and a little slow-witted. Now she's right on top of the situation & aware of what's floating dead in her glass before she drinks it.
In her youth Susan had a few bad habits, but let's just stick to drinking and smoking tobacco for now.
Being Irish, Susan was in love with alcohol. She was also in love with cigarettes although that was more love-hate. Susan has alcoholism in her family and wanted to avoid that route so she entered into a drinking awareness partnership with her friend *the undertaker, who has a similar background. Together they helped eachother emerge intact. Then came motherhood for Susan and the cigarettes went out the window.
Nowadays Susan is happy with her reduced alcoholic intake, as long as she can still have some sort of intake. Susan never missed the cigarettes although she likes to smell the dirty smokers as they file back in from their break.
*Susan's friend used to be an undertaker now he does this.
Susan removed the wee fly undeterred & continued as if it were still in flight.
Long ago Susan drank a whole collection of fruit flies in the bottom of a glass of sherry. She mistook them for some fruit pulp. It took a few sips to realize there's no pulp in sherry. But, that was back when she was more in the habit of drinking and a little slow-witted. Now she's right on top of the situation & aware of what's floating dead in her glass before she drinks it.
In her youth Susan had a few bad habits, but let's just stick to drinking and smoking tobacco for now.
Being Irish, Susan was in love with alcohol. She was also in love with cigarettes although that was more love-hate. Susan has alcoholism in her family and wanted to avoid that route so she entered into a drinking awareness partnership with her friend *the undertaker, who has a similar background. Together they helped eachother emerge intact. Then came motherhood for Susan and the cigarettes went out the window.
Nowadays Susan is happy with her reduced alcoholic intake, as long as she can still have some sort of intake. Susan never missed the cigarettes although she likes to smell the dirty smokers as they file back in from their break.
*Susan's friend used to be an undertaker now he does this.
5.18.2009
Susan Has A Monkey On Her Back
And it looks like little bags of peanut M&Ms.
She's been hallucinating because sometimes her monkey looks like Hershey Kisses or teeny bars of chocolate with crispy rice inside, none of which she really likes but neither does she really care.
Susan was toying with this bad habit during her sabbatical from the working world. She used to have a problem back in the day, but thought she could handle it this time.
Poor sap.
Susan fell face first into back into the life around Xmas cookie season. Lately she's been scoring during regular business hours, it's easy to get strung out when the hard stuff is all around her.
Susan is going to reach out before it's too late, while she's still a size 12. She knows some people the next town over who can help.
Every Tuesday night at 7pm, up on the scale.
It's going to be tough but if she's lucky she'll lose a pound a week and be outta there in two months.
God help her.
She's been hallucinating because sometimes her monkey looks like Hershey Kisses or teeny bars of chocolate with crispy rice inside, none of which she really likes but neither does she really care.
Susan was toying with this bad habit during her sabbatical from the working world. She used to have a problem back in the day, but thought she could handle it this time.
Poor sap.
Susan fell face first into back into the life around Xmas cookie season. Lately she's been scoring during regular business hours, it's easy to get strung out when the hard stuff is all around her.
Susan is going to reach out before it's too late, while she's still a size 12. She knows some people the next town over who can help.
Every Tuesday night at 7pm, up on the scale.
It's going to be tough but if she's lucky she'll lose a pound a week and be outta there in two months.
God help her.
5.13.2009
More Sloppy Sisters
Over the last few days Susan has seen some appalling examples of fat ass peek-a-boo, nipple protrusion and boobage overspill.
Susan hopes that she doesn't offend anyone who might object to the term fat ass, she'd just like to make the point that this particular ass was truly fat.
As were the boobs. Neither was fat enough to attract attention on their own, not unless they were completely unrestrained beneath the most threadbare combination of
t-shirt and capri pants, held up by a worn-out elasticized waist band, of which the ability to function properly had been extremely compromised.
Susan could not take her eyes off the large woman,
sans brassiere and underpanties, who was removing something from the trunk of her car,
as her bosoms slapped against everything within reach,
and her pants slid so far south that Susan was actually looking at the top half of an ass in broad daylight outside her son's Tae Kwon Do school.
The nipple protrusion, in tandem with boobage overspill, was witnessed by Susan in the middle school auditorium. The perpetrator was a mature woman, one who should already know how to determine the fit of her brassiere or use a mirror to assess her outfit before she walked out the door.
Unfortunately for everyone she didn't and left the house with two sets of busoms and one gigantic set of nipples, which presumably had been drilling their way to fresh air for some time.
The final, and most egregious example of boobage overspill was provided by a perfectly lovely young woman,
adorably attired in jeans and clingy layered t-shirts.
There is no reason why the upper portion of her boobs should spill so far out over brassiere that they rival the amount of boobs contained within the brassiere. Be assured, Susan's not talking about cleavage here, she's talking about sloppy boobie muffin top.
Ladies, check yourselves. Check each other.
Don't let your girls travel sloppy.
Susan hopes that she doesn't offend anyone who might object to the term fat ass, she'd just like to make the point that this particular ass was truly fat.
As were the boobs. Neither was fat enough to attract attention on their own, not unless they were completely unrestrained beneath the most threadbare combination of
t-shirt and capri pants, held up by a worn-out elasticized waist band, of which the ability to function properly had been extremely compromised.
Susan could not take her eyes off the large woman,
sans brassiere and underpanties, who was removing something from the trunk of her car,
as her bosoms slapped against everything within reach,
and her pants slid so far south that Susan was actually looking at the top half of an ass in broad daylight outside her son's Tae Kwon Do school.
The nipple protrusion, in tandem with boobage overspill, was witnessed by Susan in the middle school auditorium. The perpetrator was a mature woman, one who should already know how to determine the fit of her brassiere or use a mirror to assess her outfit before she walked out the door.
Unfortunately for everyone she didn't and left the house with two sets of busoms and one gigantic set of nipples, which presumably had been drilling their way to fresh air for some time.
The final, and most egregious example of boobage overspill was provided by a perfectly lovely young woman,
adorably attired in jeans and clingy layered t-shirts.
There is no reason why the upper portion of her boobs should spill so far out over brassiere that they rival the amount of boobs contained within the brassiere. Be assured, Susan's not talking about cleavage here, she's talking about sloppy boobie muffin top.
Ladies, check yourselves. Check each other.
Don't let your girls travel sloppy.
5.11.2009
Save The Date!
Does anyone else hate these vile little things?
Susan doesn't need to be told, eons in advance, that she'll be getting an invitation to something she doesn't wish to attend.
Another wedding?
Spare her, Sweet Jesus!
Two smiling, hopeful, untested faces peeking out from within a refrigerator magnet imploring us to Save The Date!
As if.
The only thing Susan might be even remotely excited about is the cake.
Her childrens' dentist should send her a magnet, it takes six months to get an appointment.
New love.
Susan's husband is fond of saying that it turns to old hate.
It's a little pessimistic, she knows.
But funny, considering how happy he is being married to Susan.
Save The Date!
But don't let Susan find one of these things in your kitchen.
Susan doesn't need to be told, eons in advance, that she'll be getting an invitation to something she doesn't wish to attend.
Another wedding?
Spare her, Sweet Jesus!
Two smiling, hopeful, untested faces peeking out from within a refrigerator magnet imploring us to Save The Date!
As if.
The only thing Susan might be even remotely excited about is the cake.
Her childrens' dentist should send her a magnet, it takes six months to get an appointment.
New love.
Susan's husband is fond of saying that it turns to old hate.
It's a little pessimistic, she knows.
But funny, considering how happy he is being married to Susan.
Save The Date!
But don't let Susan find one of these things in your kitchen.
5.10.2009
Mother's Day
Susan spent a lovely Mother's Day with a number of her girl cousins at the New York Botanical Gardens,
located within the borough of her birth, The Bronx.
Susan's cousins are one of the great joys in her life.
They see each other quite regularly even while having to sit in a car for an hour or two to do so. They've been lucky with the two who married into the group and all enjoy a pleasant camaraderie although Susan will admit that she's not the first one to warm up to anyone new.
Anyway, the gardens.
Susan hates the tropics but loves all manner of palm trees and the conservatory at the gardens was filled with them;
towering palms and big leafy things.
There were beautiful, colorful, fragrant flowers, a few with very suggestive looking parts.
Impressively pointy succulents, some tall, some round but all BIG. And orchids everywhere.
Susan really liked the carnivorous plants and discovered a centipede trapped inside a pitcher plant.
The pitcher plant is sort of test tube shaped with a little lid, anything making their way in won't get out again
and may look forward to being digested.
Except for this little sonofab*tch.
Perhaps spurned on by the attention, he extricated himself, hit the floor and legged it out of there.
Very exciting stuff for a garden.
Afterwards everyone met back at Aunt Eileen's house where they sat in the late afternoon sun eating, drinking, telling stories, taking pictures and having fun.
located within the borough of her birth, The Bronx.
Susan's cousins are one of the great joys in her life.
They see each other quite regularly even while having to sit in a car for an hour or two to do so. They've been lucky with the two who married into the group and all enjoy a pleasant camaraderie although Susan will admit that she's not the first one to warm up to anyone new.
Anyway, the gardens.
Susan hates the tropics but loves all manner of palm trees and the conservatory at the gardens was filled with them;
towering palms and big leafy things.
There were beautiful, colorful, fragrant flowers, a few with very suggestive looking parts.
Impressively pointy succulents, some tall, some round but all BIG. And orchids everywhere.
Susan really liked the carnivorous plants and discovered a centipede trapped inside a pitcher plant.
The pitcher plant is sort of test tube shaped with a little lid, anything making their way in won't get out again
and may look forward to being digested.
Except for this little sonofab*tch.
Perhaps spurned on by the attention, he extricated himself, hit the floor and legged it out of there.
Very exciting stuff for a garden.
Afterwards everyone met back at Aunt Eileen's house where they sat in the late afternoon sun eating, drinking, telling stories, taking pictures and having fun.
5.02.2009
Sangria
Susan loves sangria.
She makes it exclusively with cheap red wine and whatever fruit she happens to have on the kitchen counter, except bananas.
She adds plenty of orange juice.
Her little sister prefers to use orange soda.
Lately Susan has been adding some homemade limoncello, which is essentially pure alcohol infused with lemon peels, and simple syrup. It adds a wonderful tarty sweetness. However, Susan's little sister commented that it made the sangria too strong. So, in went more orange juice.
Susan has a bottle of Portuguese firewater
which is totally undrinkable and when added to sangria,
it makes that undrinkable too.
She makes it exclusively with cheap red wine and whatever fruit she happens to have on the kitchen counter, except bananas.
She adds plenty of orange juice.
Her little sister prefers to use orange soda.
Lately Susan has been adding some homemade limoncello, which is essentially pure alcohol infused with lemon peels, and simple syrup. It adds a wonderful tarty sweetness. However, Susan's little sister commented that it made the sangria too strong. So, in went more orange juice.
Susan has a bottle of Portuguese firewater
which is totally undrinkable and when added to sangria,
it makes that undrinkable too.
5.01.2009
In The Dressing Room
Susan's daughter has been requesting new clothes for weeks. The weather is getting warmer and the kid is still wearing her winter clothes. Plus she's growing out of them. Last week, in an effort to buy a little time, Susan cut off some sleeves and turned a pair of jeans into capris, making nice hems and everything.
Eventually Susan could put her daughter off no longer and took her shopping after dinner.
Susan likes to shop with her daughter because she's a good kid, doesn't beg or act bratty, and is generally a pleasure to be around. Do you know why that is?
Because that's how Susan raised her.
Susan's daughter was extra modest in the dressing room trying to conceal the teeniest little beginnings of breasts. Susan is sure they weren't there last week.
Susan waited until the end of the evening to mention her observation. She took her daughter over to the juvenile underwear aisle looking for a 30A brassiere with just a whisper of padding.
The daughter was not happy but went along because Susan's will was too strong to resist.
Plus the daughter was tired.
Two brassieres were tried on as if they were made of sandpaper. However, when Susan asked if she could purchase one 'just in case you want to wear it later'
her daughter replied 'I don't know', which meant yes.
Susan bought her daughter her first brassiere and used the short drive home to discuss close mommy-daughter things even though her daughter's participation was minimal.
Eventually Susan could put her daughter off no longer and took her shopping after dinner.
Susan likes to shop with her daughter because she's a good kid, doesn't beg or act bratty, and is generally a pleasure to be around. Do you know why that is?
Because that's how Susan raised her.
Susan's daughter was extra modest in the dressing room trying to conceal the teeniest little beginnings of breasts. Susan is sure they weren't there last week.
Susan waited until the end of the evening to mention her observation. She took her daughter over to the juvenile underwear aisle looking for a 30A brassiere with just a whisper of padding.
The daughter was not happy but went along because Susan's will was too strong to resist.
Plus the daughter was tired.
Two brassieres were tried on as if they were made of sandpaper. However, when Susan asked if she could purchase one 'just in case you want to wear it later'
her daughter replied 'I don't know', which meant yes.
Susan bought her daughter her first brassiere and used the short drive home to discuss close mommy-daughter things even though her daughter's participation was minimal.
4.29.2009
The Drunks Were At It Again. Oy!
Susan was up very late last night reading.
She read without a care for the hour, or her bladder or what she would wear in the morning to her recently acquired job. She was happy to have only the quiet of a Tuesday night to keep her company.
Susan was comfortably situated near an open window in her living room when she became aware that Mrs. Drunk was out in the street. Mrs. Drunk sounded sloppy and stupid, which means she was speaking in her normal conversational tone.
Since Susan was not being directly addressed she was able to put aside the moderate disturbance caused by Mrs. Drunk and continue reading. Susan is able to tune out all sorts of background noises thanks to training provided by her children. Anything really loud like the sustained shrieks of a toddler or something heavy crashing down the stairs or a car alarm will be impossible to ignore and demand investigation. So, one can imagine how much attention two car alarms going off in the wee hours of a Wednesday morning would require.
Lots.
The first alarm went off directly in front of Susan's house. She expected the car's owner to fly on winged feet to quiet the ear splitting racket, but this didn't happen. Instead, the alarm of a second car began to clang and crash and roar. This made Susan hop up and walk outside where she observed someone resembling Mr. Drunk, illuminated by flashing headlights, dancing to the monstrous beat of the dual alarms.
Susan was joined outside by her husband. The two watched in quiet unison as each car was eventually rendered silent with the turn of a key. A 'sorry' was tossed in their direction and once again the street became just what it should be, quiet and dark.
Susan and the husband went inside, shut the door and went to bed.
She read without a care for the hour, or her bladder or what she would wear in the morning to her recently acquired job. She was happy to have only the quiet of a Tuesday night to keep her company.
Susan was comfortably situated near an open window in her living room when she became aware that Mrs. Drunk was out in the street. Mrs. Drunk sounded sloppy and stupid, which means she was speaking in her normal conversational tone.
Since Susan was not being directly addressed she was able to put aside the moderate disturbance caused by Mrs. Drunk and continue reading. Susan is able to tune out all sorts of background noises thanks to training provided by her children. Anything really loud like the sustained shrieks of a toddler or something heavy crashing down the stairs or a car alarm will be impossible to ignore and demand investigation. So, one can imagine how much attention two car alarms going off in the wee hours of a Wednesday morning would require.
Lots.
The first alarm went off directly in front of Susan's house. She expected the car's owner to fly on winged feet to quiet the ear splitting racket, but this didn't happen. Instead, the alarm of a second car began to clang and crash and roar. This made Susan hop up and walk outside where she observed someone resembling Mr. Drunk, illuminated by flashing headlights, dancing to the monstrous beat of the dual alarms.
Susan was joined outside by her husband. The two watched in quiet unison as each car was eventually rendered silent with the turn of a key. A 'sorry' was tossed in their direction and once again the street became just what it should be, quiet and dark.
Susan and the husband went inside, shut the door and went to bed.
4.28.2009
It's A Motion Sensor For Crissakes!
Susan takes the expressway when she drives home from work. Every day she encounters a line of cars backed up at the entrance ramp. They're all waiting for the traffic light thing to turn green. Susan is sure you've seen one, it has a red light which remains illuminated, and a green light. As each car rolls up to the traffic light thing it will turn from red to green allowing the car to proceed and Susan to inch a little closer to home. However, if the car does not roll far enough to trip the motion sensor the driver will just sit there staring at the red light while the top of Susan's head explodes.
Susan gets all twitchy just anticipating the entrance ramp, she doesn't need to wait until she gets there. She finds it difficult to believe that people don't understand that the traffic light thing employs a motion sensor.
Even after they sit there for forty or fifty minutes.
Her only hope is that their foot falls asleep and slips off the brake so they roll forward unintentionally.
Why is it even necessary to interfere with people merging onto the expressway? Merging is easy, just drive fast.
People need help backing up. Susan has a terrific and smart girlfriend who won't back up at all. Ever.
Help Susan's friend and stop screwing with Susan's drive home!
Susan gets all twitchy just anticipating the entrance ramp, she doesn't need to wait until she gets there. She finds it difficult to believe that people don't understand that the traffic light thing employs a motion sensor.
Even after they sit there for forty or fifty minutes.
Her only hope is that their foot falls asleep and slips off the brake so they roll forward unintentionally.
Why is it even necessary to interfere with people merging onto the expressway? Merging is easy, just drive fast.
People need help backing up. Susan has a terrific and smart girlfriend who won't back up at all. Ever.
Help Susan's friend and stop screwing with Susan's drive home!
4.26.2009
Lovely Spring
Susan lives with seasons.
Real seasons where everything is either blooming or dying or covered in snow waiting to bloom again. Sometimes a season comes early, or stays late, or seems to forget to come at all.
Currently, Susan's immediate area of the universe is experiencing the first warm weekend of spring.
Susan hasn't had to wear her winter coat for a while but neither has she been able to leave the house without some sort of protective outerwear. And maybe a scarf, which is mostly for decoration, but one does not wear scarves in warm weather is her point.
However, this weekend everything was transformed.
Windows were opened, wind chimes were hung, elderly mongrels were shampooed, patio furniture was scrubbed clean, sunscreen was busted out and the yard was turned from a giant toilet back to a restful retreat.
Oh, and a tick was removed from a middle school baseball player.
Susan had never seen a tick before because she doesn't go places where ticks are. And she doesn't check her children for them either. This particular tick was red and looked like a teeny little boiled crab.
The baseball player was a friend of Susan's son who showed up with the thing already embedded in him. He was very casual about the situation impressing Susan who was busy coordinating the tick extraction while trying not to hyperventilate.
Susan has read that ticks burrow into the skin and if one just yanks them out they will leave the submerged portion of themselves behind. That's no good. She has also read that if one places a heat source, such as a lighted cigarette, up to the tick it will reverse course and back the hell out of Dodge.
Susan has not had a pack of cigarettes in her house since that long ago day when she peed on a test strip and it made her pregnant. However, she and the husband like to smoke cigars periodically and he usually has one or two in the house.
The husband lit his cigar, took a few draws and held it close to the baseball player's skin, burning it ever so slightly. The tick began to move but met an untimely end when it succumbed to heat stroke. Susan removed it with a pair of needle nosed pliers. Even in death he hung on like a sonofab*tch.
Susan would like to say a few things about her son's friends;
That she has yet to meet one she hasn't liked. Well, there was one a few years ago that she wasn't too crazy about but he moved away.
That the son's friends are polite, helpful and very boyish. Susan has listened undetected while they've interacted and has always been happy with what she heard. Fortunately for them she doesn't care too much about conversational cursing.
Boys and warm breezes and lilacs just beginning to bloom,
is there anything better?
Real seasons where everything is either blooming or dying or covered in snow waiting to bloom again. Sometimes a season comes early, or stays late, or seems to forget to come at all.
Currently, Susan's immediate area of the universe is experiencing the first warm weekend of spring.
Susan hasn't had to wear her winter coat for a while but neither has she been able to leave the house without some sort of protective outerwear. And maybe a scarf, which is mostly for decoration, but one does not wear scarves in warm weather is her point.
However, this weekend everything was transformed.
Windows were opened, wind chimes were hung, elderly mongrels were shampooed, patio furniture was scrubbed clean, sunscreen was busted out and the yard was turned from a giant toilet back to a restful retreat.
Oh, and a tick was removed from a middle school baseball player.
Susan had never seen a tick before because she doesn't go places where ticks are. And she doesn't check her children for them either. This particular tick was red and looked like a teeny little boiled crab.
The baseball player was a friend of Susan's son who showed up with the thing already embedded in him. He was very casual about the situation impressing Susan who was busy coordinating the tick extraction while trying not to hyperventilate.
Susan has read that ticks burrow into the skin and if one just yanks them out they will leave the submerged portion of themselves behind. That's no good. She has also read that if one places a heat source, such as a lighted cigarette, up to the tick it will reverse course and back the hell out of Dodge.
Susan has not had a pack of cigarettes in her house since that long ago day when she peed on a test strip and it made her pregnant. However, she and the husband like to smoke cigars periodically and he usually has one or two in the house.
The husband lit his cigar, took a few draws and held it close to the baseball player's skin, burning it ever so slightly. The tick began to move but met an untimely end when it succumbed to heat stroke. Susan removed it with a pair of needle nosed pliers. Even in death he hung on like a sonofab*tch.
Susan would like to say a few things about her son's friends;
That she has yet to meet one she hasn't liked. Well, there was one a few years ago that she wasn't too crazy about but he moved away.
That the son's friends are polite, helpful and very boyish. Susan has listened undetected while they've interacted and has always been happy with what she heard. Fortunately for them she doesn't care too much about conversational cursing.
Boys and warm breezes and lilacs just beginning to bloom,
is there anything better?
4.24.2009
Bleach
The other evening Susan's daughter showed up for her goodnight kiss wearing bleach stained flannel pajama bottoms.
Susan is directly responsible for most of the laundry done in the house and the last time she saw those pajama bottoms they were fine.
The husband pitches in with laundry duties but that's usually when there are no more clean towels.
And the kids are complaining that they have no pants.
Or underwear.
Based on a series of previous laundry related episodes
the husband knows to remove Susan's clothing from anything he puts into the washing machine.
That was a hard won battle for Susan.
If you think she goes crazy when he hand washes the glassware, you can't imagine the level of hysteria unleashed in the house when she finds that he's washed, or dried, any of her clothing.
Mercy! It used to drain Susan of all her energy.
Susan takes great care with her clothing because most of it is either moderately expensive or very cheap and can't just be tossed into the machine all willy-nilly. Back during the dark days of the husband's laundry involvement Susan was able to open the dryer door and know immediately that it contained something it shouldn't.
Back to the pajama bottoms.
Susan pondered the bleach stain but decided to let it remain a household mystery because she was working on the computer and didn't have any mental space available at that moment.
The next day Susan was taking laundry out of the dryer.
A load of purple and red laundry, similar to the color of the pajama bottoms. She pulled out her daughter's purple shirt and found it had a large bleach stain.
Then a red shirt. Bleach.
Then two more purple shirts. Bleach, bleach.
She was getting woozy.
Susan removed one bleach stained carcass after another until she got to the thing she dreaded most; her own shirt.
Bleach.
Susan steadied herself as she surveyed the destruction lying at her feet. Not one item spared.
The husband was sitting quietly at the table watching the scene unfold and offered the following explanation;
That he undertook the consolidation of two open containers of bleach into one
directly over an open washing machine
which had recently completed it's cycle.
Susan maintained her composure. Her shirt had been destined for the Goodwill bag after one last washing,
there was no need to over react. Most of the other clothes belonged to her daughter and could be discarded quietly, a cover-up if you will.
Susan set upon this task quickly then moved on as if nothing had ever happened.
Susan is directly responsible for most of the laundry done in the house and the last time she saw those pajama bottoms they were fine.
The husband pitches in with laundry duties but that's usually when there are no more clean towels.
And the kids are complaining that they have no pants.
Or underwear.
Based on a series of previous laundry related episodes
the husband knows to remove Susan's clothing from anything he puts into the washing machine.
That was a hard won battle for Susan.
If you think she goes crazy when he hand washes the glassware, you can't imagine the level of hysteria unleashed in the house when she finds that he's washed, or dried, any of her clothing.
Mercy! It used to drain Susan of all her energy.
Susan takes great care with her clothing because most of it is either moderately expensive or very cheap and can't just be tossed into the machine all willy-nilly. Back during the dark days of the husband's laundry involvement Susan was able to open the dryer door and know immediately that it contained something it shouldn't.
Back to the pajama bottoms.
Susan pondered the bleach stain but decided to let it remain a household mystery because she was working on the computer and didn't have any mental space available at that moment.
The next day Susan was taking laundry out of the dryer.
A load of purple and red laundry, similar to the color of the pajama bottoms. She pulled out her daughter's purple shirt and found it had a large bleach stain.
Then a red shirt. Bleach.
Then two more purple shirts. Bleach, bleach.
She was getting woozy.
Susan removed one bleach stained carcass after another until she got to the thing she dreaded most; her own shirt.
Bleach.
Susan steadied herself as she surveyed the destruction lying at her feet. Not one item spared.
The husband was sitting quietly at the table watching the scene unfold and offered the following explanation;
That he undertook the consolidation of two open containers of bleach into one
directly over an open washing machine
which had recently completed it's cycle.
Susan maintained her composure. Her shirt had been destined for the Goodwill bag after one last washing,
there was no need to over react. Most of the other clothes belonged to her daughter and could be discarded quietly, a cover-up if you will.
Susan set upon this task quickly then moved on as if nothing had ever happened.
4.21.2009
Getting Ready For Menstruation
Susan has a deliciously sweet and delightful daughter, sometimes known as The Crybaby, who is going to get ambushed with a talk about menstruation.
Soon.
Susan took a run at this topic already & was met with a profound lack of enthusiasm. It's as if the daughter unplugged herself. All interaction stopped, the eyes dimmed, the body slumped slightly and then she started to drool. But, once the subject was changed she became reanimated; lights back on, motor humming, all functions restored.
Susan's own mother left her under-prepared for maturity.
A few pamphlets about menstruation were flung at her, then nothing else ever again.
No conversation about tampons, birth control, sex. Nothing. The End. Thanks for coming!
That's why Susan stayed a virgin till after menopause,
she didn't know what to do.
There was also a period of time when Susan thought she had to remover her tampon to pee.
How sad.
Anyway, Susan does not fear the embarrassing talk with her daughter. Susan does research. She confers with social workers. She makes an outline.
She knows that brevity is essential.
And a relaxed attitude.
Everything's good, it's only menstruation.
It's natural.
And beautiful.
Oy. Susan's already shovelling the propaganda.
Soon.
Susan took a run at this topic already & was met with a profound lack of enthusiasm. It's as if the daughter unplugged herself. All interaction stopped, the eyes dimmed, the body slumped slightly and then she started to drool. But, once the subject was changed she became reanimated; lights back on, motor humming, all functions restored.
Susan's own mother left her under-prepared for maturity.
A few pamphlets about menstruation were flung at her, then nothing else ever again.
No conversation about tampons, birth control, sex. Nothing. The End. Thanks for coming!
That's why Susan stayed a virgin till after menopause,
she didn't know what to do.
There was also a period of time when Susan thought she had to remover her tampon to pee.
How sad.
Anyway, Susan does not fear the embarrassing talk with her daughter. Susan does research. She confers with social workers. She makes an outline.
She knows that brevity is essential.
And a relaxed attitude.
Everything's good, it's only menstruation.
It's natural.
And beautiful.
Oy. Susan's already shovelling the propaganda.
4.18.2009
Susan Worked On Saturday
Say what?
She fell down and hit her head and said 'I'll work Saturday'
It was purely a one-time only, freak episode,
never to be repeated.
She wasn't even aware it was Saturday while she was at work. It was just another day until she got home
and then where the bloody hell did her Saturday go?
Everything got all lopsided; up was down, black was white,
left was right and Friday toppled over on to Sunday.
Susan doesn't work on Saturdays, she gets up when she wants because her alarm isn't even set. She enjoys a leisurely cup of coffee with the husband and reads the paper and goes to yard sales with her daughter then stops at the library before making pizza rolls for a bunch of her son's friends or cleaning up her yard or sitting in the sunshine or going to her little sister's house for dinner.
That's what Susan does on Saturdays, not drive to work under the ridiculous and fallacious idea that Saturday is just like any other day.
She fell down and hit her head and said 'I'll work Saturday'
It was purely a one-time only, freak episode,
never to be repeated.
She wasn't even aware it was Saturday while she was at work. It was just another day until she got home
and then where the bloody hell did her Saturday go?
Everything got all lopsided; up was down, black was white,
left was right and Friday toppled over on to Sunday.
Susan doesn't work on Saturdays, she gets up when she wants because her alarm isn't even set. She enjoys a leisurely cup of coffee with the husband and reads the paper and goes to yard sales with her daughter then stops at the library before making pizza rolls for a bunch of her son's friends or cleaning up her yard or sitting in the sunshine or going to her little sister's house for dinner.
That's what Susan does on Saturdays, not drive to work under the ridiculous and fallacious idea that Saturday is just like any other day.
4.16.2009
TWISTED Over Some Pajama Bottoms
Susan was sitting in a parking lot talking on the phone with her little sister when a van pulled into the spot next to hers. Out spilled three medium sized children and their mother, who appeared to be in the same age range as Susan, meaning not too young & not too old.
Mom was walking around in a condition similar to many other women observed by Susan. Beyond sloppy.
Starting at the top, Mom's hair was held back by a scrunchie. Not a crime, but it should be.
She was wearing what appeared to be her husband's sweat shirt. It was husband-shaped and husband-colored without an ounce of anything feminine discernible beneath. It made Mom square.
However, the next item was so offensive it made Susan have to write 300 bloody words about it just for some relief.
Pajama bottoms.
Susan understands that she can't go crazy over pajama bottoms and can live quite comfortably knowing they're contained to high schoolers or neighbors walking within the perimeter of their own yard. Susan doesn't understand how the high schoolers stay warm wearing pajama bottoms throughout the winter, but she's not their mother and they can do what they want.
However, when a grown woman appears in public with thread bare, faded, shrunken to the ankles, raggedy ass pajama bottoms Susan must speak up.
Not to the offending party of course, but in secret,
at home, to her modest fan base.
It was as if Mom had come directly from the sty,
clad in the clothes she fed the pigs in.
The condition of Mom's pajama bottoms were so deplorable they yelled, I don't care how I look anymore,
I really don't.
Susan doesn't understand this phenomenon prevalent among her forty-something suburban sisters.
Ladies, what up?
Mom was walking around in a condition similar to many other women observed by Susan. Beyond sloppy.
Starting at the top, Mom's hair was held back by a scrunchie. Not a crime, but it should be.
She was wearing what appeared to be her husband's sweat shirt. It was husband-shaped and husband-colored without an ounce of anything feminine discernible beneath. It made Mom square.
However, the next item was so offensive it made Susan have to write 300 bloody words about it just for some relief.
Pajama bottoms.
Susan understands that she can't go crazy over pajama bottoms and can live quite comfortably knowing they're contained to high schoolers or neighbors walking within the perimeter of their own yard. Susan doesn't understand how the high schoolers stay warm wearing pajama bottoms throughout the winter, but she's not their mother and they can do what they want.
However, when a grown woman appears in public with thread bare, faded, shrunken to the ankles, raggedy ass pajama bottoms Susan must speak up.
Not to the offending party of course, but in secret,
at home, to her modest fan base.
It was as if Mom had come directly from the sty,
clad in the clothes she fed the pigs in.
The condition of Mom's pajama bottoms were so deplorable they yelled, I don't care how I look anymore,
I really don't.
Susan doesn't understand this phenomenon prevalent among her forty-something suburban sisters.
Ladies, what up?
4.13.2009
Post Vomit
Susan has already established just how awful a night of wretched vomiting, followed by 24 hours of intermittent unconsciousness can be.
However, there are a few perks of the extreme upchuck, such as;
The middle of the night old movie.
When one has vomited all night, then slept all day,
one is bound to be up at odd hours the following night. And, if one is lucky in the way that Susan was, then perhaps a favorite old movie is playing from 2:15 to 4am.
Susan watched the moody and wonderful Rebecca,
Alfred Hitchcock's first Hollywood movie made in 1940.
This is not to be mistaken for his very first movie,
The 39 Steps, made five years earlier in Britain and another of Susan's favorites.
Susan doesn't like just any old thing, when she likes something there's a good reason.
The second perk of the extreme upchuck is;
Ginger Ale.
Lovely, bubbly, barely sweet, gingery ale.
There is nothing more divine to guzzle when one has been
purged of all natural hydration.
It's almost a reason in itself for getting sick.
The final perk is;
weight loss.
There was a ten pound difference between what Susan weighed last week on her doctor's scale and what she weighed on her little sister's bathroom scale the day after her convalescence.
Susan never trusted that bathroom scale, but chooses to believe it at her discretion.
However, there are a few perks of the extreme upchuck, such as;
The middle of the night old movie.
When one has vomited all night, then slept all day,
one is bound to be up at odd hours the following night. And, if one is lucky in the way that Susan was, then perhaps a favorite old movie is playing from 2:15 to 4am.
Susan watched the moody and wonderful Rebecca,
Alfred Hitchcock's first Hollywood movie made in 1940.
This is not to be mistaken for his very first movie,
The 39 Steps, made five years earlier in Britain and another of Susan's favorites.
Susan doesn't like just any old thing, when she likes something there's a good reason.
The second perk of the extreme upchuck is;
Ginger Ale.
Lovely, bubbly, barely sweet, gingery ale.
There is nothing more divine to guzzle when one has been
purged of all natural hydration.
It's almost a reason in itself for getting sick.
The final perk is;
weight loss.
There was a ten pound difference between what Susan weighed last week on her doctor's scale and what she weighed on her little sister's bathroom scale the day after her convalescence.
Susan never trusted that bathroom scale, but chooses to believe it at her discretion.
4.12.2009
Friday Night
Susan doesn't normally get sick.
She's very lucky.
Maybe she gets a cold, but that's it.
The last thing that kept her out of work was kidney stones
And that was like, six years ago.
And they really hurt.
Susan is not in the habit of taking medications other than Tylenol.
Maybe a Tums or two when she eats too many brownies at her little sister's house.
Even in her wild youth Susan didn't ingest anything that she won't be able to tell her medium sized children about.
When they're very mature.
Years from now.
Anyway.
Everything was perfectly fine up until 10pm on Friday night.
Susan's tummy got a little rumbly.
She took two Tums.
Her symptoms persisted.
She took two more Tums and went to bed not feeling well at all.
Some hours later she was awakened by the sickening realization that she was going to have to throw up.
Oy. Susan does not like to throw up.
Not one little bit.
But, she knows that once she does she'll feel better.
Generally.
Susan made the dreaded trek to her bathroom
and did a quick wipe-down of the toilet with disinfectant
before she began what she went there for.
Oy.
She knew she was not finished.
She went back to bed, hunched over and miserable,
to wait.
Sometime later she was awakened a second time by her stomach.
Only, there was very little to purge.
Her stomach didn't care.
A new symptom was added, one which Susan will not mention.
Susan endured this angry, painful process three more times until it seemed that she was throwing up her own organs.
She also had to clean up the bathroom each time.
Susan was truly alone in the universe.
Susan eventually collapsed in a shaking, sweaty heap and passed out.
The first thing she did went she crawled out of bed 24 hours later
was scrub her bathroom to within an inch of it's life.
With her green-cleaning cocktail of course.
(Susan would like the reader to know that previous post
occurred last year and represents an anomaly, not a standard)
She's very lucky.
Maybe she gets a cold, but that's it.
The last thing that kept her out of work was kidney stones
And that was like, six years ago.
And they really hurt.
Susan is not in the habit of taking medications other than Tylenol.
Maybe a Tums or two when she eats too many brownies at her little sister's house.
Even in her wild youth Susan didn't ingest anything that she won't be able to tell her medium sized children about.
When they're very mature.
Years from now.
Anyway.
Everything was perfectly fine up until 10pm on Friday night.
Susan's tummy got a little rumbly.
She took two Tums.
Her symptoms persisted.
She took two more Tums and went to bed not feeling well at all.
Some hours later she was awakened by the sickening realization that she was going to have to throw up.
Oy. Susan does not like to throw up.
Not one little bit.
But, she knows that once she does she'll feel better.
Generally.
Susan made the dreaded trek to her bathroom
and did a quick wipe-down of the toilet with disinfectant
before she began what she went there for.
Oy.
She knew she was not finished.
She went back to bed, hunched over and miserable,
to wait.
Sometime later she was awakened a second time by her stomach.
Only, there was very little to purge.
Her stomach didn't care.
A new symptom was added, one which Susan will not mention.
Susan endured this angry, painful process three more times until it seemed that she was throwing up her own organs.
She also had to clean up the bathroom each time.
Susan was truly alone in the universe.
Susan eventually collapsed in a shaking, sweaty heap and passed out.
The first thing she did went she crawled out of bed 24 hours later
was scrub her bathroom to within an inch of it's life.
With her green-cleaning cocktail of course.
(Susan would like the reader to know that previous post
occurred last year and represents an anomaly, not a standard)
4.10.2009
Lax Posting
Please forgive Susan's relaxed posting schedule.
You see, she's back to figuring out which shoes go with what outfit and does she own any stocking without holes?
Susan will get up to speed I'm sure, she just needs to fill a tupperware with leftovers for lunch,
charge her phone and, where is her name tag?
She's back to being organized and on time.
She keeps her car filled up with gasoline.
She has to hide her work snacks so the kids don't find them.
She makes her dental appointments for Saturdays now.
And, regardless of what's going on in her house,
she drives away from it at 8:20 every weekday morning.
You see, she's back to figuring out which shoes go with what outfit and does she own any stocking without holes?
Susan will get up to speed I'm sure, she just needs to fill a tupperware with leftovers for lunch,
charge her phone and, where is her name tag?
She's back to being organized and on time.
She keeps her car filled up with gasoline.
She has to hide her work snacks so the kids don't find them.
She makes her dental appointments for Saturdays now.
And, regardless of what's going on in her house,
she drives away from it at 8:20 every weekday morning.
4.06.2009
The Day Of Rest
Susan spent most of the day not speaking with the husband. Unfortunately, she couldn't entirely un-manacle herself from his company. But, not talking to him was satisfying enough.
The morning started out as every Sunday morning does, with the promise of reading the papers over coffee.
Is there no greater joy than that?
Of course there isn't.
Susan made the coffee and while it brewed a combination of factors sent her into a TWISTED spiral of angry frustration. It began with the dishwasher not effectively cleaning the dishes. Susan muttered to herself as she discovered that dish after cup after spoon needed to be rinsed off. Susan should not be rinsing anything, that's what the dishwasher is for. She began re-loading the machine and intercepted a wine glass that the husband had hand washed & left to dry.
Let's stop right here.
Susan and the husband have a history involving his hand washing of glassware.
The husband has been instructed repeatedly not to engage in any hand washing of any glassware because he consistently leaves behind any or all of the following;
fingerprints, grease smudges, soap residue, dried food and Chapstick lips.
Susan no longer delivers this request in a civilized manner, she goes immediately to berserk.
Susan picked the wine glass up and held it to the light,
as she does with all the glassware, and saw the telltale remnants of the husband's handiwork.
By this time the husband had entered the kitchen.
Susan pointed out, for the millionth time, that another wine glass had been washed dirty by himself.
Susan was hungry. Susan had dishes in her hands.
There were words coming out of the husband's mouth but who really gives a sh*t and just stop washing the f*cking glasses!
Susan made this request several times in close succession and increasing shrillness because the husband was trying to put forth his convoluted nonsense. However, when she heard him threaten to throw her wine glasses into the garbage her frustration reached critical mass.
Susan suggested that they can start throwing everything out right now and made her point by throwing a cereal bowl at him.
She didn't throw it at his stupid face, she threw it at his feet.
The rest of the morning & most of the afternoon was spent in arctic silence, even during their time as dinner guests in his sister's house.
The morning started out as every Sunday morning does, with the promise of reading the papers over coffee.
Is there no greater joy than that?
Of course there isn't.
Susan made the coffee and while it brewed a combination of factors sent her into a TWISTED spiral of angry frustration. It began with the dishwasher not effectively cleaning the dishes. Susan muttered to herself as she discovered that dish after cup after spoon needed to be rinsed off. Susan should not be rinsing anything, that's what the dishwasher is for. She began re-loading the machine and intercepted a wine glass that the husband had hand washed & left to dry.
Let's stop right here.
Susan and the husband have a history involving his hand washing of glassware.
The husband has been instructed repeatedly not to engage in any hand washing of any glassware because he consistently leaves behind any or all of the following;
fingerprints, grease smudges, soap residue, dried food and Chapstick lips.
Susan no longer delivers this request in a civilized manner, she goes immediately to berserk.
Susan picked the wine glass up and held it to the light,
as she does with all the glassware, and saw the telltale remnants of the husband's handiwork.
By this time the husband had entered the kitchen.
Susan pointed out, for the millionth time, that another wine glass had been washed dirty by himself.
Susan was hungry. Susan had dishes in her hands.
There were words coming out of the husband's mouth but who really gives a sh*t and just stop washing the f*cking glasses!
Susan made this request several times in close succession and increasing shrillness because the husband was trying to put forth his convoluted nonsense. However, when she heard him threaten to throw her wine glasses into the garbage her frustration reached critical mass.
Susan suggested that they can start throwing everything out right now and made her point by throwing a cereal bowl at him.
She didn't throw it at his stupid face, she threw it at his feet.
The rest of the morning & most of the afternoon was spent in arctic silence, even during their time as dinner guests in his sister's house.
4.05.2009
Susan's Mongrel Dog Is Sick: An Update
Most of the symptoms of the mongrel dog's digestive ailment have come & gone, save one;
her extreme flatulence.
Boxers are an eruptive breed to begin with. Imagine the aroma of burning rubber & dog poop dispersed as a gas in the middle of your living room.
The flatulent boxer often provides and audible warning,
a gentle hissing not unlike air escaping from a punctured bicycle tire. However, the last few days there is nothing gentle about the sound she emits.
It's loud, like a whoopee cushion.
Susan is not exaggerating, it sounds like a whoopee cushion.
Moments ago, sleeping soundly in her dog bed, she passed gas through her whoopee cushion.
And woke herself up.
her extreme flatulence.
Boxers are an eruptive breed to begin with. Imagine the aroma of burning rubber & dog poop dispersed as a gas in the middle of your living room.
The flatulent boxer often provides and audible warning,
a gentle hissing not unlike air escaping from a punctured bicycle tire. However, the last few days there is nothing gentle about the sound she emits.
It's loud, like a whoopee cushion.
Susan is not exaggerating, it sounds like a whoopee cushion.
Moments ago, sleeping soundly in her dog bed, she passed gas through her whoopee cushion.
And woke herself up.
4.04.2009
Your Invited To Look Stupid
Susan gets TWISTED in the worst way when she encounters poor punctuation. I mean, she gets totally f*cking crazy about this sh*t. Crazy!
Aren't the basics of punctuation taught in elementary school?
How is it that grown people who learned to speak and write English as their primary language don't know what apostrophes are used for?
If Susan has one apple and Jane gives her another then would Susan have two apple's?
No, she'd have two bloody apples!
Only if the apple owned something would it need an apostrophe.
Susan's TWISTED state extends to contractions, or the lack thereof, like the one she saw today printed on an invitation.
The very first word was a deplorable abomination, it read;
'Your invited to' blah, blah, blah.
Your.
Not you + are, which = you're.
Your.
Your invited to blah, blah, blah.
Doesn't anybody proof-read anything?
Particularly if they intend to mail it to everyone in their address book?
Holy crap, Batman. Susan needs a cocktail.
Aren't the basics of punctuation taught in elementary school?
How is it that grown people who learned to speak and write English as their primary language don't know what apostrophes are used for?
If Susan has one apple and Jane gives her another then would Susan have two apple's?
No, she'd have two bloody apples!
Only if the apple owned something would it need an apostrophe.
Susan's TWISTED state extends to contractions, or the lack thereof, like the one she saw today printed on an invitation.
The very first word was a deplorable abomination, it read;
'Your invited to' blah, blah, blah.
Your.
Not you + are, which = you're.
Your.
Your invited to blah, blah, blah.
Doesn't anybody proof-read anything?
Particularly if they intend to mail it to everyone in their address book?
Holy crap, Batman. Susan needs a cocktail.
4.03.2009
Susan's Mongrel Dog Is Sick
Under normal circumstances Susan's mongrel can be expected to be flatulent. This week she can also be expected to poop in the house, vomit and whimper all night long to be let out.
Mercy!
Being a boxer, Susan's mongrel really isn't a mongrel at all, Susan just uses this term to illustrate how ill mannered the boxer is.
The dog sleeps on the couch even though she's got a perfectly nice dog bed close to all the action.
She begs for food which exasperates Susan no end and she blames the husband for this appalling behavior.
No matter how shrill and hysterical Susan's complaints have been, he absolutely will not stop feeding that dog from the table!
She pees in the house whenever there's a lot of company.
She pees in the house even when there's not a lot of company.
She lies down in the middle of everything, blocking traffic patterns.
And she doesn't keep her toenails groomed. The racket that this dog makes walking around the house drowns out the television.
Oy.
The flatulent dog is getting close to the end of her expected lifespan. She limps a little and sits sidesaddle. She's deaf and can't be counted on to get her snout out of the garbage when yelled at.
However, one benefit of her advancing decrepitude is that she can no longer jump on Susan's bed and make holes in the bedding.
For two days the bathroom habits of the flatulent, deaf dog have been unpredictable.
Last night Susan and the husband were repeatedly roused from their beauty sleep in order to let her out to dirty the yard. And while she's out she takes the opportunity to walk the perimeter, smelling everything in sight and barking at nothing in particular.
Susan waits, as trained, at the door in her underwear with a cookie.
Mercy!
Being a boxer, Susan's mongrel really isn't a mongrel at all, Susan just uses this term to illustrate how ill mannered the boxer is.
The dog sleeps on the couch even though she's got a perfectly nice dog bed close to all the action.
She begs for food which exasperates Susan no end and she blames the husband for this appalling behavior.
No matter how shrill and hysterical Susan's complaints have been, he absolutely will not stop feeding that dog from the table!
She pees in the house whenever there's a lot of company.
She pees in the house even when there's not a lot of company.
She lies down in the middle of everything, blocking traffic patterns.
And she doesn't keep her toenails groomed. The racket that this dog makes walking around the house drowns out the television.
Oy.
The flatulent dog is getting close to the end of her expected lifespan. She limps a little and sits sidesaddle. She's deaf and can't be counted on to get her snout out of the garbage when yelled at.
However, one benefit of her advancing decrepitude is that she can no longer jump on Susan's bed and make holes in the bedding.
For two days the bathroom habits of the flatulent, deaf dog have been unpredictable.
Last night Susan and the husband were repeatedly roused from their beauty sleep in order to let her out to dirty the yard. And while she's out she takes the opportunity to walk the perimeter, smelling everything in sight and barking at nothing in particular.
Susan waits, as trained, at the door in her underwear with a cookie.
4.01.2009
Again With The Green Cleaning
Susan is spending her final week of unemployment running a few errands including getting a pre-employment physical while without medical coverage.
However, this morning finds Susan free to do as she pleases.
She began by dyeing her hair back to a close approximation of it's original color.
Then she went into the kitchen to make coffee before sitting down at the computer in blissful solitude. While waiting for the coffee to brew she decided to hand wash the cookie pan that had been sitting in the sink for two days.
If the reader will recall, Susan has experimented with green-cleaning by mixing varying portions of water to vinegar to baking soda & adding a small amount of natural plant-based liquid soap (she likes Seventh Generation which was on sale at the supermarket) and some tea tree oil. Susan likes the smell of tea tree oil and had such great success cleaning her bathroom with this combination that she mixed a green-cleaning cocktail for use in her kitchen.
Please take note that since the baking soda tended to clog up the spraying mechanism in her Home Depot spray bottle she now uses a recycled dish detergent squeeze bottle, which is much more effective.
Susan's cookie sheet was black from years of things spilling on it and burning. Added to that were the dinner remnants from two nights ago. Instead of using regular dish detergent Susan used her green scouring cocktail.
As Susan scrubbed, an unbelievable thing happened,
layer upon blackened layer evaporated.
You know, with some elbow grease.
Now, while Susan acknowledges that blackened cookie sheets pose no threat to anybody and are probably a silly thing to scrub spotlessly clean, Susan was fascinated. And being in the unemployed frame of mind, she saw nothing wrong with obsessively scouring her cookie sheet until her shoulders ached. Just to see how far she could get.
When the results began to slow down Susan threw some salt into the equation. This was only minimally effective and Susan took a break to drink her coffee.
She admired her work but knew she could do better.
She went back to scrubbing, giving up only when she could no longer lift her arms or unclench her fingers from around the sponge.
However, this morning finds Susan free to do as she pleases.
She began by dyeing her hair back to a close approximation of it's original color.
Then she went into the kitchen to make coffee before sitting down at the computer in blissful solitude. While waiting for the coffee to brew she decided to hand wash the cookie pan that had been sitting in the sink for two days.
If the reader will recall, Susan has experimented with green-cleaning by mixing varying portions of water to vinegar to baking soda & adding a small amount of natural plant-based liquid soap (she likes Seventh Generation which was on sale at the supermarket) and some tea tree oil. Susan likes the smell of tea tree oil and had such great success cleaning her bathroom with this combination that she mixed a green-cleaning cocktail for use in her kitchen.
Please take note that since the baking soda tended to clog up the spraying mechanism in her Home Depot spray bottle she now uses a recycled dish detergent squeeze bottle, which is much more effective.
Susan's cookie sheet was black from years of things spilling on it and burning. Added to that were the dinner remnants from two nights ago. Instead of using regular dish detergent Susan used her green scouring cocktail.
As Susan scrubbed, an unbelievable thing happened,
layer upon blackened layer evaporated.
You know, with some elbow grease.
Now, while Susan acknowledges that blackened cookie sheets pose no threat to anybody and are probably a silly thing to scrub spotlessly clean, Susan was fascinated. And being in the unemployed frame of mind, she saw nothing wrong with obsessively scouring her cookie sheet until her shoulders ached. Just to see how far she could get.
When the results began to slow down Susan threw some salt into the equation. This was only minimally effective and Susan took a break to drink her coffee.
She admired her work but knew she could do better.
She went back to scrubbing, giving up only when she could no longer lift her arms or unclench her fingers from around the sponge.
3.30.2009
The Filthy House
Susan's neighbor came over for a chat and Susan's house was FILTHY.
Not just messy. It was FILTHY, with nowhere to receive company comfortably.
Oy.
Susan doesn't mind if her house is just messy, that's the hallmark of a real person who has things to do. Susan's house today indicated that Susan doesn't give a sh*t.
As with most real houses, there are a few trouble spots. The table in the kitchen normally piled high with cookbooks, newspapers, magazines and a bowl of fruit is one. It doesn't even belong in the kitchen, it was brought upstairs sixteen months ago for a party & never left.
Before you even get to the kitchen you have to walk through the living room.
In order to keep the mongrel dog from sleeping on the couch all day, the last person to leave the house places something on the couch to impede access. It's always the same thing, a ladder back chair from the computer area which is very lightweight and does the job nicely.
When Susan comes home she takes the chair off.
However, not today.
Susan has a nice fireplace and a handsome fireplace screen which was given to her by the mother of the twins. Susan threaded Christmas lights through the screen and plugs them in everyday because she likes to see the pretty lights.
Not today.
Most days Susan has a fragrant candle lit on the mantel. Not today.
Every day Susan's daughter uses the decorative mirror in the living room to perfect her hair straightening and styling. There is a small table beneath the mirror which holds a large glass cylinder filled with stalks of forsythia. As a result of the daily styling regimen the forsythia is set on the floor and the table top becomes adorned with a straightening iron, bobby pins and maybe a glass of something Susan's daughter was drinking. It remains this way until Susan notices it. Susan hadn't noticed it yet this afternoon.
Susan forces herself to keep the dining room table tidy and clean. But, like the seashore another wave of mail, schoolwork, folders, grocery coupons and little Star Wars Lego men are going to wash over it any minute. And, although she likes to keep it clean enough to eat off, because that's where Susan's family eats, it's not always in that condition.
Like today.
But, that's where Susan and her neighbor sat, at one dirty table overlooking another, situated next to a disorganized and unkempt laundry alcove while the mongrel dog came and rubbed and sniffed, begging for attention without a shred of self restraint.
Not just messy. It was FILTHY, with nowhere to receive company comfortably.
Oy.
Susan doesn't mind if her house is just messy, that's the hallmark of a real person who has things to do. Susan's house today indicated that Susan doesn't give a sh*t.
As with most real houses, there are a few trouble spots. The table in the kitchen normally piled high with cookbooks, newspapers, magazines and a bowl of fruit is one. It doesn't even belong in the kitchen, it was brought upstairs sixteen months ago for a party & never left.
Before you even get to the kitchen you have to walk through the living room.
In order to keep the mongrel dog from sleeping on the couch all day, the last person to leave the house places something on the couch to impede access. It's always the same thing, a ladder back chair from the computer area which is very lightweight and does the job nicely.
When Susan comes home she takes the chair off.
However, not today.
Susan has a nice fireplace and a handsome fireplace screen which was given to her by the mother of the twins. Susan threaded Christmas lights through the screen and plugs them in everyday because she likes to see the pretty lights.
Not today.
Most days Susan has a fragrant candle lit on the mantel. Not today.
Every day Susan's daughter uses the decorative mirror in the living room to perfect her hair straightening and styling. There is a small table beneath the mirror which holds a large glass cylinder filled with stalks of forsythia. As a result of the daily styling regimen the forsythia is set on the floor and the table top becomes adorned with a straightening iron, bobby pins and maybe a glass of something Susan's daughter was drinking. It remains this way until Susan notices it. Susan hadn't noticed it yet this afternoon.
Susan forces herself to keep the dining room table tidy and clean. But, like the seashore another wave of mail, schoolwork, folders, grocery coupons and little Star Wars Lego men are going to wash over it any minute. And, although she likes to keep it clean enough to eat off, because that's where Susan's family eats, it's not always in that condition.
Like today.
But, that's where Susan and her neighbor sat, at one dirty table overlooking another, situated next to a disorganized and unkempt laundry alcove while the mongrel dog came and rubbed and sniffed, begging for attention without a shred of self restraint.
3.29.2009
Saturday, Midnight
As she was preparing to go to bed Susan noticed a car idling in front of her neighbors, the Drunk's house.
She believed the car had been there a while so she peered through the window to survey the situation. The car looked to be a patrol car. Susan turned off all the lights in order to remain undetected while she peered.
Indeed it was a patrol car. Susan couldn't see very well from that window so she repositioned herself in her son's room for a better look. Yes, now she could see. The policemen remained inside the car while Mr. & Mrs. Drunk stood alongside the window deep in conversation.
Were they being arrested? It seemed not.
Were they leaning on the patrol car? It seemed so.
Are you even allowed to lean on a patrol car?
Susan cracked open her son's window hoping to catch part of the conversation. Unfortunately, Susan's mongrel dog had followed her into the room. It was walking around with it's overgrown nails clicking on the wood floor, snuffling & snorting, making a racket. Susan chased the mongrel dog out of the room and turned her attention back to the Drunks.
She couldn't hear much. Mrs. Drunk mentioned her brother twice. She said something, quite conversationally, about 'when we lived there' but Susan couldn't hear the rest. Mr. Drunk was asked to confirm a telephone number. That's all Susan got.
It was a nipply March night, foggy and wet, but Mrs. Drunk was standing outside for an extended period of time in some sort of sleeveless shmatta talking with the officers, who never left their vehicle. Were they just chatting?
Wasn't she cold? The open window made Susan cold.
Don't police officers get out of their cars to shine lights into windows or investigate things?
Mrs. Drunk walked into the house leaving Mr. Drunk outside to finish his conversation.
Susan was perplexed by the whole situation.
Mr. Drunk went inside after a few more minutes. He closed the door.
The policemen drove away.
Susan went to bed.
She believed the car had been there a while so she peered through the window to survey the situation. The car looked to be a patrol car. Susan turned off all the lights in order to remain undetected while she peered.
Indeed it was a patrol car. Susan couldn't see very well from that window so she repositioned herself in her son's room for a better look. Yes, now she could see. The policemen remained inside the car while Mr. & Mrs. Drunk stood alongside the window deep in conversation.
Were they being arrested? It seemed not.
Were they leaning on the patrol car? It seemed so.
Are you even allowed to lean on a patrol car?
Susan cracked open her son's window hoping to catch part of the conversation. Unfortunately, Susan's mongrel dog had followed her into the room. It was walking around with it's overgrown nails clicking on the wood floor, snuffling & snorting, making a racket. Susan chased the mongrel dog out of the room and turned her attention back to the Drunks.
She couldn't hear much. Mrs. Drunk mentioned her brother twice. She said something, quite conversationally, about 'when we lived there' but Susan couldn't hear the rest. Mr. Drunk was asked to confirm a telephone number. That's all Susan got.
It was a nipply March night, foggy and wet, but Mrs. Drunk was standing outside for an extended period of time in some sort of sleeveless shmatta talking with the officers, who never left their vehicle. Were they just chatting?
Wasn't she cold? The open window made Susan cold.
Don't police officers get out of their cars to shine lights into windows or investigate things?
Mrs. Drunk walked into the house leaving Mr. Drunk outside to finish his conversation.
Susan was perplexed by the whole situation.
Mr. Drunk went inside after a few more minutes. He closed the door.
The policemen drove away.
Susan went to bed.
On The Run
Susan's hand-me-down van is currently uninspected. She's not going to explain why because who really cares and she's got her reasons.
The expired inspection sticker differs greatly in color from the inspection stickers of compliant vehicles, and therefore sticks out to anyone paying attention. Susan has managed to elude the police on more than one occasion. The fact that she parked in the criminal court parking lot for almost three weeks undetected by anyone in a position to give her a ticket is bloody lucky.
However, she finds herself scanning the horizon for patrol cars & making unplanned lefts or rights to stay out of their way. One close call came as she was in the left hand turning lane. A policeman drove past, eyeballed the inspection, then eyeballed Susan. He put his blinker on to turn around. Susan's lane got the green arrow so stomped on the gas pedal, heart pounding and turned off the main road damned fast!
The other day Susan found herself driving right into a police roadblock. She was trapped like a rat!
She mentally adjusted to the situation and rolled her window down in preparation for the conversation the officers would want to have with her. She took note of where she could pull over. She leaned toward the window and looked at the officers. She was ready to be cute.
They waved her through.
Wait. What?
The officers waved her through.
Susan kept going and watched in her rear view mirror as the officers had to practically jump on the car behind her to get it to stop for them.
Susan kept going.
The expired inspection sticker differs greatly in color from the inspection stickers of compliant vehicles, and therefore sticks out to anyone paying attention. Susan has managed to elude the police on more than one occasion. The fact that she parked in the criminal court parking lot for almost three weeks undetected by anyone in a position to give her a ticket is bloody lucky.
However, she finds herself scanning the horizon for patrol cars & making unplanned lefts or rights to stay out of their way. One close call came as she was in the left hand turning lane. A policeman drove past, eyeballed the inspection, then eyeballed Susan. He put his blinker on to turn around. Susan's lane got the green arrow so stomped on the gas pedal, heart pounding and turned off the main road damned fast!
The other day Susan found herself driving right into a police roadblock. She was trapped like a rat!
She mentally adjusted to the situation and rolled her window down in preparation for the conversation the officers would want to have with her. She took note of where she could pull over. She leaned toward the window and looked at the officers. She was ready to be cute.
They waved her through.
Wait. What?
The officers waved her through.
Susan kept going and watched in her rear view mirror as the officers had to practically jump on the car behind her to get it to stop for them.
Susan kept going.
3.28.2009
This Post Has Been Deleted By The Blogger
Susan stayed up quite late last night writing a post about something that disturbed her husband before he even read a word.
Oh, my!
The subject post was very long and funny and Susan didn't even write anything bad about anything.
The husband advised Susan to delete her hard work.
She complied, but would like it noted for the record that the husband is really the TWISTED one in the relationship,
not she.
Oh, my!
The subject post was very long and funny and Susan didn't even write anything bad about anything.
The husband advised Susan to delete her hard work.
She complied, but would like it noted for the record that the husband is really the TWISTED one in the relationship,
not she.
3.26.2009
3.25.2009
The $130 Pair Of Pants
Susan purchased an expensive pair of pants rather impulsively the other day. She was under the euphoria of job foreplay and was too woozy to make a solid purchasing decision. Although the pants were nice, they never would have made it out the door with her under normal circumstances. But, sometimes when one shops in a nice store, with proper dressing rooms and psychologically trained sales personnel, things just happen. Particularly when one comes directly from a promising job interview armed with a gift card.
The following day the pants went back.
In their place were purchased two tops because that's what Susan needs. She can wear the same pair of black pants for a month as long as she alternates everything else. Susan would like the reader to know that she also negotiated a 20% discount on one item and free shipping on the other.
Susan rocks.
When Susan returned home after a long morning of trying on all the clothes in the store twice, she expected to find a message on her answering machine from her prospective employer.
There was no freak-out when the message was not there.
Susan is a confident and mature woman, not a paranoid & isolated housefrau who believes that there is a plot to f*ck around with her. What employed stranger has the time to f*ck around with Susan anyway?
Susan kept her mind occupied by ironing everything in her closet.
She mended seams and polished jewelry.
She brutally re-assessed her clothing.
Susan started a bag for Goodwill.
Eventually Susan left the house to watch her son's wrestling team, eat pizza and interact with her family like a normal person.
The following day the pants went back.
In their place were purchased two tops because that's what Susan needs. She can wear the same pair of black pants for a month as long as she alternates everything else. Susan would like the reader to know that she also negotiated a 20% discount on one item and free shipping on the other.
Susan rocks.
When Susan returned home after a long morning of trying on all the clothes in the store twice, she expected to find a message on her answering machine from her prospective employer.
There was no freak-out when the message was not there.
Susan is a confident and mature woman, not a paranoid & isolated housefrau who believes that there is a plot to f*ck around with her. What employed stranger has the time to f*ck around with Susan anyway?
Susan kept her mind occupied by ironing everything in her closet.
She mended seams and polished jewelry.
She brutally re-assessed her clothing.
Susan started a bag for Goodwill.
Eventually Susan left the house to watch her son's wrestling team, eat pizza and interact with her family like a normal person.
3.24.2009
Susan Contemplates Her Unemployment
Lately Susan's unemployed ass could be found winding electrical tape around the pieces of her life hoping they'd hold together for one more day.
That notwithstanding, she has enjoyed large parts of her exile from the working world.
She spent the summer with her kids, then relished the solitude when they went back to school.
She liked the relaxed pace of not having to be anywhere.
It didn't matter if she ran out of clean clothes.
There was always time for whatever she wanted to do, as long as it didn't cost anything.
She learned how to cook curries and make chutney. She figured out she could replicate ricotta with tofu, lemon juice and dried oregano. She had an affair with blue cheese.
Susan had a couple of melt-downs; like when the COBRA benefits were cancelled or when her food budget could not accommodate paper towels.
Susan has been led to believe she'll be offered a job shortly. One with responsibilities and benefits and people to talk to. With a decent salary. A job Susan anticipates she'll actually like.
Susan celebrated this possibility with a $130 pair of pants.
Simmer down, she used a gift card.
That notwithstanding, she has enjoyed large parts of her exile from the working world.
She spent the summer with her kids, then relished the solitude when they went back to school.
She liked the relaxed pace of not having to be anywhere.
It didn't matter if she ran out of clean clothes.
There was always time for whatever she wanted to do, as long as it didn't cost anything.
She learned how to cook curries and make chutney. She figured out she could replicate ricotta with tofu, lemon juice and dried oregano. She had an affair with blue cheese.
Susan had a couple of melt-downs; like when the COBRA benefits were cancelled or when her food budget could not accommodate paper towels.
Susan has been led to believe she'll be offered a job shortly. One with responsibilities and benefits and people to talk to. With a decent salary. A job Susan anticipates she'll actually like.
Susan celebrated this possibility with a $130 pair of pants.
Simmer down, she used a gift card.
3.23.2009
North Carolina
Last month Susan had the pleasure of sitting in a car packed to capacity with her family and their suitcases before emerging twelve hours later in North Carolina. Susan and her family were visiting her elder step-daughter's family, which included two brand new baby boys! In addition, Susan's younger step-daughter would be joining them with her own toddling daughter. Everyone bunking in the same house.
Susan doesn't care for the term step-daughter because she really lucked out with these two. But, for the purpose of this post, it identifies the relationship. Susan and her step-daughters have spent many hundreds of hours together. However, they were divided into increments of 5 over the course of 15 years, not over one long weekend.
Susan's hosts spoiled her;
First, by the father of the twins who jumped up to make his step-mother-in-law coffee whenever she needed a hit. When he wasn't impressing her with his magic caffeine elixir he was pouring her another glass of sangria or a snifter of something delightful and intoxicating.
Then, by the mother of the twins who fetched Susan a blanket to chase away the chilly night air as they all sat outside drinking, smoking, chatting and laughing. She also indulged Susan in hunting down a local thrift shop (because Susan has a monkey on her back) and turned Susan on to a favorite cheap wine, a case of which she managed to stuff into her trunk on the way out of town.
Lastly, by two utterly adorable brothers, so charming and sweet, happy and bright, chubby and blue-eyed. Who could care about anything else when they're in the room?
Susan's younger step-daughter is no slouch herself;
she's got a toddler in tow, a bun in her oven, a full time job and still likes her husband. One of Susan's fave parts of the visit was being given 'Europeans', a kiss on each cheek, by the toddler.
Oh, and this particular step-daughter bought Susan some underpants.
Susan tried to be a good guest by cleaning up after herself, pitching in with household chores and reorganizing a few closets to her own specifications (because Susan's OCD travels with her).
After three days fish and house guests begin to stink so Susan folded herself, her family and their suitcases back into the car and made the grueling twelve hour trek home.
The End.
Susan doesn't care for the term step-daughter because she really lucked out with these two. But, for the purpose of this post, it identifies the relationship. Susan and her step-daughters have spent many hundreds of hours together. However, they were divided into increments of 5 over the course of 15 years, not over one long weekend.
Susan's hosts spoiled her;
First, by the father of the twins who jumped up to make his step-mother-in-law coffee whenever she needed a hit. When he wasn't impressing her with his magic caffeine elixir he was pouring her another glass of sangria or a snifter of something delightful and intoxicating.
Then, by the mother of the twins who fetched Susan a blanket to chase away the chilly night air as they all sat outside drinking, smoking, chatting and laughing. She also indulged Susan in hunting down a local thrift shop (because Susan has a monkey on her back) and turned Susan on to a favorite cheap wine, a case of which she managed to stuff into her trunk on the way out of town.
Lastly, by two utterly adorable brothers, so charming and sweet, happy and bright, chubby and blue-eyed. Who could care about anything else when they're in the room?
Susan's younger step-daughter is no slouch herself;
she's got a toddler in tow, a bun in her oven, a full time job and still likes her husband. One of Susan's fave parts of the visit was being given 'Europeans', a kiss on each cheek, by the toddler.
Oh, and this particular step-daughter bought Susan some underpants.
Susan tried to be a good guest by cleaning up after herself, pitching in with household chores and reorganizing a few closets to her own specifications (because Susan's OCD travels with her).
After three days fish and house guests begin to stink so Susan folded herself, her family and their suitcases back into the car and made the grueling twelve hour trek home.
The End.
3.22.2009
Apparently Susan's Nieces Were Right
Susan's little sister has a hot tub in which Susan has often found herself a guest. Little sister's hot tub is tucked away for privacy and open to the stars. And sometimes the rain or snow, which only adds to the wonderfulness of the experience. Susan has no need for vacations or chiropractors or psychiatrists when she can soak her bum and sip a glass of wine while she and little sister discuss life's events. Plus, Susan has no money for such extravagances.
A while back Susan's nieces K8 and Liz joined their mother and favorite aunt for a relaxing soak. The conversation soared and swirled over many topics, as it usually does, before pit-stopping at who reminds them of Aunt Sue.
All four have been enthusiastic fans of Project Runway and therefore very familiar with the associated hosts, judges & personalities. Susan was startled to learn that everyone (but she) overwhelmingly agreed that Tim Gunn reminded them of Susan.
Tim Gunn is a gay man, while Susan is nothing of the sort.
The conversation revealed opinions of warmth and respect for Tim Gunn, the alter-Susan. Very shortly she found herself not minding the comparison at all. In fact, Susan was quite happy to linked with a well regarded man of style and wit with a good vocabulary.
Tim Gunn, indeed.
Most recently, while Susan and her fellow jurors were spending time not talking about the thing which brought them all together, Susan remarked about the comparison to Tim Gunn. Immediately, almost in unison, three or four of the jurors exclaimed 'Yes, we can see that!'
A while back Susan's nieces K8 and Liz joined their mother and favorite aunt for a relaxing soak. The conversation soared and swirled over many topics, as it usually does, before pit-stopping at who reminds them of Aunt Sue.
All four have been enthusiastic fans of Project Runway and therefore very familiar with the associated hosts, judges & personalities. Susan was startled to learn that everyone (but she) overwhelmingly agreed that Tim Gunn reminded them of Susan.
Tim Gunn is a gay man, while Susan is nothing of the sort.
The conversation revealed opinions of warmth and respect for Tim Gunn, the alter-Susan. Very shortly she found herself not minding the comparison at all. In fact, Susan was quite happy to linked with a well regarded man of style and wit with a good vocabulary.
Tim Gunn, indeed.
Most recently, while Susan and her fellow jurors were spending time not talking about the thing which brought them all together, Susan remarked about the comparison to Tim Gunn. Immediately, almost in unison, three or four of the jurors exclaimed 'Yes, we can see that!'
3.21.2009
Adorable Cousin Alex
Last night found the majority of Susan's girl cousins together to watch a movie which Aunt Eileen had chosen for the occasion, Anatomy of A Murder
(Susan's review; it was long).
What a delightful surprise to find Cousin Alex home from college with her new short hair-do and smarty pants attitude.
Susan is a big fan of Cousin Alex because she is a creative, independent thinking young woman who sez things like 'I love to be in France for Bastille Day' as serious as death.
She is also adorably diminutive and when the conversation looped around to weight (how could it not?) she said
'I never weigh myself. I don't understand why anyone would ever weigh themselves.'
Tre cute!
The movie was about to begin and Cousin Alex inquired, in an agitated manner, as to whether anyone might be planning to talk through the movie. Susan and her little sister indicated that Cousin Alex could leave right then if this might be a problem. However, she did not take the bait and stuck it out, like the rest of us, to the bitter end.
(Susan's review; it was long).
What a delightful surprise to find Cousin Alex home from college with her new short hair-do and smarty pants attitude.
Susan is a big fan of Cousin Alex because she is a creative, independent thinking young woman who sez things like 'I love to be in France for Bastille Day' as serious as death.
She is also adorably diminutive and when the conversation looped around to weight (how could it not?) she said
'I never weigh myself. I don't understand why anyone would ever weigh themselves.'
Tre cute!
The movie was about to begin and Cousin Alex inquired, in an agitated manner, as to whether anyone might be planning to talk through the movie. Susan and her little sister indicated that Cousin Alex could leave right then if this might be a problem. However, she did not take the bait and stuck it out, like the rest of us, to the bitter end.
3.20.2009
Jury Duty, The Conclusion
Susan had the privilege of spending the better part of the last three weeks with twelve strangers as they sat in a courtroom and listened to two versions of the same story. The story was always interesting and often thrilling, informative, entertaining and scary.
Susan was most impressed with the open-mindedness, integrity and patience of her fellow jurors as they deliberated every point of every charge, even the ones with the obvious answers.
The group helped one another see varied points of view, listened with a willingness to hear and kept each member as equal as any other.
Susan's world was made a little more hopeful because of them.
Thanks guys.
Susan was most impressed with the open-mindedness, integrity and patience of her fellow jurors as they deliberated every point of every charge, even the ones with the obvious answers.
The group helped one another see varied points of view, listened with a willingness to hear and kept each member as equal as any other.
Susan's world was made a little more hopeful because of them.
Thanks guys.
3.19.2009
Eggplant
Susan's medium sized children are pretty good about eating their vegetables. This of course can be attributed to the manner in which Susan prepares and serves the vegetables.
Further supportive evidence of Susan's vegetable talents are often provided at the dinner table by unrelated children invited over to eat. Quite often the mothers of these children will remark how their child would never eat such a vegetable at home, making Susan feel superior.
And rightly so because we're talking about hardcore examples such as cauliflower, asparagus and broccoli rabe. Some of them may not be particularly happy about the broccoli rabe, but they eat it.
There's one vegetable that Susan & the husband love but, no matter what she does with it her children refuse to eat;
Eggplant.
Susan's children absolutely gag on the vile eggplant.
One of them even cries when she sees it on her plate, which is one reason (of many) why Susan likes to refer to this child as The Crybaby.
Susan was looking for the easy way out of dinner & wished to serve her family the eggplant left over from a weekend party. Susan's eggplant preparation was such that even Susan's eggplant-resistant little sister was won over. And she's a tough customer.
Nonetheless, Susan had a tougher job ahead of her getting The Crybaby to crack.
If she could weaken The Crybaby then her older brother Fuckleupagus would crumble.
But, how?
What would make The Crybaby voluntarily put eggplant into her mouth, chew it up then swallow it? Repeatedly? Until it was all gone?
Susan put her thinking cap on.
The habit in Susan's house is not to serve soda during the week. However, Susan had a premonition and held onto a bottle left over from the weekend party, everything else was poured down the sink.
Susan approached The Crybaby.
'What can I do to get you to eat some eggplant?'
The Crybaby looked at Susan, pondering the answer. Susan's heart was pounding.
'Money?' suggested Susan. The Crybaby's eyes widened.
In the end The Crybaby sold herself out for $4 and a glass of Sprite Zero.
The family sat down and enjoyed their dinner of leftover eggplant, salad and penne with sauce.
Susan swears she heard someone say 'That wasn't that bad, Mom.'
Further supportive evidence of Susan's vegetable talents are often provided at the dinner table by unrelated children invited over to eat. Quite often the mothers of these children will remark how their child would never eat such a vegetable at home, making Susan feel superior.
And rightly so because we're talking about hardcore examples such as cauliflower, asparagus and broccoli rabe. Some of them may not be particularly happy about the broccoli rabe, but they eat it.
There's one vegetable that Susan & the husband love but, no matter what she does with it her children refuse to eat;
Eggplant.
Susan's children absolutely gag on the vile eggplant.
One of them even cries when she sees it on her plate, which is one reason (of many) why Susan likes to refer to this child as The Crybaby.
Susan was looking for the easy way out of dinner & wished to serve her family the eggplant left over from a weekend party. Susan's eggplant preparation was such that even Susan's eggplant-resistant little sister was won over. And she's a tough customer.
Nonetheless, Susan had a tougher job ahead of her getting The Crybaby to crack.
If she could weaken The Crybaby then her older brother Fuckleupagus would crumble.
But, how?
What would make The Crybaby voluntarily put eggplant into her mouth, chew it up then swallow it? Repeatedly? Until it was all gone?
Susan put her thinking cap on.
The habit in Susan's house is not to serve soda during the week. However, Susan had a premonition and held onto a bottle left over from the weekend party, everything else was poured down the sink.
Susan approached The Crybaby.
'What can I do to get you to eat some eggplant?'
The Crybaby looked at Susan, pondering the answer. Susan's heart was pounding.
'Money?' suggested Susan. The Crybaby's eyes widened.
In the end The Crybaby sold herself out for $4 and a glass of Sprite Zero.
The family sat down and enjoyed their dinner of leftover eggplant, salad and penne with sauce.
Susan swears she heard someone say 'That wasn't that bad, Mom.'
3.18.2009
Burt's Bees Coconut Foot Cream
On her way to jury duty, as Susan was gathering up her belongings after walking through the metal detector, she became involved in a short conversation with the officer who x-rayed her bag.
Susan was complimented on smelling 'like the first breeze of summer.'
The officer told Susan that his wife loved the fragrance of coconut, and what was she wearing? So, Susan opened up her bag & pulled out the Burt's Bees tube to show the officer.
She explained that it's very greasy and one only needs to use a smidgen.
When he asked how effective it was on dry skin she unscrewed the cap and motioned for the officer to extend his hand.
Susan placed a pea sized amount on the back of the officer's hand and instructed him to really work it into the skin, which he did.
Now they both smelled like the first breeze of summer.
Susan had an extra bounce in her step as she walked away to join her fellow jurors.
Susan was complimented on smelling 'like the first breeze of summer.'
The officer told Susan that his wife loved the fragrance of coconut, and what was she wearing? So, Susan opened up her bag & pulled out the Burt's Bees tube to show the officer.
She explained that it's very greasy and one only needs to use a smidgen.
When he asked how effective it was on dry skin she unscrewed the cap and motioned for the officer to extend his hand.
Susan placed a pea sized amount on the back of the officer's hand and instructed him to really work it into the skin, which he did.
Now they both smelled like the first breeze of summer.
Susan had an extra bounce in her step as she walked away to join her fellow jurors.
3.17.2009
Lovely Day For A Guinness
Arthur Guinness was an Irish brewer and father of twenty one children, Sweet Jesus!
In 1759 he left his little brother in charge of the brewery & signed a 9,000 year lease on the abandoned St. James Gate brewery in Dublin which remains the blessed home of Guinness Stout to this day.
Stout is an ale. It began as a porter, which was a dark beer popular with the fellows who humped heavy objects all over town for a living. These guys needed a drink after a long day toiling away at their careers in cheap labor.
Guinness has many beneficial qualities. Aside from being a bloody fantastic brew it contains iron, antioxidants and only 125 calories per 12 ounces. A nurse friend of Susan's used to mix it with condensed milk and serve it to her elderly mother. If that isn't a proper testiment to the medicinal properties of a wee nip o' the Guinness, well then I don't know what is, Bejesus!
In 1759 he left his little brother in charge of the brewery & signed a 9,000 year lease on the abandoned St. James Gate brewery in Dublin which remains the blessed home of Guinness Stout to this day.
Stout is an ale. It began as a porter, which was a dark beer popular with the fellows who humped heavy objects all over town for a living. These guys needed a drink after a long day toiling away at their careers in cheap labor.
Guinness has many beneficial qualities. Aside from being a bloody fantastic brew it contains iron, antioxidants and only 125 calories per 12 ounces. A nurse friend of Susan's used to mix it with condensed milk and serve it to her elderly mother. If that isn't a proper testiment to the medicinal properties of a wee nip o' the Guinness, well then I don't know what is, Bejesus!
3.16.2009
Susan Green Cleans Her Tub
Susan likes standard caustic chemical cleaners as much as the next guy but decided, purely as an experiment due to the boredom of unemployment, to clean her filthy tub with vinegar and baking soda.
Susan did a small amount of research and settled upon the combination of 1/4 cup baking soda (as a scouring element) and 1/2 cup vinegar (cuts soap scum) which she administered with a scrubby sponge. Oh, how her shower gleamed! (After much rinsing). Susan was very happy with the result although she had to mix several batches.
Susan was very attracted to a recipe for a tub & tile spray which she felt may be more practical and convenient. But, she would have to purchase some tea tree oil.
Tea tree oil has many uses as she came to learn. It has antiseptic and anti-fungal properties and can be used both on the skin or in the toilet.
Susan mixed 1 and 2/3 cup of baking soda with 1/2 cup liquid soap into a spray bottle. She added 1/2 cup water, 2 tablespoons vinegar, a half teaspoon of tea tree oil & shook the crap out of it. Then she added more water when the baking soda appeared to be clogging the spray mechanism. However, again Susan's tub gleamed! (After minimal rinsing). And it smelled nice in a way that didn't make her cough up blood.
So, Susan took her spray bottle into the kitchen to try out on her eighties era counter top. She sprayed, scrubbed a little bit and wiped like the unemployed Stepford Wife she was, and at the conclusion her counter was clean! It even pulled Cousin Lisa in from the other room with it's magical natural mojo. Cousin Lisa is an organic gal & has a long list of things she can't tolerate such as aerosol, Splenda & old house smells. Cousin Lisa shared Susan's new enthusiasm for natural household cleaners and made it her business to go home with the recipe for Susan's green cleaning spray.
Susan did a small amount of research and settled upon the combination of 1/4 cup baking soda (as a scouring element) and 1/2 cup vinegar (cuts soap scum) which she administered with a scrubby sponge. Oh, how her shower gleamed! (After much rinsing). Susan was very happy with the result although she had to mix several batches.
Susan was very attracted to a recipe for a tub & tile spray which she felt may be more practical and convenient. But, she would have to purchase some tea tree oil.
Tea tree oil has many uses as she came to learn. It has antiseptic and anti-fungal properties and can be used both on the skin or in the toilet.
Susan mixed 1 and 2/3 cup of baking soda with 1/2 cup liquid soap into a spray bottle. She added 1/2 cup water, 2 tablespoons vinegar, a half teaspoon of tea tree oil & shook the crap out of it. Then she added more water when the baking soda appeared to be clogging the spray mechanism. However, again Susan's tub gleamed! (After minimal rinsing). And it smelled nice in a way that didn't make her cough up blood.
So, Susan took her spray bottle into the kitchen to try out on her eighties era counter top. She sprayed, scrubbed a little bit and wiped like the unemployed Stepford Wife she was, and at the conclusion her counter was clean! It even pulled Cousin Lisa in from the other room with it's magical natural mojo. Cousin Lisa is an organic gal & has a long list of things she can't tolerate such as aerosol, Splenda & old house smells. Cousin Lisa shared Susan's new enthusiasm for natural household cleaners and made it her business to go home with the recipe for Susan's green cleaning spray.
3.15.2009
Susan And Grace Meet At The Movies
Susan's childhood friend Grace invited Susan to be her guest at the movies. Susan and Grace are in the habit of going to the movies when one of them has some extra money. They even have a favorite movie theatre and like to take advantage of unadvertised savings when they pay for one movie then sneak into a second. Needless to say anyone who would do something as ethically murky as this would probably also smuggle in their own snacks and alcohol.
However, on this particular outing Susan and Grace were living large and wished to purchase a cappuccino & some biscotti to enjoy during the second movie. Unfortunately, and to their absolute horror, there was no milk available for the cappuccino. Grace, always the better student, spied a can of whipped cream and instructed the server to use the the contents in lieu of steamed milk. The childhood friends looked on as each cup was completely filled with whipped cream. They waited while the coffee brewed. And, as if seeing the Gates of Heaven, they watched the coffee being poured over the whipped cream before being delivered unto their trembling hands.
Let it be known far and wide, that from this day forward Susan and Grace very much prefer to drink their coffee from a cup filled with whipped cream.
However, on this particular outing Susan and Grace were living large and wished to purchase a cappuccino & some biscotti to enjoy during the second movie. Unfortunately, and to their absolute horror, there was no milk available for the cappuccino. Grace, always the better student, spied a can of whipped cream and instructed the server to use the the contents in lieu of steamed milk. The childhood friends looked on as each cup was completely filled with whipped cream. They waited while the coffee brewed. And, as if seeing the Gates of Heaven, they watched the coffee being poured over the whipped cream before being delivered unto their trembling hands.
Let it be known far and wide, that from this day forward Susan and Grace very much prefer to drink their coffee from a cup filled with whipped cream.
3.14.2009
Susan Likes Jury Duty
Susan is currently seated on a jury somewhere within the democratic society in which she is privileged to live, but she can't talk about it.
What she can say is that the right side of the judge's face twitches when he gets angry, that nobody in court looks anywhere but straight ahead or at the lawyers and court room lighting makes even the pretty court stenographer look bad.
Additionally, Susan has picked up a few tips for anyone who may find themselves in the witness box;
Confine all answers to either yes or no unless instructed to describe something.
Do not make clucking noises into the microphone during a sidebar.
Do not yawn into the microphone at any time.
Do not incorporate personal comments about the absurdity of the question into your answer.
Do not start a conversation with anyone in the viewing gallery.
And, if the judge threatens you with contempt of court, believe him.
Susan likes her fellow jurors. Mostly. She even baked for them last week. However, Susan's Little Sister has said that you don't know how stoopid people can be until you have to deliberate with them. This comment was based on Little Sister's personal experience and not jealousy because Susan is seated on an interesting case or because Susan likes joking with the officers who make her empty her pockets & x-ray her bag or because Susan holds the next two to five years of another human being in her hands.
More on this as it develops.
Rather, after it concludes.
What she can say is that the right side of the judge's face twitches when he gets angry, that nobody in court looks anywhere but straight ahead or at the lawyers and court room lighting makes even the pretty court stenographer look bad.
Additionally, Susan has picked up a few tips for anyone who may find themselves in the witness box;
Confine all answers to either yes or no unless instructed to describe something.
Do not make clucking noises into the microphone during a sidebar.
Do not yawn into the microphone at any time.
Do not incorporate personal comments about the absurdity of the question into your answer.
Do not start a conversation with anyone in the viewing gallery.
And, if the judge threatens you with contempt of court, believe him.
Susan likes her fellow jurors. Mostly. She even baked for them last week. However, Susan's Little Sister has said that you don't know how stoopid people can be until you have to deliberate with them. This comment was based on Little Sister's personal experience and not jealousy because Susan is seated on an interesting case or because Susan likes joking with the officers who make her empty her pockets & x-ray her bag or because Susan holds the next two to five years of another human being in her hands.
More on this as it develops.
Rather, after it concludes.
3.10.2009
A Lady Walks Into A Bar With A Pig Under Her Arm
This joke required two telephone calls to Susan's old man because it's his joke and she's retarded.
A lady walks into a bar with a pig under her arm. The bartender looks up and sez 'Where'd you get that dog?' The lady sez 'That's not a dog, it's a pig.' The bartender sez 'I'm talking to the pig.'
A lady walks into a bar with a pig under her arm. The bartender looks up and sez 'Where'd you get that dog?' The lady sez 'That's not a dog, it's a pig.' The bartender sez 'I'm talking to the pig.'
3.09.2009
Haiku
My son thinks he can
Fool his unemployed mother
With middle school lies
No homework again
What a nice teacher you have
I'll give her a call
When I was a kid
Teachers took perverse pleasure
Assigning homework
Please bring me the phone
But don't wander off because
I'm not done with you
Fool his unemployed mother
With middle school lies
No homework again
What a nice teacher you have
I'll give her a call
When I was a kid
Teachers took perverse pleasure
Assigning homework
Please bring me the phone
But don't wander off because
I'm not done with you
Parental Failure
Susan appears to be failing in a specific parental responsibility; to motivate one of her medium-sized children to complete his homework. Perhaps the term homework is misleading, let's add social studies projects, English test reviews and Italian worksheets just to be safe.
For purposes of identification and until the child in question decides to pull his head out of his arse, he will be known as Fuckleupagus.
Fuckleupagus has many exemplary qualities but we're not going to talk about any of them right now.
Fuckleupagus dooms himself to failure, which Susan guesses is pretty standard behavior for someone of his demographic. The lies of Fuckleupagus are riddled with facial tics, are poorly constructed and unravel easily. Sometimes he seems woozy with panic when caught, and other times he appears completely unconcerned. This inconsistency is certainly a puzzlement for Susan.
The electronic recreational privileges of Fuckleupagus have been replaced with enforced reading and early bedtimes. This has resulted in minimal effectiveness so Susan has added jumping up & down and screaming for variety. Susan has also tried calmly questioning her Fuckleupagus because there's obviously something wrong with his f*cking brain and did he wish to see a doctor?
Susan has always found the discipline of her children to be a tricky area. Her own mother ruled by the back of her hand and Susan's children should thank their lucky stars that Susan has not chosen to follow that example.
Although she'd like to, yes she would.
For purposes of identification and until the child in question decides to pull his head out of his arse, he will be known as Fuckleupagus.
Fuckleupagus has many exemplary qualities but we're not going to talk about any of them right now.
Fuckleupagus dooms himself to failure, which Susan guesses is pretty standard behavior for someone of his demographic. The lies of Fuckleupagus are riddled with facial tics, are poorly constructed and unravel easily. Sometimes he seems woozy with panic when caught, and other times he appears completely unconcerned. This inconsistency is certainly a puzzlement for Susan.
The electronic recreational privileges of Fuckleupagus have been replaced with enforced reading and early bedtimes. This has resulted in minimal effectiveness so Susan has added jumping up & down and screaming for variety. Susan has also tried calmly questioning her Fuckleupagus because there's obviously something wrong with his f*cking brain and did he wish to see a doctor?
Susan has always found the discipline of her children to be a tricky area. Her own mother ruled by the back of her hand and Susan's children should thank their lucky stars that Susan has not chosen to follow that example.
Although she'd like to, yes she would.
3.08.2009
Righty Tighty Lefty Loosey
As a youngster Susan's old man taught her a short rhyme to help her remember which way to turn the knob on the spigot in order to shut off the garden hose. Fast forward forty years. At least once a day Susan gets an opportunity to stare at a faucet and think about which way she has to turn the bloody knob to get more hot water. This is matched only by the amount of time she spends thinking about how to get less hot water. For a few moments she tries to remember on her own without resorting to cutesy tricks, because what sort of a pathetic load doesn't know how to get more, or less hot water from a household faucet. I mean, she turns water on and off all day so what's the problem? Ultimately, it's righty tighty lefty loosey that saves her ass from certain scalding and for this Susan is always thankful. She's thankful she's got a little rhyme that her old man taught her to keep her safe. She's happy she gets a chance to think of him every day even if mostly she's naked & dripping wet when she does.
3.06.2009
Susan's Guide to Home Confinement
Sometimes we may find ourselves trapped at home for extended periods of time. The reasons vary. You may be taking time off to raise small children or be wearing an ankle monitor or perhaps you are unemployed and your car was towed away first thing Monday morning. Regardless of the reason Susan knows how you feel and has a plan to help.
Most working folks say they'd jump at the chance to shuffle around in PJs all day with nothing to do, but they don't know what they're talking about. Once you've put those babies down for a nap, washed all the windows, organized the tools in the basement and looked up your old schoolmates on Facebook, depression sets in fast.
Really fast.
First off, you must MAINTAIN as much NORMALCY as possible. This means that you get out of bed before the sun has begun it's descent. Take a shower, brush your teeth & do something with that hair of yours. I don't want anyone taking a shower after dinner. Showering is a morning activity.
After your shower you must GET DRESSED in clean clothes. Casual clothes are acceptable, even required for your new lifestyle. However, let's establish the definition of 'casual'. A casual wardrobe is comfortable, maybe even a little bit frayed around the edges, this fraying must not detract from the overall visual appeal of the garment. Something left on the floor of the laundry room for two years is stained with bleach and full of holes rendering it unacceptable.
Yoga pants or gym pants matched with a properly fitting, coordinated top are fine for staying home. However, wearing sweat pants and your husband's tee shirt is not. Come out to Susan's neighborhood and she'll show you what she means.
Now that you're showered & dressed, let's go have breakfast.
EATING PROPERLY is very important to keep your mood buoyant. When your blood sugar crashes so do you. Please eat at regular intervals, preferably sitting upright at a table and include vegetables or fruit daily. Susan will admit to having a period in her life where she fed herself & her children breakfast cereal for every meal. It lasted a few weeks and everyone survived. Feel free to indulge in a bit of comfort food but maintain your self control because everyone will notice your fat ass.
KEEP the TV OFF. Susan finds the radio very relaxing and recommends it as a way to stay connected to humanity. However, take caution when listening to overtly one-sided AM programming, it's too easy to become brainwashed by someone else's agenda. Susan had to detox from Dr. Laura a number of years ago.
ORGANIZING your PANTRY is nothing to be ashamed of. Just don't do it every week. The same goes for rearranging your linen closet, bookshelves or wardrobe. Any of these are worthwhile projects. Susan is a big advocate of throwing things out in tandem with these activities. The more aggressive you are the better. On the topic of donations, no one will be damned for throwing out a perfectly good book although it is recommended you donate your coats and footwear.
CULTIVATE an OBSESSION. Nothing counter productive or deviant but something that inspires enthusiasm and help focus your thoughts. Susan learned to bake this way. Baking is very calming in its monotony. Susan still uses this as a way to unwind although now she's added cooking to her repertoire of anxiety deflecting activities. Recently she found herself logging onto cooking blogs like they were pornography with hands shaking upon the realization of having all necessary ingredients for mango chutney; frozen mango, fresh ginger, red pepper, tumeric, allspice, cumin...
Please excuse Susan as she has digressed from the original topic.
INVITE FRIENDS OVER. Neighbors are an acceptable substitute for actual friends. Put up a pot of coffee and enjoy some face time with real people.
READ SOMETHING. As hard as it is for Susan to accept, she knows that there are folks out there who don't own anything with words written on paper. For everyone else, go get a book, a stack of magazines or the newspaper. Middle of the afternoon or middle of the night, this is a calming, solitary pursuit.
Most working folks say they'd jump at the chance to shuffle around in PJs all day with nothing to do, but they don't know what they're talking about. Once you've put those babies down for a nap, washed all the windows, organized the tools in the basement and looked up your old schoolmates on Facebook, depression sets in fast.
Really fast.
First off, you must MAINTAIN as much NORMALCY as possible. This means that you get out of bed before the sun has begun it's descent. Take a shower, brush your teeth & do something with that hair of yours. I don't want anyone taking a shower after dinner. Showering is a morning activity.
After your shower you must GET DRESSED in clean clothes. Casual clothes are acceptable, even required for your new lifestyle. However, let's establish the definition of 'casual'. A casual wardrobe is comfortable, maybe even a little bit frayed around the edges, this fraying must not detract from the overall visual appeal of the garment. Something left on the floor of the laundry room for two years is stained with bleach and full of holes rendering it unacceptable.
Yoga pants or gym pants matched with a properly fitting, coordinated top are fine for staying home. However, wearing sweat pants and your husband's tee shirt is not. Come out to Susan's neighborhood and she'll show you what she means.
Now that you're showered & dressed, let's go have breakfast.
EATING PROPERLY is very important to keep your mood buoyant. When your blood sugar crashes so do you. Please eat at regular intervals, preferably sitting upright at a table and include vegetables or fruit daily. Susan will admit to having a period in her life where she fed herself & her children breakfast cereal for every meal. It lasted a few weeks and everyone survived. Feel free to indulge in a bit of comfort food but maintain your self control because everyone will notice your fat ass.
KEEP the TV OFF. Susan finds the radio very relaxing and recommends it as a way to stay connected to humanity. However, take caution when listening to overtly one-sided AM programming, it's too easy to become brainwashed by someone else's agenda. Susan had to detox from Dr. Laura a number of years ago.
ORGANIZING your PANTRY is nothing to be ashamed of. Just don't do it every week. The same goes for rearranging your linen closet, bookshelves or wardrobe. Any of these are worthwhile projects. Susan is a big advocate of throwing things out in tandem with these activities. The more aggressive you are the better. On the topic of donations, no one will be damned for throwing out a perfectly good book although it is recommended you donate your coats and footwear.
CULTIVATE an OBSESSION. Nothing counter productive or deviant but something that inspires enthusiasm and help focus your thoughts. Susan learned to bake this way. Baking is very calming in its monotony. Susan still uses this as a way to unwind although now she's added cooking to her repertoire of anxiety deflecting activities. Recently she found herself logging onto cooking blogs like they were pornography with hands shaking upon the realization of having all necessary ingredients for mango chutney; frozen mango, fresh ginger, red pepper, tumeric, allspice, cumin...
Please excuse Susan as she has digressed from the original topic.
INVITE FRIENDS OVER. Neighbors are an acceptable substitute for actual friends. Put up a pot of coffee and enjoy some face time with real people.
READ SOMETHING. As hard as it is for Susan to accept, she knows that there are folks out there who don't own anything with words written on paper. For everyone else, go get a book, a stack of magazines or the newspaper. Middle of the afternoon or middle of the night, this is a calming, solitary pursuit.
3.05.2009
Susan was Sick!
Susan was in bed from Sunday night to Tuesday morning crawling out only to vomit. For the greater portion of Monday she was actually lying there moaning but did it while no one was home so that she wouldn't reveal herself to be such a pathetic load. She is not used to being sick and tends toward over dramatization.
Sue her.
By Tuesday Susan managed to walk erect & was enjoying a nice starchy diet of toast, oatmeal and pumpkin pancakes. She had her first cuppa coffee in days & like a magic caffeine elixir it banished her headache, although she still felt like someone punched her in the ribs & poured ice water over her head.
Wednesday Susan pulled herself together long enough to interview for a hopeless, dead end job in a technologically bereft environment. (The reader will take note that Susan is sick and UNEMPLOYED). She drove home & immediately climbed back into bed, coat still on, shoes off and slept until someone woke her up to eat a bland bowl of macaroni. However, Susan's symptoms had been reduced to chills, shakes & coughing. An improvement.
And poops like bricks. Sorry.
One of the perks of being sick is that she hadn't done anything in the house, no cooking, no food shopping, no laundry, nothing.
Thursday night Susan busted out some salmon burgers from the depths of the freezer to George Foreman and then put together the few viable vegetables to make Baked Rice (saute whatever's on hand with some onions/garlic, add rice & broth, bake in oven for 15 min @ 400*). She was the last to sit at the table so her family was already eating, in absolute silence, the gruel that had been prepared. Susan took a bite of the salmon & knew what it must be like for someone to have to eat from a garbage can. She put the salmon aside & took a forkful of her rice. She immediately rose from the table & spat it into the sink then collected everyone's dish right out from underneath them & scraped their dinner into the trash. Twenty minutes later they were all eating Hawaiian Pizza from Dominos.
Susan worked some canned fruit into her diet which had a lovely effect on the bricks.
Friday morning Susan awoke while it was still dark to the sound of her mongrel dog urinating in the bedroom which Susan, of course, stepped in. She peered through the darkness into her immediate future and saw a bucket, mop and multiple loads of laundry.
Sue her.
By Tuesday Susan managed to walk erect & was enjoying a nice starchy diet of toast, oatmeal and pumpkin pancakes. She had her first cuppa coffee in days & like a magic caffeine elixir it banished her headache, although she still felt like someone punched her in the ribs & poured ice water over her head.
Wednesday Susan pulled herself together long enough to interview for a hopeless, dead end job in a technologically bereft environment. (The reader will take note that Susan is sick and UNEMPLOYED). She drove home & immediately climbed back into bed, coat still on, shoes off and slept until someone woke her up to eat a bland bowl of macaroni. However, Susan's symptoms had been reduced to chills, shakes & coughing. An improvement.
And poops like bricks. Sorry.
One of the perks of being sick is that she hadn't done anything in the house, no cooking, no food shopping, no laundry, nothing.
Thursday night Susan busted out some salmon burgers from the depths of the freezer to George Foreman and then put together the few viable vegetables to make Baked Rice (saute whatever's on hand with some onions/garlic, add rice & broth, bake in oven for 15 min @ 400*). She was the last to sit at the table so her family was already eating, in absolute silence, the gruel that had been prepared. Susan took a bite of the salmon & knew what it must be like for someone to have to eat from a garbage can. She put the salmon aside & took a forkful of her rice. She immediately rose from the table & spat it into the sink then collected everyone's dish right out from underneath them & scraped their dinner into the trash. Twenty minutes later they were all eating Hawaiian Pizza from Dominos.
Susan worked some canned fruit into her diet which had a lovely effect on the bricks.
Friday morning Susan awoke while it was still dark to the sound of her mongrel dog urinating in the bedroom which Susan, of course, stepped in. She peered through the darkness into her immediate future and saw a bucket, mop and multiple loads of laundry.
3.04.2009
How Many F*cking POTATOES Does One House Need Anyway?
Susan's family are a bunch of POTATO eaters. Every once in a while the POTATOES get eaten all up & must be replaced. This is exactly what happened just a few days ago; no POTATOES.
Susan picked up a 5 lb bag of RED POTATOES at the market easily enough. However, she asked the husband to bring home some SWEET POTATOES because she's on an obsessive curry making tear & wanted to incorporate them into a red curry she's working on. They're also higher in certain vitamins than REGULAR POTATOES and good to eat at any time with anything.
The environmentally devastating plastic bags from the market sat on her kitchen table till the next morning when Susan got an opportunity to put the contents away.
One bag held seven big WHITE POTATOES hand picked by the husband. The other bag held a 5 lb bag of RED POTATOES, exactly like the one she had purchased & put away in plain sight a few days earlier. Susan questioned The Husband in order to ascertain whether he understood her request or just couldn't bloody see that these POTATOES were white and not orange. It was the latter. He threw the bag of RED POTATOES in for good measure because you can never have too many F*CKING POTATOES in one house, you know.
Susan picked up a 5 lb bag of RED POTATOES at the market easily enough. However, she asked the husband to bring home some SWEET POTATOES because she's on an obsessive curry making tear & wanted to incorporate them into a red curry she's working on. They're also higher in certain vitamins than REGULAR POTATOES and good to eat at any time with anything.
The environmentally devastating plastic bags from the market sat on her kitchen table till the next morning when Susan got an opportunity to put the contents away.
One bag held seven big WHITE POTATOES hand picked by the husband. The other bag held a 5 lb bag of RED POTATOES, exactly like the one she had purchased & put away in plain sight a few days earlier. Susan questioned The Husband in order to ascertain whether he understood her request or just couldn't bloody see that these POTATOES were white and not orange. It was the latter. He threw the bag of RED POTATOES in for good measure because you can never have too many F*CKING POTATOES in one house, you know.
3.03.2009
Susan Has Spots on her Brain
Thanks to Dr. Goodman's IV Ativan, Susan took a calm trip into a very narrow tube one Friday morning not too long ago.
The nice ladies in scrubs talked to Susan in soothing voices and asked if she was ready to 'begin'. Susan didn't feel as though she was ready to begin, but the taller of the nice ladies said 'You should be ready, your numbers are down', so Susan agreed.
Susan closed her eyes and went headfirst into the narrow tube.
There was much clanging and banging which Susan thought sounded like music. It was very rhythmic and loud, not unlike listening to The Clash in the car. Susan likes The Clash. So she liked the clanging and banging, it gave her something to think of.
Susan was aware that she could freak out if she wanted, but she didn't want to.
When she was done, Susan went home.
MRI of the BRAIN without CONTRAST.
HISTORY: Paresthesias
There is no evidence of restricted effusion or acute infarction. There is mild prominence of the cortical sulci. There is evidence of scattered white matter changes identified bilaterally involving the left greater than right periventricular white matter. The possibility of demyelination cannot be excluded based on the somewhat round shape and long asix perpendicular to the ventricles. No obvious involvement is identified within the corpus callosum or the brain stem. Again, these white matter changes are nonspecific and again are noted to be unilateral.
IMPRESSION: Unilateral left supraventricular and periventricular white matter changes. Demyelinatin cannot be excluded based on their orientation to the long axis of the lateral ventricles. Again, no acute infarction. No mass.
The nice ladies in scrubs talked to Susan in soothing voices and asked if she was ready to 'begin'. Susan didn't feel as though she was ready to begin, but the taller of the nice ladies said 'You should be ready, your numbers are down', so Susan agreed.
Susan closed her eyes and went headfirst into the narrow tube.
There was much clanging and banging which Susan thought sounded like music. It was very rhythmic and loud, not unlike listening to The Clash in the car. Susan likes The Clash. So she liked the clanging and banging, it gave her something to think of.
Susan was aware that she could freak out if she wanted, but she didn't want to.
When she was done, Susan went home.
MRI of the BRAIN without CONTRAST.
HISTORY: Paresthesias
There is no evidence of restricted effusion or acute infarction. There is mild prominence of the cortical sulci. There is evidence of scattered white matter changes identified bilaterally involving the left greater than right periventricular white matter. The possibility of demyelination cannot be excluded based on the somewhat round shape and long asix perpendicular to the ventricles. No obvious involvement is identified within the corpus callosum or the brain stem. Again, these white matter changes are nonspecific and again are noted to be unilateral.
IMPRESSION: Unilateral left supraventricular and periventricular white matter changes. Demyelinatin cannot be excluded based on their orientation to the long axis of the lateral ventricles. Again, no acute infarction. No mass.
3.02.2009
Susan Looks Unemployed
Susan's daughter came home from school, saw Susan & asked 'Aren't those the same clothes you had on yesterday?'
Then the husband came home from work, saw Susan & said 'Nice look.'
Susan responded that this was her Default Look.
'Reboot' sez he.
Then the husband came home from work, saw Susan & said 'Nice look.'
Susan responded that this was her Default Look.
'Reboot' sez he.
3.01.2009
What Susan Likes About Her Town
Her NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS because they're everything that good neighbors should be.
ST. PATRICK'S DAY is celebrated with an enthusiastic parade and subsequently much green spray painted hair.
The HEALTH FOOD STORE because it smells like a health food store and sells candied ginger and all manner of exotic supplies and never costs Susan a lot money.
The LIBRARY because even though Susan still hasn't figgered out how to effectively use the computer system & rarely finds what she wants, she always walks out happy. The library personnel are helpful and nice and never once has Susan needed to reach across the counter & grab anyone by their throats. Most delightfully, there are frequent used book sales and a magazine recycling bin which Susan finds very exciting to poke through.
The SCHOOLS because Susan's children come home smarter than when they left.
The big neon ROCKY POINT DISCOUNT TIRES sign because it's very pretty and the colors alternate except for when it's not working, like lately.
TREES. There's loads of them, who knew Susan would become so smitten with trees? And when they fall over onto cars or fences they get to live a little longer as firewood.
ST. PATRICK'S DAY is celebrated with an enthusiastic parade and subsequently much green spray painted hair.
The HEALTH FOOD STORE because it smells like a health food store and sells candied ginger and all manner of exotic supplies and never costs Susan a lot money.
The LIBRARY because even though Susan still hasn't figgered out how to effectively use the computer system & rarely finds what she wants, she always walks out happy. The library personnel are helpful and nice and never once has Susan needed to reach across the counter & grab anyone by their throats. Most delightfully, there are frequent used book sales and a magazine recycling bin which Susan finds very exciting to poke through.
The SCHOOLS because Susan's children come home smarter than when they left.
The big neon ROCKY POINT DISCOUNT TIRES sign because it's very pretty and the colors alternate except for when it's not working, like lately.
TREES. There's loads of them, who knew Susan would become so smitten with trees? And when they fall over onto cars or fences they get to live a little longer as firewood.
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