As Susan left for work this morning she went to hug her son goodbye and ended up throwing stuff and calling him a f*cking *sshole.

It's been two entire days since Susan drank any liquor or ate any goodies.

The absence of liquor is completely unintentional, she'll be back to it on Friday night, but the lack of sugar is agony. Agony!

It generally takes three, four, five days of abstinence before her cravings depart, she's halfway through her detox.

Her eyes are rolling back in her head and she's covered in bugs. She'd love it if someone would please mop her brow and make her eat some hot soup like they do in the movies.

Wild Bill's been drinking the Irish cream, in fact, it's going home with him on Tuesday because Susan finds it so completely disgusting that she can't even stand to have it in the house. Currently it's outside in the snow.

Champagne and Chambord have made Susan's Christmas weekend happy.

Starting Monday she's going to cut out the goodies and sugar and a little bit of the drinking.
Next Monday.

Susan's got so many cookies in her house that her kitchen is like a bloody mine field. She added a new biscotti to her baking repertoire and has been tapping the big tin of rainbow cookies that her little sister made.
Rainbow cookies = almond paste.

Before the snow started making the roads really hairy, Susan, her son and Wild Bill went to the BIG, new, organized, clean thrift store. Susan's son went under protest but managed to fight through his lack of enthusiasm and find stuff for his mother to buy him. Wild Bill scored another twenty pounds of books about WWII and Abraham Lincoln as well as some cold weather gear. After 45 minutes Susan started to sneeze so they left.

Susan's posting this picture even though she looks heavy and is wearing a forced smile.

Susan made a gallon of Irish cream last night. It required ingredients with such horrifying fat contents that it might as well have been made of butter. She doesn't even want to drink it except that she poured a bottle of whiskey in it, so she will.

Susan drank the last of the real Bailey's over the weekend which got her thinking about making her own. She knew it would be a good holiday craft so she washed out the Bailey's bottle and took great care to safeguard the twist top while the bottle dried. Within an hour the husband demonstrated his talent for throwing out things that Susan tries to save.

Susan made him look through the garbage can for the little twisty top.

Who wants home made Irish cream now?

Susan saw somebody's ass today.
She walked through a door and saw the ass four feet in front of her. She turned immediately around, flagged down the first available person and showed them the ass.

The ass was chubby and belonged to a male bent over looking through a bag or a box or something. He was bent over a long time so Susan stood there for a long time.

The ass had an ENORMOUS cleavage. Susan soaked it all in because she didn't know when she'd see something like that again. Eventually she had to get back to work so dragged herself away even though the ass was still out.

She made a stop, told people about the ass then had to double back when she realized she left something behind in the previous location.

Behind in the previous location. Ha!

Anyway, she went back & saw that the ass was still out although it was now facing east.

Other than the ass, it was a regular day.

On Saturday night Susan took a ride with her little sister into the greatest city in the world. They were on a mission to move out ninety eight percent of her niece's belongings from the dorm she occupies at sleep away art school.

While the other two were packing everything up Susan's job was to read the paper and chase panhandlers away from the car.
She did an admirable job with both tasks.

The niece kept only what she could transport home on the train the next night; a change of clothes and an iPod. Shortly after goodbye kisses and begining their drive home, Susan and her little sister witnessed a bicyclist smack into a couple as they all crossed paths at a corner.

Somehow, no one hit the ground.

The bicyclist managed to get knocked off the bike, but stay on his feet, propelled by the energy of the collision into a sort of fast walk toward the line of cars waiting at the red light. He didn't stop, he just kept walking like an over-wound robotic Frankenstein until it became evident that he was drunk.
He was wearing a mohawk hat.

The girls roared with laughter and tuned the radio station to Xmas music.

Susan has been poised over her keyboard for the last eight days, uninspired.

During that time she attended Acme Sweatshop's swanky holiday party, sat in an auditorium filled with mom jeans to watch her daughter play clarinet, made a fantastic smoked oyster and shrimp gumbo and read through three weeks of saved Style sections.

She also received a wonderful musical present from Patti, went Xmas shopping with her little sister, and forgot to bring her lunch to work a bunch of times.

Here's Susan's Xmas wish list, already provided to the husband;
Wish #1
Wish #2.

Susan's friend Fire Ball sent this to her upon learning Susan's age.

Anonymous asked if Susan ever found her wedding ring.
Not yet.
Susan is currently wearing a $20 silver ring. It's an adequate substitute.

Susan and the husband went at it on Saturday. She was so sick of the sound of his voice talkingtalkingtalking and offering opinions she didn't ask for. Even when she said OMG, will you shut up! he wouldn't.

It all came to a head when the husband called Susan's son back into the room to tell him the same thing that Susan had just told him two seconds earlier.

After a brief discussion concerning the superfluousness of his added commentary the husband became disgusted with Susan and left the room, saying something under his breath as he went.

She threw the TV remote at him which was stupid because if she broke it she'd be back in 1979 unable to change a channel without getting up off the couch. The husband responded by throwing a chunky candle which put a dent in the wall & sent Susan shrieking.
Susan can shriek.

Anyway, by bedtime it had all blown over because Susan & the husband are soulmates and never go to bed angry.

Susan got undressed for bed and discovered that she hadn't put on a brassiere that day. Susan went to work without a brassiere!
She has a collection of stretchy tank tops with shelf bras that she wears underneath many of her tops, always in conjunction with a brassiere. But today there was only a stretchy tank holding her boobs up.
She's going to have to add
Wear your brassiere
to her daily tasks immediately following
Watch for two little Pinkett Smith junkies.

Can we discuss how much Susan hates the Jada Pinkett Smiths? Susan is counting the days till the kids start shooting heroin. Susan apologizes to anyone who is acquainted with children shooting heroin, she knows it's tragic and nothing to make fun of, but she can't wait until the Pinkett Smiths start.

She even put it on her daily task list of things to look out for. In fact, that's what she'd want for the second day of Hanukkah if she were Jewish.

Why does that family think they can earn all the money in the world? Other people need money too, twisted people who write BLAHgs definitely need money.

Susan's got 22 days to figure how to squeeze out enough non-existant cash for Xmas presents. Just for her kids. Nobody else.
Just the same as last year and the year before.
But, what's sadder than a grown woman with not on single present under the tree? Nothing. So, she's got to get the husband something if she expects him to get her anything.
Oy, it's complicated already!