Friday was Susan's payday, it started with a pedicure and ended with a rack of ribs.
Susan's social circle has failing eyesight, when no one was able to see the menu the husband stepped in to read it out loud. After dinner, one member tore open a Wet Nap and attempted to pour it into his coffee.

Earlier in the week Susan was faced with a bare cupboard, so she took home some of the basil from the garden at Acme Sweatshop and made pesto. Susan had never fed her family pesto before, but five minutes worth of work turned her into a hero. She's going to fill her freezer with the stuff. Pesto is besto.

Susan has seen The Godfather a thousand times, and every scene is her favorite, but she really loves the ones with Robert DeNiro and old New York; the dirt, immigrants, tenements, carts of fruit, fires in trash cans, crying babies and saints being paraded down the street.

Susan loves when the young Vito Corleone stalk the pompous Don Fannuci over the rooftops then waits for him in the shadow of a doorway with a towel wrapped around the gun. BOOM! Skinny Vito shoots the fat don in the heart, then in the face. But, that's not enough so he shoves the gun in his mouth and pulls the trigger then uses his foot to knock him over.

After that Vito is like King Sh*t around the neighborhood, vendors give him bags of oranges 'my gift', they say, old ladies come to him with their problems and the rest fall all over themselves to stay on his good side.

Susan never passes The Godfather on TV without stopping to watch it even if she had other things to do.

Susan walked all 1.4 miles of the High Line and then some. The husband remarked on the number of men he saw holding hands or kissing and she reminded him that he was in their neighborhood, and wasn't it nice to see people enjoying each other's company? 

After the lengthy meandering walk, Susan walked some more up and down the streets of Chelsea. She hit as many galleries as she could in the hour before they closed and managed to cram in some Keith Haring & Andy Warhol, pretty mosaic butterflies covered in diamond dust by Damian Hirst, crying Marilyn Monroes by Russell Young, cheeky silkscreens by Charming Baker and something that looked like a butcher's diagram of cuts of meat by Jean Michel Basquiat. Susan also saw things by artists she didn't recognize which inspired the most amount of conversation between herself and the husband.

Susan is also a big fan of street art.

After a bland dinner of under-whelming food prepared by the husband, Susan was craving salt. She rummaged around until she came up with a bag of dark chocolate chips and decided that she would settle for sugar. Susan doesn't usually keep sweets on hand and this was a pretty nice score so she dropped onto the couch with her booty to watch Hoarders.

Susan looked forward to spending her Friday night in front of the TV with a bag of chocolate chips. In the interest of self restraint she ate the chocolate chips one by one. This worked until she transitioned to eating them by the hand full. Very shortly thereafter Susan didn't feel well. In fact, it was a surprisingly quick turnabout.

How did such a great idea turn into such a bad idea?

She started belching chocolate, and flatulating something much more foul, neither of which provided provided relief from feeling like she was getting ready to vomit.

Oh my, she thought.

The husband cracked her open a bottle of seltzer, poured the magical fizzy remedy into a red Solo cup filled with ice and made her drink. More belching and flatulating transpired, but Susan began to feel better and gastrointestinal disaster was averted.

Susan wishes everyone a great weekend.