Susan and five sixths of her cousins met up for their annual summer dinner on City Island. Cousin Caroline was unable to join them, but pictured from left to right are Cousins Veronica, Lisa, Susie, Kathy and Melissa in front.

Yes, Susan's alter ego is known as Cousin Susie.

The cousins always meet at The Black Whale, which has a lovely garden out back under the trees. They stay late into the evening laughing, talking and eating. In fact, Susan's profile picture was taken from one of those summer dinners.

Anyway, it was raining this year so they couldn't eat in the garden.

Inside, the restaurant was filled families and children, crying babies, groups of friends and one slightly older couple seated at a small table diagonally across from the cousins.

It was a terrific evening filled with laughter, happiness, funny stories, and conversations about Captain Andy's upcoming deployment and Cousin Veronica's winter wedding.

OMG, Susie loves her cousins so much!

During the evening Cousin Susie's little sister, Cousin Kathy mentioned that the couple at the small table kept looking over at them. Everyone checked to make sure that their boobs hadn't popped out then went on with their merriment.

A little while later, Cousin Kathy mentioned that the female portion of the couple actually turned around and glared at the cousins in a very dramatic manner.

They thought it odd, but continued with their conversations.

After a bit Cousin Kathy said 'I think they threw something at us' which got the cousins' attention. However, upon closer inspection there was nothing that raised suspicion about the couple at the small table so the cousins went back to discussing Cousin Veronica's wedding dress and deciding what dessert they'd like to order.

Then a big SHUSH! was lobbed at them from the small table at the same time Cousin Kathy discovered the projectile; a wadded up sugar packet which she offered as Exhibit A.

The gloves were off!

The couple paid their check and left while comments went back & forth between the two tables. The cousins waved bye bye and blew kisses as the glaring woman gave them the finger. But when the the departing man told Cousin Veronica 'No one cares about your wedding dress' Cousin Kathy returned the wadded up sugar packet by bouncing it off his head.

None of the other diners even noticed what was going on and the cousins sat there for another hour happily enjoying each other's company before making the long drive home.

Susan's little sister made her see
The Psych Furs play a free show overlooking the water on a beautiful Friday evening.
Damn her!

Dueling Banjos, NC as photographed by Wild Bill

Susan took a lovely shower as she does every morning. She let the hot water blast away at her stiff bones, relax her tense shoulders and bring some mobility back to her cricky neck. After this she would be in good shape to be able to bend over and wash her toes.

Anyway, she did everything one does in the shower then reached for the nearest towel. She started from the middle and worked upward when she got to her face she it became clear that she was drying herself with the dog's towel.

Susan's computer was not where she left it, a brief investigation revealed that the daughter had moved it when she tried to crack the password.
Her choices were
CLEAN
then SHUT UP
then PICK UP YOUR SH*T.
Susan was impressed, the kid was on the right track.

Susan's husband forced her to finish the kitchen this weekend. The cabinets were done but they still had no hardware, the tile back splash had no grout and the walls had to be painted.

Susan never grouted anything before. It was easy enough but she's not interested in tiling or grouting ever again. She'd be very comfortable hiring someone for that purpose.

The husband took care of the hardware while Susan started to paint. Halfway through she realized that the color off.

She didn't like it.

She closed up shop for the day and decided that she would reassess in the morning. Everything looks better in the daylight after a restorative night of sleep.

The next morning Susan sent the husband back to Home Depot for a new can of paint.

Susan has been without her computer for two weeks. Two weeks!
One week went by while Susan dragged herself over miles of molten concrete and the second week was eaten up by the husband forgetting to pick the computer up every single day.

Anyway, the children adjusted very well to using their father's laptop, so first thing Susan did when she got hers back was to change the password & lock them out. G'bye kids.

The second thing she did was to import her vacation pictures and who doesn't love vacation pictures!

Here's some jelly fish from the aquarium in Baltimore

And, proof that she was in Philadelphia

She spent the hottest night of her life with Abe

Then saw him again the next day

She visited the fantastically ornate Jefferson Building at the Library of Congress 

Which is directly across the street from the wonderful Capitol 

 

These girls are in the sculpture garden of the Hirschorn Museum 

During this trip Susan found the lovely Sackler Museum

She took her children to see the Wall

Then over to the Jefferson Memorial

And looked across to the White House 

Then everyone went to Chinatown for dimsum and Susan had a kumquat mojito or two.

The End. 

It's already been well documented how poorly Susan does in the heat, how she immediately and completely decompensates leaving only the extremely rotten parts of her personality in evidence. Heat and Susan are not friends, they can't even give a civil nod as they pass one another on the street. And, don't even mention that f*cking b*tch, humidity. Oh, how she hates humidity!

Susan walked on boiling hot pavement all week, first through Philadelphia then through Washington, D.C.

Susan walked till she couldn't walk any more, then somehow found the strength to keep going specifically, but not limited to, the Lincoln Memorial. It was the hottest place Susan had ever been at 10pm, like wading through an airless, steamy landscape, she could barely put one foot in front of the other. The husband referred to their nighttime trek as the death march.

At the end of the next day after walking a thousand miles across the surface of the sun Susan saw the Lincoln Memorial and said
Ooh, I'll be right back then sprinted away like a gazelle to ascend the steps and pay her respects again.

You don't get much better than Lincoln is what Susan thinks.

She had a wonderful, educational, visually spectacular trip and didn't even get blisters or a sunburn, although she got two mosquito bites and a cramped toe had to be massaged back into shape.

Susan and her family went to see
this exhibit in Philadelphia and upgraded their tickets to include admission to this IMAX movie. The theatre was set up in extreme stadium style with plush seats and a dome shaped screen which took up the entire overhead space, much like a giant umbrella. Susan happily settled into the air conditioned comfort of her situation and studied the screen before the movie began. It was made of many, many fabric topped panels behind which were the speakers and other things of a technical nature. The lights went away, the titles started and a deep masculine voice began explaining how the giant screen worked. The audience was advised that some may experience a dizzy feeling, but to close their eyes and the feeling would go away. If one had to leave, they were to climb upward to the back of the theatre and once they exited the doors would lock & that would be it.
Susan wondered who would have to leave.

The movie began with a great, swooping aerial view of the desert. It was right on top of her.
She immediately panicked and closed her eyes.
I don't like this.
She waited a moment, it was only a movie, she's sat thru IMAX movies before.
She tried again.
It was too much, she bolted up to the back of the theatre and out the doors.

Claustrophobia: you don't always see it coming.

Susan is now the mother of two teenagers.
She can't get by anymore with the ambiguous reference to medium sized children. Alas.

The thirteen year old girl spends her days reclining in front of a fan reading. Or drawing. All day. A summer's worth of glorious leisure time to jump in the pool and pal around with friends and paint her toenails and play with the dog.

Her fifteen year old boy has a gig as an unpaid camp counsellor which he takes very seriously; getting up & out on time and dressing like a pirate when mandated. It's his third summer as such, he calls it going to work, Susan reminds him that one can't call it work if one doesn't get paid. It's the same thing she sez to her self-employed husband.

If the kids are getting older then Susan's getting older too. She's adjusted pretty well to her advancing decrepitude. She just needs to know that somewhere out there is somebody older than her.

She really didn't get it together until she became a working mother. Her five years as a stay at home mom mixed pleasure with depression and loneliness. Being forced to return to work with small children made her figure out how to get stuff done. That notwithstanding, she's still lazy and not too smart about some things and erupts easily over nonsense and never met a magazine that she didn't want to keep stacked in a corner and would rather go to sleep than meet her marital responsibilities.

And, speaking of working mothers; poor JLo, eh?

Susan's f*cking computer is out of commission again.
Did you hear her put her fist through the wall?
How about when she was throwing sh*t all around the house, did you hear that? The only thing that kept her from really going crazy was that it wasn't her hard drive. Again. The point of entry for the power cord will cost $130 to be soldered back in place. Until that magical transaction occurs she's sitting at the dining room table using the husband's relic, the one she spilled sangria on.

So many exciting things have happened to Susan since last she blogged.
First, she had a piece of home made chocolate cake with peanut butter filling that just ruined her for any other cake.

Next, a recurring house guest sent her an ice cream maker, which is a bloody awesome gift to give someone. Susan's daughter, the floor installer, immediately made strawberry ice cream. This was followed by the most painfully tart and sweet lemon sorbet, which got eaten up by a house full of puckery faced guests. Doesn't a limey, minty mojito sorbet sound fantastic? Yes, it does!

Then, Susan's friend GP came for a visit with her little dog, Sadie who was immediately set upon by Lucy. Sadie was snatched up in Lucy's pit bull teeth and shaken from side to side making a reality of Susan's worst expectations. Lucy went at Sadie twice, ignoring all hysterical instructions to the contrary, then released the pup and stood calmly looking at Susan.

Miraculously, there was no blood and Sadie walked away without so much as a limp although the dogs cannot be in each other's company. So, when one is inside the other is outside. When both must be inside, one is upstairs and the other downstairs.
Oh, my.

3:30 am GP awakened Susan with Sadie's having trouble breathing! Susan stumbled out in her underwear to research the address of the 24 hour veterinary  hospital in her county. She remembers a story told by Cousin Lisa's brother, Captain Andy, of his own dog's emergency followed by the general location of the hospital and 'if ever you need one'
Susan sent GP off with directions and the prophetic
It's gonna be expensive.
And it was.
Susan's in for half.

Oh, and Susan would like everyone to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her daughter, a brand new teenager!

Susan and her family are going on a road trip next week, can you guess where?

Alright, alright, calm down everybody. No black walls.

Susan's little sister recommended Susan paint the kitchen the color of Lucy the Lucky Pit Bull which is such a dark brown it may as well be black. Susan thinks she's just going to choose something a few shades darker than the newly painted cabinets and be done with it.

In the meantime Miss Twelve helped her father install a new linoleum tile kitchen floor. Susan was onsite during the critical initial stage to argue about how they should be placed. When she saw how enthusiastic and capable the daughter was Susan left the room to search for Celebrity Rehab on TV.

When she returned she was impressed with their progress, almost half the floor was done. Under closer inspection it was determined that the tiles were only sort of straight. Susan pulled them all up and made the team start over, this time under her supervision.

Miss Twelve displayed a wonderfully professional demeanor, free of complaining or pouting or anger. She stuck with it & finished as much of the floor as she could before everybody got sick of the project and quit for the evening.

Oh, and Susan would like everyone to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her mommy.

What do you think of black walls?
Susan's kitchen is very small, it's more like a pass thru from the livingroom to the dining room.
It's really the perfect location for black walls.
But first she's got to paint the ceiling.

Susan got bleach in her eye. Ow!
She was cleaning the bathroom using her regular glasses in lieu of protective eye wear when a single drop of bleach went airborne and scored a direct hit. Pow! Immediately Susan's eyeball burst into flames. She flushed it with water like a crazy person but it still smoldered for the rest of the day.

She took her Marilyn Manson eye and started prepping the kitchen cabinets to be painted. They were sporting an undercoating of grease topped with a layer of dog hair. She green cleaned them with rubbing alcohol and a surprisingly small amount of physical effort.

Next came the disassembly, which she left to the husband; fourteen doors and two piles of hardware. Then the priming then the painting. Priming is easy because you don't have to be neat, but painting requires two coats with 24 hours drying time in between. Susan doesn't want to mislead anyone into thinking that she knocked this project off quickly. Nay! It's taken three days and she's still working on it. She fears that when she's done she'll have to paint the walls too.

It's pretty certain that she'll have to paint the walls.

It's been established that IKEA sucks because they didn't give Susan bags last week. She had other issues, but the bags really bugged her. She wrote sucky IKEA an e-mail explaining the depth of her disgust and threatened to stay away until the bags came back. As the week wore on she realized that she wouldn't be able to stick to her plan of hatred and avoidance.

It started because Susan bought some really lovely dark chocolate for like,
a dollar. But, she didn't buy enough because she was afraid of what one dollar dark chocolate might taste like.
Now she needs more.
She also bought salmon and crab spread in toothpaste style tubes, but her friend George ate most of it.
She needs more.
She has to go back.

Susan and her little sister went to IKEA after work. Before you guys get all Oh, IKEA! Susan wants to know if you've been to IKEA lately? Well, then you know that they have NO BAGS!
That's correct. They have NO BAGS unless you'd like to purchase a reusable bag for a dollar. Susan doesn't want to purchase a reusable bag for a dollar. Susan wants IKEA to provide the basic requirement needed to complete their transaction; a m*therf*cking bag.
Susan does not want to gather her little kitcheny things and votive candles and lingonberry jelly jars in the folds of her clothing like an immigrant and schlep them out to the car, which is a whole other story. Once you get outside you can't take those horribly unwieldy rolling carts beyond the barriers to the parking lot. The poor slob of a customer has to leave the cart behind, run out to retrieve their car and hope no one has pinched their sh*t.
OMG, Susan hates IKEA now and she told them why here.

Susan spent day two gardening in the front yard. She learned a few things from day one so she put on her Burberry rain boots then made the entire family come out to assist.
The Burberry rain boots are really fantastic for slogging around in mud and dog sh*t but utilizing family labor is really fantastic for doing all the stuff that hurts Susan's back.

Susan's next door neighbor came over and traded some yellow buttercups for unearthed sea grass, her up the block neighbor contributed sunflower plants. Beetles and slugs hid in the grass, birds pulled worms out of the dirt and Susan let her family do all the hard work.

Cousin Lisa gave Susan a tree for her birthday which started a chain reaction of Susan digging up her front yard and moving plants around. Half got chucked into the compost bin.

Susan's not a gardener and she's definitely not into manual labor at all. Once a summer she'll drunk-weed the hydrangeas. Her only other involvement is thinking that somebody should do something about the yard. But today she used a shovel, a hatchet, a wheelbarrow and a pick axe like an old gold miner. Then she walked around in mud which served to grind dirt into her caloused feet.

Anyway, the place looks better.

Susan turned down a piece of cake this week.

She knows what you're thinking, but it was a really awful cake that her little sister picked out.

Imagine the worst cake in the world and what do you come up with?
White chocolate?
That's right.
And the inside?
Red velvet.
Ugh!

The white chocolate red velvet cake was so horrible that Susan couldn't even stand the smell of it and once this was discovered everyone took great delight in sticking their cake under Susan's nose.

Susan hates her family.

Susan had three large teenagers in the backseat of her car. One belonged to her and the other two were being driven three blocks. They whined like babies when she made them strap in.

I can't find the seat belts
Are there even any back here?

Susan assisted them by illuminating the inside of the car and waiting until they were securely fastened before she drove even one inch.

When she got home she took the opportunity to review with her son & daughter the minimum requirements she has for them as her children;

They must always wear their seat belts even when no one tells them to, even when they're in the back seat, even when their friends make fun of them.

She told them that they will doom her to a life of grief and agony if anything happens to them because they opted not to wear their seat belts. Even once.

We do wear our seat belts mom, all the time they said, their voices dripping with that special exasperation reserved just for Susan.

Susan's back to normal now. Her bad mood has blown over and everything is as it was.
She treated herself to a sparkly pair of flat shoes. Any time she has money she looks for flats. All year round. She loves heels but she loves flats too. Susan's got a big foot, not as big as her little sister's, but big enough.
The flats made it a good day.

There is no balance in Susan's life. None.
It's all workworkworkwork then she goes home and drinks. Or sleeps. Or screams at people to hang up wet towels.

Today was Susan's birthday and it was a real crappy one. She was in a foul mood left over from yesterday and couldn't even fake a smile. Of course, she didn't really try.

People in the know wished Susan a happy birthday, gave her cards,
a flowering plant, a cake. That sort of helped, but only a little.

Susan's mood improved when her friend Fire Ball showed up with her little offspring. They presented Susan with a wonderful arrangement of orange Gerbera daisies and palm fronds then Susan allowed the little offspring to charm her into fifteen minutes of relaxation.

Later at home Susan's little sister and all her nieces showed up with a birthday cake, Susan blew the candles out unenthusiastically.

She told her little sister the story of the previous m*therf*cking rotten day at Acme Sweatshop then her little sister shared her own unpleasant work stories.

It seems that Susan is not alone in her birthday misery, and that knowledge was the best present of all.

Susan had a really m*therf*cking rotten day at Acme Sweatshop, one that required blueberry pancakes for dinner. Plump, explosive blueberries in fluffy pancakes was the only thing she could think of as she stomped out of her office at the end of the day.

She purchased the blueberries on her way home along with some outrageously red, voluptuously ripe strawberries.
They were crazy ripe.

The strawberries got dipped directly into the sugar bowl as she mixed the pancake batter. She dipped, then bit, then dipped again, she didn't care. Be forewarned if you use the sugar at Susan's house.

Anyway, Susan's too tired to blog a proper ending and will conclude with; dinner was eaten with great enthusiasm by her children. The end.

Susan is jealous of people who have book clubs. Not only is it a way to force yourself to read a book, it's also something to do once a month.

Susan wanted to start a book club and inquired of her little sister if she knew any smart readers.
No James Patterson types, no one under 40, no aggressive talkers and no one who lived too far away.

Susan's little sister claimed not to know anyone who fit that criteria. Furthermore, she declined membership for herself claiming that she had no time to read an entire book.

You can't read a book in a month? Susan asked in an agitated manner and ultimately hounded her little sister into an exasperated acceptance.

Next she texted a neighborhood girlfriend while she daydreamed about what cocktails and little foody things she would serve at book club.

No thanks, I don't care for book clubs was the texted response.

Susan was out of people to invite.

So, Susan is the President of her Tiny Book Club and her little sister is Seargant at Arms. They'll enthusiastically accept any recommendations for something to read.

This was taken by the Art School Grad's little sister, The Photographer.

With this quote from Emily Dickinson;
'One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place.' Mama Kat prompted Susan to write about her claustrophobia.

Susan discovered she was thusly afflicted the day her old man requested her assistance holding up a muffler pipe. He put her on the creeper, slid her underneath the car and she crossed a threshold from which she has been unable to return.

Susan can remember every elevator that's pushed her to the brink of hysteria; in a Seattle parking garage, in Macy's, Herald Square and in any office building she's ever worked. She can get on an elevator when there's no other option. But when there is, she's taking the stairs.

Back in her twenties she was still able to maintain her composure as she climbed the narrow staircase of a local lighthouse, but it took tremendous focus. Now, she wouldn't dare try.

The results of each brush with claustrophobia are bad dreams and heightened anxiety. Susan has learned to manage these side effects relatively well because she's had alot of practice.

During a block party a few years back Susan followed her little sister into one of those inflatable jumpy things and was seized with fear when she stuck her face into the little opening.
Small passageways are off limits to Susan now.

That great scene where Uma Thurman busts her way out of the grave in Kill Bill Vol.2...forget it! Susan risks insanity if she watches it again.

She was sedated to get through this situation, had to stop reading halfway through this article and sometimes she gets claustrophobic if she stares at the bottom of the glass while she's drinking.

Crazy, she knows.

The old folks have gone home, but here's a picture to remember them by. Wild Bill was unavailable due to the fact that he's laying low.

Susan's family was in need of summer staples including sneakers and underwear so they went to the outlets on Saturday. Is there anything more suburban than the outlets?
Maybe the food court.

The food court at the outlets offered Susan a limited amount of unappealing choices for her lunch. She rejected flaccid pizza, slimy Chinese and $7 egg salad sandwiches. The husband sensing danger investigated why Susan didn't have a try of food in front of her.

'There is nothing I could possibly eat in this place, one thing is greasier than the next.'

Just then, an overweight woman at the next table, picked up her giant soda and plate of disgusting food and moved from within earshot of Susan.

In the meantime, the husband knew exactly what Susan needed and got her a chili cheese dog from Nathan's. It was fabulous!

Congrats, kid.

Susan is putting all the members of her house on notice;
Any more wet towels and everybody's getting f*cked up.
She's not stopping to find out who was responsible.
They're all going down.

She'll exclude the old folks for now.

Over the weekend Susan spent an entire afternoon in a bridal shop. Oy.

That has got to be the worst job in the world. Susan can't imagine having to spend eight hours in the company of sweet young brides and their entourage every damned day.

As far as Susan is aware there is nothing that an impending bride can say that she wants to hear.
What, how shiny and beautiful the world is? No!
About the tropical honeymoon?
Again, no!

And, how about all those monotonous white dresses? Susan wouldn't be able to fake her way through a single You look beautiful, darling!
Ugh, she couldn't.

The old folks are in town to sleep in Susan's basement for ten days. The husband volunteered to retrieve them in the middle of a foggy night then managed to slam three of her father's fingers in the trunk before they left the airport.

The next day Susan's mother accompanied her as she ran errands including one she hasn't done in thirty years; to open a savings account.

Susan hates banks.
HATES.
She hates how they're not on her side but pretend they are.
She hates how they tell her NO instead of yes.
She hates their condescending manner as they steal her money one fee at a time.

In the past Susan has walked out of banks while waiting for someone to assist her, like here.

This time Susan took her profoundly jaded and unenthusiastic self to a credit union and allowed William to open an account for her. He got down to business without any fake chit chat. William provided Susan with all the information about her new account and none of it bugged her. During the transaction Susan noticed a change sorting machine, William told her that it was free for members.

When Susan was done she thanked William and left feeling very even tempered, not at all like someone who was just pawed in the back of a car, had her pockets picked & then got dropped off in the middle of nowhere.

Susan will be curious to see if this relationship lasts.

Susan accomplished the impossible and left work early one day last week.

She drove to the greatest city in the world with her little sister and youngest niece to admire the artistic thesis of her art school niece.

The niece calls it You're Making Me Nervous which undoubtedly refers to the likelihood of making a living after graduation.

Susan turned on the TV at the exact moment the Barefoot Contessa whipped out a puff pastry.
Oh, yes!

Pesto and goat cheese and sundried tomatoes and toasted pignolli.
It just got better and better!

Susan finds the Barefoot Contessa's conversational style to be very soothing. If only Susan could vault the ten foot hedge out in East Hampton and be Ina's friend. She might even help Susan meet Alec Baldwin.

Susan never revealed that she went to high school with Alec Baldwin, did she? He was two years ahead of her so the closest she ever got was to pass by him in the hallway. She can't explain why she was aware of him at all because she didn't associate outside of her grade. She wasn't involved in sports or the drama club or anything extra curricular. She didn't have a boyfriend or friends with boyfriends. Who knows.

It will have to remain a high school mystery. But there's no mystery to her obsession with puff pastry.
That is a love of pure, flaky butter.

Happy Mother's Day, girls!

The first year of Susan's marriage she accompanied her husband to what turned out to be a fancy party.
She questioned him about the dress code and he said People are coming from work meaning just wear your work outfit.

So she did.

Susan remembers exactly what she wore sixteen years ago, may she bore you with the description?

She chose a high waisted, khaki green pencil skirt into which she tucked a soft cream colored blouse with a floral pattern woven into the fabric. She doesn't recall the footwear but she looked very nice for work.

Her first inkling that something was wrong came as she & the husband arrived at the party and observed bejeweled women in furs getting out of limousines.

She has never trusted the husband's opinion on such an important social matter since.

Friday night Susan accompanied the husband to a party celebrating the significant birthday of a longtime pal. In the morning Susan dressed for work with the party in mind. She chose something dark and slimming with a dark sweater that cinched at the waist in case she got chilly.

Her first inkling that something was wrong came as she & the husband approached the house, which was on the water and windy as a sonofab*tch, and saw a big tent in the yard.

The party is outside? Susan glared at the husband who was wearing his heavy jacket.

Yes sez he.

It was cold! Everyone was dressed in their arctic gear. Susan was in heels with painted toenails.

Susan analyzed, adapted and overcame.

She positioned herself at the blazing firepit and had a great time. She chatted with old friends, drank red wine, ate and then went home smelling like a campfire.

Susan stole this from the awesome Nick Holmes.

Susan went to the beach this weekend.

Brrr. It was COLD.

Susan has a teeny little office.

It started out as the back end of the office next to hers, but one wall and a door later Susan has a place to toil the hours away.

Susan's office has a dorm sized fridge thanks to her niece's departure from the sleep away portion of art school.

On top of the fridge is a wonderful Keurig coffee machine, a gift from her boss in appreciation of all the hours Susan spends pulling her hair out in the teeny office.

For the last few months Susan has been working on an art project, a triptych of collages, completed after much agony.

Susan quietly humped them in to work and had them hung on her wall then practiced behaving modestly in anticipation of the praise she would receive for her awesome talents with glue stick and magazine cut outs.

Here's Susan's fave comment thus far:
They look like motel art.

Susan has it on secondhand authority that two of her cousins are engaged in a Facebook fight.

It was explained to Susan,
by someone who wasn't there,
that an Easter Sunday conversation later degenerated into a nasty FB brouhaha.

Comment pileup is a common hazard in this setting and it's always fun to see what they reveal about the commenter.

Usually it's nothing good.

Jersey Shore Gone Wilde

You all know that scene with Julie Andrews twirling against the backdrop of the Alps? Well, that's how Susan feels about her new obsession,
PUFF PASTRY.

Every weekend Susan sautes something delicious and wraps a puff pastry around it.
Mushrooms, sausage, broccoli rabe, goat cheese?
Yes, yes, yes, YES!

Susan can't believe that she's gotten to her advanced age without it.
Carmelized onions, prosciutto, mozzarella?
Yes!

Pears, walnuts and bleu cheese?
No!
That was a test.
Were you fooled?

Did everyone have a happy Earth Day?
OMG, Susan loves the earth so much!
Susan commemorated Earth Day by wearing shoes that pinched her pinkie toe.
Ouch.

Susan is going to tell you something then ask if you've ever heard of such bullsh*t before in your life.

Susan is able to maintain a stash of dark chocolate in the house because no one else likes it. They don't like it so they don't look for it. Even still, Susan keeps her dark chocolate eating restricted to the husband's company. She trusts him.

The lure of dark chocolate was too much and drove the husband to weave a web of bullsh*t.

Let me see that chocolate he sez.

You don't like it.

Yes I do.

No you don't, it's not sweet.

It absolutely is sweet.

You're completely full of sh*t and will say anything to get my chocolate.

I like dark chocolate.

F*ck you, liar.

Susan deviated from her normal neckline and wore a turtleneck which made her sweat all day long.

Susan located a folder of e-mailed photos that survived when her brand new birthday laptop killed itself after taking her pictures and all her music hostage. These two are of her old man and his Pan Am pals, Bill and Charlie taking a bi-plane ride way back in 2006. Susan can't imagine anything she'd like less than being strapped into a teeny plane with no roof or anything to protect her when she panics and tries to jump out.
Go, pop!

OMG guys, you are too fantastic!
Really.
Imagine Susan is giving each one of you a BIG HUG filled with sincerity and warmth and maybe a little boob smush.
Hers are only B cups.

It was really lovely to see all your comments of concern, encouragement and support and Susan appreciates the crap out of them.
Thank you, darlings.

That being said, Susan would like to reassure you that everything is fine other than the normal troubles of modern life;
unaffordable mortgage modifications,
twelve hour work days with a few weekends thrown in,
male members of her household making the bathroom smell like urine, the absence of springtime in her neighborhood,
a favorite earring gone missing,
dog hair everywhere.

During her bloggy black out Susan stayed up past her bedtime to watch this movie which she loved as a teenager, invited her little sister over to watch this movie, stayed in bed late on a Sunday morning to watch this movie and had to leave for work in the middle of this movie which required all her self discipline because Bette Davis and Mary Astor were at each other's throats.

She also treated herself to a quartet of Young's Double Chocolate Stout on which she will report back later.

Susan's been offline for two weeks, did you miss her?

She can't hear you.

DID YOU MISS HER?

Susan's time away was capped by a total freak out meltdown where she cried at her desk, shrieked at her husband, broke her phone and then forced her children to give her hugs.

Currently, she's depleted.
There's nothing left of her but an empty sack of freckled skin which she tried to fill with wine, but even that didn't help.

However, she was able to snap her phone back together and turn it on.

Susan's childhood pal, Grace wished her a happy St. Paddy's day and reminded her that 36 years ago they were on their way to watch the parade then go drink in Central Park.

Susan believes it was only 33 years ago.

She recalls a drunken conversation with her mother from a Penn Station pay phone requesting to stay out past her curfew, but that could have been from another day.

Anyway, Susan is sorry for the quality of her BLAHg post today, she knows it's not her best and invites you to read this one from two years ago, which is better because at least it's informative.

Thank you.

Susan is taking a suggestion from Mama Kat and will fascinate you with what she has been daydreaming about.

Susan has a recurring daydream of gaining ten pounds in Italy, but who wouldn't like to do that?

She has another daydream of seeing that her medium sized children develop all the skills they'll need to navigate the tricky times in their lives. But, so does every parent.

She also daydreams of straightening out her mortgage and squeezing out a few more years in the working class neighborhood she calls home. But, so do a million other people.

Leaving Acme Sweatshop on time at the end of the day is a total fantasy daydream, completely ridiculous and unattainable, so she doesn't really bother thinking about that.

Susan dreams about something that she just might be able to pull off, something she deserves, something she will take tender care of for as long as she can.

Susan daydreams about all new towels and sheets!

Big, soft, wonderful towels with patterns woven into their plushness. Towels that will not be bleached the first week she purchases them because the children have grabbed them direct from the pool. Towels that will elevate whichever bathroom she places them in. Towels that will show her guests how much she values their comfort.

And sheets!

Sheets that actually fit around all four corners of the bed, that are not stitched together where the dog shredded them when she forgot to close the bedroom door. Sheets that don't have their own bleach related issues. Sheets that come in pretty colors! Maybe with flowers!

Sheets and towels throughout the whole house is Susan's daydream.

Susan's town threw their annual St. Paddy's Day parade. There were plenty of porta pottys, bagpipers, marching bands, twirlers, national high school varsity cheerleading champs, girl scouts, policemen on bicycles, firemen in dress blues leading rows and rows of fire trucks, flags and sirens, a marine rescue unit, antique cars, bands on flatbed trucks, a NY State Senator and a very enthusiastic crowd out with their dogs including some dressed in Guinness hats.

Susan was all set to b*tch about an advertisement she saw for the Ritz-Carlton when she got some extreme mood elevating news from Maggy at Three Many Cooks.

Susan won Levain Bakery COOKIES!

Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing her thinking cap and blurted out her good fortune to the family. Now they're all on the lookout for Susan's cookies. Making matters worse, she's expecting four divine, six ounce cookies (free of additives or preservatives) which exactly corresponds to the amount of people waiting at the mailbox.
She has no idea how she'll avoid sharing them.

Back to the Ritz-Carlton advertisement.

Of course it features a standard good looking couple embracing on a beach. Ho hum.

Leaving Everything Behind. Yet, Discovering So Much. Yuk.

Then it lists a bunch of things that Susan would never do, like bike riding and windsurfing, calling them a host of experiences she'll treasure for a lifetime. A romantic dinner with ocean views will guarantee she achieves the perfect day.

Susan loves a nice dinner, but romantic? Can't Susan just eat her steak au poivre without having to gaze into the husband's eyes and speak of love? That's not how she likes to conduct herself.

What is romantic anyway? She's down with the candlelight and wine and maybe a wink & a nod, but anything else and she's calling for the check.

Susan began her day baking beer bread with a bottle of Guinness, but she's still not sure if she liked eating bread that tasted like stout. Later this week she'll throw some caraway seeds & raisins into it and see if anyone mistakes it for Irish soda bread.

She'll also make the Guinness brownies requested by her little sister. Susan's got no idea what they'll taste like, in her mind they could go either way. But, on the slim chance they're worth making she'll hip you to the recipe.

Can you wait?

Susan can't relate to feeling bad about Charlie Sheen, not when he disperses gems like;
I'm tired of pretending I'm not a total bitchin' rockstar from Mars
or
I'm just going to sail across the winds of the universe with my goddesses.

He's bi-WINNING, bro.

Susan is on a new drug.
It's called CHARLIE SHEEN and is widely available.

Originally she didn't give him much thought, but then she became acquainted with the prowess of his oratory skills.

Describing how he quit drugs and booze Charlie Sheen said I closed my eyes and made it so with the power of my mind.

His confidence is exhilarating and Susan can't wait to bound out of bed each morning to see what he said while she was sleeping.

He exposes people to magic.

In the meantime here's a charming little website discovered by Susan's friend, Fireball.

Susan and her daughter made these donut holes yesterday for their dinner guests. Susan ate them till she was sick and now she can't button her pants. Make them yourself if you dare.

Susan is sort of missing Wild Bill who just up & took off without so much as a text goodbye to his sisters.

But, he's easy to track down and they anticipate that he'll be back in the summer. Hopefully alone.

This photograph of Susan with Wild Bill and their little sister is from way back in 1988 when little sister was
in the family way with the first of Susan's nieces. The photographer, Wild Bill's girlfriend at that time, remains one of Susan's favorite friends and periodic houseguest.

It's also nice to know that the years haven't beaten the sibs up too badly.

Susan would like everyone to send a little love and prayers out to
sweet Dawn.

Susan can't do everything.
She can't work ten hour days at Acme Sweatshop and have time left over to drink sangria and BLAHg.
She can't do it, she's only one person and a very low energy person at that.

If she BLAHgs then she can't read her pals' blogs, and when she reads her pals' blogs she can't always come up with a decent comment.

Susan employs an alternating schedule of BLAHging or reading blogs or sleeping. Sometimes she has to work in a marital obligation or two and then everything's thrown off.

Susan's done bending over.
She's been bending over for almost five decades and she's through with it. From now on someone else can bend the f*ck over.

She's already abdicated vacuuming, which requires tons of bending over. Did she say abdicated?
That's incorrect.
She meant to say that she engages in the same argument every Friday night with the son about vacuuming on Saturday morning. If he's unavailable on Saturday morning then the vacuuming is to be done on Friday night. But, not only does she have to argue with the son she's also got to argue with the husband about not arguing with the son.

Somebody's insane and it's not Susan.

Next, Susan will no longer be bending over to pick up the change that falls out of the husband's pockets when he takes his pants off. Susan's husband doesn't even attempt to pick up the change, like somehow it's not his job. She hears the change hit the floor every night and thinks the same thing I'm not bending over to pick up that f*cking change.

She's not bending over to pick up other people's belongings from places they shouldn't be. She's not bending over to get a new garbage bag from underneath the sink or to clean around the toilet or to pull laundry out of the dryer or to unplug the printer in order to get it out of the dining room when there's company for dinner.

She'll bend over to fill the dog's bowl that's it.

Happy St. Valentine's Day to Susan!

She received a heart shaped box purchased from a real chocolate shop which was tied up with a wide satin ribbon and filled with dark chocolates. Score!

She broke with her selfish protocol by suggesting that the husband present it to both her and the daughter.

Sometimes she does things just to make other people happy.

Susan's son remarked to Susan,
I can't wait till I get a car, know why?

Her brain immediately ran through all the reasons an newly minted fifteen year old might have;

To pick up slutty girls
To drive really fast and cause accidents
To do three sixties over the frozen lake like Susan had seen someone do the other week.

OMG, no!

Me and my friends are going to drive to restaurants and tell them it's my birthday so that we get free food.

Susan broke into a BIG smile, danced a little jig and gave silent thanks to the Lord, God Almighty for keeping her son sweet a little while longer.

Susan is delighted to report that she had absolutely zero exposure to the Superbowl on Sunday. Nothing.
No lame commercials, no halftime show. Who was even playing? It could have been the Jets and the Sharks for all she knew.

Instead, she spent those hours in the company of Nigella Lawson.
Nigella showed Susan how to make paella.
Then she showed Susan how to make an egg and bacon salad.
Then a voluptuous fruit tart.
Heavens!

Susan is smitten, she could watch Nigella cook until the end of time. Nigella is all soft roundness and femininity and cleavage with a little swing of the hair.

Susan and Nigella have a few things in common;
They are the same age!
The both like garlic oil!
They both use a rice cooker!

Susan wants to know how Nigella removed her fruit tart intact from the deep sided flan tin with fluted edges.

Susan's friend Fireball surprised her with the most wonderful gift; a BIG bag of dark chocolate covered almonds.

Please indulge Susan as she describes the almonds to you.

First of all, they are AMAZINGLY CRUNCHY. For someone who adores crunchy things, they are the epitome of crunch. Just fabulously crunchy.

Next, the chocolate covering is DARK CHOCOLATE, not that wimpy milk chocolate that everyone loves. Milk chocolate does nothing for Susan, although she has been known to eat more than her share of it. Susan is all about the intoxicatingly dark, barely sweet chocolate.

Lastly, the chocolate is more of a dusting over the almonds than a layer allowing Susan to eat more of them per serving.

The lovely bag of almonds are locked inside the little baby fridge that Susan keeps in her teeny little office. She doesn't have to hide them from anyone, they are there waiting for her whenever she wants. Just for her.

May God bless and keep Fireball.

Susan walked past a television set at the exact moment that Oprah was asking Jennifer Lopez how she manages with two little ones at home. She imagines that Oprah was referring to Jennifer Lopez's career making billions of dollars while raising twins.
Jennifer Lopez's started to explain by saying 'Like any working mom...' and that's when Susan's emotional barometer went all the way to HATE.
F*cking dopey b*tch.

Last Friday night, Susan realizes that Friday night was ridiculously long ago, but last Friday night she had a previously established date with Cousin Lisa. Due to an extreme case of Workplace Freak Out Susan cancelled Cousin Lisa.

As the week progressed and Susan got a handle on things she reinstated the date with Cousin Lisa. Then Susan got a phone call from her pal and periodic house guest, GP who was in town for one night only.

Susan's second cancellation of Cousin Lisa didn't go over well.

Susan and Cousin Lisa have a long standing history of lengthy conversations and were able to talk through their way through this little blip. Susan apologized and admitted to not knowing what to do after she accepted the invitation then found that GP had driven thirty hours to her side of the country and only had an availability for the same date.

It's certainly easier to reschedule with Cousin Lisa than it is with GP, so is that the criteria that should be employed to determine the answer? Maybe it had been tricky for Cousin Lisa to arrange, maybe she was looking forward to seeing Susan, maybe she just didn't want to give her up.

The outcome was that GP got to watch Susan argue with her family all night over a range of topics including, but not limited to; vacuuming, strawberry jelly and the lack of adequate income.

Your body can tell you're pregnant before you can.

This is the opening line in a commercial for a home pregnancy test.
Have you seen it?

Your body can tell you're pregnant before you can.

It's sounds like a typical comment on Facebook, but it's not. The home pregnancy test company paid money for it. A group of college educated men and women thought that sentence up, and a second group signed off on it.
There was a bunch of time and energy expended in order to bring that commercial to Susan's TV.

Impressive, don't you think?

Susan was so worked up about all the misspellings on Facebook that she
personally herself committed a misspelling on her last post.
Don't bother looking, it's gone.

Susan spent some quality time with her daughter at the mall. The mall again.
What can she do? It's where the kid wants to go. Susan's budget for the daughter was very small.
S. M. All.
The daughter behaved in a very joyless manner thinking about how little the allotted amount would purchase. She brightened up as she amassed a modest collection of shopping bags.

Susan and the daughter are not all giggly and girl friendy. Their relationship is based on mutual admiration and conversation.
It works for them.

Recently, during their weekly viewing of Jersey Shore, Susan advised the daughter that just because a pair of boobs develope doesn't mean they have to pop out of every outfit.
She also made the point that alcohol fools you into thinking bad ideas are good
That girls shouldn't climb under the covers with every boy available
That boys will do whatever you allow, then do it tomorrow with a different girl
And Sammi is an unbelievably pathetic wretch who should be ridiculed.

Apparently Susan has made these points in the past because the daughter covered her ears with her hands and yelled 'I know, mom! You tell me all the time!'

OMG, everything on Facebook sounds so SMART

Here's a sampling of things Susan saw on one Facebook wall;

The tragedy was tragic

I'm going to go with the mentally ill theory personally myself

1am Saturday night

Aisle misspelled as isle

Psycho misspelled as psyco

Roll misspelled as role

Were misspelled as where

Stick with Susan as she checks another;

Were misspelled as where again

so spelled sooooooooo

definitely misspelled as definately

!!!!!!!!!!

In a very short period of time Susan and her little sister amassed three brand new bottles of Kahlua.

Kahlua is as close as she likes to get to Mexico.

Back in the day Susan enjoyed drinking a combination of Kahlua with Bailey's and vodka, she's got a number of memories attached to that particular cocktail. But, it's definitely a young person's drink and nothing she'd like to revisit.

She's still experiencing a shudder of nausea when she thinks of Irish cream.

Susan lied to her daughter.
She totally fabricated a response in order to avoid sharing a bar of dark chocolate.
She just made something up that had absolutely no truth to it at all.
Susan values truth yet she lied.
And kept her chocolate.

Susan and her daughter
made ice cream in a plastic bag
and it tasted like ice cream.

Susan's brain doesn't work properly anymore.
After dinner Susan and her little sister were sitting on the couch rubbing their bloated bellies separated by Lucy, the lucky pit bull. Lucy wasn't rubbing her belly, she was licking her lady parts until Susan nudged her to knock it off. Immediately after Susan let Lucy lick her face. Lick her face!

Susan didn't even realize there was anything wrong with that until her little sister looked horrified and said Ew, I'm not kissing you goodnight. How could Susan's brain forget from one second to the next where Lucy's tongue had been?

Susan's never let any other dog get anywhere near her face but she's made exceptions with the new dog because she still misses the old dog.
This doesn't negate the fact that Susan's brain doesn't work properly anymore.

Susan did something today that she hasn't done since the '80s; she cried at her desk.
The whole thing took about a minute and it didn't even help her feel better. Of course she had to keep a lid on the sobbing or risk being overheard. So, she sniffled, wiped her tears, put on her unhappy face and went about her business.
Don't worry, no one's being mean to Susan or anything rotten like that. She's just experiencing the typical frustrations of someone from whom perfection is expected, who has too much to do and not enough time to do it.
Anybody else have this problem?

Susan made chicken salad from the dark meat no one ate at dinner. To minimize how unappealing all dark meat chicken salad is she threw in a bunch of nonsense like Craisins, walnuts and cilantro. As she was adding orange zest, she accidentally zested her knuckle.

This was to be tomorrow's lunch. She wanted to eat it with crackers, but she had none. Susan had been wanting to make crackers since she watched Mark Bittman make them, so she made some.

On their way out of the oven she dropped a pan and the crackers hit the floor. Susan slid them back into place and went to pick the pan up with her bare hand. Susan watched two of her fingers blister immediately; big puffy white blisters that took almost thirty seconds to send the message to her brain that OW, THEY HURT.

She reflexively reached for the small stash of Vicodin left over from her dental surgery. Reflexively? Immediately and without thinking she reached for the Vicodin and ate one, then she removed the dog hair from her crackers. It took another half hour for that loopy, boozy sensation to arrive but by that time she was in bed watching Celebrity Rehab.

Christmas has been eradicated from Susan's house, the only things that remain are two wheezing poinsettias and a few hanging snowflakes. A girlfriend had already come & gone in the morning, leaving her gigantic fake tree and seasonal decorations for storage in Susan's basement.

Susan generally has her fill of Christmas before it even begins so you can imagine how satisfying it is for her to rub it out.

Susan started the year by sitting in bed and watching a favorite odd movie. Her first breakfast of the year was lox and cream cheese on a pumpernickel bagel and her first baking project was biscotti for Cousin Lisa's house later in the day. The biscotti, with candied ginger, cranberries and toasted almonds was declared by Susan's little sister to taste like fruit cake so now Susan's all paranoid about making it again.

Susan doesn't have any resolutions this year other than making a list of art projects she wants to complete. She wrote a list for each of her kids too, unfortunately for them their lists were more utilitarian in content; clean off the dining table, do a load of laundry, give the dog water.
Boo hoo kids, get to work.

Susan's daughter ended the year under the effect of her first monthly menstrual cycle. Poor thing. She's got another 40 years of discomfort and inconvenience ahead of her, but Susan did her best not to let on.

The daughter had previously been prepared with both information and supplies for the wonderful thing that happens once a month, they've just been waiting. Now the wait is over. Happy New Year, kid.

Susan presented the Monthly Mess as a club that the daughter was now a member of and welcomed her with some chewable Tylenol.

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!