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.


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.


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.'


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?



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.

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 original prototypes 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.



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


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.


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 backwards. Susan immediately became aware of a bit of extra flesh as the Disheveled Tumbler's skirt had ridden down far enough to expose some ass cleavage.
Can you guess whose ass Susan was looking at?
Sure you can.


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 at work.

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.


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.


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.


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!


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.