Archive for January, 2005

Jan 30 2005

Get Packing

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I really have to stop procrastinating and get packing. Really. I mean, I leave tomorrow. Getting the suitcases out would probably be a good start.

To distract me from the horror of packing (very, very close to housework – involving, as it does, putting things away), I have a horror movie on TV. It’s the very schlocky Frankenstein’s Daughter, and so far, the scariest thing in it is the allegedly “teenage” band singing “Special Date”.

Best line: “We all miss Suzy. But she’ll have some stories to tell when she gets back.”

One response so far

Jan 28 2005

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Inspired by Pascale, I actually did clean up the closet! I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary,other than the fact that I really have a *lot* of t-shirts. Mr. Mouse didn’t show up to help or hinder. I felt incredibly virtuous when I was finished.

“Packing” so far consists of piling all the things I think I’m going to bring in a couple of boxes. I have decided to go minimal and only bring one handbag(!), though I’m not saying I won’t acquire one or two in Florida, to help along the local economy and all. I’m also just going to wear the little diamond studs I wear all the time anyway and leave it at that for accessorizing.

The order to have bills and fan mail forwarded to me at my temporary tropical paradise is in, and I have a brand-new road atlas with maps of the entire North American continent, so if I get lost, I have no-one to blame but myself (though map-reading is not one of my few talents). Self is as groomed as she gets, so I’m pretty much good to go. And it’s only Friday!

Yesterday, I went to see the doctor to stock up on non-recreational drugs, and she mentioned that it was the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. Her mother, then in her early 20’s, was one of the survivors, and had been incarcerated in the camp for more than a year, surviving by her considerable wit and intelligence.

While working in the camp’s munitions factory, she managed to make two little charms out of lead: one a four-leaf clover, and one a little book, engraved with a tulip. These are now my doctor’s most precious possessions. They survived, along with her mother and are a reminder both of that terrible time and of her mother’s strength, faith, and spirit.

One response so far

Jan 24 2005

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Only a week before I start my quest for Sass in a Glass. Can I get all this done before time’s up?

My To-Do List
By Suzy
Making a big to-do about nothing, as usual

1. Clean up “closet” enough to find out what clothes I actually have (“closet” in this case means “back room full of miscellaneous stuff, including clothes, shoes, handbags and mysterious crap. Probably the meaning of life is in there, along with Mr. Mouse and my long-lost virginity.”)

2. Decide what to bring (definitely both pairs of sparkly sandals, but other than that, I’m not sure).

3. Accessorize and pack. Which handbags to bring? Do I have pool jewelry? Do I need it? Should I get a spray tan?

4. Get Self detailed (Dye hair. Get waxed. Do nails (is now the time to experiment with nail art? Oh, and where are my toe rings?).

5. Get mail forwarded (can’t miss all those bills!).

6. See dr. and stock up on non-recreational drugs.

7. Get maps to minimize getting lost potential.

BTW just the thought of Florida has made my cold better, though I’m still going through an inordinate number of Kleenexes. Those who call me snotty are now both literally and figuratively correct.

2 responses so far

Jan 22 2005

Published by under Uncategorized

From my darling Kathleen:

1) Susan (Work Suzy; faux-adult Suzy)
2) Suzy (Real Life Me; also variants used by my family such as Floozy; Flooz; Boozy; Snoozy – you get the idea)
3) Princess

1) I never had one! How retro am I?

1) My friends
2) My family
3) My handbag collection

1) Panic attacks
2) My real hair color
3) My real age

1) Death
2) Boredom
3) Waking up day one to find that all my age and indiscretions have caught up with me & I look like Keith Richards

1) Black coffee
2) Books
3) Love

1) Diamond earrings (I sleep in them)
2) Perfume
3) Lip Venom

1) Wilco
2) Blackalicious
3) Brian Wilson

1) I Am Trying to Break Your Heart (Wilco)
2) Passion (Blackalicious)
3) Good Vibrations (Beach Boys)

1) Living in different places
2) Actually making money from my start-up job
3) Keeping my New Year’s resolutions (or, as a guy at the gym calls it, “New Year’s Revolutions”)

1) Love
2) Trust
3) Passion

1) The next thing I say will be true.
2) The last thing I said was false.
3) I am a very good liar.

1) Expressive, intelligent eyes
2) Beautiful hands
3) Strength without being musclebound

1) Drink milk
2) Vote Republican
3) Read or watch science fiction or fantasy

1) Shopping
2) Reading
3) Blogging (readin’ & writin’)

1) Be in Paris at a sidewalk caf&eacute, sipping champagne
2) Already be in Florida, walking on the beach
3) Be hanging out with my sis & bro in the hot tub under the stars

1) French Polynesia (Tahiti, Bora Bora)
2) Bar Harbor, Maine
3) Italy (Venice, Siena, Florence)

1) Clementine
2) Spencer
3) Wilson

1) Be rich
2) Be happy
3) Be fearless

1) I hate housework and avoid it at all costs
2) I love baseball and hockey
3) I think naked girls are generally better to look at than naked boys

1) I love sparkly things, especially jewelry
2) I love to shop, with special focus on handbags and shoes
3) I’m all about the pretty

1) Johnny Depp
2) Jared Leto
3) Gregory Smith

1) Amy
2) Cassie
3) Lisa


One response so far

Jan 20 2005

Published by under Uncategorized

That’s it. I’m heading to Florida at the end of the month to demand an explanation for the total lack of pink grapefruit juice. The presence of actual pink grapefruits does not make up for no sass in a glass for Suzy.

I must really want that juice, hmmmm?

6 responses so far

Jan 17 2005

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I coughed myself awake this morning – even less fun than being awakened by an alarm clock, though definitely better than being woken up at 3:30 am – and decided to venture out to get some of my favorite pink grapefruit juice (“It’s sass in a glass!”).

However, the store owner informed me that the hurricanes that just wouldn’t leave Florida alone a few months back meant that there was no sass in a glass for Suzy or anyone else for a while. Back ordered, he said, in the mysterious jargon of retail.

But he did have actual pink grapefruits for sale, which made no sense to Me. I mean, if there are grapefruits, shouldn’t there be grapefruit juice?

Walking home, I pondered this conundrum, and another sprang to mind: why do we say men are womanizers, but we don’t say women are manizers? And could you refer to a gay woman as a womanizer, if she was? Oh, the shallowness of Suzy’s mind, especially when deprived of sass in a glass.

7 responses so far

Jan 14 2005

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I came home to find the kitchen flooded (again), I have a raging cold (again), and an inbox full of misspelled porn invitations.

Now, if you’re going to send out these sleazy missives, at least have the courtesy to learn how to spell simple, every day words like “whore” (not “whroe”) and “sluts” (not “sltus”). The linguist and spelling bee winner in me wants to reply to these messages, giving their authors the correct spelling of these and other important porn terms, but I realize that this is almost literally pearls before swine.

Also, I’m too lazy, and my day will be entirely occupied by feeling sorry for myself (I was sick a *month* ago! My immune system is even more pathetic than I am!) and ministering to my illness. Good thing I bought up all those Kleenex shares the last time I was sick. I’ll have enough money to set up a school for illiterate pornographers.

3 responses so far

Jan 13 2005

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I’m almost afraid to tell you how early I had to get up to catch my flight home, which left at 6:30 am. That’s in the morning, you know. So the alarm went off at the unSuzy hour of 3:30 am. That’s hardly even morning. You should only be up at that hour if you’re still up from having fun the night before, and for no other reason. As I groped for the off switch on the hotel’s clock radio, I heard a guy on the street below bellowing, “Fuuuuuck youuuuuu!”

That pretty much summed up my feelings.

I had that feeling again when I was on the plane, sitting beside a guy who demonstrated burping skills which Ashlee Simpson would have envied. It was astounding. And gross.

He also ordered coffee black, with six sugars. Now, as you know, I have no problem with black coffee – I drink it that way myself. I don’t want anything to get between me & the caffeine. But all that sugar? I was irresistibly reminded of the scene in the late great series, My So-Called Life, where Angela’s father asks her if she wants milk in her coffee, and she says, “No, I take it black, with three or four sugars”, because that’s how her dream guy takes his coffee.

My grandmother used to give me a spoonful of sugar to cure hiccups, but I never thought it would cause very loud public burping. Of course, it might not have been the sugar. And this guy ain’t anyone’s dream guy.

5 responses so far

Jan 10 2005

En Route

Published by under Bullshit,Travel

I did get where I was going, but:

Flight One
Sailed through security, untouched by human hands. Plane allegedly on time. Got on plane, and it began to taxi after the usual warnings of the possibility of impending death and disaster.

Then it came to an unnerving halt, and the pilot cheerfully informed us that we were delayed for an hour due to air traffic control problems in Chicago.

Will I ever learn not to fly through (or attempt to fly through) Chicago? Especially in the winter?

Realize that delay, which ended up being more than an hour (are pilots really optimistic, or really afraid of passengers mutinying if they knew how long they were really going to be delayed?), meant that I would miss connecting flight.


We got to Chicago 20 minutes before my plane was due to leave. I ran like hell from Gate B1 to Gate C10, racing through the tunnel of disco lights and scattering anyone who got in my way. Look out! It’s Sweaty Suzy in her sassyboots (when I dressed that morning, I didn’t expect to be sprinting).

I make it to…

Flight Number Two

…where I collapse, overheated and freaked, into the dreaded middle seat. On one side, there is a German guy who is already asleep and slept through the whole flight. The stewardess had to wake him up right before we landed to ask him to put his seat back up and his shoes on. He just went back to sleep. I told you, there’s one on every flight.

On the other side is an Italian guy who isn’t sleepy enough and keeps trying to buy me drinks and food (gone are the days of free booze and food in cattle class).

Seats are in the bulkhead row, though, so there’s no-one in front of me. But I have nowhere to put my carry on bags and have to persuade the stewardess to stow them in First Class. I wish she could have stowed me in First Class.

Flight left on time, more or less, but was an extra hour (almost 5 hours instead of almost 4) long due to headwinds. Felt a lot longer.

Get to repeat the process backwards tomorrow, arriving at the airport at 5 am. I hope. I think I hope.

I’m a big, fat liar, aren’t I? I didn’t expect to have computer access since I left mine at home, but I’m actually at the office, awaiting a meeting with a potential client who, yes, delayed the meeting. We were supposed to meet at 9 am, but he decided 3 pm was better. Wish I’d known before I got up at 6 to make the meeting on time. I really wish that one.

Oh, and you didn’t acually expect me to be working at the office, did you?

6 responses so far

Jan 09 2005

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I’m trying the airport thing again today. Talk about the triumph of optimism over experience! It can’t be as bad as last time. Can it?

I’m going to be computer-free, so you’ll have to stay tuned until Wednesday to find out the latest adventures of Suzy.

Wish me luck!

One response so far

Jan 07 2005

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How to Have a Really Rude Awakening:

– Stumble out of bed in usual zombie-like state, seeking caffeine.

– In pre-caffeinated state and bare feet, enter kitchen.

– Discover that kitchen floor is covered in cold water*.

– Consider going back for slippers, but feet are already wet, so what’s the point? Momentarily reflect on the wisdom of stepmother’s distaste for my wandering around in bare feet (though said distaste dated from her childhood, when bare feet were a sign of poverty).

– Splash over to counter and make coffee, which is pretty much unnecessary at this point, the shock of cold water having the approximate effect of a triple espresso.

– Go to bathroom, and discover that something esoteric within the mysterious interior of the tank has gone on strike or vacation or simply died, much mourned by all.

– Reflect on stupidity of getting a degree in linguistics instead of learning to be a plumber.

– Go back to bed.

*Mini-flood caused by there being too much water outside, so the leftovers came inside. I’m telling you, the entire goal of Nature is to get inside your house.

2 responses so far

Jan 05 2005

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How to Get Nowhere

– Wake up early (ick) to get to airport on time.

– Get to airport on time, despite cab driver’s insistence on taking the stupid (read: long) way.

– Wait in very long line to check in.

– At check in, you are informed that the flight is delayed by at least two hours, maybe more, meaning that you will definitely miss your connecting flight. Agent changes your reservation to another airline which has a non-stop flight. Non-stop flight leaves in around 4 hours, but is the only game in town.

– Get to Security, where your bags are searched with the kind of avidity dogs apply to steak. You begin to feel guilty of something as they start running a little brush thing over your lap top and bag. People start looking at you like you’re a criminal.

– If they keep looking, they will get to see a female security agent totally feeling me up. My boobs haven’t been examined this thoroughly since my last mammogram. As the feelfest proceeds, I wonder if I could request a hot male security guard to perform this particular function. Remember that there are no hot male security guards, and if they were, the hideous nylon uniform would cancel it out anyway.

– Apparently my tits are satisfactory, so I am released. After 4 hours, report to gate only to be informed that my reservation is not in their computer and the flight is:

a. Oversold
2. The last one of the day.

– I should get a prize for not throwing a great big noisy fuss. I just tell them I’m going home. The agent looks astonished. I repeat the simple statement. She says I have to be escorted out, which seems like exactly the kind of thing that would happen to a girl who had all her baggage and boobage searched. I bet the people who caught the earlier show were nudging each other and saying, “I knew she was no good”. They’re not wrong.

– Get cab home.

Distance travelled: To the airport and back

Time elapsed: 8+ hours

Mental state: I think you know.

9 responses so far

Jan 04 2005

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Here’s some total kitten cuteness to make your day!

I can’t take credit for either the kitten or the photo – both photographer and kitten are Czech, and the picture was taken on a cold winter day in Prague more than 40 years ago.

5 responses so far

Jan 01 2005

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Last year, my resolutions were to get a job, and to figure out the whole spiritual thing.

Who was I kidding?! Greater minds than the fluff that passes for mine haven’t been able to figure out the spiritual thing for hundreds, even thousands of years. That one was waaay too ambitious. On the other hand, I’m partially employed, so I did sort of keep at least one resolution.

And I’ve become bi…coastal, that is. Like Kimberly Guilfoyle. Except I’m not on TV, I’m not a lawyer, I’m not a size 0, I’m not a brunette (really! I swear!), I’m not a wealthy socialite (yet), I’m not married to a famous and powerful man who is prettier than I am.

OK, nothing like Mrs. Newsom. Just like Me.

Good things about job:

– Part time (for now, anyway)
– Boss is old friend
– I mostly work at home
– Which means I don’t have to get dressed unless I’m leaving the house (I am considerate of the general public)
– I seem to end up working at weird times, but Boss doesn’t mind (he does the same thing)
– I get to travel

Bad things about job:

– Since it’s part time AND a start-up, I make a laughable (or cryable) amount of money
– Boss is great guy but a flake, so unreasonable deadlines can and do appear, along with sudden summons to be in another city ASAP
– Grooming standards have fallen to just above the level of the average street person
– I have to travel, exposing my delicate sensibilities to the horror of air travel

Worst thing of all: I had to get a PC to run financial software. It’s like having a small Egyptian curse in the house. And my iBook gets all huffy because I’m cheating on it with someone who is just so much less attractive, like Diana and Camilla. I’m trying to keep them separated so no catfights ensue.

Resolutions for 2005: Answer my emails before they molder and become a health hazard. And blogwalk, as the fabulous Michelle would say. more often.

Happy New Year, everyone! May it be healthy, happy, and (hopefully) peaceful.

4 responses so far