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2
Jul 09

tales from the stalk side…

my “pal” miller if she is still lucky enough for me to call her that after this, has decided 2 things about my blog:

1. its an open request line where can request “something a little more upbeat.”
2. it is her opportunity to regale everybody with all the embarrassing stories from college she can remember about me & apparently she can remember many (curse my poor memory/binge drinking).
since, i’m a good sport and i’m happy just to have some readers, i shall honor both requests (but this means war & i will post an equally embarrassing picture of her at the end of this post).
so today, i shall share her most favorite humiliating story about me which stars a guy, his beeper number, & possible charges of stalking:
once upon a time there were four partners in crime: steiner, miller, kalish (who didn’t frequent the bars – something about not drinking underage & a really cute bf), & ness (short for “sueness,” beacuse apparently i became an adjective at one point). so, we went out on thursday night to congo craig’s as we always did (of course, only after studying copiously). not only were we stalking her current crush, dan the man, but it was her 21st birthday. so you know all kinds of trouble was a-brewin. after flirting with the bouncers, bartender, & random schmucks at the bar (carefully avoiding the local serial killers that frequented the gainesville college bars), we spotted our prey. it was dan the man & crew with a new addition: a very hot pal visiting from out of town. we siddled up to them on the dance floor, shook our groove thangs and danced til the bar closed. i sucked face with my hottie unapologetically for hours in the bar, because, hey, i am one classy chick. eventually it became clear it was time for the grand finale (we knew this because the ugly lights came on): the 3 couple hook up (one locale, but indivdually as couples, not a massive orgy. though that probably would have been fun but no way millie was sharing the prized catch). now, miss miller had been planning this hookup for 2 semesters. this was her g-damn swan song. i was beyond hot for the visitor which meant steiner had to take one for the team (yeah, guys we have to do it too). we all went back to dan’s, much fun ensued until the dawn broke and we left with random dude t-shirts as is customary college hook-up practice (by the way, i think miller had dan’s t shirt until her engagement…).
now the next week was spring break & we were all going to palm beach to stay with steiner at her house & hit the town (incidentally, that beach pix which is on my boob post is from that week). well, turns out dan & crew would be there as well. hot dude had given me his beeper number on the night of “the great hook-up,” and told me to beep him when we got to town. i was tha-rilled! the minute i was in town , i beeped the dude. i didn’t hear from him, so i began an all out beeping campaign. i am so obsessive, i didn’t realize i was stalking this dude. steiny & millie are like, “sue, that’s probably enough,” but i was having none of it because at this point i was sure the beeper “must be broken.” so instead of ruthlessly carousing the bars, as horny spring breakers are supposed to do, i spent the next several nights on high alert looking for my prey. i never did find him but we did run into dan & crew who avoided me like the crazy psycho-bitch i was. oh, good times, good times. i think it is way funny how as obsessed i was with this dude, i can’t even remember his name anymore. i guess i eventually got over the rejection and looking back, i would have run away from me too if i saw me coming after that unyielding beeping. good thing we didn’t have texting then. what an extra hot mess i would have been.
well, it’s 16 years later, once again i find myself single and heading into a long weekend. i think i am gonna look for that guy, but this time i will get his cell number so i can text him…relentlessly.
* i let millie read this post before it went live (as we in the blog biz say. ok, i just say it.) and the following was her reponse. i felt no need to edit. clearly, she has a mouth as big as mine & that is why we’re college sweethearts:

“That is hilarious….I can’t remember his name either…but steiner’s guy was “joey” and he attended UF law and they actually dated. I think steiner broke up w him cause Joey thought he was really a white man in a black’s man’s body and even though he was highly educated she couldn’t understand a word he said. I don’t think Kalish had the balls to try and get into Congo Craig’s she was probably home watching pretty woman. And furthermore…I was just trying to help a sister out by keeping her blog readership akin to perezhilton.com…..there’s absolutely no reason to get hostile and post humiliating pictures of me rocking the 80′s hair and z cavararicci (sp?) belts and fluorescent pink nail polish. Furthermore that color is making an 09 comeback and its essie’s perky pink but I have relegated it to toenail appearances only ’cause now I’m a classy broad. AND if you think I’m awake at 10pm to review emails when I’m 6 months preggers in addition to a toddler who awakes at 5:45am then you have clearly lost yer marbles. Much love….mill”
taking our love into account, i cut you a break on the picture, mill. not too bad but nice f’g necklace & i think you are wearing the aforementioned polish.. anyway, my vest clearly outshines y’alls fashion choices.

on the prowl: steiner, NESS, miller,& kalish

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2
Jul 09

the technology of relationships

i haven’t yet decided how i feel about karma or the “everything happens for a reason” theory or the powers that be. i am not very religious nor spiritual for that matter, but i do know that we humans are but a tiny part of this universe and that there are certainly forces greater than us at work. you only need look at the purple mountain’s majesty, amber waves of grain, the oceans, or the stars to know something bigger than us was here before us and will remain here long after we have extinguished ourselves.

as people come in and out of my life, i believe more and more that there is a karmic element to the interactions of humans. like one day, for no tangible reason, you decide to park by the other entrance to target that you never use and run into an old pal in the card section. and you think, “man, i am so happy that chance meeting happened. i have missed her tremendously.” or when you are randomly thinking about somebody and they call you or you run into them that day. sometimes i think we have “unfinished business.” perhaps you left off on bad terms with someone and never got the chance or had the balls to make it right and just like that, one day life, or facebook, plops them back into your vision you get to make amends. since i am prone to heap much of the blame on myself, i have walked around for years pouring over every detail of an ended friendship to figure out what i did to end it. these random reunions have allowed me to find closure. to actually ask the person, “why, oh, why did you dump me as your bff?” you know what? most of the time, it turns out i did nothing (ok, maybe just something mildly annoying). it was just lives going on different paths combined with me being terrible at keeping in touch with people. that is why i love technology for allowing me to become a better communicator. its true that email, fb, texting, etc., allows me to get off the hook for actually calling. and truth be told i am not the hugest phone person anymore despite my voluminous phone bills during my teen and college years. my dad absolutely despised the whole texting phenomenon citing, “people your age don’t talk anymore.” and “don’t text me.” while that is true, i actually communicate more than i ever did, with more people than i ever did, better than i ever did. emails are the modern letter and with texts i can exchange a quick snippet every day rather than have a 2 hour phone convo every 6 weeks which i quite frankly don’t want to have (serious attention span issues, people). technology has allowed me to reconnect with people with whom i never would have had that opportunity to do so. it has also allowed me to meet new people with whom i never would have been in contact in my daily life. it has actually allowed to me to feel closer than ever to friends and family. long distances seem shorter. i know i suck at listening to messages and returning phone calls, but i am uber speedy with a return text. true, i make up my own texting lexicon that others find reading akin to code-breaking. i am far wittier in writing than in real life ( which is really, really witty, because quite frankly, i am quick with the wit in person too). just ask my sister how lame-ass our communication was until we discovered texting. we could go weeks without speaking until texting came along. now we “talk” via text every day. and attention whores like me, absolutely jizz when that phone buzzes with a text. i am always excited to see what surprise awaits me when i hit open on that cute little envelope. there are some people with whom i exchange texts all day long, every day from a “gm” text to a “gn” text (here’s where you suebies [sue newbies] have to break the code) and i feel like i have company all day. i am sad when that damn phone is quiet. i am SO aware of how needy this is, but after years of a lonely marriage, texting makes me feel adored, appreciated, attended to, and no longer alone.
and for those of us who have lovingly embraced technology and all it has to offer, those of you who refuse to do the same absolutely make us nuts. refusing to text, return emails, join facebook, use twitter, or any new technology based on no viable reason, other than most likely the fear of the unknown, is like saying “i don’t want to communicate with you.” please, join the party. you are missing out. we want to find you in our lives again you are never to old to learn something new. oops, got on my soap box again. sorry.
as usual, i have digressed enormously from my original point: no matter what my belief in a greater power may be, i still feel people come and go in our lives for a reason. sometimes it’s not clear but it just makes us happy. maybe the circumstances of how that person came into your life or returned to it are less than pure. but so be it. maybe we just don’t have to question it. “it is what it is.” if losing my father taught me anything, its that life is short and our relationships are the most important thing we have or do in life. how much we affect others with the simple giving of ourselves. allowing oursleves to be loved without question and loving back are the greatest gifts i think we, humans, can give each other. sometimes the coming, means there will be an inevitable going. your time together was limited. but it doesn’t diminsh that time spent. we all make a difference to someone out there. that is a great responsibility we must oversee wisely because we touch each others lives in ways we can’t even imagine. long after you have left, someone may still be feeling your effects upon them. we all know someone that changed our own life and outlook profoundly and we must realize that from a simple daily interaction to a close intimate bond, the ways we treat others is our legacy.
so text me…please?
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*these pix of are 2 old pals that i lost touch with and can’t find online anywhere. if anyone knows of their whereabouts or you are one of them: direct them to me. I MISS THEM!!! btw, check out those rockin’ aviators with the fivehead. sa-wheet.
1.me & michelle lewis somewhere in europe 1993.
2.me & jennifer stevenson at UD 1991

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30
Jun 09

i have a dream…

apparently, my last post was too serious for some of you… i am deep people, it can’t be shits and giggles all the time. i have many facets – broken teeth & floaterslike a beautiful diamond or a mental patient with multiple personalities…anyway, now i feel the pressure to entertain you with an inane topic. lately, i have been thinking a lot about dreams. so, here’s a cool idea: i will tell you about the crazy dreams i have and later we can analyze them for fun. there are a few major recurring dreams i have had for years that, among other things, obviously reveal major control issues i have (which i know comes as a huge shock to you):

1. the broken teeth dream

2. the forgotten locker combo

3. the unchecked voicemail

4. floating

5. busted brakes


1. the broken teeth:

this is my most prevalent insane dream and i have been having it for as long as i can remember. it starts with my tongue growing so swollen that it breaks my teeth until i am spitting out my teeth in shards. my teeth just won’t stop breaking. i am always trying to get to a dentist, but can’t. it feels so real that i am never quite sure if i am dreaming. i fully expect to wake up without teeth. and until last year, i had never met anyone who had this dream. in fact anyone, i related it to, looked at me like i was one sandwich short of a picnic. so last year, i met the ONE other person on earth who also has this dream and i knew i met my soul mate and possible second husband. i mean how did that even come up in our conversation? (this is entirely another story altogether) but unlike me, he had a good reason for having it – like getting into a bar fight and having several teeth knocked out. anyway, i digress.

2. the forgotten locker combo

this one involves me wandering around middle school or high school as an adult trying to remember which is my locker and what the combo is. i have major anxiety as i am meandering around the school because i know i am not supposed to be there and i am going to get busted wandering the halls during class. it sometimes morphs into college where i need to take a final for a class i blew off for an entire semester and can’t even remember where it is or what day it was even on (this is not so far fetched from reality). why do i still have this dream 20 years after i used a locker?

3. the unchecked voicemail

this dream stems from my very first job out of college. i worked as a “district manager” for ADP selling payroll services. it is reality that i continually got busted for not checking my email because i was a mondo slacker and a way crappy salesperson. sixteen years after quitting that job, i still have the dream that i am getting reamed by the sales managers for not checking my voicemail and then i realize, “hey i don’t work here anymore,” so i tell ‘em all to fuck off, and i leave. *interesting sue fact, this actual occurrence in my real life is why i hate checking voice mails to this day. i am still programmed to dread the information contained in them. so there, people, that is why i never check them, nor return your calls. so don’t bother leaving them for me unless we’re dating. and then you have an entirely different set of communication rules which will make you want to pull out your hair (well, duh, i am a chick).

4. floater

i have had that floating dream for all my life, you know the one where you just start floating up and up into the sky like a human balloon and you can’t get down? you can kind of steer yourself around by flapping your arms but never actually land? no? you don’t know it? alrighty then. this dream usually morphs into me being naked and having to get somewhere but my legs won’t work. i can barely walk. i am dragging them or crawling behind a group of people. i am usually completely bare-assed trying to cover myself up. sometimes i am being chased whilst nekkid and i can’t run. i never do get caught but this dream always leaves me in a sweat the next morning.

5. the busted car brakes

so, i am happily driving along and then i need to stop at an intersection or for a car in front of me. i step on the brakes and they won’t work. then i start stomping on the brakes but the car keeps rolling. it always ends with me driving off a giant rollercoaster like hill in which i can actually feel my stomach drop in my sleep, off the road, in a major collision, or being pulled over by a cop. i am always like, “shit, i am really screwed here,” but then i wake up relieved that it was just a dream. i dunno, but this dream may have something to do with what a terrible driver i am rumored to be…

so, there you go. feel free to analyze all of this insanity. use it for your thesis. share it with your shrink. share it with my shrink. dream about my dreams tonight. then analyze why i felt compelled to share the twisted innerwebs of my mind with you…

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28
Jun 09

firefly, firefly, fly away home…

 

 

 

i don’t know why i was so surprised to see the fireflies last night. i’m sure they have been out already without my noticing them. but it caught me off guard because they reminded me of my dad, of whom, i think about every minute of every day anyway.

when i was a little girl, okay young girl, smart-asses, my dad and i spent many a summer’s night catching fireflies and collecting them in jars. something about the way they lit up fascinated me. i just loved to see the tiny lights sparkling against the black summer sky. but more than anything, i loved that time alone with my pops. we would sit in the darkness together while he imparted his pearls of wisdom to me (“susanne, pearls, these are pearls, i’m giving you”) punctuated with my cries of, “hey there’s one, dad! did you see it?!”

it was always the same routine: after dinner, i would beg my mom to prematurely dump the contents out of a jar and wash it out for me. then i would trot off to my find my dad and drag him out to his “workshop” in the garage where he would punch air-holes in the metal lid. we would ceremoniously gather grass, leaves, and twigs to recreate the firefly’s natural habitat. once satisfied with the authenticity of the insect lodgings, we would run around for what seemed like hours gently catching the unsuspecting innocents in our cupped palms and then gingerly placing them in the jar. when i say gingerly, i mean stuffing them in the jar before they could escape my sticky 8 year old grip. when it was finally time for bed, and probably a shower, i would bring the jar into my room and set it beside my bed so i could watch the bright creatures glow until i happily drifted off to sleep. in the morning, after my father left for work, i would bring the jar outside and emancipate the critters, so we could start all over again that night.

to this day i am still thrilled when what i call “firefly season” begins and sad when it ends. sad not only, because these mini magical creatures are gone for another year, but because it signifies the end of the carefree days of summer and reminds me of a simpler time in my life. a simpler time i yearn to recapture.

so what i realized, is that we spend so much time, effort, and money trying to create the perfect memories for our children. we take them on lavish vacations or try to document every moment of their lives with every media imaginable, but what really matters is the small stuff. its so cliche, but so unshakably true. children don’t really want things (as much as they demand them), they really want our love and our undivided attention. the time spent together doing simple things is what matters most to the people in our lives. now that i no longer have my dad around, i am grateful for the memories i have of time spent with him, not the things he bought me or places he took me. just the simple time when i walked in the house and upon seeing me he said “what’s up susie, girl?” i would give up any amount of material possessions to hear that just once again because the unabashed, generous giving of himself, was my father’s greatest gift to me.

scientists tell us the reason fireflies light up their miniscule rear-ends is to signal a mate and to communicate with each other, but they really signaled me to pull out another sweet memory of my best friend from the recesses of my hippocampus. because even though his things remain with us, they are just things in the end. it’s the memories i have of him that comfort me and remind me that we did have a rich life together even if it the time was too short. to know the time we spent together was full and truly enjoyed.

so, please, keep lighting the way little ones, we can all use some extra light in the darkest of our nights.

Firefly, Firefly, Fly Away Home...
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23
Jun 09

the saga (and sagging) of my rack

i think the first thing you have to know about me is that i have extensively obsessive boob issues. my entire life has been about my breasts. i come from a long line of large breasted woman, but i was a late bloomer.  and ever since i was a child, i wanted a set. bad. i was raised watching boobilicous cartoon super heros like wonderwoman, batgirl, catwoman & she-ra and couldn’t wait to fill in my underoos.

in fact, there are pictures of me when i was around 8, dressing up in my mother’s bras. i wanted boobs B A D. i did those crazy exercises, “we must, we must, improve our bust,” religiously every night before bed. i demanded my early bloomer friends show me what they had. i convinced my mom to buy me bras when i was in sixth grade & stuffed ‘em full of undies. That was a brilliant idea until one fell out on the swings during recess. STONE COLD BUSTED. not one of my proudest moments.

then my prayers were answered before my sophomore year of high school, when i was 15, & i sprouted a set of full C’s by the end of the summer. i came back to school with a sweet rack and was thereafter accused of sticking my chest out when i walked around. but, i wasn’t, haters! those were legit! soon the attention got to me & so did the inescapable teenage bad body image. that was the downfall of my super set. i started wearing minimizer bras. oh, the horror! by my senior year of college my boobs hadn’t stopped growing and i was 5’0″ (okay 4’11 1/2″) & 93 pounds, with DOUBLE D’s.

okay, so many did get enjoy them, but even though i had the perfect body, i hated it! yes, i was a DUMB BEYATCH! i began trying to hide the goods with baggy shirts and became more and more miserable. add in the fact that my mom has had gigunda tatas since she was 10 and she always HATED them and told me so daily. so she was on board the same unhealthy body image bandwagon that i was.

one day during a break between semesters, i saw a large breasted friend of mine. she spilled the beans that she was getting a breast-reduction and i was stunned that there was such a thing. sure I knew about implants, but making them smaller? and just like that, i decided i wanted to lop my boobs off too. i told my bff in crime, millie, (no names have been changed to protect the guilty) about my plan and she told me i was nuts & not to do it. “you have what everyone wants, ” she said. but, that only made me more determined, because i thought no one could possibly understand the plight of a petite huge breasted woman. besides the fact, that i am not a chick that ever listened to anybody. once something was in my head, there was no stopping me. i was sure the reduction was the answer to all my problems. the plastic surgeon with whom we consulted convinced me i would develop major back problems and the life before me would be that of an invalid, albeit, a sexy invalid, if i continued to carry those things around on my “petite frame.” what did he care? i was about to lose my tatas, but he was about to make a wad of cash. so after college I did the deed, and this, my friends, (all 3 of you reading this) is where my story gets really sad: the night before the surgery i had doubts about it & wasn’t sure i even wanted to do it, but i stuffed that down & ignored my gut. (exactly like the night before my now failed marriage, but that is another story entirely.) the other tragic twist is this: the insurance company rejected the pre-approval for the surgery at first. my father who would do anything for us & had no boobs himself lobbied the insurance company until they approved it. no one was telling his daughter she couldn’t chop her tits off.

Life Lesson One: Sometimes it is best to leave well enough alone. SIGH.

the ensuing recovery was a painful, awful, terror & when i first unwrapped my new jugs they were TINY. i had a full B & was feeling the first signs of remorse. the scars were hideous. when i gasped upon first seeing them, i said to my mother, “they are so small!” Her response was to say, “don’t let your sister hear you say that.” it was no secret boobs were not evenly assigned in my family. not only did I feel remorse, but i now had guilt too, and i had to keep it all to myself.

so, i tried to be okay with the boob issue for a few years by wearing mondo padded bras but regret slowly began creeping in until i couldn’t bare to even think about it anymore. i could no longer face my own girls in the mirror, but i became obsessed with other boobs, and just like a guy, i was always checking others chick’s racks out. i needed intensive boob therapy to get over it.

well, fast forward to pregnancy: i was now stressing that i wouldn’t be able to nurse because things may not have been reattached right, BUT, i had giant preggo boobs. it was awesome – AND the boobs stayed big & grew with each kid. so naturally, I wanted to have 4 or 5 kids. i was able to nurse, luckily, or not so luckily depending upon how you look at it – my life became even more about my boobs. there is no pain like engorged boobie pain and trying to get an ill tempered infant to latch onto a full boob. it seems logical that employing the fun bags for their actual intended use would be a snap, but its not and i elicited help from anybody within a 5 mile radius. forget the fact, the i went to an actual class to learn how to do this beforehand. useless. once the hungry screamer & i finally figured it out, my life was lived in 2 hour increments of nipple desecration and my life became a blur of boob chores – pumping, massaging, feeding, crying… and don’t get me started on nursing bras.

then several years ago, i found a lump in my right breast & it was terrifying. i had to to get my boobs mashed in the mammogram machine several different times which confirmed a suspicious lump. so, i had a biopsy & was told it had to be removed and they still weren’t sure if it was the c-word. i had it removed and thank God it was benign. of course, i had to have the lump removed from the smaller boob and i am sporting yet another scar which i tell dudes is a stab-wound ( it’s much more mysterious). i really just found the whole thing to be completely ironic. i wondered if there was no end to the suffering of my poor breasts.

the happy-ish ending is that I have made peace with the girls again (back to a DD thanks to the 2 babies), but feel terrible for treating my body that brutally. i hate the scars though they have mostly faded & are hidden by the (dare I say it) sagging (sigh). in a weird way i feel like they are fakes, because they have been altered.

so what is the moral of the story? mamas don’t let your girls screw with their bodies. they just need self confidence & your support to learn to love their bodies. plastic surgery isn’t the answer that we all think it is. i would absolutely discourage my girls from doing anything to their bodies at such a young age. women have it so tough, our boobs are too small or too big, but never just right. so ladies, love your gazungas no mater what size they are! they are part of what makes you, you, but they don’t define you. i finally realized, it doesn’t matter what size your boobs are, men will stare. it doesn’t matter what your body looks like as long as your head is on right. boobs & the women attached to them will always be used to sell stuff on tv. we will always use our boobs to get men to do what we want. men will always be on a quest to see ‘em no matter what size they are. they love ‘em all.

Life Lesson Two: Its all about confidence & good body image.

DUH. thanks epiphany for coming way late, but at least i figured it out. eventually.

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22
Jun 09

yet another funny chick starts a blog…

for awhile now, my peeps have been telling me i’m a funny chick & i should write a blog. so here I am.

i certainly do have some interesting ways of looking at life & i’m always happy to share them because i do love to get a laugh. good for the ego. My life is an open book anyway. there’s not much I am shy about sharing with anyone who wants to know.
here’s a bit of background info: i am fast approaching, ugh, middle age, and in the middle of a nasty, bitter divorce. i have 2 girls whose attitudes far exceed their biological ages. as if things weren’t tough enough, my beloved dad dropped dead unexpectedly in the midst of it a few months ago. so, you see I have to laugh. It’s either find the humor every day or curl up into a ball in front of my tv & eat ben & jerry’s until i outgrow the couch. the latter, although delicious, just ain’t my style. honestly, it’s seems unlikely, but I am truly the happiest i have ever been in my life. so should you find my story as interesting as i do, then I will definitely dig the attention.
so do my ego a favor & help me make a go of this thing.
The fun is about to get started and, oh yeah, the title of my blog is absolutely true…
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