Suzanna Danna

I’m currently wallowing in self pity and a mixture of selfishness and angst.

Happy Birthday to me.

It’s all really no big deal of course, and I am probably (actually I am most likely) blowing this whole thing completely out of proportion but ... dammit, I’m cranky.

Let’s talk positives first.

We’ve discussed my love for Etsy.com yes? Yes. And because my husband listens and because I am not passive aggressive and or expect him to read my mind... I sent him a link to my favorites from Etsy and also another link with the word, “Want.”

I went to San Antonio Thursday afternoon for the shortest stay ever (less than 24 hours for a planning meeting on Friday) and was home before 8 o’clock p.m. Friday evening. Mister met me at the door in his t-shirt and boxers (because I like it like that) and was practically hopping from foot to foot with his excitement because my presents had come in the mail while I was out of town.

He sat me on the couch and opened a packet in front of me and told me to close my eyes. When I opened them he had a beautiful antique silver spoon bracelet in his hands. He put it on me and I was surprised to find that I was able to slide it on and off of my wrist like a bangle. It is so pretty and the pattern is from like 1949 or something.

Then he sprinted into the dining room and retrieved another gift from the table and made me close my eyes again. I did so and heard him wrestling with bubble wrap. I wanted to open my eyes because it sounded like he was fighting with the package and I wanted to see, but I kept them closed and because I am a freak and he loves me anyway... he held the gift up for me to smell.

I sniffed.

And sniffed again.

The fragrance of oil paints and varnish wafted up my nostrils and I asked to open my eyes. In front of me was this gorgeous diptych with all the rich colors that we have in our home. It is so pretty. Lookit....

See? Preeeeeeeeeeeeeetttty.

It took us an hour and a half to hang them just off the foyer going into the living room. And I wasn’t even trying to help at the math part. We hung them side by side with about an inch in between them. I am so in love with this gift.

Saturday morning we got up early and ran around doing errands. I count about eight errands that I recall. And then we went to my sister’s house for my niece’s third birthday. Kids everywhere and balloons and cake and bubbles and squealing and sticky little fingers. It was precious.

After the party the six adults, Mister and I, my sister and her husband and my parents went to dinner.

This is how dinner plans get made with our family. “Oh, Sue and Mister are trying to lose weight, we’ll go somewhere healthy for dinner. What do you want Sue? You want what? Sushi? Okay fish it is. Hey gang!? We’re going to Rock Fish for dinner.” And throughout this whole conversation that my mother was having with herself the only thing I said (outloud) was sushi.

And they do not have sushi at Rock Fish.

It was a very nice meal and our waiter was attentive and the lady chef has a massive crush on Mister.

He held his hand up to tell her thank you for the food and compliment her... and to ask about turmeric and saffron in the rice... and she grabbed his big paw and held his hand as they spoke. She was totally in love with him. LURVE, I say.

He? Was a little uncomfortable... but she was good lookin and made great food... FLIRT man, Flirt!

We went back to my sister’s house after dinner to have my birthday cake. It was delicious. From Central Market and had fresh strawberries layered between white cake and ... just yum. I get the same cake every year. Or any time I get a cake... It is the same one I had for our wedding reception. My parents tried to get me to take the cake home but alas, I cannot be trusted with that much sugar flavored lard in the house.*

*Two weeks ago I was having massive cramps in the middle of a two and a half week cycle and I asked for some cookies and cream ice cream. Bryer’s. Mister brought some home and I ate the whole half gallon in a week. I cannot be trusted, I tell you.

So Mister and I went home and collapsed into bed.

Yesterday... my actual birthday... rolled around and we got up. Mister brought me breakfast in bed and then we did some other stuff. We went to lunch at Passado’s, then to Retro Revolution to buy a few more little fun things for my piercing and then to PetSmart for some cat litter**.

**I lead a charmed life, no?

We were supposed to go to see Iron Man because I am a twelve year old boy who happens to have a massive crush on wounded drug addicts. Ah, Robert Downey Jr... How I love thee? But Mister came down with a gigantic headache so I decided that I would take the dog to the dog park, BUT FIRST!.... I would swing by my sister’s house to see my parents who are staying in town with the kids while my sister and her husband escape for a few days annnnnnd introduce them to the dog.

Imagine the “But FIRST!” part in that cartoon guy announcer’s voice.

My parents are coming in town and staying with Mister and I next weekend. My mother wants to take me shopping for my birthday. We have an eighty pound German Shepherd in the house and my mother is afraid of... well, everything really. Small dogs scare her, large dogs scare her... birds... fish... air. (This is where I confess to really wanting a large rat to round out our household... but ferrets are more boneless and all around squishier, but smell worse. I can just see my mother. Handing her a ferret, “Here, hold this tube sock with eyes... “... and her reply? “Ew EW, gedditofffameeeee! Geddditoffamee!”)

So I loaded Zeke up into my car, Mister begged off of going because of said migraine headache thingy above... apologizing profusely for having a headache on my birthday. Poor guy. In what life did someone make him feel bad about something so stupid. I can just see his exwife, or mother... or some high maintenance girlfriend, “Hmmmmpff, you have a headache!?!?!? On MY BIRTHDAY!!!!?!!!? The nerve.”

Meanwhile, back in the storyline where I wasn’t going off track...

I got to my sister’s house like twenty-seven seconds later and Zeke and I popped out and went to the door. My mother and my niece answer, both with huge grins on their face and my niece starts calling Zeke and smiling at my mother and I. They stood back and Zeke walked in and went straight to the living room where my father and nephew were playing Wii. My dad was sitting on the floor and Zeke went and put his nose next to my father, my dad pushed his muzzle away gently saying, “Let’s not get to friendly too fast big boy.” So Zeke backed up and sat down then walked around sniffing.

My mother asked me to put him outside, so I did, with my niece following. She went out to play in her sandbox and my mother stood at the door... I am sure... just waiting for the dog to lunge at my three year old niece and have a mid afternoon snack of cuteness. My mother finally relaxed then tensed again. She called my niece inside and asked if we wanted a slice of cake. So I left Zeke outside and helped my mother with the cake.

Zeke marked a tree or two then came up to the sliding glass door and with my niece on one side and he on the other he wagged his tail and she pressed her whole body into the glass door, “Zeke, Zeke, Zeke... Zeke!” So I opened the door and he came inside. We all sat down at the table and had some cake. I asked Zeke to sit and then to lay down, he did as he was asked and then my niece wanted to talk to him.

She ignored her cake in favor of the dog. “Zeke, Zeke, Zeke... Zeke!”

This is the part where I tell you that my mother’s best friend when she was little was a German Shepherd named Jack. My mother was just telling me that Jack used to get in between her and her nanny, Rosie when my niece slipped out of her chair and came around the table to pet Zeke.

The first time my niece met Zeke she stepped on his hip, I think because she wanted to lay on him. Not out of malice. But that time, at the park, with her mother and father right there, Zeke gave her a “Woof!” as in, “Ow. That hurts, step off.” So she and most people under three feet tall make him a wee bit nervous.

After he barked at her that first time, she hugged him and he licked her hand. All forgiven.

In the kitchen yesterday she accidentally stepped on one of his back feet, he, of course, said, “Woof Woof!” and my niece backed up a step but then went to pet him again. My mother on the other hand grabbed the child from the floor and held her head to her breast like the demon dog (with no lower canines... he is old y’all. OLD.) was going to attack her grandchild.

The look on my mother’s face was pure terror. I picked up his leash and said, “Thank you for the cake, we’re gonna head out.” My mother told me to sit down and finish my cake. I sat. And she sat, with my niece in her lap, “Just don’t go next to the dog [niece], let’s just have our cake.” My niece? Quietly, “Zeke, Zeke, Zeke... Zeke!” She reached out a foot to him and he in turn gave her a paw. It was awesome. But my mother was terrified.

I shoveled a piece of cake into my face and tried to get out of there so quickly.

My mother insisted that I take the cake home. Just the day before she and my father both patted Mister and I approvingly on our smaller frames. “Well... You guys just look Great!” If this would have been a few months prior? My mother wouldn’t have tried to send the cake home with me. It’s weird how that shit happens.

I got Zeke on his leash and because (he is so incredibly menacing and blood thirsty for three year old little girls) I have to lift his old ass into and out of my little Chevy Equinox my father carried the cake out to my car for me, he put it in the passenger seat while I lifted Zeke into the back.

I told my dad thanks again for dinner and the cake and I went home. I got Zeke out of the back at home and then went to get the cake and my purse and keys out of the passenger seat. I tipped the cake and it fell, frosting first in between the front seats and into the console.

Awesome.

This was turning out to be a peach of a day.

The cat came and sat on my lap and Zeke put his head on my knee when I sat on the couch. It is almost as if they knew I was about to lose my shit. Mister looked up and asked, “So, how was it?” I mumbled something about a “Fucking Disaster” and then my face dissolved into a mess of hot tears and snot.

Mister came over and sat beside me and I had my three favorite boys all basically in my lap. The cat, the dog and my loving husband all trying to comfort me. I was trying to eloquently describe why it is so important to me that my parents like my dog. But all I came up with was, “Fuck it. Zeke is a part of our little family and... “ [hitching sob and then more crying].

I am a master at the English language.

I know on some level I was worried that my mother’s fear would instill fear into my niece, but my niece has no fear. She is a little warrior who loves tea parties and to shake her bootie. Maybe I am just so in love with this dog that it hurts MY feelings that my mother is irrational about how she feels towards a member of my family.

I had years of that when I was married to X. I knew how they felt, but I wanted to make it work. This? This is not a husband who will screw around on me and steal money. This? Is a dog. A sweet, gentle, kind, loving dog. He is big. But he is old.

Yes, yes, I know... “It only takes one time.” Whatever. It only takes one time for a lot of things, only one time to get pregnant, to get fired for doing a report the wrong way, to get hit by a drunk driver, to get pulled out by the rip tide... but Zeke hasn’t bitten my niece and he keeps giving her chances... chances to step on him, to love him, to be near him.

I’m going by there tonight to take my mother her gift for Mother’s Day, it didn’t come in until this morning. If she says one word about how scary Zeke is... or that they have decided not to come to the house next weekend. I guess I will just have to live with it.

I have the most random story to tell you people but I am waiting. Mister said it wouldn’t be smart to spew forth with my randomness all over the Internets for Google reaches far and wide. Kinda like the government. And string cheese. And my sister in her infinite wisdom doesn’t think anyone would give a shit to even Google said randomness.

Instead, let’s talk about Bob Segar. Lord, y’all... that man makes me swoon in the old fashioned style of a little bit of perspiration, back of the hand to the forehead, a little fanning with a church bulletin and an exclamation of “Oh my.” I don’t care who you are, what sex, age, race, creed, religion and or planetary obligation... but damn. Anything from “Hollywood Nights”, “Still The Same”, ”Turn The Page”... and Dear Miss Ethel [dabbing my forehead with a hanky]... “Come To Papa” is hot. HoTT. His music makes my blood a wee bit boil-y.

In the same music vein...

Mister, my sister, my brother in law and I went to a CF benefit concert on Saturday down in Deep Ellum. It was so pretty outside and there were so many bands playing. They put together a compilation CD with all proceeds going to Cystic Fibrosis and the door gave all the money to the cause and they did silk screen shirts and pictures. Lovie, El Gato and a frillion other bands contributed to make the night awesome.

I cried.

Once.

What? One of the dudes (singing type dude) from El Gato is in Polyphonic Spree now and the song they started off with was just beautiful. My sister was all, “There’s no crying in Club Dada!”

Have I waited long enough to tell y’all the randomness?

You all are aware that I am a bucket of crazy right? Yes? Yes. Okay. Just keep that in mind, deal?

Friday morning I came into the office and my boss asked me if she could talk to me about something, she hastened to add, “Totally unrelated to work.” I answered her, “But of course.” So she said something along the lines of, “I don’t know anything about jewelry and I want to buy my daughter and her teammates some earrings with a little letter on them because they made it to state.” So I went searching for silver stamped earrings.

Have I ever told you guys that I have a problem? I have a substance abuse problem. The substances are shoes, products, jewelry and makeup. Have I ever told y’all that certain sites are like porn to me? Sephora... Etsy... Mighty Goods... Zappos... Saks Fifth Avenue... Neiman Marcus... ah, the list, she is long.

Anyway, I have been rooting around on etsy for a while now and when this opportunity came up to find 5 pairs of silver stamped earrings (basically a custom order) for my boss I went ahead and signed up for an account. Bad mistake. I found so many things that I would love to have as my very own. Beautiful jewelry, art, pictures, accessories. Y’all? I need to stand up and say this, “Hello, my name is Susan and I am an addict... to Etsy*.”

*Please visit my main page and see the pretty little etsy favorites list I have going. Tell me about yours too. I’d love to see the pretty things you all love.

So, there I was, searching for the earrings and I was in contact with several jewelers. They were all so nice, available and had the prettiest things. One lady in particular was kind enough to do a little mock up of what she had in mind for the specs that I gave her. She nailed it spot on. My boss loved the idea and the mock up and the order was placed yesterday.

During my conversations with this nice lady (she was so professional and kind) I had a little light go on in my noggin. Let’s say her name is... Lisa. It’s totally not. But for this purpose it is. Let’s also say that she is married to a dude named Larry. So in my noggin I am all, “Lisa... Lisa... hmmm... Lisa Gibson. Lisa... Gibson, I totally know that name.” I clicked on her profile to see where she was. She’s on the west coast. The Lisa Gibson I know is on the west coast. Well, one of the Lisa Gibson’s I know... but that is beside the point.

So I decided to search for her husband, Larry... Larry Gibson. Again, NOT his real name. I find Larry’s website and there’s a picture. Yup, it’s Larry... and on his links site there is a link back to her site at Etsy. It says something like, “Lovely designs by a Beautiful Woman.” Yep. Lisa and Larry Gibson. Totally married. And I? Went to their wedding.

Okay. Back up.

Do you all remember This Guy?

Notice how his name is Mike Gibson?

Yeah?... Yeah.

So... Lisa is Mike’s sister in law. I just ordered jewelry from her. During our conversations, when I realized that I knew who I was talking to (after Googling her husband and seeing the links and pictures and Dear Lord, my brain about exploded), I actually put a PS in one of the conversations. It was this, “PS... I think I attended your wedding.”

Why?

BECAUSE I am a complete asshole... And AND I forgot that I was using suzannd as my Etsy sign in name AND my email link is suzanna.danna@gmail.com AND AND AND I forgot that in my last entry as I was talking about orgasms, as I am want to do... I admitted (see the bottom of the page) that I totally faked it with Mike.

She never mentioned a word about my comment on attending her wedding. So, who knows if she knows who I am. It totally doesn’t matter this many years later. But how random is that shit?

Lord.

But she has really pretty jewelry. Totally NOT linking to her though.

I believe that I was completely off about the whole “barely being 20” thing in the story of Sue and Jay Go To Austin (go back a few entries). I had to have been “barely 21” that May. You know how I know this*? Well, dear reader, it is because that very November I started dating this charming redneck... after all, Jay and I had not had the “we’re exclusive” talk. Right? Right. Hush and leave me to my rationalization. It totally works.

I ended up marrying that redneck about a year later when I was 22 (aside to Notify Lister’s... I know... I KNOW... I mean, what the fuck was I thinking?) and said redneck took great pride in thinking he stole me away from Jay.

But not before I took Jay on one last trip.

Let me back up. I’m going to drop all of the Sue said this... Jay said this shit and just tell you about our little whirlwind courtship.

After our little trip to Austin we would see each other around, go out every once in a while, call one another to come over, which was code for “my roommates are out for the night, we have privacy... hurry.” or do what we did best... take little road trips.

I can remember several. Here is one of my favorites.

One evening Jay called and asked me if I had plans for the weekend, I said that I didn’t (except for the normal drunken debauchery with my friends) and he asked me if I would go to Houston with him. I agreed and as a little inside joke asked him if I should pack anything special. He said no, but then said something along the lines of, “We have plans for Friday evening and Saturday afternoon and evening. Actually, would you bring a dress? I want to take you to one of my favorite restaurants in Houston.” I agreed and actually packed the brown sundress. (Am Smart.)

We left and drove down Friday afternoon. When I asked where we were going he said it was a surprise. I followed his directions and ended up somewhere just outside of downtown Houston in a parking lot. We parked and then walked around the side of a building to see this massive expanse of cars and... Oooh! A Big Top was planted right in the middle of everything. THE Big Top actually. The circus was the surprise, Awwww!

I lurve circuses, I love animals, balloons, popcorn and cotton candy, the excitement of the trapeze acts and the chaos of it all.

Except for the whole clown thing, circuses are 2nd in line only to my love for amusement parks and roller coasters.

Clowns... eeeesh.

So we walked up and Jay produced two tickets that he had purchased in advance and we went into the circus. We had cotton candy and popcorn and enjoyed the show. It was one of the sweetest gestures because I had just mentioned that I loved the circus in passing and this man brought me to Houston for the circus!

Jay also had another surprise (among many).

Saturday morning he asked me if I would mind stopping by his parents’ house for before we did anything else. What was I going to say, “NO! I Hate people. Especially parents... gah.” When in fact I love parents and for some reason I always make a fantastic impression.

Side Note: Mister’s parents’ excluded because his mom; within twenty minutes of meeting me; was all, “Susan? Will you join me in the cafeteria of the hospital?” Then in the cafeteria, “So, Susan... tell me about your testimony.” “...Um. ...!?” Then I faked a seizure.

So... I said sure to Jay, and we got ready and headed to his parents’ house.

We drove into a very nice neighborhood and pulled up to a pretty house that looked similar to the home that I grew up in. We got out of the car and went to the door. Jay walked in and held the door for me and then his parents came out of the kitchen to greet us. They were very sweet and his mother and I talked easily while his father told Jay that his brother was in town. They offered us lunch but Jay said that we had other plans and that we’d come back in a few weeks and go to lunch with them if that was alright. They agreed and we all said our goodbyes.

Back in the car Jay said, “They like you.” “Why wouldn’t they?” If that were now, I would have added...”I’m awesome.” But I hadn’t yet refined confident sarcasm at that point.

This is where it gets fuzzy, and let me tell you why. There were multiple trips to Houston. On one trip I think I was staying with LuLu and her family and somewhere during the weekend Jay and Jason (his buddy) came to get us to go dancing. And another time (or the same time?... I just don’t know!) we all ended up going to Galveston and swimming in the gulf, then sleeping in my car and in the morning I bathed in a handicap sink at the Burger King bathroom in Texas City. Am polished and very ladylike.

That evening after meeting Jay’s parents we went back downtown to the Hilton (Holiday Inn?) in which we were staying. I took a shower first and while Jay was taking his shower I dressed in my little brown sundress and put minimal make up on. I was excited about a little surprise I had planned. I slid some thigh high nude stockings on and fastened them to a garter belt I had from my years working at Victoria’s Secret... and that is all I put on under my pretty sundress. I slid on the croc pumps, put my license, some cash and some lip gloss in the small brown purse I brought for the occasion and was ready by the time Jay got done with his shower.

He stepped out of the bathroom and began to dress. He was very complimentary about my outfit. I thought I was so sneaky and felt incredibly sexy with my little secret so when we went downstairs and walked out the front door, down a block, turned a corner and then entered into the restaurant that Jay had said was one of his favorites I was very relaxed and looking forward to a nice meal.

It was an Italian place and the maître d' and sommelier knew Jay by name. The maître d' sat us next to the window in this beautiful area and before he left us to the waiter he mentioned that Jay’s brother and a group were there as well. Jay excused himself and said he needed to go say hello to his brother. I sat and took in the surroundings. It was beautiful, very ultra modern and sleek. I looked over the menu and decided to let Jay order for me. He returned with an apology and a sweet kiss on my temple.

He ordered a bottle of water for me and a glass of red wine for himself. When I told him that I would like him to order for me his face lit up and he said, “I have the perfect thing!” When the waiter came around he ordered the house salad and the seafood linguine for both of us and asked the waiter to surprise us with dessert. Then he sat back and sipped his wine with a small smile on his face.

I always felt so grown up around Jay. We may have played, joked and kidded around, but he wasn’t like the other boys that I had dated before, nor was he like anyone in the small town where we lived. He had professed that he had a crush on me for many months and we spent as much time together when we could but I really appreciated that he didn’t try to take over all of my time. He was busy, I was busy. We saw each other when we could but there were no restrictions.

To be perfectly honest, I loved it and hated it at the same time.

When our dinner came I looked down at the seafood linguine and was surprised to see teeny little octopi with their little tentacles all curled up in the red sauce. I asked Jay what about this dish was his favorite part and he speared one off of his plate and fed it to me saying, “This part.” When he put the little octopus in my mouth and I started chewing it I was both pleased and very surprised by the taste and texture of it. The food was delicious. Absolutely amazing. The bread was fresh, the salads were crisp, the entrees were incredible and the crème brûlée was perfect.

After we finished our meal Jay ordered another glass of wine for himself and a beer for me. We sat there talking for a while and I couldn’t contain my secret any longer. I had my legs crossed and we had been sitting hip to hip, I turned my knees towards him and took his hand under the table. I led his fingers in unbuttoning the croc buttons that ran up my left leg of the sundress. He unbuttoned four of the buttons and then lightly pushed the linen of the dress to either side and then ran his finger under the top of my stocking. His eyes twinkled and he moved his hand over the top of my thigh finding the garter belt fastener, grinning he asked what else did I have on under the sundress. I motioned for him to lean closer so I could whisper something in his ear. When he did and I said, “Nothing.” And bit his earlobe gently.

He buttoned the slit in my dress and called for the check.

After he paid, he took my hand to help me from the table and then we walked over to say goodbye to his brother. His brother asked us to stay and Jay just said, “No thank you.” And with his hand at the small of my back he guided me to the door.

We walked back to the hotel and when we got back up to the room he unzipped the sundress and pulled it over my head while I stood in the middle of the room. I didn’t feel self conscience or fat when Jay looked at me, so... when he said that he just wanted to take me in for a moment I didn’t cover my breasts or my little belly, I stood there in heels, thigh high stockings, a black garter belt and pearl earrings and let him look.

MISSING REEL

I can’t really tell you guys all of that evening, it’s mine. But, in homage to Jay’s prowess I will just admit that I broke a headboard off of the wall in the hotel room that night. Oh, and one word. Oral.

Since there were no restrictions on our relationship and we had never had the “we’re exclusive” talk we just spent time with one another when we could.

One time in a very sweet move Jay and Jason drove me to a rendezvous point to meet up with my sister and her boyfriend (now husband) so he (the boyfriend, now brother in law) could drive my sister and I to Georgia when our grandfather passed.

There was a man that I was sort of seeing (redneck mentioned in second paragraph above) and he and Jay both knew of one another. I wasn’t sleeping with anyone but Jay but I had a wedding to go to. Redneck offered to let me use his truck for the trip to Sherman, TX. I had a car and never asked to use the truck, so him offering was totally out of the blue. I asked him if he was absolutely sure. He said, “Absofuckinglutely.” I think he was expecting me to ask him to accompany me to the wedding. He said that he was just being a nice guy. So I took the offer, and took Jay to the wedding... in redneck’s truck.

Heh.

Redneck stepped up his game and actually sent me a dozen peach colored roses while he was away hunting in South Texas. Sending a chick flowers while you are hunting? Learn the lesson of the jedi youngsters. I don’t know about y’all... but damn, that got my attention.

I always say that everyone has a “what if’ person. I never have admitted to anyone, including myself (seriously, like just now... right this very second) that Jay may have been my “what if” person. What if redneck hadn’t sent the flowers? What if Jay had asked me to be exclusive? What if I had never married the redneck?

Le sigh... after all of this stuff I went through about 4 phone calls to find out how to spell Jay’s last name. I found out that he didn’t graduate until a few years after I did. He was older than I was and definitely more mature. I got my first job offer guess where? In Houston. They offered me over 40K in salary. In 1994 that was big money to me. But you all know what I did... right? I turned down the job and married the redneck on the same day I graduated. And when I left.... five or six years later? I was making 21.5K. Boy howdy. Them’s some big bucks.

::eyeroll::

In looking for Jay online I found this collection of pictures that make me want to cry. I got to the part of the slideshow with Christmas 2007 and that tree lit up like it had Spanish moss in icicle lights and had to close the window. Damn.

So... “what if” huh? I know I wouldn’t have learned the lessons that I did... nor would I be the person I am today. I wouldn’t be as strong as I am or have the fucking material to write this bullshit. And the biggest thing is that I probably wouldn’t have met Mister and that in itself would be a tragedy.

*Also, hi... had my first big O when I was 21**. Totally with Jay, that night. You’d think I’d remember how old I was.
**21? Sad right? Yeah. Oh and hey... Mike Gibson? I totally faked it.

Well, I guess I should actually call this, “My issues, let us discuss them.” Alrighty. Here we go. Annnny moment now. Okay... GO.

I have to work myself up for this... because. Well, because I am sad. I would rather be writing tawdry stories about stuff I did back when I was hot and invincible (and incredibly stupid, naïve and irresponsible), but nooooooo... Reality. She is a bitch.

I’ll get back to the fun stuff later. I still owe you guys a circus story. And how Jay took me home to meet his family (?) and other such nonsense.

But now? Okay, here we go. Do you guys remember back in this ranty entry and the two entries that followed? Yes? I have conveniently added links for you if you would like to refresh your memory. If not. It goes like this. Don’t want to have babies, you can’t make me... want to have procedure done to prevent pregnancy, am sick of hormones, procedure doesn’t work... woe.

From the top part of this entry... after... AFTER (!) all of that mess from the links above:

At the consultation my issue de jour was, “Um... you know how you guys burned off the lining to my uterus? Well, see, here’s the issue, I have a Super Uterus and it regenerates. I have been having my cycle since last year about August-ish. What can we do to shut ‘er down? I wanted a tubal ligation and a side order of ablation to cut off the babymakin at the pass, see? And all I got was a lousy hospital bill and a regenerating uterus.”
I was nicer and probably a bit more eloquent than that, but y’all get the point.
[Gyno Guy] scheduled me for another “procedure” for 3/28/08 and he was pretty cool about it even when he said, “I can’t promise that this will work. From your HSG it looks like there is no blockage, so it should be okay, but if it doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out.”
This SO better work.

So... you are up to speed, yes? Good.

Well, yeah. Guess what didn’t work?

And now? If you just mention the word menstruation around me I have a period. And if I get like 80 comments with just the word “Menstruation” I am going to pout and then.... I am going to type up long rambling entries about my dreams. Fair warning, deal?

I have been spotting since the 28th and I am starting to get pissed. Not only was Gyno Guy unsuccessful in his attempts to render me barren but now I have to worry about what panties I wear... all the time.

Also? ALSO? (Very caps locky... bear with me.) The first time when Gyno Guy couldn’t do the tubal ligation he had Mister tell me the surgery was unsuccessful. On the 28th? Yep, it was my dear sweet husband who was the one to tell me that the procedure was a failure when I came out of the twilight anesthesia.

By the way, that shit? The twilight anesthesia... Rocks. No vomiting. Just knocked out... annnnnd we’re back.

Do y’all know what it is like to have had this little termite thought in the back of your mind since you lost your virginity saying, “What if you get pregnant?!? OMG, WHAT IFFFFFFF!?” Just back there chewing away at your relaxation, your warmth, your sexuality!? I will say this one more time. Getting pregnant (tubal... May 1997... resulting in c-section, for those of you who don’t follow links) when I was on two forms of birth control and having several “scares” before and after that happened will really fuck with you.

I am a 35 year old happily married woman. I have healthy desires and appetites (as most of you know from my stories and because I talk like a sailor)... but think about it in this context; you really want a steak. A big juicy perfectly cooked (medium rare) steak. You have been denying yourself said steak because of your... cholesterol or because you are Ramen noodle poor or because you have a guilty conscience because it is a cow or whatthefuckever. But... BUT, you finally are served a steak. The exact one you have been dreaming about. You start eating the steak. Mmmmmmm good. Good steak. Love the steak, want more steak (harder, faster... shut up) and then the little thought pops up like a maggot in your perfectly cooked steak.

What would that do for your appetite? Hmmm?

I would like maggot free steak please.

Or to be a little bit more... oh, hey, can you hand me that stick? I need to beat this dead horse... relaxed, a little less skreechy (in my head... because in person I am not this much of a harpy... or I would like to think), a little more spontaneous, a little less “Wait! What about the full body condoms, the spermicidal jelly, the sponge, the IUD and for God’s sake, PULL OUT!”*, and definitely more able to enjoy the fruits of my labor... if you know what I mean. And I think you do**.

*Ah, memories of high school***. How sweet.
**Mangos
***And my first marriage.****
****That boy was a certifiable dirty leg.

Enough. You know too much. I must keel you.

///////

Edited To Add @ 8:23 p.m.

To clarify for my darling Melinda… and for sweet Sil who called my cell a few short moments ago all sorts of confused…

The Essure procedure (where they implant little metal coils into your tubes – your body is (in theory) supposed to scar over the coils thereby rendering your tubes impassable… ergo no eggs delivered to the uterus) is what I was supposed to have done on the 28th of March.

When Gyno Guy got in there to take a look around he found that everything was ablated. Scarred over, he couldn’t even find my lil tubes.

Next step? Another HSG to find out if the tubes are open… they were last April. Now? I dunno.

Again, woe.

Sorry I didn’t make myself clear earlier, I thought you guys could read minds.

I am bound and determined (is that the right phrase?) by law of siblinghood (even if we’re not “technically” brother and sister... what? Shut up.) to give to you this link of a video that Brian shot for Adrenaline Factor in Austin a few weeks ago.

(timpani)

Click here to watch and listen to Adrenaline Factor’s video for what Brian calls “my song”... appropriately named Boozin’ Susan. According to Brian, his favorite line is, "She's got a half-crazed bloodshot eye on you!" Thank you dear brother.
All credits for video and sound go to Brian and his partner, Mark at Blitzkrieg Media and Promotion.

Two more things.

Thing numero uno: I have a date with my loving husband tonight and he is picking me up at the office in 45 minutes. A date. On a Tuesday. How lovingly random. ::smile::

Thing numero dos: LuLu called me the other night after reading about Jay and the trip to Austin. Apparently I had a few tense and phrase slips and it was completely obvious that I was not telling a story of fiction. [gasp!] “What!? I don’t believe it!” Well, it is true. She nailed me on it and was all... “Which Jay is this guy?” Like I was the whore of Babylon (Shoooosh!!) who had too many partners for her to keep up with. I answered her, “Do you know my favorite picture of us hugging in your parent’s living room?” She answered, “Yep.” Well, Jay and his friend Jason were there that night.” “At MY house?”she asked me. “Yep.” “I wanna see the other pictures then.” She demanded. And I obliged.

I don’t know how long I will leave this picture up, but here you go. And if you know any of these people and they are not me... please, PLEASE do not direct them to this site. Or at least give me a heads up first.

Deal?

Oh, and one for the road.

Thingy numero tres: Here is another picture I found. See that chick on the left? She is the esteemed Kelly that gave Jay and I the 4th of July suggestion in the first place and almost broke her vagina in this charming tale.

Editor’s note: Please make sure you click on the link at the bottom of said post.... and also, pay no attention to the fucked up formatting. Haven’t gotten that far yet.

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