July 31, 2015

Really Bro?

Last night after having dinner with Stacey* we were riding home and the following conversation took place:
Stacey: OhMaGuh, I am so incredibly full.
Me: No kidding, I had, at least, three enchiladas.
Stacey: It’s a good thing I am wearing stretchy pants.
Me: It’s a good thing I am wearing pajama jeans.

Bringing the sexy back, one pair of stretchy pants and a bonus pair of Pajama Jeans at a time.

*Stacey and I have a standing date so we can try to keep caught up in each other’s lives. Normally we fluctuate a day (week) or two at a time, but we do try.

Did y’all notice that my site was missing in action for about three months? No?

To be honest, me either.

Story time.

Remember last time how I told y’all about trying dating sites while I was (incorrectly and stupidly) single earlier this year? Oh yes. I did. I tried them all.

I was on Match.com for an hour or two when this seemingly nice young man messaged me.

Well, hello cutie.


Yes, I am single, no, I can’t believe it either. I’m a catch, I KNOW… Right?

We texted for a bit and then he asked me to go to Yahoo messenger. Weird, but ok, whatever. Pics? I have 4 uploaded to Match.

Oh, here are many of your own?.. H’ok.



You’re quite adorable. And your daughter’s name is… Joy? Very nice.

So he gave me the background on himself. He was widowed almost six years prior. His bride had passed in the hospital giving birth to their daughter. He was a Frenchman living in North Dakota, he had gone to University in Paris, he was a single father and had a business as a general contractor. He had a dog. He wanted to talk on the phone.

Ok. All good and fine.

He wanted to talk all the damn time. He was pretty hot and heavy pretty fast. I was just testing the waters…. So when he told me he had feelings for me, I replied with, “As long as they are not murderous in nature, we’ll be ok.” I clearly did not know how to handle someone who wanted to be in my back pocket 24/7.

We talked after work. Normally later in the evening. He had stuff he had to do after work, and that was normally feeding and spending time with his daughter, he would call me after he put her to bed.

We would talk about our day, he asked me where I worked. I told him.

A dozen red roses? What is this?.. A Nicolas Sparks Novel?

Nom, chocolate. Now you are speaking my language.

No. What?... You may see this as sweet. I? Am emotionally broken and see this as "RUN AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

These showed up one day at the office. I was the envy of most of the girls in the office. However, I was not feeling it. It felt too pushy, it felt too fast, it felt weird. I chalked that up to him not being Nugget. I was used to Nugget, I missed Nugget, I wanted nothing but Nugget, and my relaxed attitude towards Terry seemed to only fuel his fire.

His fire… freaked me the fuck out.

I went to Green Bay for Weetacon. And while there I showed the texts to some friends. We were all sitting around a table in the bar at St. Brendan’s Inn when a particular text came though that spurred me to reply, “Sir, you need to seriously slow your roll.”

When that didn’t faze Terry I asked for help. Trish took the phone and laid it out a little harsher than I had. Terry didn’t get the hint.

He just kept comin.

He swore he loved me. He wanted me to be his woman. Yes, he said, “Susan, I want you to be my woman.”



I was not vested in this false relationship at all. I had never met him. It wasn’t real to me.

When I got home from Weetacon I was really asking him, “Are you a 68 year old truck driver from Detroit named Bruce?” He would reply, “I am who I say I am, I have nothing to hide.”

My inner sceptic snorted derisively and chortled, “Oh, really.” And then I unleashed the hounds. The hounds, in this instance, are my intincts to Google Search that fucker to death.


Guess what I found? Click for Report on Romance Scams

Oh, hello CATFISHER!


Apparently he had been asking for money from various “girlfriends” on dating sites for years.

Really Bro?

You lost money on this roll of the dice. And I got some flowers and to stuff chocolate in my face.


March 31, 2015

Stupid Girl

Last time we spoke, I was full of fury and vengeance thinking that it would only be a matter of time until we could really start planning our future. I wanted Nugget to pick me. I wanted us to begin a life where he was my priority and I was his. Where we had a budget and I got to sleep next to his soft skin every night. If not by the first of the year, then definitely planning on something in the near future.

My mother and father, bless their hearts, tried talking me out of it. Even as late as Christmas Eve afternoon. “Susan, why would you force this issue?” My father asked me. He continued, “You know I would basically tell someone to get bent if this kind of pressure was put on me*. But then again, I am not the kind of man you give an ultimatum.” The ‘you and I are cut from the same cloth’ was left unsaid as he raised an eyebrow at me. My mother, never one to mince words remarked, “Susan, I think you are speaking out of both sides of your mouth. You want him to commit to some 24/7 kind of relationship, yet you want to go and do exactly as you please.”

*I am paraphrasing this sentence. He is not the kind of man to say “Get Bent”.

Oh, dear readers, Nugget made his decision. He did it. He really did it.

It was inevitable.

He chose not to move forward, he wasn’t ready. And because I was “respecting his decision” I broke up with him. I helped him pack up his things and I walked him out to his car. I closed the door behind him and slumped to the floor.

It barely took twenty minutes to crush the love and laughter of four and a half years.

I did it. I let him go. I was so sure of my righteousness. So sure that it was the absolute correct thing to do.

I was wrong. Oh Lord, so very wrong. I am a stupid, stupid girl.


I tried to make the best of the situation. I’ve been going to Houston almost every weekend to spend time with Marly. I signed up for all of the dating sites. Yes, All of them. I signed up for Match.com, E-Harmony even FarmersOnly. I paid money that I am barely able to afford on the promise that I had to find my mate. I made profiles and answered a bajillion questions. I uploaded pictures and sent smiles and winks. I worked it.

I worked it for about a month. Maybe less. I am not cut out for all of those sites, the energy it takes to answer emails and sent texts and smiles. But I was convinced that this was what I was supposed to do. Most of the men that I was matched or paired with were very nice. I do have a story on this, but more on it later. This is more about my realization that I am not meant for that kind of gauntlet. I am a one man kind of lady, I have all of the energy in the land to spend on one guy, but all of those sites… it was like trying to date seven guys at once. Not very practical.

I made my profiles inactive very early in.

I had to admit to myself that I was wrong in letting Nugget go. I was wrong for trying to force him to make a decision where I thought I would come out the victor. I was wrong to think I could just move on like that *snap*. Everything in my head still, to this day whispers his name. My phone… something that is normally no further than 10 feet from my person at any time, was a gift from him. My bracelets that I wear every day… I had to take off one of the Pandora bracelets, as it was filled with memories of him and our time together. My apartment… my television, my headboard, my bicycle, my patio furniture, some sandals, my apple TV, some of my art, MY CAT… everywhere I looked there was a reminder of Nugget. Pictures on FaceBook. The favorites list in my car stereo, my garage remote, my cat’s favorite toy that he drags around like a toddler… that is from Nugget too.

I had better luck getting over my ex-husband than I was having moving on from Nugget.

He was my friend. We spent so much time together and grew up together … we were together before I was 40, we got together when we were both 38. And now, we are turning 43 in May. Everything from memories to present moments fairly chants “Nug-get, Nug-get.” When I would have an amazing day at work, I would call a girlfriend or my parents or my sister…. But I still really want to call Nugget.

I held out for a month. And then I called him and left him a voicemail. It wasn’t anything big, more along the lines of, “Hey, I just wanted to hear your voice, I haven't heard from you in over a month, just wanted to say hello. Have a good day. Bye.” He responded, in like a day, with an email. I wrote, and he replied. I sent him a text asking if I could add him back on FB, he replied, “Certainly.” We corresponded, via email, via text and then a few weeks ago, I asked him if I could see him. We then got together for dinner. We went to one of our favorite places, and unbeknownst to them, they put us in our favorite booth. Since then, we have seen each other twice more. And we text daily.

I want him back and I am prepared to be patient (not my strongest virtue) with him on the timing. Our weirdness compliments each other. His limitations with time match up to my independence and need for downtime on the patio. My mother was and is right, I do not want someone underfoot all of the time.

I know I broke his heart and he is kind of skittish about the whole thing. I broke this, I will try and fix it.

Wish me luck.

December 4, 2014

December 5th, 2014 - catchy title, AMIRIGHT!!?!?!!?

It was brought to my attention (and not for the first time) on Tuesday that I have been neglecting Suzannadanna.net. This may be true.

Hell, I know it is true.

Quick update on things and then I will tell y’all a story. Or something.

Ok, so the last time we spoke, Marly had just been in a big ol’ wreck. Her finger healed and she got a new car, but before she had a chance to drive the new vehicle the pain in her shoulder and back were so bad, she also lost movement in her legs and she would fall. She almost gave herself a concussion when falling so they took her to the ER, ran a battery of tests including a spinal tap and found cancer cells in her spinal and cranial fluid.

She was immediately transferred to MD Anderson and began to fight and fight hard. She completed her chemo (Methotrexate ect.) at the end of October (the 26th) and she rang the bell as we rolled her out of there. She and her family; and her amazing boyfriend, Will; have decided to move forward with a stem cell transplant therapy. She should be done by the end of January and then my next goal for her is to get her butt in the sand with a drink in her hand. She has been fighting for so long. I know she must be exhausted, but she is still so positive and such a light.

I love that woman.

I am still working contract for a staffing company, but I have been at my current position since June (or July… whatever) and I really like it here. We just went through a huge merger and everything is on hold. I would like to go permanent. We’ll see. Also; mama needs insurance and a 401K. I rolled over my previous 401K into an IRA and was amazed at the nice chunk of cash that I have waiting for my retirement. I feel like I am wasting money not having a 401K option in place. I want benefits like whoa.

Boo is still an asshole, but he is so adorable that I want to eat him up like a macaroon. I know he is just young and I am SO NOT used to handling the kitten aspect. Max was such a well-behaved gentleman. Boo still loves to fetch and he will talk to you as if he is people. I want to snuggle the little bastard at night, but every damn time… 4 o’clock in the AM “Meow? Meow? Meow? *Commences to trying to pull pictures off the walls and succeeding in making me VERY UNPOPULAR with my next door neighbor* Meow? MEEEEEEEERRRRROOOOOWWWW???!!!!”… It is not time to play. Stop being a dick, cat.

I don’t know if this is time for a story, I think I need to keep updating y’all on stuff.

Let’s talk about Kerry.
This is a doozie.

So, a few years ago (bear with me, I’ll get there) I posted something adorable and kind of sweetly disgusting on FB to Nugget’s wall. Or he posted something to mine. More than likely, I was the poster. But it was basically, “I think you’re pretty neato, and there is a celebration in my knickers, and you’re invited… Yo.” While neither of us have ever selected the “Relationship Status” bar thing and tagged one another, the people who matter, know that we are together. And they were all, “How adorable!” “Good for y’all.” And the like. Kerry pipes in, “That makes me throw up in my mouth.” Allllllrighty then.


So I asked her about it. She said she was kidding, yadda yadda yadda. I told her that I saw it as negative, and that it rather hurt my feelings. I asked her not to do that again. No big.

Cut to the first part of August. Nugget and I were out to dinner. I posted, “I gave you my bacon.” On FB. Most people understood that, as a fat girl who loves her bacon, this was akin to flowers or something highly regarded. I gave him bacon. Pretty high favor, yes? So people posted, “Wow, he must be doing something right!” And shit like that. Kerry? Posts: “Gross.”

So I tried to let it go, assuming she was kidding. The longer it sat there, the more it got under my bonnet. I am not one to bury feelings. I am too old to play games, and have drama, so I asked her if we could get together to talk. She asked me what about so, like an idiot, I went ahead and told her over text that my feelings were hurt, as she was negative on my FB feed about Nugget and I.

She has a right to her opinion. If she didn’t like me, or didn’t like him. Or… if she didn’t like us together… that’s fine. But keep the negative stuff off FB. It’s just rude.

To take it out of context, it seems trivial. But to know that she and I had discussed the negativity factor, more than once, and that I thought there was no need for that kind of thing, “If you can’t say something nice…” and all of that … it just …. It hurt my feelings.

So, I told her that it did.

She? Lost her shit and broke up with me.


Seriously, “I cannot continue our friendship right now,” She says.

I replied, “As you wish.”

Things went downhill from there. We got together the next week to try to talk it out. It…it just got ugly. I was in the wrong at least twice in that discussion. First, I raised my voice to her in her own home. I was trying to get the fact across to her that I found it absurd that I told her that my feeling s were hurt and she, in turn, broke off our friendship. And, second, I told her to her face that I thought she as a negative person. That really hurt her feelings.

I sent a happy birthday text a few weeks later and told her that I had been thinking a lot about her. She replied, “That’s good to know.” So. I guess that’s it, almost twenty-five years of friendship down the tube because I told her she hurt my feelings.

I’m sure that the issue is/was not about me, that something else is most likely going on. Or was going on. Yes, tensions were high. All of the Kerr Krew was (and still is) on high alert for Marly. But I just can’t fathom a reason for someone to be negative when it seemed that she had to go out of her way to do it.

I know I am not blameless in this situation. Maybe I am too sensitive to her negativity where Nugget is concerned. Oh well.

Speaking of Nugget:

H’okay. He and I have been together since August 27th, 2010. That is over four years. FOUR YEARS. Four years and I am still just a 12-hour a week girlfriend. So a few months back I told him that he had until January 2nd to decide if he wanted me, or to continue to live his life for his mother and sister.

I think he kind of doesn’t listen because he has not made one little sway one way or the other, in turn…I sent him this little email in November..

Cut and Pasted for your approval. Also, I am lazy.

Dearest [Nugget], I am thankful for you. You are an amazing man. You are sweet, kind, and thoughtful. I appreciate that you are affectionate and for the most part, a very positive person.

You are ambitious and aware. You are smart and funny. You are handsome and musical.
These are all things that I find very attractive.

Over the past few years I have let down my guard and let you into my heart. It is a frightening thing to do, as I am sure you are aware. I didn’t want to love you. But here I am.

I do still have a small stiff arm up, keeping a bit of my heart on reserve because I don’t know if you will ever really be mine. I know that when you hear me say stuff like;
“You are on point to make a decision, a big decision, and it must be made by January 2nd, 2015. You need to decide if you want to be with me or choose another route.”

You may just hear Charlie Brown’s teacher, “Wah wah wah wah wahwahahaaaaahaawaaa.” It may just be noise to you because I have not stuck to my guns in the past.

An example. Last year, December, when I asked you if you wanted to make things work. You said, yes, definitely, and then I said, “Chris, the thing I need to make this work, is one night a week, for you to stay with me (above and beyond our normal Wed/Saturday routine). Can you do that?” You replied, “Yes.” I asked you if I was asking too much. You said that I was not.

Guess who hasn’t gotten the time she has asked for? Yet again, I am accepting disrespect from you because it is easier than being without you. (Read that last sentence again. You may not see it as disrespect, but I assure you, it is.) This will not do. And it is also why I am asking you to make the decision to either be my life partner, or move on. This is your decision. And I will stick by it.

This is ridiculous, Chris.

I deserve more, and you may not be able to give it to me. Let me rephrase that. You may not want to accept that there would be changes to be made to your current lifestyle if you agreed to be a life partner. So think long and hard on what your answer is.

The other day when you told me that you wanted to, “Love you[me] as much as possible.” I wanted to scream a little, in frustration. That is a very vague answer. And to be honest it doesn’t mean a thing. Not one little thing. Time and action speak louder than this weak sauce you have been serving me for a long time.

You are finding push back in your home when I ask you to spend holidays with me. That is totally expected when you don’t have your own life. You haven’t carved one out for yourself and even with a four year relationship, and you being a grown man, we must basically tip toe around to be together, or to find time.

In what way is any of this normal?

I tried to convince myself it was ok. And it was ok. Until it wasn’t.

I may be a two time divorcee, I may be a cute fat girl, I may be a little aggressive and have a tattoo and piercings, but you chased me. Until you caught me and then you were done with growing our relationship.

That’s bullshit.

I have put quite a bit of time, heart and effort into you [full name], and I don’t want you to give up on me.

I’m not asking for you to get down on one knee** or anything, but moving forward would require a big change. Living together, planning weekends and holidays with each other’s families. Sharing a budget, sharing more than just 12 inconsecutive hours a week.
I’m not kidding.

With love and affection,

**if that is something that you never want to do, let me know now, because I think that I may want to marry again, someday.

So, yeah. I do hope that he choses me over the current son-husband thing he has going on. But if he doesn’t, (which, why wouldn’t he?) then I will just move on. It will be sad, but I do deserve to have a life partner. I’m not so much all about the married thing, but having a life partner is a massive goal. One that I think is tougher than just being married.

More later.


June 30, 2014

Long Time, No See

Hidee Ho, neighbors.

I hope all is well with you. I hope that your A/C works, your bras’ underwire isn’t pokey, your balls aren’t sticking to your leg, you have a regular pay check, your teeth are white and shiny, your water bill isn’t all that high and that your vegetables are crispy, as they should be.

I can’t even remember the last time we spoke.

The following things have happened.

People have died.
People have been sick.
People have been well.
Trips have been taken.
New jobs have been found.
New jobs have been lost.
Moves have been started and completed.
The cat has been an asshole.

Let’s start with Marly. My gorgeous girlfriend has been fighting a battle since right after Thanksgiving last year. After suffering gallantly through several rounds of antibiotics and steroids last fall, her doctor decided to remove her tonsils. He performed the operation the day before Thanksgiving… she said that the pain was worse than childbirth.

That next Monday, he called and asked her to come into the office.

She had stage three, small B cell Lymphoma.

Chemo was started within the week. She went through months of chemo. Then weeks of radiation.

According to her latest PET scan and there is no cancer in her body.

Four weeks ago, she woke up with the right side of her face paralyzed. Then it moved to her left side and they diagnosed her with bilateral bels palsy. Not to be outdone, she has been braving though that as well.

Then the Friday before last, a man ran a red light at an intersection in Houston and Marly t-boned him, and her car is totaled. She broke her left pinky and that same bone in her hand. The bruises from the wreck have left her abdomen and sternum black. Not black and blue… BLACK. The gas charged explosion from the seatbelts (thank God they worked) that pulled her back into her seat at moment of impact have caused severe bruising, swelling, pain and abdominal trauma.

She’s so happy to be alive.

But kind of over all of this shit.

I don’t blame her one bit.

Dre’s wife passed away on December 20th. He’s doing very well. I’ll tell him you asked about him.

I didn’t go to Weetacon this year. Yeah, I don’t know what was wrong with me either. I just couldn’t muster up the cash and the vacation time to go. I missed it, but relaxed with my Kerr Krew girls at the get together the weekend before Weetacon.

My blog turned 11 this year.


March was interesting. I was hired by a company that was like, “Hey! We love you! Here is a pile of cash, and check out this benefits package, HUBBA HUBBA, right!!!?!?!!?!?” So I left my job of like a decade and some months to follow the greener pastures. I was kicking ass and taking names, “You’re name is… Hector? Ok, prepare for me to kick your ass.”

I was working on several projects at once. Producing webinars, writing processes, planning board meetings and conferences, fixing the website… preparing for the conference and the registration that went with said conference to go live, you know. Work stuff. When on the last day of April they called me in and let me go.

Wait, what?

Many of my projects went live on May 1st.

Either they just needed a short timer who was fully invested and didn’t divulge that the job was short time, or I reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally fucked up somewhere. Since I wasn’t told, “Hey, yeah, NO… that is NOT how we do things around here.” I figure that the short time scenario is most probable.

So I was let go.

My feelings were WAY hurt, I totally took it personally and was very sad. I had a small pity party and then got the hell over myself and got another job. I started last Wednesday. Go me.

On May 24th, I moved. I had been in my perfect little apartment with its’ perfect little patio for a little over 4 years. They sent me a letter when it was time for me to reup my lease. They letter stated that they were in a RENOVATION CELEBRATION. That the new owners were renovating the whole complex and that all of the buildings and units that had not been renovated in the past x years would be renovated by the end of 2014. That they were offering me $xxxx rent on the same floor plan in a different building… that they had discounted movers to meet my needs.

So, let me get this straight. You want me to move, into a new building… have different neighbors… pay for the move myself AND you are raising my rent. Did I get it all?
Yes? Ok, yeah… NO.

And not to mention, that the neighborhood had gotten pretty shady. I would sing, “In the Ghetto” a la Cartman, almost every time I came home.

But I loved my apartment. I did. It was home. I loved my neighbors. I loved my garage. I loved my patio. The small kitchen with the island. It was perfect and I was kind of attached because it was my refuge when I had just gotten divorced from Paul. But, I needed to move on. When I found the new place, it was just down the street from my sister and bonus, it was just across the tollway from the new job…. Yay! Right?... Then new job was like, “Get Out.” And I still was moving into the new apartment.

Regardless. A HUGE shout out goes to Kerry for her help with all things move related. She got me scheduled with the same dude who moved me 4 years ago. She helped get me rid of tons of clothes, shoes, books, linens, kitchen accessories and the like before I moved, and then over 40 bags and boxes of things went to GoodWill or the trash after I moved. I couldn’t have done it without her.

Let’s see, what’s next. Ah, yes. Nugget.

Well, he’s still around. I tried to get rid of him again last December. But then when I went to see Marls, she was like, “Listen, chicken, you can do a LOT worse… And you HAVE.” Duly noted. True speak. I just get kind of squirrely when we’ve been together for so freaking long (it will be four years, August 27th) and we still only see one another on Wednesday evenings and Saturday. And it is a cold day in hell when he actually stays over all night.

He’s adorable, he’s sweet. He pets me. He’s a fantastic lover. He’s gainfully employed. He is not on drugs. He has a great sense of humor. He is clean. He owns his own car. He can cook when he wants too… and he doesn’t have kids. Check, check, check motherfucker.


He and his mother and sister all live together. It is a fucked up relationship. And it feels like I am dating a married man with kids. Because they all have a dog together.

My mother thinks I am speaking out of both sides of my mouth because, on one hand, I dig that he is not underfoot all the time and I can do as I damn well please. But on the other hand. I want him to WANT to be around me all the time. I want him to like… beg to move in. Or to plead for me to marry him. I WANT TO BE IMPORTANT.

Alas, I am important, but not his main priority.

Case in point. Saturday, after round two of some lovin, I piped up… “Why don’t you just move in with me?” It was pertinent to the conversation, I promise. He startled. Then a few years (moments) later he said, “I don’t think I am ready to do that. That is a pretty big step.”

I kept my cool and my voice calm. And like a smart woman, I let it go.

That’s all I really needed to hear.

Glad to be back, y’all.

Hopefully I will continue with timely updates.

Lunch is over, back to work. XOXXO

January 23, 2014

In Other News...

I just send this FaceBook message to someone I haven't seen since he was approximately thirteen. The below happened when he was roughly 7 years old.

"Judd, this is completely inappropriate, but hilarious....

when you were little your mother had a spend the night party for the girls in our Sunday school class....

you were up past your bedtime and kind of punch drunk from being so sleepy.... we were all sitting around the kitchen table when you wandered in

you proudly announced to the lot of us that you had named your penis Larry, because when you got bigger and older, you were going to refer to him as Lawrence."

Now, back to your regularly scheduled program.


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