« July 2003 | Main | September 2003 »

August 2003 Archives

August 1, 2003

A Diamond & My Devil Dog

I have had my hotmail account for what seems like decades. I want to keep it for sentimental reasons and also because I have some really cool coupons linked to that account.

However, I am sick (and tired!) of the spam*.

I do not want to purchase a Russian bride.

I do not want to view “The Most Jizz In One Place!”.

I do not want to enlarge my penis.

I do not want my own free XXX account to view hot, wet sorority sluts.

I do not want to click here to see the cast of Friends naked.

I do not want to consolidate my bills with someone named Fred.

I do not want to join a business venture with some Nigerian house frau who needs my account number to my bank account to “retrieve” the funds her poor, departed husband left in the United States.

I do want to be able to look at the truly tasteless jokes and retarded crap my friends send me without having to delete 27 emails before I come upon (no pun intended to the smut emails listed above, thank you) an email address that looks even slightly familiar.

*That one little word SO elicits the urge in me to completely reenact that nugget of Monty Python goodness called the Spam skit. Spam Spam Spam Spam….


I have some exciting news.

Mister and I are going to a marriage seminar this weekend. The tag line for the seminar is, “If you are getting married in 3 months or have been married for 30 years, you’ll get solutions you can use!” He sent the link to me earlier in the week and it seems like something that can guide us a little bit in how to help us with the foundation of our marriage.

Yep, we’re getting married. As a matter of fact, we went yesterday to look at more rings. We went to this little store called the Diamond Broker. Mister had visited this store alone and wanted me to meet the proprietor. He also wanted me to look at a ring that he liked.

The man has amazing taste ya’ll. I didn’t fall in love with the ring though. So we asked to see some loose stones.

Loose stones…

Stone: Hey Baby… wanna date?
Me: Um…
Stone: I gots whatchoo need!
Me: No thanks, I’m good.
Stone: I’m famous baby! Fayyyyyyyymmmuuuuuuuuuuuzzz!
Me: Famous? Huh?
Stone: I was featured in an All Anus Slut Orgy Party. You may have received an email about it.
Me: That was you? … gross.
Stone: Don’t be hatin! By the way, I am from Nigeria and my poor departed pimp left some funds…
Me: [runs away] Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Annnnnnnyway.

Al, the proprietor, pulled out some stones that were not mounted and I fell in LOVE. Love I say! I fell in love with a beautiful oval shaped diamond. Mister and I have been to many places to look at rings and stones. We have tried the large chains, we have tried the small chains. We have been to malls. We have inquired at pawnshops. No stone has ever touched me [Shut up, I told you it was a loose stone.] the way this stone did. The brilliance, the shape, the color. A D for goodness sakes! It’s a D!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For those of you who want to know about diamond color, cut, clarity and carats please click here. The link will take you directly to color. For those of you who couldn’t care less, D color is the best, colorless, white, gorgeous!

I am so excited.

I even bought his wedding ring. It is so pretty, so manly. So perfect and simple.

I tried to call my parental units to tell them about the exciting news. They were golfing or doing something fabulous and fun that retired people do so I left a message, all stammering. My sister called later and I told her. She was excited for me.

She called this morning all squealing…….. still.

Love that about having a sister. J

Wish me luck at the marriage seminar!

August 7, 2003

Oh Happy Day!

This weekend Mister and I went to a seminar put on by the Moody Bible Institute. It was called Toward a Growing Marriage. It was a two-day event for anyone who had been married for 30 years or for those getting married in 3 weeks. The speaker at the seminar was Dr. Gary Chapman. Dr. Chapman has done a series of books centered around the Five Love Languages. It really is an amazing tool for communication and understanding.

It goes like this, and I hope Dr. Chapman doesn’t mind me getting all in his Kool Aid.

There are five love languages. We each have one or two of them that are our main way of communication with those we love. They are:

Quality Time (spending time talking, and doing things with one another)

Acts of Service (doing the dishes, taking out the garbage, laundry)

Gifts (small things, jewelry, fishing lures, flowers)

Words of Affirmation (telling that person that they are important and loved ect.)

And Physical Touch (self explanatory)

The odds that a married (or even dating) couple speaks the same love language are very slim. So, to make sure your spouse (boyfriend, lover, significant other… whatever) is feeling loved, you need to make sure you have identified their language of love, and can share with them your language of love.

I, personally, am a one-two punch of Physical Touch and Gifts. And because those are the language of love I speak, I am always touching Mister in some small way* and bringing him small gifts.

*I call this my Lab’ behavior. Labrador Retrievers and notorious for leaning on their owners or in some small way touching them to feel close and reassured. My Maxxie (the wonder kitty) does this as well. If he is sitting on your lap looking at you, there is a good chance that he will touch your face or chest with his lil furry paw.

Mister is a combination of Words of Affirmation and Acts of Service. He is always telling me how cherished I am, how much he loves me, how lucky he feels to be part of my life [swoon!]. He does acts of service as well, like carrying things up the 3 flights of stairs to my apartment for me. Cleaning the ice off of my windshield in the morning in the winter and opening the door for me.

For him to show me that he loves me, because we speak different languages of love, he will brush my hair or rub my back (Physical Touch) and or my feet. He will also bring me cards and a little tin of chocolates or a bottle of lotion (Gifts) from Aveda… YAY!

For me to show him that he is loved and cherished, I tell (Words of Affirmation) him how awesome, amazing, sweet, kind, beautiful, powerful, strong, tender and loved that he is. I also do the laundry (Acts of Service) and the dishes and try to make his space neat and clean as well as cooking dinner for him.

These all sound like nice things, and they are. But if we were not aware of our different love languages we may not be so happy.

Take for instance Co-worker C and her wife.

Co-worker C is a Physical Touch and her wife is an Acts of Service and Gifts. They regularly go through very frustrating times because they have not communicated these things to one another. Co-worker C will do the dishes and mow the lawn to try and please her wife. She just wants her wife to hold her and kiss her, to touch her in a loving way. Her wife, because she is an Acts of Service/Gifts, will really appreciate the dishes and the mowing of the lawn and will show it by fixing dinner or buying something for Co-worker C. Co-worker C remains feeling unfulfilled. She just wants to be touched (Physical Touch), and her wife is not a touch-er.

Annnnnnnnnnnyway, the seminar was wonderful. Dr. Chapman covered everything from finances and fighting fair to sex. We also received a book to go through. It was such a great experience that Mister and I decided to make marriage seminars a part of our lives. We have decided to attend at least one a year to keep us on the right track.

This week Mister and I have done our budgeting and gone over our main values and the things that we think are important to bring into and maintain in our marriage. A Marriage Mission Statement, if you will.

Yes, we are retarded *grin*...but determined like big dogs to make sure that we do everything in our power to make this work.

Mister has been like a bulldog going through everything to make sure that we don’t miss a thing. He has contacted his insurance company, we have gone over our health insurance benefits, we have done our budgeting, we have even discussed taxes.

I got home last night at 5:30pm and fixed dinner. When Mister walked in at 6:15pm I was so excited. I really missed being away from him yesterday.

We ate dinner then went over more details that we thought were important on what we expected from each other. A laying of the ground rules type of thing. You know the, “I think it is inappropriate to talk about intimate areas of our lives and sexual information with somebody of the opposite sex.” And, “I agree, I also would find it inappropriate if a woman sat on your lap, unless she was a member of our family.”

Yanno… that kind of stuff.

Yes, most of those things are common sense. But it seems to give Mister and I both a sense of reassurance to hear them verbally.

We were expected to meet Clarice at the Tavern last night at 7:30pm. We had a cheesecake date. I also needed to give her the birthday present I got her three Monday’s ago.

After Mister and I were done talking, I stood up to change my top. Max was really happy to see me yesterday evening and with the heat outside climbing steadily to an index of 115, he is shedding pretty badly. I was wearing Max fur all over my shirt.

I took off my top and was standing there in my pants and my bra and Mister says, “I have one last question for you before we head out to meet Clarice for cheesecake.” I looked up at him and asked, “Sure. What is it sweetie?”

That is when he did it ya’ll. He pulled this velvet jewelry box out from his organizer, opened it and said, “Will you marry me?”

The rest of the evening was a blur.

We had to go meet Clarice, I was crying. I called my sister squealing. And… we ran out of gas on the way to the Tavern! Ha!

Everyone, well, only 9 of us, met up for a cheesecake celebration at the Tavern. My sister, BIL, Gray, Clarice, her hubby and son, Mister and I and my girlfriend Stacey the Possum Slayer… and BIL ordered celebratory champagne!

I am so happy!

August 12, 2003

Pestilence and Pizza

Last Thursday I walked outside my office building to hear an employee from the pizza parlor next door say the following into a cell phone:

[all whiny] “We try to keep it clean!”

I noticed in the parking lot, several vehicles with pest control logos squatting (the vehicles, not the logos silly) in the pizza parlor’s assigned spaces.

For the past 5 days there has been a dull roar of silence from that [points] side of the wall. Not an employee to be found. No loud music. No braying laughter. And a sign on the door stating, “Due to equipment failure, Big Daddy’s Pizza will be closed until Monday.” This magic message was posted…. Up Side Down.

Ooooh scandalous. Could they be shut down for health code violations? Ew. Could they be shut down for renovations? Hardly likely. Could they be shut down to fire the whole staff and start anew? Hmmm the possibilities are endless. Well, not really endless. And, and, and… well, who really gives a hoot?

Horton! That’s Who!

Oh wait. It was Horton HEARD a Who, not Horton Gave a Hoot.

Blast.


Best overheard random communication ever. Participants were discussing the upcoming Freddy vs Jason movie with gusto.

Unwashed Guy: But what do these guys have against each other?
Starbucks Chick: I dunno, like they have the same purpose… to like… kill people.
UG: They DO! I guess they are tired of getting in each other’s way, sort of like that old commercial…”You got your chocolate in my peanut butter!”
SC: [bray laughter… regain composure]
UG: What?
SC: like…[snort]…[guffaw]…”You got your machete in my teenager!"

…..and…. scene.


Oh… someone asked me what a diamond dog is.

A Diamond Dog is the affectionate name given to Marines.

Yep, Mister is a Marine.


Ya’ll let me hear from you! :)

More random crap later.

August 13, 2003

Flamenco Fran

I had the most wonderful time last night. Drinking, dancing, dressing up and disco! I was Fran Drescher. And not in a costume party or an AA meeting sort of way*. I was really Fran Drescher. With my head and my voice.

*I have taken the liberty of stealing Karen’s [from Will and Grace] pseudonym of Anastasia Beaverhausen when the need arises. I have also affectionately named Mister Norman, Norman Beaverhausen on such occasion.

I was wearing this fantastic black lace flamenco dress* with red roses on it. I was all sorts of nervous because I was carrying a white beaded evening clutch and it totally did not go with my outfit.

*Oh My God. I totally had this doll when I was little. I probably still have it in a box at my parents abode marked “Suz’s Crap!” The doll was given to me by my Great Aunt Nell. Aunt Nell was a crotchety old woman who didn’t know how to be affectionate, so she bought my sister and I things and sent my parents fruitcake that would make the mailman drunk because the smell of the package was so potent. P.S. dolls and anything clown-like totally creep me out, but I thought this doll was completely sex-kittenish in all of her tacky lace-y-ness, with her pointy boobs and white, cotton undies. Yes, they [the dolls] have on underwear.

YOU: Enough with the little starry (*) side notes already! Sheesh
ME: Ok, ok. Alrighty then. You don’t have to be such a big baby!

The big scandal that evening was that a gay man would be starting at the new all woman’s salon the following Monday. All the gay men and fag-hags in the room were all for it and the stodgy cranky ‘That’s not the way it should be!’ purists were up in arms about the whole thing.

I was asked to perform a choreographed/free style dance to bring the room to unity. I did so and even incorporated my mismatched white beaded purse into the foray. I felt a little silly at the time, opening and closing the purse a la’ Chevy Chase’s ‘dance with a sandwich debut’ in National Lampoon’s: Vacation, but the crowd loved it. They fell in love with me for my grace, my style and my ability to pull the room together in unity by the beauty of my movement.

I brought the house down with applause. I was not even sweaty! I bowed graciously and accepted compliments, accolades and looks of adoration from some and envy from others.

I knew I needed to get going. Mister and I needed to get back. We were babysitting a 60-something year old man who happened to be the Vice President of my Association. He wanted to sleep on the same bed with Mister and I because he felt small.

We relented and perched him at the foot of the bed. In a little box. Like he was some chinchilla with a bald patch and a poorly placed earring.

Mister stepped out of the room for a moment and the VP crawled up the side of the bed that I was occupying. When I looked down, he was laying at my right side with is tiny hand lying on my chest. Not my boobie mind you, just my chest. I told him that what he was doing was completely inappropriate behavior.

I then leaned out the bedroom window and called Betty White to come and get him. She yelled to tell me that she’d be up in a moment but that my mother wasn’t going to be very happy.

Oh, that crafty Betty White.

Then… I woke up.

What a great dream sequence! I was skinny, a great dancer (creative, adored and loved by the public) and belittling to my Vice President all in one short period of time!

YA YA WEEKEND

This weekend is my Ya Ya weekend! I am so excited! The weather has been cooling off a bit. Not too much mind you, just enough so you don’t feel as though you are living on the surface of the sun. I have Friday off and I meet up with my whole crew at 7pm on Friday night. A bunch of the Houston crew is taking off Thursday as well so they go to Nacogdoches and go out on Thursday night. They are probably going to go to Jitterbugs, a bar I frequented with scary regularity when I lived in Nacogdoches.

I talked to a girlfriend last night and she told me the plan. I hurried home to see Mister and asked if he could take off Friday so we could go. He actually took yesterday off to run errands and get things situated so we could get married. He had to update his license and all that. So he probably won’t be able to take Friday off, and I won’t go to Jitterbugs without him by my side.

I’ll update about to the Ya Ya shenanigans when I get back.

COMMENTS

Hey, I added that new feature [points below] down yonder so I could hear from you guys. What are ya? Mute?

Let me hear from you. :)

August 22, 2003

Oh, to be Jo...

For many moons my mother styled (an I use that term loosely) my sister's hair and my hair in two ponytails. One on either side of our little pea sized heads. She kept this style of efficiency for so long that when I wore my hair down I had a distinct, straight part down the middle of my scalp*. Our hair is curly, so arranged in the perfect little ponytails; they would (sooner or later) work themselves into what I lovingly refer to as “doo doo curls”.

*The word scalp sounds dirty. Much like scarf. But I love the word scarf.

Yep, Reb and I, cutie patooties with our doo doo curls.

SMALL VEER….

Reb and I are two years apart with her being the eldest. One beautiful Sunday afternoon after church in Hartwell, GA, our Aunt took us to the local Dairy Queen for a treat. We were probably 3 and 5 years of age.

I guess we were very good during Sunday School and the service that day.

The three of us flounced into the door of the Dairy Queen, Oooh’s and Ahh’s followed our entrance and Aunt Jean ushered us around the whole restaurant to meet all of the town folk. We were sufficiently charming and totally cute. Using all of our new words to impress the elderly clientele. [Yep, we were in that stage.]

Aunt Jean got us each a Dilly Bar, or some such scrumptillyicious treat.

Reb and I stood facing each other in the booth bench seat. We did the ‘cheers’ motion with our Dilly Bars and said in unison, “Penis On Your Ice Cream!!!!”… Loudly.

Talk about shock value.

BACK ON TRACK

Annnnywho… my sister and I wore our hair in doo doo curl pony tails so often that while on the swim team, our hair would (wet or dry) remain in doo doo curl fashion.

This was never a problem when we were little.

When my mother would actually blow dry and style our hair, it was such a rare occasion that we would complain the whole way through the process, but once momma was done, we would race downstairs to sit in daddy’s lap and show him how pretty we were. He would make all the right “Oh my! Who is this pretty young lady?” and “I hardly recognized you, you look so grown up!” noises and we would be appeased at having to sit through what seemed like hours of torture for that small praise.

As we got older, we started doing our own hair. Wee.

I had long curly light brown hair and my sister’s hair was thicker (and curlier) with an auburn tint to it. We wanted to be stylish. We wanted straight, thick, blonde hair that hung to our waist. We wanted nothing to do with the naturally curly chia pet’s growing from our heads.

We washed and dried our hair every morning. Hot rollers burning our poor little ears for 40 minutes while our hair was sufficiently beaten into submission by boar bristle brushes and Aqua-Net hairspray. The curling irons to straighten and then curl our hair into Farrah-esque wings on the sides of our heads.

I decided I wanted bangs and being the do-it-yourself type of girl, I cut them myself.

Whoa. Bad mistake.

To make matters worse, my hair had been trained to lay in a perfect part on top of my head. The part was fine, but I wanted the bangs to gently curl over my forehead in a Jo-from-the-Facts-Of-Life sort of way. I looked like a smarmy version of a French butler with little greased back hair. Mmmmm sexy. If I sprayed my bangs within an inch of their little lives I ended up looking like Mamie Eisenhower.

Go ahead. Click on it. I can wait.

Got the idea?

Sexy huh?

You want me… right?

Shut up. Stop laughing.

Not funny.

The reason I even brought this up was because I used a blow dryer this morning. I styled my hair. I used a curling iron. I even used hair spray. I thought that I had enough control over my hair and enough years under my belt to be able to handle a hairstyle on a Friday.

I finished with my torture routine and went to go show Mister how cute I was. He made the sufficient “Wow, You are really pretty” And “I am such a lucky man” noises, I was satisfied.

Freud… Shut up. No seriously, it’s just ironic. I said to hush.

I walked out of the apartment confident. I felt good. My hair is way too long, but it looks soft and touchable. Yay me.

About an hour ago I looked into the mirror.

The friggin "part that will not die" is back.

I’m more Natalie than Jo.

That sucks.

August 25, 2003

Ya Ya Weekend Wrap Up

This past weekend we had Ya Ya!

For those of you who are new to the World of Suzanna Danna, please read here for a little background. And… thanks for playin.

I was so excited. It is always a fun time and I always feel recharged for the year. I hardly ever see my girlfriends… and never all together outside of the yearly Ya Ya.

Yes, it was a gay movie . Shut up. We planned the first Ya Ya weekend way before they cast Sandra Bullock for goodness sakes.

There was a new element to the proceedings this year. Siska, a fellow single Ya Ya from Houston called me one afternoon to find out all about Mister. She had yet to meet him and decided that the first evening of the Ya Ya weekend would be just perfect for all of my girls to do some grillin.

Previously the only male allowed within 100 feet of the Ya Ya palace was my father and last year he did not even get to stay as a family funeral caused him to leave early that Saturday morning.

The girls held an electronic vote earlier this year and a unanimous Yes! was heard from Houston to Nacogdoches to Chicago. It was settled, I was to invite Mister to venture into the secret society of the Ya Ya Sisterhood.

Bless his heart. I do believe that he was simultaneously excited and scared to death. Not that the Ya Ya weekend is for male bashing of any kind. It is just well known that we throw this weekend as sort of a Holiday from makeup, from hair dos, from children, from men and from responsibility. As a matter of fact, my invite letter reads like this:

“Come one come all…Girlfriends, Sisters, Mothers, Daughters, Wives, Fiancés and of course the ever elusive Single Woman!!!!!!!!! Everyone is Invited! This is a weekend to relax and kick back with friends. Sorry, no men allowed (except my Daddy*smile*). Enjoy a weekend of swimming, boating, skiing, drinking, and sunbathing (did I mention drinking?) at the (kick-a$$) home of Momma & Daddy Danna on beautiful Lake YA YA. Last year we had a blast, so join us this year to partake in the FUN!”

So no male bashing takes place, it is just not a male dominated or even tolerated (ha! Kidding) environment.

Mister bravely accepted the challenge to show up and meet all of my female friends and battle the estrogen-filled wake of questions.

Mister and I got into town on Friday around 5pm. My parents thought Mister was crazy for coming. When we got to my parents house, they had champagne waiting to toast our engagement. That was so cool! We toasted, had a quick sandwich with our champagne… yum! and went to the designated Ya Ya meeting place. The Blue Store!

When we pulled up the five core Ya Ya’s were there; Glo, Brenna, Siska, Sesil and Jennifer. We all squealed and hugged and kissed.

Mister stood his ground while being introduced and gamely accepted the hugs, kisses and scrutinizing looks from my girls. We forked over our money for groceries, got caught up on quick history of who was who for Mister’s benefit and he answered basic questions for those that asked about where he was from, his family and his religion. They assured him the good questions were to be asked when the whole group was together.

We got to see pictures of Brenna’s and Gloria’s children together and hear about Jenn’s practice. Sesil just landed her dream job in Chicago working as a manager for a Scrapbooking company. Siska is looking for a new job, but is tolerating her current one.

Two other Ya Ya’s showed up. Clarice and her friend Becky (a new Ya Ya) showed up. We made our grocery list and sent the Grocery Goddesses on their way. Mister and I went to go get booze and the rest of the girls headed for the Ya Ya palace.

We all got back to the Ya Ya palace at about 9pm. Mister was going to hang out for a little bit and then head back to Dallas, but after we all had a few drinks and asked him everything under the sun, Gloria took a vote and asked him to stay the night, but with an addendum that he be out of the house before the bikinis went on. He accepted and was SO sweet ya'll. He was even touched (not like that ya perv!) when Siska asked him if he knew that I was more precious than any gem or any precious metal and that he was a lucky man for having me. He told her that he knew and agreed and she immediately loved him.

Friday night was a wonderful time. We got caught up, we sang, we danced, we laughed and a few of us even cried. I am happy to admit that I remained dry eyed the whole weekend.

At least one of us has an emotional epiphany during Ya Ya. The first year it was me. I cannot tell you people the emotional weight that I felt lifted from me.

Hence, that is the true reason that I keep Ya Ya going.

Saturday morning Mister hit the road bright and early but not before my Mother and I planned the wedding. For Mister and I, not my Mother and I…. Sheesh.

That morning 3 more Ya Ya’s showed up. That afternoon 4 more Ya Ya’s showed up. Fifteen Ya Ya’s in all. We were missing a few from the previous years, but it was a great time!

Saturday we tried to get Clarice drunk so she’d relax.

It didn’t work.

We do have a few high maintenance ones every year. They are lovingly tolerated but never catered to.

Sunday Jenn and I did our annual synchronized swimming event in honor of someone. The first year it was in honor of Sesil for coming so far to join us. The second year it was in honor of my mother for letting us have Ya Ya at her lovely home. This year, it was supposed to be in honor of my father since he had to leave last year… he wasn’t present at the time so we did it to the oooh’s and aaah’s [read: braying laughter] of our fellow Ya Ya sisters.

For those of you girls who missed Ya Ya weekend... YET AGAIN... know that you were missed and we look forward to seeing you next year!

I think I may make a Ya Ya blog.

Hmmmm.

Until next time… “Keep the Shiny Side Up and Keep the Rubber Side Down!”

About August 2003

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in August 2003. They are listed from oldest to newest.

July 2003 is the previous archive.

September 2003 is the next archive.

Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

Powered by
Movable Type 3.35