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September 2005 Archives

September 1, 2005

I am going Shopping!!!!... In Stacey's closet.

So excited, leaving for Chicago to see Sil (with Jen� actually Jen will be there today) in approximately (bad with math) some hours. I haven稚 done my laundry from this past week/weekend/ conference/funeral/driving fest so I have some serious chores to do when I get home tonight.

But before I get started on my chores I am going Shopping!!!!... In Stacey痴 closet. Heh.

A week or so ago I called Sil to ask what to bring for the Chicago nightlife, as we are going out dancing Saturday night.

(We are also going to see the Body Worlds exhibit at the MSI� and Dude, Can稚 wait. You are talking to a woman who watches Extreme Surgery on Discovery Health Channel during dinner� Rock! Anywho�)

And Sil asked her friend who was with her what I should bring because I asked for clarification on the whole 鼎hicago going out uniform of jeans and black shirt� and Sil痴 friend said, 屠eans and a cleavage-y shirt.�

Ya値l know my standard fare� twin set. So, I知 gonna have to work on my clothes options. I don稚 think I値l be workin the cleavage because that痴 not me, but it gave me a good guideline. Stace has all these fun, funky accessories so I will be set.

I致e got Herschel (my iPod for you new kids) all loaded up with some new tunes for my layovers.

I値l be flying Southwest so it痴 going to take me about a solid week to get there tomorrow. My first flight is out of Dallas at somewhere around the ass crack of dawn and I layover in Houston and then finally get into Chicago-Midway at a little after noon. Whee-doggie.

My only problem now is that I have the song, 的知 the Only Gay Eskimo� by Corky and the Juice Pigs stuck in my noggin.

Can ya値l believe that it is the first day of September?

This month will be my 2 year anniversary of being the wife to an amazing man. I can稚 believe that time goes so fast. A few years ago I was planning out my days as being the bitter spinster. That girl who was eleven cats shy of being the crazy cat lady. As I aged and sat on my porch, yelling at kids to get off my lawn as I clutched a Marlboro Light in the nicotine stained fingers of my right hand while I nursed a cold Coors light in the left.

Not that there is anything wrong with that� of course�

But apparently there were other things that I was meant to do.

Speaking of� now that September is here? Will the weather cool down?

When Mister and I got married, it was so cool and delicious. We got married outside in the shade of some gorgeous trees next to a little creek. The photographer took some amazing photos, some candid and some staged. Some black and white, some sepia and some color, all showing gorgeous trees and dappled sunshine and laughing family members and happy Mister and me.

I can not even believe that Dallas is the same city with all of this hot, humid air.

I just checked weather.com and the high in Chicago for the next four days is going to be 82 degrees.

I think I may cry with relief.

Ya値l be good and check out the Story Crossing page over here� clickity.

I値l be trying to think of a good one while my creativity gets a boost from the wicked awesome company and untamed laughter I am sure I will be joining in while in the company of my girlfriends over the weekend.

Also� please please please please check out Miss Doxie痴 site. She is heading up a relief fund for the Red Cross and in the process you get to be entered to win a Doxie original work of art.

Helping out with the Red Cross and maybe winning an original Doxie morceau d'art� Can it get any better than that? I submit that it can not.

Happy Labor Day ya値l.

Love you,

September 7, 2005

Trip to Chicago

I am home. Tired, happy and exhausted, but home.

My trip to Chicago was wonderful. I got to spend hours and hours in the company of good friends. We slept waaaaaaay to little, smoked waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay toooo much (I sound like Kathleen Turner when she plays Chandler’s [Viva Las Gaygas] dad on Friends) and ate some incredible food.

Oggi’s (on Grand) I am lookin at you. Dayum.

I met some incredible people, saw some amazing things… (sadly the Body World’s Exhibit was not in the cards, but maybe another time) and walked many miles in strappy heels downtown.

Jen’s Aunt Susan (a very young aunt) was in town from FL with her friend, Karen, and they were visiting another friend so we had two groups working and the mixture of people was very nice. We went out with them Friday night to RedStone in Oakbrook (or thereabouts) and on Saturday night down to the Signature Room (in the Hancock Building) and over to the Hunt Club.

We spent many moments perched on chairs in the back yard laughing and talking and this was my favorite part of the whole trip. The visiting. When I was young I used to look at my parents and their friends or my family members visiting on numerous back porches across the South, rocking and drinking cold Coca-Cola… laughing and just talking… and I thought to myself, “How can they sit there for that long and just talk? Aren’t they bored? Don’t they want to watch a movie or play a game of ghost in the graveyard?” But now I know that the visiting is the best part. I would fly thousands of miles just to visit for a few days.

We talked about our lives, work, our families, Sil’s beautiful child; who is so scrumptious I chewed on her repeatedly; our ex’s, our boyfriends and our husbands and somehow the conversation inexplicably turned to teabagging. We talked about how we have changed over the past mumble-mumble years. How certain things matter and how certain things we thought we could never live without hardly cross our minds anymore. And how we are softer.

The birthday party for Sil’s daughter went off without a hitch on Sunday. It started at 3:30pm and ended at 3:30… am. Sil’s husband cooked what seemed to be a whole herd of cows and a flock of chickens and everyone ate and drank and was merry. We ended the party with a few rousing games of poker.

It was a fantastic weekend with lovely friends and I miss them all dearly.

The next trip to Chicago can’t come soon enough.

September 9, 2005


1. A structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group.
2. A physiological or temperamental peculiarity.
3. An unusual individual reaction to food or a drug.

List five of your own idiosyncrasies and then tag five friends to do the same.

A Friday five in the theme of a meme. I’m a rhyming fool ya’ll.

I got tagged by the one and only Cowgirl Jules for this little meme of idiosyncratic behavior.

I’ll list out the ones I think I have and feel free to opine and comment on the ones you think I have missed. Heh.

1) Business: I have an issue with business. Not really business business per say. Just… um, business. Ok, I’m coming off like a big honkin ball of woo-hoo, lookit the crazy! But ya’ll know how sometimes there are little fluff balls or fuzzies or if your shed (hair) in your bed? Yes, yes… regardless of how often you wash the damn sheets (and regardless of the thread count thankyouverymuch). I haveto-haveto-haveto go through this little process of making sure, absolutely sure that my side of the bed is clear of business. Mister’s side? He could care less if he slept in a bedding of kimchi as long as it was long enough, soft enough and he had covers. Well, that’s not necessarily true, but he doesn’t mind if the covers are rumpled and if his pillow isn’t fluffed!!! The madness. Mister once joked that he was going to install a tiny little dust buster for me beside the bed. Joked. How mean to joke about such an AWESOME idea!

Oh hell. I am a big ball of crazy. I just realized that I could do my whole meme on getting ready for bed. So? I will.

2) Lippy: Another side benefit to having a business free environment (where is that damn Dust Buster when you need it for fucks sake?) when you bed down for the evening is that any lingering or roaming business in the area will not attach itself firmly and quite ick-ily to your lips after you apply one of eleventy-seven lip-softening and protecting products that you just happen to have on hand. These products may include: Burt’s Bees; Carmex; SoftLips; some hemp product from The Body Shop that I can’t remember the name of; Rosebud Salve; Operation Smile Lip Balm SPF 15 (from Sephora) or one of the many Vitamin E sticks I have stashed around the house. I normally put on the Lippy (technical term of course) after a bit of hand lotion… and the hand lotion can only be applied after I make sure that the business is out of the bed!

But before that?

3) White Noise or “My Love for A Baby Box Fan”: After I finally wander into the bedroom; and it has normally been at least 20-40 minutes since I last said, “Ok, I’m coming to bed.” and my husband has completely chewed a hole in his face because I get distracted by shiny things like the TV or a gum wrapper (I have the mentality of a crow or a small child); I must get things ready. And you thought this just meant the extraction of business and lip balm? Oh no no noooooo. It goes much further. Before the extraction of business and the lip balm can even begin? I must get the room noise ready. I swear. It is like I am getting ready for a NASA lift off in there. I have to have everything perfect. Mister has an alarm clock on his side of the room that has a radio. And one day after we got married (ok, before… but don’t tell my parents I’m a dirty whore, shhh) I found that the clock/radio thingy had magical powers. Powers to emit sounds like “chirping birds” and “babbling brook” and “freakin rain storm” and shit, but these were not the Excalibur that I sought… I sought… white noise and found it under “wind”. Ooooohh. Wind! I already had white noise in the form of a baby box fan that I purchased at Target (looove Target. Lurve.) back in 1999 when I moved back to Dallas to combat the noise of the city. I still have this tee-tiny fan. So tee-tiny box fan + “wind” = True Love Forever! Oh, and because I am going through menopause at THIRTY I have hot flashes and wake up drenched in sweat so we sleep with the ceiling fan on too. One room, two fans, one noise maker, two people, a cat and a partridge in a pear treeeeeee!!!!

4) Pillows: Oh, ya’ll don’t even know. We have a California King bed (that Mister’s feet hang off of) and I sleep in a pretty small area of it because the rest of my area is taken up by my pillow habit. I am a pillow junky. I have pared it down since I am no longer the Queen of My Domain! (Say that like She-Ra ya’ll.) But I still have to have comfort. I am a side sleeper. I grew up on a twin bed. Twin. Bed. So when I turn over do I roll? Nay, I wake up and turn the eff over. (Rearranging my pillows as I go.) It all started when I was wee. I used to sleep on my back with this large bunny (my sister named him BuFu (like BooFoo… short for butt f&^$… momma, not knowing what that meant, thought it was cute and kept the name…) and I would sleep with BuFu under my left arm. Then I turned over and slept with BuFu in between my arms, and smooshed my covers in between my bony little knees. When I stopped sleeping with BuFu, I still wanted the comfort, so a pillow was inserted… and my knees didn’t remain bony throughout my twenties so a pillow was inserted. And of course one beneath my head to cradle my noggin. So I am a three pillow sleeper. Mister calls it the Great Wall of Sue. Three King Pillows. I get the fans and noise makers arranged, take care of the business, do the pillows… then lippy and hand lotion.

And last but not least…

5) Alarm Clock: This is my OCD thing. I don’t count the number of times I turn the alarm clock on and off to make sure it is even or odd… and I don’t have to mouth any certain words or do an incantation to make sure it goes off on time but MAN, the alarm clock is a great source of anxiety for me. The last thing I do before I go to sleep, or before I lay down and curse the fact that I can’t sleep… one of the two… is to set the alarm clock. I have one of those large clock radio jobs that has HUGE green digital numbers on the front and two settings for alarms. This is where I get in trouble. I already abuse the snooze. And when I stay at a hotel, which is pretty damn often, I ask for two wake up calls AND I set my phone to go off. You can’t abuse a wake up call. Unless it is a personal wake up call and you answer with obscenities and an offer to massage the person’s grandmother or something. I digress. But I set both alarms and Mister hears this from his side of the bed, “click… click?... clickclickclick… click… click?... clickclickclickclickclickityCLICK. Click.”

So, yeah. There’s that then.

I think I am going to tag the following people to do this meme…
monkey 0
jenn see
Alan (after he gets back from scaling the side of the world of course.)

September 13, 2005

Weekend Conversation with the Moms

Conversation from this weekend.

Setting: At my sister’s dining room table on Sunday afternoon. After lunch and dessert, people have begun to scatter to the kitchen to do dishes and to the couches to talk. My mother, Mister and I were still at the table talking.

We were discussing my nephew and how exacting he is… just like my sister.

Momma: Reb was such a little tattletale when she was little.
me: Did you see her making fun of my report card yesterday afternoon?

The whole family was over at our house for lunch/dinner on Saturday and my sister was looking at my “My School Years” photo book. It has places where my mother pasted my report cards and little sayings that I said and pictures that I drew ect.. I was not the most reserved child and for “controls my talking” the mark was probably for SELDOM or some such shit. Shocker no?

Momma: Yes, I saw her. [laughing]
Mister: What about Susan?
me: Yeah, what about me?
Momma: Susan was and is still a very bright girl… but she was… very… active.
Mister: Meaning?
Momma: When I went to pick her up from class on her first day of kindergarten the teacher was very complimentary about how quickly she caught onto things and would follow directions very well… but she said, “You need to talk with her about dancing on the tables and desktops.”
Mister: Oh reeeaaaallly????? [laughter]
Momma: Yes, our little girl was such a ham, she was always trying to entertain everyone.

Right then my father came in and took some plates from the table to the kitchen and my mother was distracted for a moment. I took the time to lean over to Mister and say…

me: If there would have been a pole involved, I may be in a different role of employment right now.

And he responded with…

Mister: If that were the case… we probably would have met a LOT sooner.

September 16, 2005

Hallmark isn't the devil after all.

Ok, so this weekend Mister made me promise to not make any plans. Going on six weeks now we have had something major going on every weekend and apparently he痴 had just about enough. I do not blame him one tee-tiny bit as it wears on me too. The constant go go go doesn稚 give you a break from the work week. So� tonight? Dinner and a movie maybe? Or� something equally relaxing and pleasurable.

Can I tell you guys about something that happened this past weekend?

It was a big family weekend, my parents were in town staying with Mister and I for an event for Sunday� well, really we had a dinner on Friday, a small event Saturday morning for my nephew (new karate belt!), Mister and I did lunch/dinner for everyone on Saturday and then my niece got christened on Sunday and the lunch afterward� So it was a whole weekend deal with bunches of people.

Anyway� On Saturday Mister and I had the whole family over for lunch/dinner� (linner?) and I was in the kitchen while Mister and the men were manning the grill [Tim Allen痴 man noise]. My brother in law came in and handed me a big white box and said, 典he FedEx guy dropped this off.�

I looked at the box. It had my name on it. Mister had not mentioned that anything was supposed to be delivered to the house. So I put it on the kitchen table, got out my Henckels shears and opened the box.

Inside I found this� (click to enlarge) Sweet Gift

I sat there for a good minute and a half with my mouth agape (positively attractive no?), stunned at the sweetness and the absolute selflessness of Sheryl. The note attached referenced the honey included in the gift box and touched my heart so very much.

This Internet business is a funny thing ya値l (thanks Bob Dole!). It gives me a place to put my thoughts my memories and my feelings. And it has fostered friendships over thousands of miles.

I actually do things that I never thought I would do. Like� oh, send cards to people that I have 杜et� on the Internet. How odd am I?

My mother, my grandmother(s) and my sister have all been dipped in the family pool that got the 田orrespondence� gene. I thought that I was missing that one. I was wrong. It just turned out that I needed to care about the people I was sending little notes too. Oh, and also get rid of that pesky need to make every note perfect and different.

Lord, Lord, I almost had a nervous wreck writing my thank you notes to my graduation gifts.

Hallmark isn稚 the devil after all. Who knew?

Sheryl? Thank you so much for thinking of me when you have eleventy frillon other things to get to in a day. A husband, three beautiful children (two in school), a dog, a new home and all that comes with the toughest job in the world, motherhood. You are a beautifully talented woman who gives me new ideas on crafts, how to handle life and even do it with charm and wit on a constant basis and I applaud you.

Thank you for the gift.

Digressing again Phyllis!

Two entries in one day? I’ve gone mad, MAD I say!

This morning was going swimmingly. I was productive, I was active, I was super working girl. No, not that kind of working girl. Melanie Griffith had nothing to do with the tasks I was completing this morning, neither did Joan Cusack*(see the bottom of the page for this footnote)… complete with a bad 80’s perm and ginormous shoulder pads… but I digress.

I was moving smoothly through my day. I finished some… stuff and some other stuff. And … er, some more stuff. And then I looked up and I was an hour late for leaving for lunch.

I work in a little team of people who back up the normal phone answering people. So we all have our little set times to come in, leave, go to lunch, sit down, turn around and pick a bale of cotton.

Yes, it is all very structured. How… rigid of us… yes, I know. But it seems to work.

Whatever, I’m all for structure and the type A side of me wars with the free flowing hippy girl side of me and they battle it out and it shows in my shoe choice. Or maybe earrings and lip color.

Digressing again Phyllis!

Shut it Maude. I’m beating this dead horse. Give me that stick, and stop calling me Phyllis.

So I left for lunch (an hour late… yesterday I ate lunch at 3:30… I need a spanking.) and decided to go across and down the street to a little Chinese place that has passable food. I started the car trying to decide if I wanted to get a real entrée or just get some soup or…

What is that I hear coming from the radio?

Journey singing Faithfully… ::sigh:: Come on. Memories flooded my noggin of the Hawgs** singing “Coach Bailey” to their Football Coach to that same tune at their senior football banquet.

**This is the same group that I spoke of before. Bean and Steve, the two guys who flanked me in high school. They had a close knit group of about 15 friends (I was the only*** female member… an honorary member of course) that they called the Hawgs. I refused to name them in a previous post because of the fear of Google.

***Other girls were let in as we got older and the boys had serious girlfriends and such.


I didn’t tell you guys this but a few months ago I was talking to Steve’s ex-wife T. She used to come to the Ya-Ya weekends and she and I had become pretty close. The reason I had called her was because I had a dream that night before about Bean and Steve. Bean mainly Bean, and that he was agitated and frustrated and I was worried about him.

Did I journal about this?

(Dr. Loony, paging Dr. Loony as Shit… you have a call on line one.)

Shut up ya’ll… just listen. This has relevance. I swear. (SHIT.) See?

So, when I told her that I was worried about Bean, T said, “Well, I guess it might be because his dad just died.” “HIS WHAT!?” “Oh my God, Sue, nobody called you!?”

So yeah. It turned out that his dad had passed away, no one called me about the funeral and I wasn’t there to offer support or anything. I got his numbers from T and called and left a very rambling and disjointed message and asked him to call me and told him that I had been thinking about him and that I was sorry for his loss… God, it was so awkward.

I sent an email or two as well.


There may be a reason for this as well. But that’s for a WHOLE ‘nother entry. ::heavy sigh:: Yeah, baggage. Not mine. And it’s hearsay but from people close to the source but I just don’t know. God.

Anyway, so I let the song finish (Dear Lord, is she still on the same topic? Eleventy paragraphs later? Yes. And I will thankyouverymuch to sit down and let me continue, or I will post a link to Steven Lynch’s Special Olympics and infect you with another song. One that will assure your passage to hell.) and I picked up my phone and tried to dial T’s number to see how she was doing and to check on the goings on of the group, if she knew. She was always the one to keep everyone together when she and Steve were married.

It rang and, “You have reached the voice mail for Michael, please leave your na--” Michael? Who the eff is Michael? So I tried her home number and … nothing.


So? I called Steve.

Oh ya’ll, it was bad. I almost cried on him. I was all, “Member when ya’ll came to Nac? Do you remember Troy and D’Wayne? Troy… his daddy died a few weeks ago and I was there for his daddy’s funeral but not for Bean’s daddy’s funeral… and and and…”


Ok, it wasn’t that bad. But I got the point across. He was in the middle of work ya’ll. Member that I left an hour later than normal. And these guys, the Hawgs, are SO NOT used to this Susan. The ‘aww baby, are you ok?’ Susan. They are more used to the ‘suck it up fag.’ Susan. I am so much softer now. Or to be more precise, I was so incredibly hard then. Now? I am just a normal woman.

So. Maybe that chapter is closed forever. Maybe I will just have to live with never being close to those men ever again. And maybe since they knew a different part of me, maybe I don’t want to be close to them. Or… maybe they have grown up just like I have and have become incredibly strong and solid and wonderful men. Most of them are fathers now. Amazing.

*Thinking of Joan Cusak in Working Girl and after talking to LuLu (she had incredibly big, red, currrrrly hair) this week I have decided to open my page next week to host an “Eighties Cheese Off”. What this requires is for the women to send in the picture of you with the biggest hair or the most incredible 1980’s type of outfit (blue eyeliner is optional) and the men, I hope to see white or grey scrunched rocker boots with little buckles, some acid wash and at least 3 or 4 mullets.

I will post the pictures as they come in on their own Eighties Cheese Off page and we will vote for who wins. Whomever wins will get … something. A prize. A mix tape … defiantly full of White Snake! Kidding. Something. A good prize will be picked. We’ll get Mister involved.

Send your entries to suzanna.danna@gmail.com .

September 20, 2005

Rules of Cheese Club

So babies, shall we dig around in our memories? Push your hand deep into the musty depth of things you thought you had forgotten. Or something that is slightly less cobwebbed and lost to those of us who travel backwards in time via a scent, music, seeing the curve of a neck exposed by the dip of a head or hearing a laugh bubble up in a crowded room.

Or pictures…

My mother and father have a wall unit bookshelf that is overflowing with photo albums. If I am ever in danger of forgetting someone’s face I have an archival reference library of family and friends at my fingertips. Well, a few hours from my fingertips, but it is there. They have an album for each trip overseas that they have taken and an album (or more) for each year of our lives. My mother started taking pictures early so I have pictures of my parents dating early in their courtship, and they got married in 1963.

I have (as you all have been objected to) that certain need to record things verbally and in photo form. I am not as artistically graceful with a camera as most (ahem… cough… Anne and monkey0) are but I do have records of my life in many albums and they are pushing the boundaries of the space we have for them in the bookcase in our living room.

In the past several years I have taken many many photographs and then squirreled away the film. Since Mister and I are renting our home, I feel that if I get them developed that the pictures; although cherished; will not get the attention that they deserve until we are fully settled.

There are photo albums that are filled with random photos from childhood, albums from high school, college, mine and Mister’s wedding, my “My School Years” album (previously mentioned), the scary portfolio with the random scripts and ‘model receipts’ stuck in the back pocket and countless others.

My favorite is a bag of pictures. Seriously. Any photographer who loves the medium would kick my ass soundly for this bag, not for the contents, but for how I was treating my pictures. The pictures are thrown in there haphazardly in their little folders from Fox Photo, WalMart, Ritz Photo, Wolf Camera or any nameless one hour photo hut from here to Atlanta.

When my parents were moving from Dallas to Denver I threw all of my pictures in a white bag from the SFA University book store, and there they have remained. Ya’ll? That was in like 92. Every time I move? Or if I am supposed to pack (and dear Lord, packing just makes me break out in hives to think about it) I always come across this little (actually it is quite big) bag of pictures and I can get lost for hours just going through them.

Well, last week I was talking to LuLu and she asked me for two things.

The first one was to find a picture for her. I will find it and post the story and the picture that goes with it sometime this week.

And the second was… well she really didn’t ask for the second thing… it just came about:

me: Shit, I can not believe your precious little girl is going to be one in a few weeks!
LuLu: You’re telling me. She already has the attitude…
me: Oh my God, you’ve produced a tiny, little you, the red hair, the great smile… HA!
LuLu: I am in going to be in so much trouble.
me: No kidding.

And somehow we got around to talking about the fashions for young teens these days. Hello? Jeans so low I can see your pubis? Tee-tiny shirts? Honey, you are twelve, not a hooker… and, this is school. Can you say P0RN?

LuLu: Good Lord, I went shopping with my niece and I was shocked at the clothes they have for young girls…
me: No kidding.
LuLu: She was all, “But Aunt Lisa! I thought you were gonna be cool to go shopping with!” I said, “Uh uh honey. This stuff is not appropriate.” And she said, “But it’s the style
me: Lord… just think what it is going to be like in 12 years when your little one is a teenager? Walking into Saks, “Hi, I am here to pick up my tampon and band-aid bathing suit please?” Gah. It was so much easier when we were kids.
LuLu: All kids should have to wearing uniforms to school, that would take care of it.
me: Well, that do that a lot up here, kakis and white shirts, but then you have the accessories… purses
LuLu: Louis Vuitton? Do kids go all out up there?
me: Yeah… and shoes…
LuLu: Gah, do you remember Guess jeans?
me: Hell yes, my sister was all over those… I … ::snort::
LuLu: What?
me: My grandmother worked at the Palmetto factory.
LuLu: What the hell is that?
me: Well, it was a small clothing factory in Georgia and their jeans had the little triangle on the butt like Guess… but, um… not.
LuLu: Oh. My. God. You wore pseudo-Guess? [laughing]
me: Shut it. I did not care. [laughing]
LuLu: You were such a dork…
me: You know it!
LuLu: For me it was all about my hair…
me: Oh, Lord… the beeeg hair!
LuLu: It was actually kind of pretty if the bangs weren’t so fucking high and hard.
me: I had the big hairs too yanno…
LuLu: Girl, I know…
me: We should…
LuLu: Yeah, we should…
me: We should have a “Curl Off”… have everyone send in their pictures, dude… we could post them and have a contest! … the eighties or nineties cheese would reign supreme…

And THAT dear friends, complete with Palmetto dork-dom, is how we came about with the idea to do the…


Rules of Cheese Club
1. You totally talk about 'Cheese Club'.
2. You totally talk about 'Cheese Club'.
3. When someone yells "Aqua Net!" or goes eighties, or geeks out, the cheese is just starting.
4. No limits to how many can be involved in Cheese.
5. You must submit one photo at a time (to suzanna.danna@gmail.com).
6. Cheese shirts, cheese shoes… or hair or make up, accessories… ya’ll get the picture.
7. The Cheese can go on as long as it has to.
8. If this is your first night at 'Cheese Club', you have to vote.

As soon as I start getting some pictures I’ll create a page and a link for it somewhere, and if anyone is crafty with the code or whatnot and wants to make a little art for our project… that would be awesome too.

Sound like fun?

Ok, who’s first?

About September 2005

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in September 2005. They are listed from oldest to newest.

August 2005 is the previous archive.

October 2005 is the next archive.

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

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