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November 2006 Archives

November 3, 2006

It has ceased to be!

I have like thirty minutes then I am off for a glorious weekend of nothing. Not a thing, No-Thing. I think I will watch last night’s episodes of “Ugly Betty” and “Grey’s Anatomy” and maybe even eat a little left over Halloween candy.

Guess who put a little Halloween themed bandana the size of a handy wipe around her puppy’s neck for Tuesday’s Trick and/or Treaters? Me. That is who. (That dog is not going anywhere. Oh, hell to the no.)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to be one of those who dresses up the “baby” in little cop, Indian, construction worker or Navy seamen outfits. He is not a member of the Village people, although he would look awesome with that cowboy’s mustache. I’m just sayin that a little bandana action was in order. And the awwwwww’s of the three year old ballerinas (plural… ballerini?) at my door was totally worth it.

All in all I totally dug Halloween. I am a big honking dork who wore a headband with tiger ears (cat ears? Whatever.) on my head. To Work. And then I forgot about them when I stopped at the local grocery store on my way home from the office. The wide berths that people gave me in the isles and the sideways glances from the deli counter worker should have tipped me off that something was amiss. But did I even realize that I had cat/tiger ears on? Oh, and a pencil stuck in my hair? Nope. Because that is how alert to my surroundings and my own body that I am. 100% on, baby.

Flawless segue number one.

I got a new ride. The hoopty has given up the ghost*, died, gone to meet the Mercury maker in the sky Kansas?

*Which always makes me think of this: “It's not pinin', it's passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace, if you hadn't nailed it to the perch it would be pushing up the daisies! It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! This is an ex-parrot!”

When we got back from our anniversary trip...

See?... there is just so much to tell. Let me just cram this in. (It always makes it more polite when you warn someone that you are about to cram something in somewhere, is all I am sayin.)

Mister and I went to Austin and San Antonio for a long weekend from the 6th through the 9th of October. We had the BEST time. We had fantastic food, listened to great music, tried to listen to even greater music (we missed Joe at the Blind Pig, Trix. We tried, but his gig ended at 11 pm and… we suck… the end) and had wonderful spa treatments, stayed at amazing venues and generally just enjoyed ourselves immensely. If you need reviews for any of the following: In Austin – Hyatt Regency on Townlake or Nuno’s and in San Antonio – Watermark Hotel and Spa, Luciano’s, the buffet at the Sheraton Gunter, Biga on the Banks ect, let me know.

So, we actually got to have a little anniversary trip. It was great. I loved it. And the weekend after I was supposed to have this little girl’s trip. I think I told you guys about the weekend at my parent’s house over in this entry here, so that is covered. But the Monday after we got back (the 16th?) I got in my car that morning to go to work and it was all squelchy on my side of the floorboard, it totally (close your eyes Stacey) smelled like hot ass and feet, and … AND the check engine light came on when I started the hoopty.

The battery light has been on for about seven years so I wasn’t too worried. But, BUT, the squelchiness and the smell and the fact that hoopty had almost 109 thousand miles on her did worry me.

I called Mister, told him about it and decided to just go on into work. The next morning I took her hooptiness into the Lincoln Mercury dealer down by the office and dropped her off with Joe. He told me that it would be $99.95 to check on the water in the floor board and another $99.95 to check on the engine light issue. “Whatever Joe, just please fix her. She is old and needs loving care.” Joe looked at me like I was a bucket o’ the crazy and was all, “Ooookkkayyy lady, here’s my number I will call you by 3 pm.”

Fucking Joe.

He called at like noon and was all, “Well, the timing belt disintegrated when we took the cowling off, the celinoid variable cam timing [thingy] needs to be fixed and we haven’t even gotten to the leak yet. Just to fix the timing belt is $564.70 for parts and labor, for the timing belt and the celinoid to be fixed is $1171.52 for parts and labor.” “What about tax and the $99.95 per check thingy Joe?”, I asked. “Well, I would discount the tax and the…” “Joe?” “Yes ma’am?” “Can I just have my husband call you? I am finding this conversation very upsetting.” “Of course ma’am.”

So Mister called Joe, and they decided to do a little more research on both sides and talk again in the morning. All I wanted was my car back. She is old as hell and I didn’t realize but she was also something I was clinging to. I could not be biased about having her fixed. Was it worth it? Didn’t we just drop almost a thousand dollars on her (in her?) in March or something? Wouldn’t that happen again?

The deal was that she was one of my first steps away from my ex-husband. I actually had survival gear in the trunk. I needed to let go. The drama, Lord, the drama.

So Joe and Mister talked on Wednesday. It was not worth it to fix her. And someone (a mechanic) in the shop was interested in buying her to fix up. (Awwwwwww….. his name was Thurmon. Hi Thurmon, love you, take care of hoopty for me.) And so we went to look at replacement cars on Wednesday night. I called Ron (my dealer at Classic Chevrolet in Grapevine, “Hi Ron, love you, mean it.”) and told him I was looking for a replacement. He asked me several questions and we decided to look at the Impala and the Equinox. I sat in the Impala and immediately was all, “No, no… this just will not do.” I looked at several others and then I found her.

Thursday morning we went to the Lincoln/Mercury dealership. Cleaned the survival gear (?) out of the hoopty (ya’ll? I had a quart of oil, some windshield washer fluid, some spare parts for the hoopty, two umbrellas, a roll of industrial strength paper towels, a few books, some tie down straps, matches and who knows what else… gah) and sold her to Thurmon. Then we headed to the dealership to pick up Samantha, she is my new Equinox. She is charcoal grey and is very sassy. She has enough room in her that Mister can stretch out in either the front or the back seat. Since the 19th I have only had to fill up with gas one time. And… did I mention she is sassy?

I was very sad to lose the hoopty but very happy to gain a reliable car.

Click tee-tiny picture to make picture bigger appear… it is like magic**. Thank you.

Ode To Hoopty
This picture was taped to my monitor when I returned from the repair shop. It was made by my boss. MY BOSS. Please note that he drew me holding Elvira, and even named her. Also, please note that he is a smart ass.

**jazz hands.

I have so much more to tell ya’ll… and I just might sign on this weekend and ramble because I sent Mister to Orlando for the weekend. He left last night and the cat totally slept with me all night. (Don’t tell…) On Mister’s Pillow. Ha! But also, booo… will have to do laundry and also train the cat not to jump on the bed again. He totally knows when Mister is gone.

Up next, Snatch and the robe of degradation… partially donned by ME.

November 7, 2006

He was already answering to something akin to "Hey Vagina! Come here!"

Ya’ll? I just searched my backlog of entries for the word “snatch”. Alarmingly, there were seven entries with that word and even more disturbing? None of them included the story I am about to tell you (under the penalty of disownment).

The story starts back in the early 60’s. My parents had a long and very prim and proper courtship that cumulated with their marriage in July of 1963. They traveled with one another and worked very hard at their marriage. They are still as loving and as spontaneous as those old home movies depict them to be. They still dance in the kitchen, they still snuggle and smooch on one another and they still tell each other how much they appreciate the little things. “Woman, that dinner was wonderful.” “Oh, [daddy’s first name], thank you so much for doing the dishes.”

And then they open mouth kiss for about ten minutes.

Yes, yes… it is all very sweet and kind and awwwwww, and all of that but. BUT. I must tell you that my father loves to tease my mother… mercilessly. As do my husband and brother in law. Well, I do too and my sister is awful about it as well

My mother is so sweet and sometimes trusting and gullible enough that is it almost too easy to get a rise out of her with the smallest of things.

For example, my sister, bother in law, husband and I all went in together and got my parents a 5 cd/dvd player/changer thingy for Christmas a few years ago. My husband and brother in law said that they would set it up for my parents, so they set about working. My parent’s had just gotten a new entertainment center/bookshelf/display cabinet that is huge and absolutely beautiful.

My husband and brother in law wanted to wire it into the surround sound and all of that, ‘so my parents could fully enjoy their dvd experience.’ There were wires and instruction booklets everywhere. My brother in law turned to my mother and said, “Ok, so [mother’s first name] where do you keep your hand saw?” And my husband looked over a booklet for a split second and then added (sotto voce), “And maybe an ax?”

My mother leapt to her little feet and started bustling around, “Oh, boys, no need to install anything, we’ll call a friend who does this sort of thing after the holidays…. No need… no… need.” God forefend that she insult anyone or act the least bit ungracious.

They carried on with her for about ten minutes before she started turning white. My brother in law would say, “(Mother’s first name)… no, no, no… really, we want to take care of this for you. We just need a little hammer…” And Mister, “… and maybe one of those circular saws?”

So, yes, we all love to tease her. But none more so than my father.

After they had been married for almost a year my mother decided that she wanted a pet, so a pet is what she got. She brought home this tiny little white and tortoise shell spotted male cat from a person she found in the newspaper who was giving away free kittens.

She would hold up the precious little kitty and say, “[addressing my father] So, what should we name him? [addressing the cat] What is your name little kitty?” And she went on like this for days waiting for the cat’s true name to reveal itself. Finally one day she asked my father again, “What do you think we should name the cat?” And my father muttered under his breath, “How about Snatch?”

My mother picked up on the muttered words, and not knowing the word to truly be a vernacular form for the female genitalia squealed, “Snatch? Snatch. Oh, it is a perfect name for him!”

So, the cat became Snatch.

My mother was a teacher at a school in downtown Atlanta and she had a friend there by the name of Jane. Jane, loving to tease my mother as well, would ask her in the faculty lunch room, “(mother’s name) why don’t you tell everyone about your new kitten?” So there would be my mother, “I have this new kitty whose name is Snatch, the most beautiful kitten, and so smart too!” And the coaches would be rolling on the floor and then later in the week they would see her walking down the hall and yell out to her, “Hey (mother’s name) how is your snatch?” “Oh, he’s just fine. Thank you for asking.”

My parent’s went one weekend to visit my daddy’s sister, Jean. They brought the cat with them as he was litter box trained and my mother thought he was too young to be left at home alone over a long weekend.

As soon as they got there my aunt bounded down the steps of her house and ran out to greet them. Giving hugs and kisses all around she plucked the kitten from my mother’s arms and said, “And what is your name little fella?” My mother said, “Snatch.” And beamed. My aunt, well familiar with my father and his ways, bellowed my father’s name, “Ferdinand Humphrey!?!?* I know you did NOT finagle your lovely bride into naming this kitten something that disgusting!”

*Totally not his real name. But wouldn’t it be cool if it were?

My mom was all, “What now? Pardon?” So my aunt took my sweet and sheltered mother aside and explained to her what the word “snatch” meant. My mother? In all of the great comeback lines in the history of our smart ass family replied, “I wondered why all of those coaches were so interested in my cat

Because they had named the cat many weeks previously and he was already answering to something akin to “Hey Vagina! Come here!” they changed his name that weekend to be shortened to merely Satch.

Satch was a good cat and lived a good eight years or so until my sister was born and gave him a heart/anxiety attack from withholding his food from him unless he would eat one piece of food at a time from her hand.

Poor Satch.


So. There. I told it.

I’m totally going to be fired from my family for telling you guys that. But, isn’t it a great story?

Up next? (It won’t be until next week, I will be gone for the next three business days.) The robe of degradation… partially donned by ME.

Much love.

November 20, 2006

Happy Thanksgiving 2006

Ok, first off…. I can not tell ya’ll about the robe of degradation. Not yet. I must wait until I can take a bit of time to tell you guys all about that. And now? Is just not the time. No, my poppets, now… now, is the time to panic. Now is the time to be a bit spazzy. Nay, even bajiggety.

I hate this conference. I do.

This is the time of the year when I have a three city, 38 speaker, 25 committee member, 1500 attendee monster to slay in the name of event planners everywhere. This? This is my Moby Dick.

Call me Ishmael.

No, really. I am having a serious problem over here. I thought, hey, bright idea! Let’s pull our attendees kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century. Right? Let’s forgo the tree killing fest that is all of the materials that we normally print for this conference. Let’s give the attendees a CD-Rom with all of the materials … ALL… Of… THE… MATERIALS. Bonus, right? Right. So I cat wrangle and get every presentation from all 38 speakers. (A feat in itself… and yes, I am taking a little bow.)

Now for the fun part.

I gave the master CD-Rom to the company that is going to reproduce 1600 of them for me.

They? The 1600 CD-Roms? Were supposed to be in my warehouse by 11/17/06. Oh, hello calendar. It is what? The 20th? Why that can’t be! Because if that were the case, then… oh, I don’t know… THEN MY MATERIALS WOULD BE LATE!

::deep breath::

I set up on Wednesday. For those of you who don’t know, the next day; Thursday; is Thanksgiving Day. A day to celebrate with stuffing pie in your face and sitting on the back porch with your pants undone and a tall gin and tonic (with three olives!) in your right hand and a cigarette in your left. Thursday is not a day to be all ass clenchy about some stupid conference.

Thursday is a day to cook. A day to bake. A day to zurbert your niece and to look at pictures and watch football.

If I don’t get set up on Wednesday. Then I will be shit out of luck come Monday
The 27th at say, oh, around 5 am when I get to the convention center and have to set up everything by myself in an hour and a half.

If my materials are even there.


But I love ya’ll. Love. Happy Thanksgiving Day…. And just for you? A picture of the puppy watching his “first cousin” play soccer.

About November 2006

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in November 2006. They are listed from oldest to newest.

October 2006 is the previous archive.

December 2006 is the next archive.

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

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