Suzanna Danna

I have a bad habit. Scratch that, it is more than a habit, it is a compulsion and it is an addiction. It’s called reading and it can interfere with your life.

This is your brain [picture an egg here]… and this is your brain on a book a day (or more) habit [picture a three egg omlette with spinach, mushrooms, smoked gouda, adobo and white pepper to taste here].

And also?... mmmmmmmmm, scrumpdillyiscious*.

*Ned Flanders… heh.

This weekend I started and finished a fluff book (I first called it a fluff piece and that sounded too p0rny) that was handed over to me by my director on Friday right before I left the office. The book is called “Play Dirty” by an Arlington, TX author, Sandra Brown. The book was entertaining and totally a fly by type of book. No thought needed to enjoy the plot. I enjoyed the hell out of it and I turned the book over to read the back and whistled. Lookit… Click for picture of Hotty McCougarson.

The book was fun and totally on the same level as “Breaking Dawn” or whatever the fourth installment of the twilight series is. But with the twilight book I (started Saturday afternoon, read into the night, and last night… almost finished) I am completely taken surprise by the new first person character. I won’t spoil anyone’s fun but it is not at all like the third book. But for it being a “young adult” book… it’s pretty… um. Gonna stop right here before I get hate mail for spoiling anything. And yes, I am 13 years old.

The third book I am reading comes from the journal of Henry Rollins. It is called “Smile, You’re Traveling” and I thought that it would be perfect for needing a mental kick in the ass for how grumpy I have been about work lately. If you have read back into my archives (bless you, you poor thing) then you know I love me some Henry Rollins. This peek into his brain is humorous, a little shocking and sometimes mind opening. I have had several “ah-ha” moments reading this book and I am not very far in.

He’s not very lovey dovey, he definitely doesn’t pull punches and I am glad that I never made an ass out of myself trying to say hello to him while attending one of his spoken word concerts.

Two things… I believe that in the late 90’s Henry’s favorite word was intense and if he were to ever write a self help book it would be very short. Maybe a pamphlet. It would merely say, “Get the fuck over yourself. Suck it up. Do what you want and take responsibility for it.”

So to summarize… two cheesy novels and a kick in the ass. BUT, these books got in my way this weekend. I was supposed to just hang out, maybe go see a movie, do a little light cleaning, ect. But noooooo, there I was with a book under my nose anytime Mister walked out of the living room, anytime the DVR was paused, anytime I was in bed… gah. So much stuff swirling in my head that I had madly inappropriate dreams about inappropriate things with an inappropriate person this morning. I woke up several times during the night but the level of inappropriateness was at an all time high around 5 am and I gave up and got out of bed.

What is wrong with me? I didn’t eat anything spicy before I went to bed, I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. But y’all. Seriously, the inappropriate person in my dream is so laughably undreamable (new word.) when conscious. So I have to ask… hey, brain… WTF?

Do any of you have these weird, “Dude, I SO should not be dreaming about Mr. Whipple in that fashion” dreams? And if so… share. Go ahead. It’s alright, we’re all friends here.

Brain fart. I was just in the kitchen at the office. Yes, I write this over my lunch hour. Do not dooce me. And this woman came in to fix her meal.

Side note: I am being a total judge-y ho about this and I am taking responsibility for thinking mean shit. I’m kind of cruel in my head but only once in a blue moon because I want everyone to love me (shallow) and I am totally a people pleaser (door mat).

There is this woman whom I see almost daily that is (I’m guessing) partially insane. She’s had a rough life and she has lost a family member fairly recently. There is no telling how old she is but she is just the sweetest thing ever. The insane part is just a bonus. She’s an even bigger bucket of crazy than I am so I just refer to her as Bucket. With love, y’all. Shut it. And never to her face because I am a little nice… and also yella.

So Bucket has a very… eclectic pallet. You never know what she will be eating for lunch and even though my lunch schedule is all over the place somehow I get the joy of seeing what she has to eat at least four or five times a month. Maybe more. I’m not one to turn my nose up at food, really; if it isn’t a beet, liver or raw onions I am all over it… but… I have noticed some very unique combinations in Bucket’s lunch pail.

I will be standing there heating up my Jenny Craig meal and Bucket will be show me what she brought and then she’ll go get something else out of some tin foil and I never know what to expect. Nor will I ever know the reason why she likes to tell me about what she brought for lunch. Yes, I am a fat girl. Yes, I eat food. But just because I am fat does not mean I am interested in what you are eating. Unless you are crazy. Then totally count me in.

Side note. There is another woman who likes to walk around to everyone’s desk to see what they have for breakfast or lunch. I’m not sure why. It strikes me as odd, but to each their own, I guess.

Back to Bucket. So one day it will be apples and sardines. Another day it will be leftover meatloaf and a can of oyster juice. Then the day after it will be a grapefruit filled with cottage cheese and pinenuts with a side of boiled goat.

Seriously.

I am waiting for chicken fried squirrel, hominy and a slice of PVC.

Speaking of Henry Rollins (keep up y’all… the brain, she is fried)… I am so excited. I just talked to a buddy of mine. I have known this gentleman since I was… oh, 12, and we haven’t seen each other in… oh, good Lord, in almost 20 years. Anyway, since we reconnected through classmates.com or facebook or something we’ve been sending emails back and forth, sometimes chatting, sometimes I get a text… last one was “Are you coming to my freaking BBQ!?” The answer, sadly was no.

So he and his awesome wife and me and my fabulous Mister have been trying to work out a time to get together for dinner. We finally got a weekend that wasn’t chock full of shit and hurried to put our little dinner on the calendar.

Today, I was over on the Henry Rollins site (to get the link for you guys because I love you, I do… you guys are the wind beneath my wings and shit) and I found that Mr. Rollins will be in the DFW area the same night we will be having dinner. Messages ensued. Summarized below for your enjoyment.

me: do y’all like Henry Rollins?
him: fuck yeah we do.
me: rock on, he’s playing the night we have dinner plans… wanna go after?
him: let’s do it.
me: we are so awesome
him: if we were anymore awesome we would be on fire.

Okay, fine. Neither one of us said the last thing about being awesome or on fire. But it is true.

So, you see before you a very excited young woman. I am excited because I am going to get to see the awesome couple, hang out and have dinner with them then onward to see Henry Rollins.

I need to say Henry Rollins one more time. Henry Rollins.