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July 1, 2009

This has been in my head for two days.

I have been out of town for the last two weeks. The first week I was in… wait, let me get my head straight. The first week I was in Galveston for a conference and last week I was in San Antonio for another. I am a little bit worn out and my twittering is sorely out of date. I haven’t updated my FaceBook status in ages and I haven’t sent you lovely people a love letter in the form of a journal entry in a bajillion years.

My apologies, please forgive me.

But I come bearing gifts. I come bearing good news. I come bearing interesting stories. Oh, come back here. It’s all good, baby.

For those of you who care. I have on the cutest pair of strappy brown high heeled sandals. For those of you who don’t… See the next paragraph. While in San Antonio I was with my prior boss, oh he of the voice*, the shopping and the turning purple and running away screaming when I speak of anything… inappropriate in nature. He is the best shopper for me. So is Mister and my mother of course. If it weren’t for the three of them, I would be lucky to have on pants. So of course, in San Antonio we were basically sleeping in a mall (well, okay, next to a mall… on top of?) and so prior boss was dragging me around and throwing stuff at me to try on. Found THE cutest top(s) and some fabulous earrings, but the shoes… Lo’ they are strappy, a few inches high, brown leather and incredibly comfortable. Love.

*Third dude from the left. He would kill me dead if he knew I posted this. Please don’t tell. Go to 2 minutes 59 seconds in to hear him SANG. I love this song. It makes me cry. Shut up, I am Southern. And this poor man has to work with me. He is a saint.

So while I was kinda butt clench about this time of year (see last year’s post of suck … Click here for suckage) I am happy to announce that at the conference in Galveston nobody died, or had any kind of seizures or anything. Score. The meeting in San Antonio was good, as good as being out of town for two weeks can be.

But here’s some fabulous news. Things are SO looking up for Mister and me. I am happy, relieved and also a little bit smooshy. Like if you say something nice, I may hug you. And/Or cry… with happiness. Just letting you know. It was nice to miss him and to be missed. Kinda gets you right here (pointing somewhere in the vague vicinity of my sternum).

One large detail of HULK SMASHiness is that we had to give up Zeke. That is it. No more dogs. Max is fine, but Zeke went on (more than once) a one (90+ pound) dog rampage through the house during a thunderstorm. Yes, the storms were bad last month, and yes, we lost (a portion of) our fence due to a storm… but the poor thing, the older he got (was OLD) the more frightened he became. One day we were both working and a big storm blew through… here’s the rub, yeah, he tore the blinds off the back door and tore up the ones in the dining room, who cares. Yeah, he tore off the dryer hose looking for somewhere to hide. You have a dog, you expect expenses. But, the thing was he also chewed through the dryer electric cord to where both wires were exposed. He could have killed himself. And he doesn’t do well with small confined spaces for any longer than a minute or two, so crate training was out. Do not cross me on this people. I am fragile and may stalk you and come sit in your lap and bawl for about an hour, completely interrupting your work flow. So the good news is that the same place we got him placed him (same day, we were told) with a woman who just lost her elderly GSD and is a stay at home person. So, win, win. Except the part where I cry when I find a Zeke hair. And where I miss him terribly and (excuse me, I need to go… um, blow my nose… there may be pollen in here or something).

Um…
This has been in my head for two days.
WARNING: Language/Lyrics may ot be safe for work. Please use your earphones. And then, please rock out. Thank you. Please to enjoy.

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Yes, I am aware of the irony of the two videos I have chosen for this particular entry. Your point?

This post has taken me two days to write and I haven’t even given you guys the goods.

One little note. I think I may have a problem and an intervention should be staged. At my house. Bring your own axe. I stayed up last night past midnight playing RockBand2. I was connected online and got to play some of the strangest stuff I have ever heard. I failed out for the first time and I truly have renewed respect for musicians. Pushing 4-5 little colored buttons on a guitar/bass shaped controller while using the “strum button” is totally not the same thing. But I love it so. Apparently I am a 13 year old boy, cleverly disguised as a 37 year old woman. No one tell. Or wait, do TOTALLY DO. I will register at rockband.com and then we can all be 13 year old boys together. Leave comments with your band name and stats, ect… or email me.

This is gonna be fabulous.

Mister got me the cutest little HP Mini because I rule a few weeks ago and I am trying to work up the nerve to actually write something to get published. Wish me luck!

Dirt later, I promise. We (and by we, I mean me and the other party involved) have not even come up with a good pseudonym for them to use in the story we are going to tell. It is going to be AWE(wait for it)SOME.

PS.. If I don’t talk to y’all before the weekend. Happy Fourth of July!

July 21, 2009

Pure Nacho

A quote from the Galactic Cowboys song “If I Were A Killer”: "This is just a hypothetical story... 'bout someone - let's just say it's me." Yes, boys and girls it is time for another one of those “Fiction, or Is It?” stories. And by the way, you are welcome.

A few weeks ago I was chatting with an old friend, let’s call him Nacho, and we were discussing some of life’s amazing little coincidences and follies.

Let me tell you a little bit about Nacho. Nacho is a beautifully handsome man. He is perfectly tall. Not too tall that your neck aches when you reach to kiss him but tall enough that you feel safe with his well muscled arms wrapped around you. He gives the perfect hug, strong and laughing so you can hear his voice rumble through his chest. He is broad through the shoulders and narrow at the hip with marvelously white teeth and green eyes that are a color only found in nature, the color of pine trees and of the depth of the ocean. He is kind and gentle and most of my memories include him. His deep and soothing voice still invades my thoughts because growing up we shared a common sense of humor as well as curiosity for life and all the wonders it offered.

Nacho has not always been as self assured and relaxed within himself as he is now. Now that he is a man, the voice fits, the height fits, the broad shoulders and beautiful smile fit. But when he was a much younger man, he was a little insecure and very much willing to try to blend into the background when it was almost impossible. His charm, wit and gentle heart could never be overlooked. So he made jokes.

That was his M.O. Humor. And it worked on almost everyone.

With razor sharp wit and a quick sense of humor he could turn almost any situation into an amusing one.

All except one.

We were very young and very close and one day after school the subject of kissing came up. Nacho had never kissed a girl, and always being happy to oblige and help a brother out, I offered to teach him. Oh, sure, very Mother Teresa of me, … yes it was a selfless act of mercy. No you idiots, he was still very cute back then but he just had no clue. We stood in an alley (because we were hoodlums*) and he asked me, “So, what do I do?”

*Please.

I, being the expert (*see above) told him to put his hands around my waist, he obediently did as he was told. I asked him to pull me a bit closer as I slid my arms around his neck. He did so, and then I told him to keep his mouth soft, turn his head a little to the right and to follow my lead. I pressed my lips against his and he did the same, I pulled back a little and told him to part his lips a little and that I was going to lick his lips. He opened his eyes and looked at me, briefly shook his head then assumed the position again, this time with his mouth partly opened. I licked his lips softly then asked him to do the same to me. He licked my lips hesitantly then I told him that I was going to French kiss him and he could use a little more pressure or to do as he felt but to be careful as he was wearing braces. He pressed his lips against mine and parted them with his tongue, I licked over the tip of his tongue and he pulled me closer into him and really kissed me. He moved his arms around my back so one was around my waist and the other was between my shoulder blades, he deepened the kiss to almost maximum make out level. Whoo-boy! To this day I think he totally knew how to kiss… because he didn’t need any direction at all.

Sneaky, that Nacho.

When it came time for us to graduate we sadly went to separate schools, he to his parents alma mater and me to… well, y’all know where I went. I called him one day a few weeks into my fall semester of my junior year to ask him if he would come see me. I had a formal to go to and I knew that he would be the perfect date. We didn’t get to see one another that often and I knew that we would have a blast that weekend. I could introduce him to my friends (the ones he didn’t already know and love) and he would be perfect arm candy with a side dish of awesomeness all in one handsome package. We could catch up, we could laugh and watch movies or just go around to different parties and hang out. The formal was an excuse, but it was a good one.

He came up that weekend and we started off that Friday night at a party with some of my friends. I introduced him to all of the single women I knew. He was a big hit being tall, handsome, in a fraternity and gregarious. He drew people to him and in short time they were sitting around him like he was a bon fire, listening to him tell stories of his college and our days of growing up with one another.

That evening, back at my apartment we got into our standard college pj’s (gym shorts or boxers and a t-shirt). We brushed our teeth at the same sink, lounged around on the bed talking about what had been happening lately, who had seen whom, what was going on with so and so, the success of the evening. We also discussed what we were going to do the next day and the particulars of the formal. We would go to dinner with a small group then head over to the formal. Our parents had made sure to make us promise to take pictures to send to them.

He jumped up and hung his suit coat, pants and tie near my little formal dress then walked over, laid down and snuggled in beside me on my little twin sized bed. We had always been comfortable around one another. There had never been any tension or weirdness that sometimes happens between boys and girls. While growing up we would normally share a chair rather than sit next to one another on the floor or couch. Our parents thought we were adorable. So sharing a teeny bed with him was not out of my comfort zone.

Nacho started kissing my neck. The back of my neck.

Damn you, Nacho!

He slid an arm under my neck, and wrapped arm around my waist and pulled me in his strong embrace (he wanted me to mention the massive bulging manhood here… so). I could feel his massive bulging manhood pressing against my bottom, almost pushing me out of the bed **Nacho note: seriously? SERIOUSLY??? Don’t believe it, folks.** **Susan Note… Oh Nacho totally wanted me to talk about his huge prowess and that I was all scared and shit… Having it push me physically from the bed was about as far as I would go… and it painted a picture, no? YES.. Yes, it did.** I quietly giggled, swatting his hands away and said, “Quit it Nacho.” He said, “Oh, alright.” We went to sleep and the rest of the weekend went exactly how we planned it.

The story in itself is not atypical.

But sixteen years later as we were chatting via BlackBerry Messenger he mentioned the time he came to visit me at school. We talked a bit about it and then he dropped a massive bombshell.

Nacho: I tried to offer you my virginity that weekend.
me: Wait, what?
Nacho: I said… I tried to offer you my virginity that weekend.
me: You. Did. Not.
Nacho: Yes, truly I did. Don’t you remember?
me: Oh God.
Nacho: What?
me: What did I do?
Nacho: I got a little handsy and you swatted at me and said ‘Quit it.’
me: Was I mean?
Nacho: No.
me: Oh, how awful… this is … (complete meltdown, worried that I had hurt his feelings ect.)
Nacho: (lots of text missing but basically him making me feel better about the whole scenario)
me: So, that was it and you were okay with all of it.
Nacho: Sure, I figure that we were too good of friends to make a big deal out of it.
me: But that is a once in a lifetime thing man.
Nacho: I know, but …
me: There was a reason for it I am sure.
Nacho: There’s always a bigger picture that we don’t see.
me: You’re awesome.

We still see each other, but most often it is texts, emails and phone calls at completely random times. Normally ending with, “Like a BOSS.” He’s still in my heart, he is still one of my closest friends, he is still hysterical as shit and he is still the same Nacho I know and love. He is still as gorgeous as ever, he has an elegant wife and a beautiful child so yeah, there is always a bigger picture that we don’t always see.

July 29, 2009

Thirty-Five Plus ... the Humpenning.

I have decided that Bai Ling completely ruined Crank 2: High Voltage for me. I cannot believe that the same dudes wrote and directed it as the first Crank film. Just me? Whatever. Suck it. It was genius in a very odd, “holy crap, that is exactly how everything looked when I got high that time” but other than making me want to hold the TV still for the entire movie, Bai Ling’s “You are my shiny lunch box!” and “That my boyfriend, he going to jack you off!” (“Wrong expression” deadpan’s Jason Statham, heh.) were more annoying than helpful to the … plot. ? Is plot the right word here?

I know, you didn’t come here to hear a movie review, so … ONWARD.

This is going out to the women over 30… the rest of you, go, slather yourself with body butter and make sure that you are wearing SPF and never fail to moisturize and take care of yourself, get a real hair stylist, dress for your age/body type and don’t be afraid to tell someone that you think they are attractive. Also, send me dick jokes. Yes, I think they are funny.

As you were.

For the rest of you Mister has decided that he is married to the unholy union of the Progressive Insurance commercial lady.

And Kathy Griffin.

Yes, I pussied out and put in the Safe For Work video. Gah.


So, this is all fine and well if you want to think of me of someone who has a very foul mouth and gets WAY too excited about name badges (and tacos), but it does not help my plight with… Middle Age Cougar Syndrome, or MACS (pronounced “max”) for short.

Here’s the problem. I just turned thirty-seven (shut it you whippersnappers) in May. Some switch got flipped and now all the sudden it’s like I am an 18 year old boy hormone wise. Yeah, I know… we’ve discussed this a little bit before but, Holy Shit…. Y’all just don’t KNOW. And for you who do, I need a crash course in “not humping your office chair during business hours 101”. What the hell? Seriously, this can NOT get any worse.

One minute I’ll be calmly working on specs for a conference and the next I am all, “MROW! Hey, How YOU durin!?” Regardless if I am alone or in a room full of people. Working or silently trying to keep my composure at dinner… or you know, sleep. Good LORD. It does not matter. And if this doesn’t go away, I may have to I don’t know… is there such a thing as taking up porn as a hobby?

I can’t listen to the radio… country music turns me on, thrash metal turns me on, alternative music turns me on, classic music… you see where I am going here right? It’s like, if the radio isn’t on the XM/Sirius Spa channel, then I am in trouble. Distracted? Don’t even get me started. I have been trying to substitute an insane amount of reading and an even larger amount of time spent playing Rock Band 2 so I don’t accidentally kill anyone (sorry Mister) with my overdose of sexiness.

Mister and I are going to a ranch outing with another couple this weekend. We are supposed to go four-wheeling. I am already nervous. Does that tell you anything? I have nightmares about being called to the front of the class to work a math problem on the blackboard… then humping the teacher. I am having the most inappropriate thoughts about people that I would never dream of even flirting with much less riding them like Sea Biscuit. Men, women, that couch over there… it Doesn’t Matter.

Tell me what to do y’all. Seriously, I am asking for your help and advice here. Yeah, yeah, it’s all fun and games until someone gets arrested for indecent exposure.

About July 2009

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in July 2009. They are listed from oldest to newest.

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