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September 2009 Archives

September 1, 2009

Does a lack of Viatamin C give you Scurvy?

Oh Arturo, Prince of Irony…. Fuck you.

And I mean that in the sweetest way possible.

A few months ago… and just bear with me here people. I don’t know what I have told to whom and if I have posted any of it but here is the short version of the back story.

A few months ago my buddy Dre’ and I decided that we would introduce our spouses, that way they wouldn’t be A) jealous if we went out for happy hours with one another B) make new friends (but keep the ollllllld, one is silver and the other GOLD… God, I am gay… and not in the good way) and C) we figured that we’d be able to hang out more if they were involved. Happy significant others equals happier us. So we introduced them in a military-like planned maneuver that we called Operation Smiling Spouses.

We introduced them, Mister really likes Dre’ in one of those, “Hey, let’s play a lot of golf, smoke cigars and drink scotch every weekend” kind of ways and Dre’’s wife M thinks I am precious.

Really she does.

Win win situation, fuckers.

So I had this idea. Yeah, whatever, I totally should have stopped there but the sweet siren song of ROADTRIP! was calling my name. So at one of our weekend get togethers I sprung this idea at them all like I was some psycho jack-in-the-box. “I have this conference coming up in San Antonio in August. It is at this (blah blah) resort. I would work the Wed-Friday thingy, the boys could play both the (blah blah) course and the (blah blah*) course on Thursday and Friday, M and I could spa on Saturday, we could have one hell of a dinner on Saturday night, then come home Sunday! How does that sound!?”

*the name of the second course brought orgasmic sounds of joy from both of the men, I took that as a positive thing.

We were all in. It was so exciting planning everything and getting all of the ideas filed away into a “we could do this, or this, or this” type of mental (and paper, Dre’… he is the OCD) dossier. We even planned a mini road trip out to southwest Texas just to see how we all worked as a team.

Answer… AWESOME.

We went to M’s parents’ ranch and rode four wheelers, ate amazing food, smoked out on the porch with those sky chairs, visited with neighbors and relaxed completely. So we were all assured that the “Big Trip” as everyone was calling it, was going to go swimmingly and without a hitch.

Last week I was all butt puckered about one of my speakers who had yet to send me his materials. A presentation that was due on July the 29th … got it Friday after noon. RAWK. But I got all of my planning out of the way, got stuff packed the week before for my big conference (had to go to Houston on a work trip with a coworker, sorry Houston babies, I didn’t mean to leave you out in the cold, just had no time to see you… love you, mean it!) AND I got all of the laundry in the house done.

The reason for all of this preemptive cleaning and laundering was because as soon as I got back from Houston on the 21st I had to make sure things were all set as my folks were coming in to stay the weekend so we could take them to Kenny’s Wood Fired Grill in Addison for their August Birthdays. Kenny’s was awesome as always that Saturday night and we all ate and drank way too much. It was a great evening. So Monday and Tuesday of last week I spent doing my last minute stuff for my conference that was set up on Wednesday and took place over Thursday and Friday.

Tuesday night I asked Mister to lay everything out on the guest bed that he wanted to take on the trip. I packed like I was going for work and put the rest of my “resort wear” in his suitcase. We had everything packed and ready to go and went to pick up Dre’ and M to drive down with us at 9 am Wednesday morning. The drive was nice, we all laughed and listened to Hair Nation on XM and talked about the things we were most excited about for the trip. The only teeny little rain cloud over Mister’s head was that he didn’t really grasp the notion that I would be working Wednesday to set up the conference, at the actual conference Thursday from dawn’s ass-crack thirty until late in the evening (I have a dinner for some peeps) and then all day Friday.

We stopped a few hours north of San Antonio and let M run in to get something at a local HEB grocery store. A few minutes later a nice young man knocked on the window, Mister rolled it down, “Are you Dre’?” Dre’ answered, “I am.” “Your wife has fallen, please follow me.” We all looked at one another and Dre’ bolted from the car to go find M. She was okay, just bruised, abraded and embarrassed but she handled it like a champ.

We got to the resort at three and my preconference meeting wasn’t until 4:00 o’clock, so I wheeled my little backpack with all of my conference shit down into the meeting area and started working. My prior boss (seen singing in a few videos I posted an entry or three ago), Andy, came downstairs to help and we got everything situated in record time, including my little pre-con meeting.

Wednesday night we went to Kona Grill for dinner and I ate everything on the menu and one very large puffer fish in their massive aquarium behind the bar that was not on the menu. It was a fabulous end to a very nice night.

To be honest, we all brought more liquor on the trip than a small caravan of carnies would need for three weeks, but we were bound and determined to have enough of whatever whoever wanted, whenever they wanted it. We also had grand delusions of taking massive amounts of liquor, cigars and enough smokes to choke a medium alpaca down to the hot tub every freaking night.

So, Wednesday night after a long drive, a fall, a set up, a precon, an amazing dinner and Mister starting to feel icky, we all went to bed.

Thursday morning my cell phone alarm went off, my blackberry alarm went off, the clock radio alarm went off and two wake up calls came in quick succession.

Don’t look at me that way. I don’t like to be late.

I looked over at Mister and he looked like shit. No, I am not bashing him. He is one hell of a handsome man, but if he was going to pop out of bed with a whistle in his step on the way to the golf course, I would have eaten my hat. He actually said the words that made my butt clench so tightly I could have cracked walnuts with one flex. He said, “I need to go to the hospital.” I had to be downstairs in twenty minutes so I could be early. When the conference brochure reads, “6:30 am Registration and Continental Breakfast” there are always early birds.

We went into M & Dre’’s adjoining room and told them what was going on. Well, Mister did as I had to put on pants. Dre’ offered to take Mister to the ER and off they went. I went downstairs after they left and sort of stumbled through the morning answering questions, registering attendees and talking to committee members as my better half was in a strange city, in pain, at a strange hospital with someone who wasn’t me. Dre’ messaged me as quickly as he could with updates… and Black Berry Messenger I owe you (and Dre’ you too) a long deep tongue kiss for keeping me connected to those I love. Hell, Dre’ deserves a medal and a cape or something for taking care of Mister the way he did.

The ER gave Mister an XRay told him everything from it being a parasitic twin to scurvy. Then they admitted they didn’t know what was wrong and sent him home with two different prescriptions that did nothing to ease his pain. Mister’s description of it was, “It feels like someone broke a 2X4 off and stuck the jagged splintery edge into my lung.” Descriptive, no? So as he lay hurting and building and breaking fevers, Dre’ and M made the best of the day.

Thursday evening I took the committee, the speakers and some guests to an appreciation dinner and I wanted to get out of there so badly, but it would have been in poor form to jump ship just as the wine was being served. So I stayed then met everyone else later.

We ended up hanging out for a while then everyone crashed, the next day, same thing… conference for me… but the Dre’ and Mister went out to the pools and started drinking so by the time I was done for the night and everything was packed and shipped home, everyone was ready for dinner. I called the maître d’ (the same one who helped me plan dinner from the night before) and asked him for reservations. Number one, he is probably the nicest person on the planet. I am SO not exaggerating and number two, he truly wants you and your guests to be happy. So.. dinner = SCOOOOOOORE! After a lengthy dinner and a visit to the cigar lounge, Mister was shivering so violently that I was worried about his teeth. We got him all settled into his bed then I went and crawled into bed with M and Dre’ and M and I took turns brushing each other’s hair while Dre’ watched something on HBO about Hard Knocks. A football show I believe.

The next morning (Saturday) Dre’ (after the three of them having lunch at the orgasm course on Friday) made sure he had a tee time and Mister went along for the ride. M and I had plans to spa. And yes, fuckers, it is a verb. Well, the way I do it is. Dre’ played golf, Mister rode in the cart and M and I spa’d. It was divine. That evening we were all so happy and kind of tuckered out from the day that we decided not to go to the Riverwalk downtown. We decided to take the suggestion of the maître d’ from the night before and we went to a fabulous restaurant that was about 4 miles away. It was amazing and the VIP treatment was in full swing. It was so awesome.

When we got home M and Mister were both zonked from their various illnesses and sundries so Dre’ and I went down to the cigar bar and just hung out for an hour. Sunday we drove home. We did stop at Inner Space Caverns for Dre’ and M to root around under the earth for about an hour while Mister napped and I read my book.

Yesterday I took Mister to the doctor. We were in and out in no time at all including a CT Scan. He has pneumonia and pleurisy. The fuck? Pleurisy? Seriously? Here’s a link and it is pretty fucking gross. But there ya go. He had two shots put in his butt yesterday, a round of pain killers, some antibiotics and some steroids and he went back today for another round of shots. He is out of work until Tuesday and did y’all know this? Pneumonia is contagious. I am working from home right now because I do not want to pass this shit around the office like a white elephant gift.

In conclusion. We are a bunch of old ass lame cranky shits who can’t even vacation correctly.

I kid. In light of the circumstances, I think we all had a pretty good time.

The End….

Or is it?

Not really. Here’s one little twist. Mister was supposed to have surgery on his FrankenKnee on the 10th of September. Because of this little twist of fate that is going to push his surgery back. But oh HO! I … my darling little poppets am supposed to have surgery (hysterectomy… rock) on the 29th. So if they put off his surgery much longer because of his poor lungs, then what will I do when I am not supposed to lift over 5 pounds the first month? Mister’s tall ass weighs more than five pounds, I assure you.

Random fact: Did you know that a gallon of milk weighs 8 pounds?

Me neither.

Send booze (and a large, hot, male Samoan massage therapist).

September 16, 2009

Do you really need more black shoes?

I have jacked with the shopping gods enough to know when I have met my match. I am not a big fan of shopping (contrary to what some who walked around with me (MIKE AND POPPY) for eleventy two hours in Chicago looking for a pair of comfortable shoes). Yes, yes… I do like to look at products. Sephora and Lush are my personal waterloo’s. The Clarin’s (Smashbox/Kheil’s/ect.) counter at most high end department stores. Fuck, even the lipstick isle in a CVS pharmacy gets me all a-twitter. Yes, so there’s that. Then the whole shoe and purse love.

Okay, I sort of like to shop. For products and shoes… and purses.


No, I do not want to go shopping with you to look for, well, anything really (MIKE AND POPPY EXCLUDED). So, I guess, that is really the thing. I sort of like shopping… if I am already in a mall like place, do not have to go out of my way for anything and can look at purses, shoes and make up … for me. Yeah, it all boils down to being a selfish hooor.

Here’s a little history. A few years ago (like in June of 2007) I hemmed and hawed over these shoes:

Forever. And they were like twenty-five dollars. Andy (prior boss extraordinaire) was practically chewing his face off (MIKE was too) over the mere thought that I wouldn’t buy the shoes (were originally a billion dollars… and were on clearance in my size for TWENTY FIVE DOOOLLLLAAARS) just because before I left the house to go shopping with Andy, Mister offhandedly said, “Don’t buy anything.” So. I didn’t.

But I did ask them to hold them. With my name and my number. And I approached Mister about the twenty-five dollar dilemma and he was like, “Good Lord woman, go get your shoes.” Then he rolled his eyes (across the floor) and made some hmmpf noise about me being so literal.

Me. Literal.

I use words like eleventy and say shit like “The MOST awesomest in the WHOLE WORLD!”. And, I… am literal? Eh shrug. Whatever.

Cut to the now.

Well, not THE now. More like July of 2007. In Montreal. At ALDO in the mall attached to the Hyatt. I was just “looking” at… purses, and shoes and these really cute sunglasses. Shut up. And I had promised myself that I would get one thing as a sursie (a prize) for the trip. What? I was in Canada. I couldn’t go home empty handed. And DEFINITELY not without that fabulous red purse over there (Scarlette, yes, I am crazy and I do name everything… even pants) so it was between Scarlette and these perfect black pumps. I figured that I would use a purse more. But Oh HO! Black pumps? When I wear freaking black almost every day!? [Looks down… Yep. Black-ish. I have on gray pants and a pewter ¾ sleeve jacket. That counts. ] So apparently I do love the red purse. But oh, how those shoes have haunted me. They were perfect. Pointed toe, 3-4 inch heel, open arch on both sides and a little toe-cleavage*. And the other part was that they were comfortable… AFTER I had been on my swollen ass feet all day. Imagine me doing the Bernadette Peter’s song from Young Frankenstein… but about shoes.

*(I am totally trying to upload a picture of these shoes and woe… am denied. Here is a link, don’t know how long it will last. Who Do I have to Blow to find these in a 40 US 10 M?)

Holy crap, it finally let me upload a pic.


As you can tell, I didn’t get the shoes. I have been looking for them ever since. They elude me like a rainbow colored unicorn humping a glittery Cher. That’s pretty fucking elusive.

So I keep trying to find them, all for naught. Finally I was like, “Hey Mister.” “What?” “I am still trying to find those black pumps from ALDO?” “Huh?” “Those… Black [start to drool slightly] … Heeeeeelszzzzz….. (purrrrrrr).” “Do you really need more black shoes?” “….[blink… blink… blink]” “Fine. How much?”

I can’t find them. So I went to the ALDO outlet and ordered the closest thing I could find. They were delivered today. I am excited. They are very cute… but the heel, she is not teeteringly high. They are almost.. (gasp) sensible. So if someone could please find me those others (link listed above) I would be most grateful. And yes, I did talk to the customer service people and they were most unhelpful via emails and phone calls. BUT… The lady in the store was fabulous. But she did all she could do. I mean, after all, I am trying to find shoes… in my size… that were on the shelves over two years ago.


About September 2009

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

July 2009 is the previous archive.

October 2009 is the next archive.

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

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