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February 10, 2012

No... YOUR Pants are on Fire.

Hey Y’all.

Just wanted to share this little nugget of awesome. It’s coming up on the holiday of holiday’s (President’s Day, dur) and I wanted to share this coupon with you so you could shop my store (yeah, look, to the right over there, where it says “You TOO can wear my stuff. Click here to shop.” click that… Over there.)

My logo is the shit, it’s all unisex and funky. Get your loved ones t-shirts, coffee mugs, messenger bags, totes, mouse pads, magnets, pins, hoodies and basically anything fabulous that has my amazing Freak Friendly logo emblazoned upon it. Conversation starters, for sure. Yeah, explain THAT to your parents/colleagues/priest.

Take $5 off
orders of $40* or more
02/10/2012 - 02/14/2012
use code: 02LEAP10


Now that that little bit of housekeeping is out of the way (that originally read “out o the way, like, I think I’m Irish or something… oh wait, I AM.), I wanted to tell you guys a story.


This one is kind of hard to do. I know I will be judged and judged harshly. I know that I can’t hide behind poorly written fiction; I just have to suck this one up (TWSS) and get it out there. It has been on my mind constantly since. Well, since a long time ago. I can’t pinpoint the date (I can, but I won’t) and I can’t tell you exactly who, the use of names is just improper. So I will try to be honest, brave, and to the point. Please keep in mind this is MY side of the story, if he wants to pipe up, please, by all means (even if he wants to do it anonymously), just saying that these are MY feelings and MY opinions. I may have to be vague in some cases, just to save face or try and … oh hell, let’s just get to it. Shall we?

A few years ago a friend of mine and I found out that our marriages were shit. He knew LONG before I did about his own. I was kind of in denial. We both tried hard; hell… he’s still trying. I just decided I was too young to be that miserable. I had too much to offer and I was tired of being invisible. He? Well, either he’s a saint, a martyr, a masochist or something that doesn’t have a word for it, because he’s still there, taking abuse on almost a daily schedule. I know he has a temper and he blows up quickly, fights dirty and uses words that hurt… but he’s still there. They both are. Together and miserable, but at least not alone.

I think that may be his biggest fear. He may be miserable but he knows she’s there. She’s a constant source of strain. But she’s not going anywhere. She is mean and sometimes petty, but at the end of the day, he knows when he gets home, he is not alone. She has asked, demanded, screamed, yelled, cried many times for him to leave, to just get the fuck out and she asks him “Why do you stay!?” I don’t know either y’all. All I know is that last fall when she said, “Take the dog and your shit and get the fuck out!”… He tried. And it failed miserably. He couldn’t even get past the house without a cataclysmic event taking place.

A for Effort, but F for Showing Your Work. You did your best kid.

I didn’t know where he was going to go. We have these massive communication blocks were time and messages are missing. We are close friends and let me assure you, we have never slept together, but we have been having what I would call… an emotional affair for years. We used to tell each other everything, lean on one another for support, hang out, let loose, relax and just be. And these large blocks of miscommunication would get caught up with speaking about everything… an all cards on the table approach that I am so fond of.

Here’s the crux. A few years ago his wife (who is ill) asked me, “If something happens to me, will you take care of him?” I asked her exactly what she meant by that. Because, damn, that is sort of jacked up. She said, “Exactly what you think it means, take care of him, he doesn’t do well alone, you two are close and we love you.” Then I thought about it. I talked to my parents, my friends, him. And I told her I would.

He and I discussed our future, we talked finances and retirement y’all.

I let Nugget (current lover) and Big Papa (would love to be in the picture but is geographically unattractive) know. They were both like, “So, if something happens to her, I’m out of your life?” my reply, “Yes.” Because that’s how I roll motherfuckers. Loyal, honest and above board.

Last fall as I was driving to my parents place a hoard of messages popped up. I was getting off the Interstate so at the next turn I read the messages. I was floored, and worried… I tried to message him back, no reply. I finally gave up and called him. He wasn’t where I expected but he said again to me, “I just can’t do this anymore.” I have heard him say that over and over and over. And here I sit, watching him doing it over and over and over.

You know how in the dictionary that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over and expecting a different result? Yeah, that. Same goes for me… you’ll see why in a minute.

So when I asked him if he wanted to talk about it, he said no. I asked him what I could do. He said, “I could really use a friend right now.” I alerted him to the fact that I was less than 40 minutes from my parent’s house (trip normally takes about 2.5 hours) and he said, “Oh.” And that one little syllable broke my heart. I could have turned around and come back for him, I could have. But I had it on good authority that if I would have done that and chosen him over my parents not only would I feel like a shitty offspring, but that when I got back, the situation could have changed dramatically and he wouldn’t be able to see me… or something.

That’s the thing y’all. There is always something.

In front of my friends and privately with me we would talk about our futures, hope for what was to come. He would be open and honest about what he expected from me and vice versus. He even took a 3 hour grilling from one of my closest girlfriends in the world. The answers he gave to her questions and the things he told her unbidden made my heart soar. I could do this. I could wait for as long as it took. I could be there for him as a friend and as his potential future. My mother would whisper, “Don’t settle.” If I started to get impatient.

I was, y’all… I was so impatient. I wanted him to be mine. I knew how to treat him, I knew how to love him, I knew how to be with him… Or so I thought.

Where before in front of my friends and privately with me we would talk about our futures, hope for what was to come, it became harder and harder to see one another alone. We normally hung out the three of us, me, him and his bride. I was first and foremost their friend. In my head and my heart, an impatient friend, but a friend. She would remind me if he and I had laugh fest about something that she didn’t find funny (for example: in a movie) that, “I’m not gone yet.”

Somehow, I became a threat.

She’s a woman; maybe she could read my impatience. Maybe so could he. Probably because I told him (I KNOW, *buzzer noise*) I was feeling impatient. I’m a stupid stupid girl. I wanted to take care of him, I wanted to make sure he was healthy and sleeping well, and loved …. He was always taking care of her, his family, his friends. The small things I did for him, he told me how much he appreciated them. I wanted him to be happy y’all. OH holy hell did I ever want him to be happy.

He started referring to me in friend terms. TO ME. Yeah, I knew something was up. As opposed to calling me kitten, love, babe or any other number of pet names he was like, “I’m so lucky that we are such close friends!”

*record scratch*

So, I set out on a mission to ask him to be as frank as possible with me about who I was to him now. He told me that things had changed, and that the future thing probably wouldn’t pan out. I was FLOORED.

I asked him why.

He told me that he had offered me everything I had asked for (see impatience above) and that I had turned him down flat.

Let me go on… he said that he had told me about having papers ready and wanted me to go with him to the lawyers office and when he told me that I was like … Hold the MotherFucking Phone. Wait… WHAT?

So he was all, “Wait, so you don’t remember now? Is that it?” And I was like, “You think I would remember something as life changing as that, No… (name) I don’t remember that. AT ALL. Can we talk about this please?” That’s what hurt him the worst. Number one, he thinks I turned him down, that I would turn down everything I wanted… and Number two, that I don’t remember doing it. “That little amnesia bullshit act isn’t cute, Susan.”

So I worked my way from being his future, to his friend, to not even that.

Now it’s been me that has been taking the abuse. The conversations, when I even hint that I want to discuss the above information become hectic and erratic and I am told that if I were a true friend I would not bring it up again because it is too painful to talk about.

If there is an issue, I like to talk about who said what, when this happened, what we can do to get back on the right track, behavior modifications, and things that are more thoughtful and respectful. Yeah, no… he was havin NONE of that.

So my feeble attempts to just be his friend, I lied and falsely owned up to it… because I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t remember it. I don’t remember the conversation, or him asking me to go to the lawyer’s office (because we would have had a WHOLE other conversation about that is not where I belong. Boundary here… this is the dissolution of your marriage? I will be over here.. let me know when it is safe to come out…) I don’t remember shit. So I was like, “Yeah, you have every right to be mad, sorry I broke your heart, forgive me? Can we get past this?” And he was like, “Our friendship has endured a lot worse, yeah, we can get our friendship back.”

But like a dog with a bone and somebody give me a stick to beat this dead horse, I had to come clean, “Dude, you know I can’t lie to you anymore, I really don’t remember these actions, can we PLEASE talk about it, PLEASE?” And he got angry.

At one point there was a “Fuck You I am DONE with you!” Next day, “GOOD MORNING!”

I was (still am) so freaking confused.

I have early onset of Alzheimer’s, he is a fucking Master Jedi of manipulation or our communications got garbled up in BlackBerry/GoogleTalk/Text/AT&T and VERIZON.

Sun flares.

I don’t know.

I just feel like there’s always going to be an excuse. It is so much effort to help out with her, try to be cheerful, leave the room/house when they argue, listen to her shitbag him repeatedly, watch him struggle through his parent’s health as well as hers, help her (insert weird things in this space from waxing to apparel), stay positive, never talk about anything except for surface stuff with him unless it is online and sometimes that stuff gets lost y’all… it is just so hard.

So last week. :: sigh :: I put him out of my misery. Yeah, his birthday was (mumble) and I missed it, but I just had to let him go. I couldn’t be his outlet for anger or his enabler to bury important life changing shit under a rug. It was too much effort. He is so wrapped up in his own drama that he probably doesn’t even know that I blocked him on Google Talk, took him off the notify list and deleted him from FaceBook. I think about him constantly, but there is only so much I can do until I either let it all go, or work my way around to forgetting all about our miscommunication errors and our previous future. I am sad. But I had to cut it off at the source.

He texted me after the last blow up and said he wants to hopefully calmly chat in person sometime and reach something we both can live with and that he’ll leave me be until I am ready to chat.

I haven’t responded.

I don’t know what to say. Except, “pick up a motherfucking phone.”

I want to pin this whole thing on miscommunication and have an open and honest (albeit painful) discussion about what exactly happened but I know that is not likely to be on the list of “To Do’s” in the future. He wants me to own up to something I can’t do and not lie about it and take responsibility for doing something I am not sure happened. I can’t do it y’all. I just can’t. I know I hurt him or he wouldn’t be lashing out like this.

I’ve tried to put a time line together. I want to say that if he said (when I was headed to my parents) “I’m finally ready to take that step right now” and then all I heard was the “and I could really use a friend” part of the sentence. And I said “No, sorry, I am almost to my parents’ house.” Or something like that. That? I could believe.

But I can’t meet his demands, go back to just being his friend when I have been building my future around him for the past few years. I can’t. It hurts to be someone he doesn’t trust and doesn’t find appealing anymore. He’s called me a liar y’all.


That? I can’t abide by.

February 15, 2012

Santa Vag is Coming to Town! SING IT!

A week from tomorrow one of my favorite people in the world comes into town. Ginger. I love Ginger with the depth and intensity of a thousand burning suns. She is wee but please, by all means, do not let the tee-tiny packaging fool you. Dynamite comes in small packages; C4 can be explosive in Chicklet sized amounts... So is the way of Vag. Yes, her real name is Virginia, and in the 9th grade I decided that it would be prudent to nickname her Vag. Yes, she still speaks to me. Yes, I should be beaten about the head and shoulders with a large marmot, preferably dead and fly blown, but “Vag” it is.

She is hysterically funny. She can be loud. She can be quiet and introspective, she is a dear, dear friend and I lurve her.

She is an educator… with three children, and yet, she looks precisely (except for length of hair and boob size) the way she did in 1987. Actually she may be thinner, a fact that makes me want to punch her in the face… but with LOVE y’all.

We cheered together (I TOLD YOU, no judging) on the Varsity team in 10th grade and we trusted each other so implicitly (and I’m a hoss, she is wee) that assisted “tossing” became a fun activity and quite crowd pleasing. I, however gangly, lumbering and towering was a perfect perch for her teeny little canary like frame to hop from. I being freakishly strong, and not to mention that she was incredibly powerful and had a gymnastic and cheer background, could throw her far and high. It was fun.

Number one, I’m a base (dur) number two, Vag is a flier.

Assisted Jumps with her in front of me were awesome. I would put my huge hands on her wee sides and she would brace on my wrists, she’s count it off, “One, two, three (squat to prepare for explosion) and FOUR!” As she’d propel herself skyward as I “assisted” and threw her high into the air for a toe-touch. She’d be over my head y’all. Land like freaking Tigger with a spring in her step then this monster yell would burst from her with a fist pump, “WOOO! GO COUGARS! YEAH!” And the crowd would go wild. Even if we weren’t at a game (football, basketball) … even if we were just practicing in the atrium at school, or fucking around at a house party.

My favorite? Hmmm…

I don’t know if I can explain this.


Oh, look, goody! I don’t have to explain anything. Here. Click here to see an example of how awesome we used to be. Also, I may get her to try this next weekend. HAAAAAAAAAAAA!

I cannot express how awful I was as a cheerleader. My movements being born from years and years of dance and ballet had a dreamy quality where the rest of the squad was muscular and tight with their movements. I looked like my name should be Willow, and someone please give me a stick and some recycled ribbon so I can dance around lightly like a sprite.

But I was loud and could hold up others, throw them into the air, act as a base (brick for someone to stand upon) and follow directions. My arms were always askew during cheers, but I could dance. That’s all. Cheering? With like.. um, jumps and shit that looked like this?

View image

Haaaaaaaaa, no.

I didn’t have enough power to jump high enough with enough hang time to get my long ass legs out to my ears and then back under me so I’d end up landing in a forced second position grande plie. NOT PRETTY.

Like this…

View image

Wait, wrong image… more like this.

View image

Hot right? Yes? Yes? NO… NO!!!!!!!!!!! No, it was not!

Also, what’s up with this “view image bullshit”? I clearly said “Embedded” But NOOO.

Whatever… the important thing is, Vag is coming to town. More later.

I think I broke it again. Fredlet? Help? (dodges shoe being thrown)

UPDATE: 2/16/12
Email from: VAG (permission to post, granted)

I'm fixin to take my f-in computer and hog-toss it out the slider...

I've been trying to message you on your POST about ME (it made me laugh, it made me cry--good tears--not snotty gross ones) I am a STAR....lalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....

ok, so....I am not stuuuupidddddddd........but I can't get my message to post -- yes I see the verification box thingy, YES I type in the STUPID words...and NO...it won't post...it's saying I left something blank----------I DID NOT!!!!! Am I missing some techno-thingy-do-dad---what's my URL (I filled that in--but maybe wrong or something!!) ------ or my stupid computer is crazy like Christina (YOU know the CAR!!) .........ok, almost feel better....

I can't wait to see you and tackle you-- !!!

Love you Sue---

am currently stretching out nightly to ensure successful cheer stunts---not really, I actually fell on the ice in my driveway yesterday and kind of feel like the lady in the "I've fallen....." commercial....I'm totally fine---just thinking about how things didn't HURT when I was younger.

OH, and I got a pretty, pretty princess haircut today-in honor of our special occasion!!

Love ya again!


PLEASE NOTE: the commenty thingy is probably broken, just like the posting pictures thingy... fredlet only threw ONE shoe at me.... and I am so freaking excited about next weekend. Will leave that for the next post.
Seacrest OUT.

About February 2012

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in February 2012. They are listed from oldest to newest.

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