Monday, November 30, 2009

Unfortunately Fortunate

If you're like me (or anyone else who hasn't been living under a rock for the past 29+ years) you've undoubtedly had one or 300 annoying experiences not unlike the one I'm about to mention.

Stew and I were heading back yesterday from a quickie weekend road trip to Willis, TX . We spent a good 3 1/2 hours buying some things everything at the Houston Ikea, so once we made it as far as Beaumont, TX, we were dying for some grub. Where else do you stop for food on a 6 hour road trip other than the culinary wonder that is Jack in the Box? So we waited for what seemed like FOREVER in line to order our grease-laden burger combos, whining the whole time about how friggin' long it was taking and "How hard is it to slather mayo on a friggin' bun and slap it together haphazardly and half-wrap it in some paper and throw it in a paper bag and dump the friggin' french fries upside down and toss the whole mess at us through the drive-up window?" And "Seriously, your fast food restaurant is out of COKE? That's like the Vatican being out of holy water!"

That being said, honestly, the whole inconvenience took us about 2-3 minutes longer than it should have and then we headed back to I-10 East. When we got about a mile from the Rayne, LA exit, we came upon the most horrific accident I've ever seen. A Ford F250 headed westbound had crossed the median, hit an 18-wheeler, spun out and flipped about 15 feet in the air, landed on a Ford Ranger that was travelling eastbound and then flipped some more and landed about 10 feet off the right lane on the eastbound side. We arrived no more than 2-3 minutes after this had taken place. Before the cops and firetrucks and ambulances. Before they discovered that the F250 driver was ejected from his truck, dragged underneath another vehicle and killed. Before they discovered that the driver of the Ranger had been crushed by the F250 and killed. Before the victims were cleared off the ground and put in body bags. Before they searched the roadside for missing body parts.

The wreckage was everywhere. Debris and personal belongings blanketed a good 300 yards of the road. A single boot was lying 3 feet in front of us. Another shoe was underneath a car tire ahead. We were the first vehicle stopped behind the caution tape and were parked there for the 3 hour delay while the place was swarmed with cops and paramedics and firemen. We had a front row view of the whole thing. It was graphic and tragic to see. Had we been 2-3 minutes earlier we would have barely seen that F250 as it landed on top of us. The Ranger that was crushed by the F250 was unrecognizable. The F250's cab was crumpled like paper. The roof was opened up like a Chinese takeout container.

Next time you experience frustration at that incompetent fast food worker, or that moron that cuts you off and makes you catch the red light...realize that maybe God puts them in your path for a reason. 2-3 minutes could make all the difference.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


Oh yeah, you read that right. And yes, I totally am thankful for Spanx. If only they would make a pair that included a trap door so you could pee without becoming an amateur Cirque du Soleil contortionist while trying to hike them back up into position in a cramped bathroom stall. TMI? Good, that's what I was aiming for.

Other stuff for which I am thankful:

My Folks who love me 110% (and not because I'm the one who will eventually choose their nursing home).

My Broseph and Brotherford B. Hayes who are far more musically and artistically talented than I could ever hope to be.

My Abbey Sunshine who eased my fear of young children and is always excited to see me despite the fact that I fed her limes as a baby just to see the awkward faces she made in reaction to the sourness.

My Puppy McMuffin who regretfully knows more about me than anyone, and hasn't yet reported me to PETA for making him wear fake boobs for Halloween.

My In-Laws and Extended Family - for not being those crazy people who I can't stand spending time with and instead being those crazy people I LOVE spending time with.

My Friends who will let me snot on their shoulders when I'm sad, then make fun of me for it later.

My Husband who puts the "ew" in Stewzie, who I fall in love with more every day, who still can't figure out how to separate whites and darks, who makes phenomenal chocolate chip cookies and even shares one or two with me, and who has seen me at my best and my worst, but always loves me like I've never been better.

Monday, November 23, 2009


So, for the past, I don't know, LOTS OF DAYS, I've been suffering from a little known strain of the influenza virus known as the WHINE FLU. Actually, you could say Stew is the one truly suffering.

During my week-long Nyquil-induced haze, I've done the following:

1. Dyed my hair auburn.
2. Purchased a Sam's Club membership and 3 pound container of Feta cheese.
3. Worn a Suzie-sized indentation in my sofa.
4. Cleared out my whole library of DVR recordings, including Top Chef, Project Runway, Biography of Freddie Mercury, and 16 consecutive "To Catch a Predator" episodes.
5. Cried because the bacon soap I tried to purchase as a stocking stuffer for Stew was out of stock.

Clearly Nyquil makes me insane. Which is one of the perks of being sick. Insanity now comes with an excuse.

Sorry for the lack of a Questionnaire Friday! posting. And thanks for all the positive feedback on this here blog-o-mine.

Sanity will return soon. Maybe.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Phlegm is a funny word

Hey kids. Have you ever snoughed? It's when your head is so jacked up on Nyquil that it tries to cough and sneeze simultaniously. It's also what I've been doing all day.

Also, I'm pretty sure I just coughed up Osama bin Laden. So that's where he's been hiding this whole time.

Do me a favor and don't tell Homeland Security I've been harboring a bearded terrorist in my lungs. And fix me some chicken noodle soup.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Friday, November 13, 2009

As if I needed another reason to be in love with Stew's family

Here's a transcript (by memory) of a voicemail I received a few days ago from Stew's Aunt Ruthie (Hi Aunt Ruthie!):

"Hey Suzie, so I'm sitting here in my car stuck behind a train. It's next to a cow pasture so I rolled down my window and started mooing at them really loud and one actually turned around and started walking toward me. I figure there's a good story in there for your blog."

Yes, Aunt Ruthie, and an udderly hilarious story at that.

Questionnaire Friday!

Where is your Father?
Alphebetizing his extensive collection of tiny hotel shampoo bottles, shower caps, and emergency sewing kits. Then later making an Excel spreadsheet for inventory purposes. (Hi Dad!)

What is the closest orange object to you?
I have an economy-sized box of orange ear plugs on my desk...

Did you cry because Michael Jackson died?
YeeHee...and I dried my tears with a single sequined glove...YeeHee...

What does your 9th message on your phone say?
Our defense has scored 2 more touchdowns than the Browns' offense this year. Who Dat!

Look to your left. What's there?
Everything I own in a box to the left...

How long does it take you to fall asleep?
I'm sorry, what was the question? I must have just nodded off for a second...

What other language do you want to be fluent in?
This one.

Do you crack your neck often?
I can't get out of bed in the morning until I crack my neck, back, elbows, wrists, fingers, ankles, toes and hips. I sound like an arthritic bowl of Rice Krispies...

What's your current favorite commercial?
This one.

Name something you think is pointless?
A guy with no hands...

Did you have a weird dream last night?
I was on a cruise ship that resembled my Granny's living room and somebody kidnapped my dog and held him in a Ford Explorer and he (Austin) was calling out my name but the kidnapper shut him up by feeding him potatoes au gratin and then I got off the ship and was at someone's cabin on the bayou and I went swimming in the crystal clear bayou water and a 40 foot wave came and almost killed me and then I was in a cave and there was a porta potty and I had to pee so I went in and someone had thrown up fruity pebbles all over it and I was angry then I was back in my Granny's living room cruise ship and I put on sweatpants and then Stew woke me up at 4:00 a.m. to kiss me goodbye before he went hunting. So, to answer your question - nope, just an average, run of the mill dream for me...

Should guys wear pink?
They certainly should. It gives me something to ridicule. And then we can go to lunch and get mani-pedis. And gossip about Justin Timberlake.

Thursday, November 12, 2009


These photos were taken on a roof we repaired after Hurricane Katrina.
They obviously needed HEEP. Or is it HLEP? In spelling, I assume.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Freedom is Never Free

A little over 8 years ago, a young wife sat in a hotel room crying and holding her husband tight. It was early fall in 2001, and the United States was starting to send troops to Iraq. The young couple was still in shock about what had taken place in their country a few weeks earlier, and now they were smacked in the face with the reality of it all. They tried to focus on anything else - the 9/11 tribute concert on television, the home cooked meal she had brought for them to eat on paper plates, the bleak Seattle weather - anything but what the next 48 hours might bring.

The young husband was sequestered in this bare-bones hotel room on McChord Air Force Base in Tacoma, Washington. Those in charge wanted their crew to be ready at a moment's notice, and the hotel provided them that guarantee. Just blocks from the young couple's home, the hotel was the staging area for the next troops to be called to fight in that mysterious, far-away country. Several young men and women were restricted to those desolate rooms for 2 days. 48 hours. 2,880 minutes. Minutes that would be spent thinking, dreading and praying. Waiting for the call. The call that would put their immediate futures in a whirlwind of unknown. That call would send them to war.

The young wife tried to comfort herself in each hour that passed. Each hour gone meant one hour gained with the love of her life. Her husband tried to reassure her that his role in the whole thing was small. He was not a soldier. Not a gun-carrying fighter. Not going to the front line. Not going anywhere near the front line. Likely to be thousands of miles away from the front line. Maybe a different country than the front line. All she could think was that New York City, The Pentagon, and a remote field in Pennsylvania were also in a country far from the front line.

Those 2 days spent waiting were excruciating. When they were over, when there was no more threat of the young husband going to war, the young couple felt set free from that immediate nightmare. This couple is truly fortunate.

Many people don't have that luxury. Some had none to hold them tight. Some got the call. Some bravely went to war and came home. Many gave the ultimate gift to our country - their lives. All of them, even the young husband, are tied together forever by one thing. They are all Veterans. They have all put their lives on the line to protect me, you, our families, our friends, complete strangers. We owe them more than I can express, yet they do their jobs without complaint. They are not the ones who start wars. They are the ones who selflessly obey whatever orders they are given. They are our heroes (and she-roes). We need their strength and commitment. They deserve honor and respect and recognition.

Today is just one of 365 days each year that we should thank our Veterans. It is because of them that you have the freedom to do so.

I feel so strongly about this because I was that young wife. Stewart was that young husband. And we are together and safe today because of what our Veterans have sacrificed.

"It is easy to take freedom for granted, when you have never had it taken from you." ~Author unknown

Friday, November 6, 2009

No, We will NOT Love You Long Time.

Austin Gone Wild - He'll use any excuse to put on a slutty little outfit for Halloween. That one is such a little vixen. Sometimes I just can't control him. But tempting him with a large piece of deer jerky and SIT. SIT. SIT!!! usually helps.

Toxic Chinese Drywall - After parading around dowtown and hearing "Memoirs of a Geisha?" "Are you supposed to be someone from Kill Bill?" I realized this year's costume was better suited to a costume party...or even a class action lawsuit. But I still say this was the best idea ever, even if people couldn't understand that 1) I have large FLESH WOUNDS. 2) I'm CHINESE. 3) I'm wearing a RUSTY PIECE OF SHEETROCK with a TOXIC WARNING symbol and MANUFACTURED IN CHINA label on it. I even had sheetrock tape and mud on the sides for authenticity. It's in the details, people! I dressed like a diseased Asian lunatic and lugged around a slab of construction material ON PURPOSE. Simple math leads you to TOXIC CHINESE DRYWALL. I'm pretty sure my biggest mistake was in assuming that people on Bourbon Street would be interested in doing simple math on Halloween...

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Questionnaire Friday!

1. What is your middle name?
Leigh. The igh is silent.

2. How big is your bed?
Queen size. Unless Stew is in it with me. Then it’s “see how far we can push Suzie over into the tiny sliver of a corner without falling off” size.

3. What are the last 4 digits in your cell phone number?
8916…It’s significant, in a cheesy way.

4. Do you want children?
We plan to adopt a 17-year-old Asian computer whiz. When he hits 18 and invents a multi-billion dollar computer program, let’s hope it’s payday for Mama and Papa. Remember who adopted you, Chung!

5. Hair color?
Some of them are blonde. Some brown. Some prematurely gray. Some are a weird mishmash of colors only achieved through years of highlighting. My head is a kaleidoscope of hues, if you will.

6. Favorite Season?
Of the four: Football, Hunting, Crawfish and Hurricane…why the heck can’t Football and Hurricane coincide? Stupid global warming.

7. Piercings?
Would it lessen my street cred if I admitted I still have my belly button piercing from 1999? What can I say, my midsection likes bling.

8. Are you missing someone?
Now that you mention it, no.

9. Do you have a tattoo?
I’m thinking about “Yeah You Right” in Olde English font right above the white shrimp boot tat on my lower back.

10. Are you hiding something from someone right now?
Only the dismembered torso of that hitchhiker I picked up last week. I like my men like I like my coffee. Ground up and in the freezer.

11. Are you 18?
Actually 29. But good guess. I’m flattered.

12. What is the wallpaper on your cellphone?
It used to be a photo of my niece Abbey (Road), but then I left a full bottle of Nexxus Shine Serum in my purse and it leaked all over my phone and distorted the whole screen with oily hair product. So just picture that picture twisted up inside a lava lamp. With unbelievable body and silkyness.

13. What are you afraid of?
Seagulls. Porcelain dolls. The Artist formerly known as Prince. Clown faces. Flocks of birds flying over my head. My reoccurring nightmare in which I think I’m still in college and I’m taking like 200 hours and I’M SO OVERWHELMED that I wake up rocking back and forth in a corner with Stew standing over me scratching his head wondering why I’m mumbling “I thought I was done, Please tell me it’s over.” Cellulite. Flocks of seagulls flying over my head. Unibrows. Taking a huge gulp of milk before reading that it expired 2 weeks ago.

14. What are your nicknames?
The obvious: Stewzie, Suzie (real name = Suzannah)
The often-used: Suze, SuSu, Suze-bear, Babydoll (by Stew)
The old school: Shaniqua Ebony Xavier
The awesome: Suz-a-palooza

15. What is your dad's middle name?
Leonard. That name sounds like it wears a pocket protector and thick glasses. (Hi Dad!)

16. What do you sleep in?
Beds, couches, snuggies, the corner, tents, hotels, cars, recliners, campers, sleeping bags, coffins…

17. Favorite TV commercial?
It’s a tie between this and this.

18. What were you doing before filling out this questionnaire?
Wriggling my arms out of the straightjacket.

Nappy McNapperson

On a recent day off from work - due to yours truly feeling a bit under the weather - I did what any red-blooded American would do. I took a NAP. Why the NAP in caps? Because NAPPING is one of the many (few) talents I possess. So it deserves some respect.

I had fancy new (clean!) 400 thread count white sheets on the bed. The NAPPING conditions were perfect, aside from the backhoes, excavators and concrete trucks parading in my front yard to build a new driveway for the neighbor who had her house raised because it NEVER flooded. NAPPING through noise, luckily, is not so much of a challenge for me.

Which reminds me of a story Stew likes to tell about the time he was awoken out of a deep slumber to the sound of a squirrel who had fallen inside our bedroom wall. Said squirrel (who will now be referred to as Richard) was scratching his little squirrel heart out in an attempt to make his way back to the comfort of our attic. Richard was making quite a little squirrel ruckus, and Stew did the only logical thing to do when Richard is stuck in your wall at 3:00 a.m. He grabbed the trusty Maglite and commenced to beating the crap outta the sheetrock. For a solid 2 hours. Because apparently squirrels respond well to that. Guess who slept through the whole thing? If an elephant strapped on a tuba and played Yankee Doodle Dandee while marching across my mattress, guess who would sleep through the whole thing?

Where was I? Right. NAPTIME. So I snuggle myself up and conk out. And I wake up to 100 lbs. of fuzzy brown puppy snores. His back right foot is tucked under my armpit and his fat meatball head is upside down between my shins. My right arm is pretzeled between his left leg and tail. Pause for a moment and visualize a human and Chocolate lab conjoined twin. And we can't be separated cause of the proximity of vital organs. So Snugglebritches looks up and says to me "uurrghmmfff," and then stretches his limbs so far that his toes and my sinuses become fast friends. Then we both drift back off to Lala Land. Me dreaming about how lucky I am that he chose Stew's side of the clean white sheets, and Sleepy McGee dreaming about bacon and well, bacon.

Point is, sometimes dogs eat your Irish Spring soap and drool toilet water all over your the kitchen floor you just mopped. Other times, they know just what you need to feel better on a sick day.

Christmas afternoon nap - 2008

Monday, November 2, 2009

Recommended Potassium Intake

If I eat all the leftover Banana Runts from Halloween, is it equal to a daily serving of fruit?

Halloween pictures coming soon...