Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Til death do us fart part



Wow. Time flies when you're having fun. It also flies when you've been married to Stewart Alexis for NINE WHOLE YEARS.

Who'd have thunk it way back in 1984 when we looked like this?

Stew, you've made every second of the last 9 years more interesting, emotional, hilarious, stronger, fascinating, challenging, unbelievable, fun and meaningful. Totally worth it. Thanks for sticking with me. Thanks for sticking with us. Happy Anniversary!

Seriously.

Dear Old People,

Leggings are meant to be worn UNDERNEATH something. They are not meant to be worn as pants. They are also not meant for OLD PEOPLE, but that's a whole nother blog.

I'm just sayin',
Suzie

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

The thought only counts like 50%

I hate to be Debbie Downer or Pouty Patty during a time of cheer, but I have received some pretty lame Christmas presents over the years. It's likely you have too. I decided that I'd honor those gifts (and their givers) in a little list. Now you don't feel so alone and hopeless for getting socks and a fruitcake. We're all in this together.

Gift: A half-used bottle of roll-on perfume
Giver: My Great-Aunt Jewell
A half empty bottle is one thing, but the fact that it was rolled on another person's skin is quite another thing.

Gift: The Superman Superheroes Children's Cookbook
Giver: My Great-Aunt Jewell (are you noticing a pattern?)
Actually a really fun cookbook for kids, except that in the first paragraph of the introduction, I learned that eating too much food is what makes you fat. Up until then (at age 11) I seriously had no idea that overeating caused obesity. I totally could have lived my life in ignorant bliss if Aunt Jewell and Superman hadn't schooled me on that fact of life.

Gift: A box of bubble wrap
Giver: My Mother, Leanna
I actually think this was a really creative gift (I LOVE BUBBLE WRAP), it's just that when you unwrap a giant box on Christmas morning you expect there to be something in there besides packaging material.

Gift: A microwave potato chip maker
Giver: My Husband, Stewart
Because it's much more economical to spend 3 hours cutting potato slices and ending up with twelve soggy chips than to go to the Kwik-E-Mart and pick up a bag of Lay's for 99 cents.

Gift: A microwave radiation detector
Giver: Again, My Husband, Stewart
Nothing says "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus" like the threat of a defective household appliance.

This year, I hope you get everything you ever wanted for Christmas. And I hope that my husband doesn't buy 75% of my gifts from the As Seen on TV store. If you need to vent about the awful presents that you've experienced - comment below!

As Always,
Stewzie

Monday, December 21, 2009

Silent Night

Last night, Stew returned from his week long hunting trip in Indiana. How we ever went months on end without seeing each other...I'm glad that whole stage of our lives is over with. I mean, one whole week of me being responsible for Austin's morning meal and then having to take out the trash twice (which actually only got done once) left me longing for Stew to come home and do his man chores.

For clarification, I'm responsible for the woman work - you know, cooking delicious stuff, making sure the house doesn't smell like dirty socks, cleaning Stew's tiny beard hairs from between the faucet handles, DVR-ing the current episodes of Steven Seagal: Lawman for my husband's viewing pleasure, etc.

So, in honor of my true love's return, I want to share with you a little prose I came up with. Don't worry, I won't quit my day job.

An Ode to Snoring - by Suzie Alexis

It's something no writer could compose

The symphony that plays out through your nose

Night after night I hear it blow

Pillow in hand, to the living room I go

Oh, how I'd rather a quiet bed

I guess I'll settle for the sofa instead

-The End-


Welcome back home, Stew. Austin and I missed you. And your snoring. Loud, noisy snoring.

Friday, December 18, 2009

O'er the fields we go

Spoiler alert:

If you haven't received our Christmas card in the mail yet, please avert your eyes for the remainder of this blog post. I just couldn't wait to share it.

The AWESOME photos and card design were created by my AWESOME brother, Tim. You can check his other stuff out at www.tjmohrphoto.com. I can't wait 'til he edits and posts the rest of our photo shoot pics on there. That's a hint, Timbo.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Meet my Father

So this one time at band camp...

This little gem was taken when Phil was practicing with the Southern Rebels Drum & Bugle Corps. Back in 1911...or whenever it was when he was that young. I don't know. I didn't inherit his stellar math skills.


But I obviously inherited his keen sense of fashion. As my pal Karlee would say - he's wearing an abundance of Twenty. Look it up.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Unbeweaveable

Oh Lawdy. Shorty done dropped her weave up in the EZ-Serve pawkin lot. Shoo, now she gone have to get her hurr did again...

I think I've confused eBay...

Hi Suzannah Alexis,
Here are some items you might like:



Ed Hardy Men's & Women's Black Rhinestone T-shirts



I'm Kind of A Big Deal Women's and Men's T-Shirt




Disney High School Musical Flashlight


Act Fast — limited quantities.

Copyright 2009 eBay Inc. All rights reserved.
Designated trademarks and brands are the property of their respective owners.
eBay and the eBay logo are trademarks of eBay Inc.

...Hopefully it's not because I look like a Guidette who enjoys karaoke-ing to teenage pop music while searching for things in the dark. Who is also kind of a big deal...

...Maybe it's cause the only item I've purchased from eBay this year is a rainbow-striped Smirnoff Ice sweatband for my bowling team. (Hi Alley Oops!) Whoever has the worst score after the 3rd frame has to wear it. Let me tell you, it's been a great incentive to knock down some pins....but likely a source of confusion for eBay's marketing department.

Either way, I'd like to thank eBay for completely missing the mark on my "preferences" and simultaneously giving me a complex that complete strangers think I'm a cheesy dresser with lame taste in music. And flashlights. Who, despite all of this, still thinks she IS KIND OF A BIG DEAL.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Seriously.





Did nobody down at the pharmaceutical company say the name of this medication out loud before they settled on it? It sounds like some Kim Kardashian-esque badonkadonk euphemism.



They should probably get J-Lo as their celebrity spokesperson. "Hi, I'm Jennifer Lopez, and I use AcipHex..."

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

The Austin Chronicles - Part 1

This is the first installment in a 10 (million) part series I like to call "The Austin Chronicles." If you're scratching your head wondering who Austin is, well then you haven't seen this or this. In a nutshell, Austin is our 8-year-old Chocolate Lab, who eats Irish Spring soap, thinks my 5'x7' zebra rug is his personal blankie, and is just an all-around hoot. Especially if hoots weigh more than the average teenager and cost you more in medical bills than the average budget of a major metropolitan city.

The Austin Chronicles, though numbered for easy reference (who ever said Stewzie doesn't care about the blog-readers?), will not necessarily be in any chronological order. I figure, if Austin is unpredictable, so too should be his chronicles. This series will likely include:

1.) That time he broke his leg and it cost us our life savings BEFORE we had pet insurance.
2.) That time he cut the tip of his tail and left a trail of high velocity blood spatter across the entire U.S. of A. and didn't stop bleeding for SIX months.
3.) That time he got a chunk of wood lodged in his soft palate.
4.) That time he ate the baseboards off our walls, the hair dye in my purse, the only roll of film from Stewzie's first Thanksgiving and Christmas, bubble gum lips, and a wallet IN ONE DAY.
5.) The time he kinda-sorta broke-dislocated his tail.
6.) The time he ate a whole platter of blackened redfish in 10 seconds.
7.) The time he escaped from the backyard and caused his normally fully-clothed mama to run up and down our old neighborhood in her PANTIES searching for him. Oh, and our old neighborhood was located 10 feet from a major highway and directly across the street from the largest Baptist church in the city and it just happened to be Sunday at noon.
8.) The time he committed grand larceny of the neighbor dog's frisbee.
9.) The time he found a sea turtle in our suburban back yard.
10.)The time he fell in a pool 3 times in a row, not realizing it was there. Oh, and he is TERRIFIED of water. You read that correctly. A LABRADOR RETRIEVER. TERRIFIED OF WATER.

So, here goes Part 1...

The Brillo Pad

A few years back, I got home from work one day, and like the good wife that I am, I set out to clean the bathroom. Step one was cleaning the bathtub. I got out a fresh, new Brillo Pad, and then the phone rang. I set the Brillo Pad down on the tub and walked into the living room to answer the phone. Wrong number, it turns out. So I go back into the bathroom, and am greeted by my little brown helper, who has blue soap powder all over his little brown snout and lining his little puppy lips. And there is no trace of said Brillo Pad, save for a tiny shard of steel wool lying at his feet. I opened his jaws as wide as a Hungry Hungry Hippo, and see a streak of blue going all the way down his little puppy throat. I then uttered the strangest sentence of my life. "My dog ate the Brillo Pad."

I frantically called our Vet, but remember, I had just gotten home from work. Which means it's about 5:30, and the regular Vet closes at 5:00. So I call the Emergency Vet. They don't open til 6:00. Of course. Whoever left a one hour span of Vetlessness between regular Vet hours and Emergency Vet hours has obviously never owned an Austin. Anyway, after about 72 desperate voicemails left by yours truly, they called me back. I explained the whole thing to the skeptical receptionist, who informed me that I could try to make the dog throw up by feeding him peroxide, but then the B.P. might get lodged in his esophagus and choke him. I vetoed that option. Even though choking him did sound tempting. But we're talking about the same dog that used to lick the hot pepper "don't chew the furniture" spray like it was coffee table seasoning. I doubted peroxide would affect his iron belly negatively. Our other option was to let him try to digest and poop out the B.P., but since it is literally made of tiny strands of sharp metal, I vetoed that option, fearing canine colon surgery might be in our future. And if anyone in our household is going to have colon surgery, it's not going to be an animal. Or me. So Stew and I loaded up Black Betty and drove our little Austin Ambulance down to the Emergency Vet.

They put us in a tiny exam room and lined about 95% of the floor with newspaper, you know, for the REGURGITATION. The doc then explained that the solution to our little "issue" would be to give the dog a couple vials of this powder stuff that gets put in the dog's eyes, which then causes their central nervous system to freak out and make them nauseated, and then puke up the "foreign object." He assured us that 2 of these vials usually do the trick. If not, you wait 10 minutes and then give 'em 2 more vials. Never has it taken more than 6 vials. TEN vials later, my pup starts drooling and stumbling and we're all "Oooh, he's about to vomit," and he makes his way over to the only corner of the room that's not lined with newspaper (of course) and with a giant heave-ho, ralphs up.....a MUSHROOM SLICE. Not a Brillo Pad. But a slice of friggin' fungi. The Vet shoots me a cynical glance and I'm all "I swear to you, He really did swallow a Brillo Pad. And no, I don't have a clue where he found a slice of mushroom to consume." So 2 more vials (for a total of TWELVE) and the dog finally yaks up the piece de' resistance - a whole, intact Brillo Pad. I'm assuming that B.P. soap is not toxic, because in no way were his stomach acids tinted blue, so he must have digested that part without a hitch.

Just shy of $300 later, we were on our way home with a furry brown stomach that was as empty as our wallet. Luckily, we were wise enough to enroll our little health hazard in a pet insurance plan a couple years earlier, and they reimbursed us almost 2/3 of the bill. Much easier to swallow, pun intended.

Moral of the story is to never clean your bathroom. Or just have your dog's jaw wired shut. Either or.




Monday, December 7, 2009

TWELVENEAUX !

That's all I have to say about that.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

The Next Buddy D

The latest in unintelligible Saints language:


video