Archive for the ‘I am a bad person sometimes’ Category

« Older Entries

Why I Love the F Word*

December 6th, 2011 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in fuck, I am a bad person sometimes, random

I love the f word, and I don’t mean feminism, although I love that, too. It’s so fucking versatile. I can use it as a verb, as in, “Fuck off.” I can use it as a noun, as in, “Fuck off, you stupid fuck.” I can use it as an adjective, as in “Fuck off, you fucking stupid fuck.” I can try to use it as an adverb, as in, “Fuckingly fuck off, you fucking stupid fuck,” but it doesn’t work quite as well. Still, it’s fun to try.

I’m fairly certain that I use the f word about as often as I use the word “the.” When I’m super happy, I love swearing. When I’m super angry, I blow off steam by swearing. My current colleagues think this is hilarious, which was pretty much the reaction of all of my various co-workers from every place I’ve ever worked, because I look like a very nice, sweet, mild person. Then I open my mouth, and the image goes to fucking shit.

My writing used to contain a lot of swearing. This was, I thought (and still often do), the crux of my ability to be hilarious. What’s really interesting, though, is that I haven’t used blue language at all in the book that I am writing. I’m sure it will get salty near the end, when the main character’s granddaughter is a teenager, but maybe not. Maybe I can write an entire document without indulging my love for the f bomb. If it works out well, then great. If not, well, fuck that.

*I have a sneaking suspicion that I have written something like this before, but I was thinking about it today and so if it is redundant, well, that’s where I am at in life right now.

Cleaning

August 16th, 2011 by Suzanne | 4 Comments | Filed in hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes, mortification

Husband and I finally caved and decided not to pretend that we can handle cleaning our apartment or that we are fine living in a hovel. I secured the services of the cleaning person my friend has used for years. Over two visits, she spent ten hours doing an initial dust/scrub/wipe down.

I almost didn’t recognize the place, it was so shiny. My gratitude swelled. Then I went into the bedroom. When I saw what happened there, I was surprised that she was willing to return.

Over the years, I have accumulated many items. Some of these items may have been sitting on my nightstand, gathering dust, forgotten. Not only did the cleaning person uncover two boxes of contact lenses (one box per eyeball), but she also cleaned up the ginormous dildo I won in a Planned Parenthood fundraising raffle in March 2006 (see below).

This dildo is so ridiculously enormous that I don’t know how a person could fit it in any orifice. It provided me with much amusement for a while. Husband once accused it of staring at him with one eye, so he taped two googly eyes on it to make it more normal. When the eyes fell off, I moved it from the living room to the bedroom, where it lay abandoned on my nightstand amidst the clutter.

The nice cleaning woman dusted off the dildo. I wondered what she thought of me, and fell into giggles of mortification. Then I buried it back under a pile of things. I hope next time she is cleaning, she does not think I hid it from her. Although, of course, I sort of did. So embarrassing!

Know Your Audience

June 29th, 2011 by Suzanne | 4 Comments | Filed in Asshole idiots, evil, hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes, other rants, random

Last year, not long before graduation, I went to a supplemental seminar at school. The topic was how to give good public readings, which for reasons beyond me, I always first thought of as how to give good head. That would have probably been a more interesting class.

The instructor began by telling us that we needed to know our audience. “A is for audience” he said, and I rolled my eyes. “U is for understanding,” he continued. “Who is in the audience? You should understand what they expect.” Clearly, he did not know his audience because as he went down the list (“D is for…”), we all tuned out and pondered what a class about giving good head would have been like.

However, the lesson of knowing one’s audience is actually important. I was struck recently by two ludicrous pieces of junk mail that I received. The first, and most pernicious, was from a crazy-town anti-choice group called Live Action. It was some nutso rant against Planned Parenthood and their abortion mills and blah blah blah. They sent me their ravings because they wanted me to write about them, their “victories” for the dead babies or whatever the fuck they think they are doing rather than harming the world. Their leader, Lila Rose, is a cuntface moron with her fake “sting operations” and heavily edited “undercover exposes.”

In a way, they did know their audience: here I am writing about them. I am pretty sure they did not intend for me to write something that calls their leader a cuntface moron, so in that sense, they probably should not have sent me anything demonstrating that she is, in fact, a cuntface moron. If there is anyone I hate in this universe, it is cuntface morons and their minions.

The sillier junk mail arrived via the postal service. It was an ad from Bank of America for a new Cubs credit card. “We know you are one of the Cubs’ biggest fans,” it said, or something like that. (I threw it out, so I’m paraphrasing here.) My first thought is that if I am one of the Cubs biggest fans, than the Cubs must have some extremely pathetic people rooting them on. Now, in 1984, I was a huge Cubs fan, and I followed them closely through the 1980s. But that was a long time ago, and I probably should not have had a credit card when I was eight. I seriously wonder what database the brains at B of A were using for that campaign.

Anyway, know your audience. I am pretty sure that the readers of CUSS will not mind me calling Lila Rose a cuntface moron or mocking B of A. If you do, tough shit – you are probably the wrong audience.

Tags: , , , ,

What Every Traveler Needs

March 31st, 2011 by Suzanne | 4 Comments | Filed in hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes, random

My friend forwarded me the above photo of products available in German vending machines. As usual, I am saddened by the lack of foresight that US manufacturers display.* I don’t know exactly where this German vending machine was located, but I hope it was in an airport. These are important items for travelers.

Imagine if you were on your way somewhere and after you went through airport security, you realized that you left your travel pussy at home! What would you do? If you were in Germany, you would just buy a new one from the vending machine and be set. What a relief to not have to worry!

On the other hand, the pussy you have at home might be too cumbersome to pack in a carry-on and you worry that your suitcase will get lost with its precious cargo. A travel pussy is perfect! Just like a travel size toothpaste or shampoo, you will have exactly what you need while away. Brilliant.

Granted, my pussy generally goes where I do, so it’s not too much of a problem for me, although there have been many times when I wished I could leave it behind and had no choice but to muddle through. I feel a lot of sympathy for people who are not in the same position and find themselves without a pussy while traveling. This product really fills that hole, you know? I wonder if there are vending machines that might purvey travel dicks to people who need them. If not, I see a market expansion opportunity!

If only Americans were this thoughtful, we probably would have far fewer sex scandals. Since Germans have their travel pussy needs met, as well as those for vibrating penis rings, they have time for better scandals, like whether someone plagiarized his thesis at university or declares that they are excited to use their government position to discriminate against various religious groups. Sure these scandals are certainly less exciting than whether they are caught having affairs with campaign donor’s wives or random people in men’s rooms, but what can you expect from a culture that is so open about the importance of travel pussies?

We should take note and make improvements accordingly. I’ll be calling my elected officials today and I urge you to do so as well. The sooner we act to get travel pussy vending machines set up around this great nation, the sooner, uh, we will have more fun with vending machines.

*Heck, LaGuardia Airport doesn’t even have “feminine product” vending machines.

A Medical History Museum and Spotted Dick

March 23rd, 2011 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in fun trips, hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes, oh happy day, yummy eats

The weather in London has been amazing. It has not rained the entire time I have been here and the sun has been out at least for an hour a day. The temperature is in the mid- to upper 50s. Delightful!

Yesterday I took another walking tour. One of the stops was at the Hunterian Museum. The Hunterian Museum is a medical history museum with tons of deformed specimens in jars of formaldehyde, skeletons, and surgical equipment. It is part of the Royal College of Surgeons. I tried to visit this museum in 2001, the very first time I was in London, but was told that it was not open to the public; to visit, a surgeon had to vouch for you. At the time, I knew no surgeons. I am so pleased that this policy has changed. My absolute favorite type of museum is a medical history museum. In fact, I would love to write a guide book to medical history museums around the world. This seems expensive to research, but I have visited a fair number already.

After my walking tour, I met my friend Mara for lunch. We stopped into Ye Olde Chesire Cheese pub, which was rebuilt in 1667, and super cool, with lots of wood paneling, fireplaces, short doorways, and cave-like rooms. I didn’t want to eat a heavy lunch, so we headed over to Gordon’s Wine Bar, which is another old restaurant with cave-like rooms. Then we went to Mara’s flat and took an afternoon run along the Thames and by Chiswick House. I really, really love running in London. The parks and scenery are gorgeous.

Eventually we headed back into the denser part of the city for dinner. This was taken at the Golden Hinde, a fish and chips place since 1914. I feasted on fried haddock, feta fritters, peas, and Greek salad. I’ve never been one for fried potato products, whether American or British style chips, so I skipped out on that. (I know – who eats fish and chips without the chips?) For dessert, I had that excellent British classic of spotted dick. This is some sort of raisin bread pudding in a bowl of hot custard. Not only is it delicious, but I can make many awful jokes about eating spotted dick and custard. Sort of the perfect end to a perfect day.

Today I am going to run in Hyde Park, eat some sort of fancy yogurt at lunch, and then go on a “Fair Maids, Feminists, and Philanthropists” walking tour. In the evening, though, I need to get back to working on my novel, so I’ll grab something from Marks & Spence Food on the Move and have a working dinner. I’m actually looking forward to that, too.

Tags:

St. Patrick’s Day and the Anti-Choice Snakes

March 17th, 2011 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes, I love New York, other rants

When St. Patrick drove the snakes from Ireland, they came to the US (or some stayed in Ireland) as anti-choice legislators. Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day by sponsoring me as I raise money to help women access abortion services denied to them by the anti-choice snakes. Even as little as $10 – the cost of a few beers – helps. If you live in NYC or will be here on April 17, you can also join the team. The money we raise will support the New York Abortion Access Fund, which offered $50,000 last year to women who needed abortions but could not afford them. (This is up from $7,000 in 2007, thanks to the failing economy, the horrendous reproductive anti-health policies of the snakes, and other factors.)

Bowling and other fundraising events are taking place across the country in April, so non-New Yorkers can support their local abortion funds, too.

When I visited my cousin in Dublin last September, I did not have a chance to see St. Patrick’s well. (It is adjacent to the Anglican St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Incidentally, Anglicans do not have an official position on abortion). If I had, I would have taken a moment to hope that St. Patrick could perform his miracle again and drive the anti-choice snakes out of women’s lives.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Lyndon B. Johnson and My Dad

February 15th, 2011 by Suzanne | 4 Comments | Filed in family, fun trips, hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes

President Lyndon B. Johnson was such an asshole that he held meetings in his bathroom. While he was on the toilet. Aides had to stand around and speak to him with he took a shit. I suppose he thought he was royalty.

I’ve always been fascinated by this fact, partly because I am known to talk on the phone while perched on the porcelain throne. I won’t do it if things will be, uh, too noisy, but a little tinkle or squeeze never hurt anyone. The giveaway is when I flush, so I try to hold off on that until the discussion is over. I’m no LBJ.

I realized this afternoon that my dad is no LBJ, either. We both sat with our laptops at the dining room table this afternoon, working away. Then he received a business call on his mobile phone, stood up from the table, and walked upstairs. At first I thought he took the call into another room so as not to bother me, which was very nice.

However, as he chatted (I could still hear him), I noticed that the bathroom door was closed. He spoke for a while, then it was quiet. More quiet ensued. Then, a flush, the sound of the sink, and the door swung open. My dad sauntered out, cell phone in hand.

I’m a chip off the old block. (And another sign that he is no LBJ: I was not named Bird or given my father’s initials.) My mom and sister,* by the way, are known to indulge in the practice bathroom talk as well.

*Happy 31st birthday, Dana!!! I love talking to you while you drive and/or are on the toilet.

Tags: ,

My 3G Network

January 28th, 2011 by Suzanne | 3 Comments | Filed in I am a bad person sometimes, other rants, random

Like an episode of Sesame Street, this post is sponsored by a letter of the alphabet. Today I will discuss how three words beginning with G have surfaced prominently in my daily life of late. Unlike Sesame Street, this post will be self-centered and not educational.

Green-eyed monsterdom (OK, this is a stretch, but jealousy does not begin with a G and I picked a theme and I’m making it work) has plagued me recently. The last two times I was at the gym, I overheard other women talking about interviews they had coming up that afternoon. I was overcome by jealousy. Interviews! I want interviews! I do not regret my decision to leave my last place of regular employment and do consulting work (including for my last place of regular employment), but I like regular, full-time work. The schedule is good for me, and I miss the engagement on social issues. The worst part is that I feel like I don’t have a right to be jealous, as I have time to work on my book, and most writers would kill to have an opportunity like this, which leads me to…

Guilt. Ah, guilt. I feel guilty about not having a regular full-time job and contributing to the household income. I like feeling productive and useful, and getting paid for work, like it or not, is a big part of that feeling for me. I feel guilty about going to the gym at 9 am, even though I think it makes my writing better because I get the juices flowing. I feel guilty about my horrible new gym-related expensive habit, personal training. This super slow training is divine, and I can see how much impact it has had on my muscles, which overall is good for my health, so I should not feel guilty about taking care of my body, like going to a doctor, right? But then I remember that I don’t really earn enough money now to pay for it and my other hobbies and the guilt creeps in. I could cut my other hobbies, but the main one is eating, and that’s sort of necessary. All of this worry makes me…

Grumpy.

The Call

January 25th, 2011 by Suzanne | 4 Comments | Filed in hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes, What is wrong with people?

A few minutes before 9 am, the phone I rang. I was in the bathroom, but worried that it was someone calling to cancel the appointments I have today, so I ran out. When I looked at the caller ID, though, I did not recognize the number. Still, I picked it up.

“Hello?” I inquired.

“Good morning, I’m calling for Husband,” a woman replied.

I rolled my eyes. I should have known it would be a telemarketer and finished brushing my teeth.

“He’s not here right now,” I said. Really. It’s almost 9 am. Don’t you think he’s at work? “May I take a message?” I like asking that last part because usually the telemarketers get flustered and stammer and tell me they will try back later, to which I think to myself that if they do, I will be smarter and not answer the phone. Then they will hang up on the answering machine (yes, we still use one, not voice mail) and I will get equally annoyed.

“OK, can you tell him his personal banker from Chase at 61st Street and Broadway called?” the woman said in a pleasant tone.

I almost started laughing. Personal banker? Right. These “personal bankers” have called from that branch a few times, and whenever I give Husband the message, he reminds me that we don’t have a “personal banker” and they just want to sell us a financial product that is a rip-off. “Sure,” I said and murmured “uh huh” as she recited her name and number.

“Thanks, Suzanne,” she said. “You have a nice day now and keep warm.”

I wished her the same. As I hung up, I thought about how interesting it was that she assumed I was the person listed on the account as Husband’s wife when I never identified myself. For all she knew, I could have been guest who was answering the phone while my friend Suzanne was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. I also found it amusing that she was just Husband’s “personal banker,” as if I have nothing to do with our finances. (Actually, that would be true, so she was two for two on her assumptions, but still.) Overall, an unsatisfactory interaction, but good fodder for reflection.

Tags: ,

Join SHLONG! Today and Make a Difference

December 21st, 2010 by Suzanne | 3 Comments | Filed in hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes

I wrote a post for BlogHer a few minutes ago about a lawsuit filed by several chapters of NOW in California against Hooters. (I don’t know when the post will go up, but Broadsheet has the details.) As I spun my words, I worked myself up into a frenzy. I hate Hooters. What a disgusting, stupid place. I know that all the defenders out there think that bitchy feminists like me need to relax and take a joke, but I don’t fucking find it funny.

As I stewed over the idea that it’s just a joke, I started thinking about Hooters logo:
What’s his name? I couldn’t find one. Why does he have to stare at women nonstop? Isn’t he tired? Doesn’t he look depressed? Why aren’t animal rights activists fighting for this exploited owl? What could I do to make a difference in this little owl’s life?

That’s when I decided to form a new group to take action, Save Hooters Little Owl, Girls! (SHLONG!) I also thought it was important that the owl have a name, so I dubbed him Woody. SHLONG!’s logo is going to be poor little Woody, clutching to an erect branch with his talons. Members of SHLONG! commit to using social media to agitate for Woody’s freedom. I hope that you will join me this holiday season to save Woody before he shrinks and goes limp from overuse. Losing a good woodland creature is a tragedy.

Tags: , ,

« Older Entries