Happy Birthday Month to C & a C!!!

Believe it or not, you have all been fascinated by the life of Susan for one year now! Well, starting tomorrow, the month long celebration of Condoms & a Cosmo begins. With this re-birth comes a whole new look. I'm already missing the meloncholy charcoal black. I thought I'd start off a day early with some birthday/mid-year resolutions.

1. Change color of blog...black is depressing. And while your life is pretty damn depressing...at least your blog template doesn't have to be.

2. Stop thinking/writing about BDI. You don't like him remember?

3. Start writing about more things that matter instead of how sad you are everyone is getting engaged and you sleep with a cat every night.

4. Think positive thoughts like, Whooo...turquoise really is your color, Susan! and Of course he likes you back...I mean you did wait 48 hours to sleep with him. That's a long time!

5. Make new friends. If for no other reason than they will give you something more to blog about.

6. Get a roommate. Roommates ALWAYS make for excellent blogging. Example-Bitch used my deodorant again...You would think that dirty cunt would at least try and make it look like she wasn't rubbing my Degree on her hairy, pimply pits and put it back in the cabinet!

7. Get on board with some socio/politcal group. It's really fun to make people feel worse about themselves when you fill your blog with topics like how you saved the brothel born babies in Romania over your vacation time. Way better blog material than, Oh we spent a couple weeks in our timeshare in the Hamptons. It was smashing darling.

8. Scam more free dinners off old men at Sullivan's. Who knows...if you're lucky...one might croak on you and you can check his pockets for loose bills & change before the EMS gets there.

9. Save a little money to go on a real vacation with your girlfriends. That just sounds FABULOUS.

10. Allow yourself to love and be loved. Stop blocking people off at the first sign of irritation. Let people get to know you. Stop being so damn scared of intimacy or lack of intimacy. Just be...and be happy being. One day it will work. You will love and be loved. You will.

Feeling low.

Feeling very very low.

These Are My Confessions

"Just when I thought I said all I can say my chick on the side says she's got one on the way." - Usher

No...I'm not pregnant. Even though that would be a GREAT scandal and MySpace would be blowing up with the news that Susan from high school, you remember ther real religious one, got knocked up! HA! It would almost be worth the buzz...I'm sure Rupert Murdoch would thank me.

Seriously, my stint of playing house had odd repercussions. And please don't take this as my wanting to be with BDI forever...even though it doesn't sound half bad...it's more than that.

For the first time in my life I was fantisizing about getting married...having kids...and living in the God forsaken suburbs. My stomach is churning just thinking about that. But, I feel like I need to talk about it. Someone stage an intervention...PLEASE!!! In my adult life, I have never really fantasized about children, but something flicked on in Arizona. I guess it had something to do with feeling taken care of and safe. But while BDI was out Saturday morning...all I could think about was little ole me sitting on the couch with a big fat belly eating organic ice cream and french fries. Let me reiterate...this is NOT about BDI...It's not. Could I want kids? Could I be happy living outside the proverbial 'loop'? Could my clock have starting ticking? Oh God. I'm nervous now. Where's my fucking XANAX!

Anywho, I've got pretty good genes...My dad is a certifiable genius. My mother is amazing. Apparently, these things skip a generation (me)...So, if you're reading this and feel like getting married and procreating...leave me a comment.

Reality is Relative III

Sudoku Sunday

Damn Tylenol PM! Not working as well as it used to dammit. I'm up an hour before BDI. I take the responsibility of feeding Ebb & Flo, and resume my spot on the couch with the blanket and May's edition of The Sun. In walks this adorable boy complete with dishelveled hair and worn boxers.

Just sitting here reading?
Yup.
Want some coffee
[I nod a couple times quirkily ]
What do you want to do today? Lay out...go to the mountains...see more of Scottsdale?
[whining] I don't want to make decisions
Ok...just sit...read...relax...I'll bring you your coffee.
[I smile]

He joins me on the couch after his desperate search on iTunes for that "try 'n' catch me ridin' dirty" song. He reads the Arizona Republic and clips coupons. I love how super rich people do things like clip coupons. My dad would approve of this behavior. I can't stop staring at his legs. They remind me so much of Dad. He and dad have so many physical characteristics. Red hair...pale freckly skin...and that sincere yet smirky smile.

Stop it Susan...Just Stop. I keep repeating this over & over in my head. Stop it! You don't like him...You DO NOT like him.

BDI tears a Sudoku puzzle out of the paper for me. I try to finish is, but all I had was a pen and I screwed it up.

Hey, you wanna have a Sudoku race?!?!
[giggling] Yeah! Ha! Let's do it.
I'm gonna beat you...I'm really good at Sudoku.

I grab my book...rip out a couple puzzles and the race ensues. I freak a little bc he completed one whole line in the time it took me to get one number. I call a time out to check his answers thus far to make sure he's doing it right. Damn it! It's perfect. I don't give up. HA HA! He gets stuck and I race ahead. I almost got my puzzle right...but so did he. I have less wrong answers than he does! So, I win. The winning puzzle is then hung on the fridge with "BDI is a loser" scribbled across the bottom.

I reluctantly pack my stuff and we head to lunch. In the car, we play this game where I have to guess the band that's playing on his iPod. He keeps saying things like, "you probably weren't even born when this song came out." I turn the tables and plug in myPod. Broadway. I sing "I'll Cover You" at the top of my lungs. So, he definitely thinks I a weirdo now.

Waiting for our lunch he makes me whip out the Sudoku book again! He's obsessed. We complete a couple puzzles instead of eat. You don't like him Susan. Surely, there's another geeky guy out there who would do Sudoku with you at lunch while people stare and laugh! You DO NOT like him. Rinse Lather Repeat. You DO NOT like him.

He drops me off at the airport...puts my bag on the curb for me and kisses me goodbye a couple times. I walk off...I turn my head to see him one last time...and he's still standing there watching me leave. I throw him a slightly embarrassed smile...he caught me looking back.

I sit in my chair at the terminal that's been changed twice now....put my sunglasses on and cry. I really didn't want to leave. I didn't want to come home. I didn't even care about the stupid cat. I just wanted to run back to Scottsdale and continue playing house. I enjoyed being spoiled...more than I thought I would. I loved sitting in his stupid car thinking...I look hot and he's adorable...I loved the flirting at George Carlin when he kept pushing my arm off the arm rest and kicking my leg. I loved discussing stuff that matters with his friends. I loved that I spent $31 the whole weekend and that was just parking my car at the airport! I loved sitting outside by the pool with my suglasses on and the heat warming my skin. I felt my spirit soften for a couple days. I wasn't peeved or upset of pensive. I just was. I could feel the sweetness in my soul radiating like it used to...before I became so cynical...and I didn't want to let it go.

Reality is Relative II

Sleepy Saturday

BDI has this rich people charity thing to go to Saturday morning. They're voting officers for this year. It starts at 7:30AM. Good God. Who does that? Anywho. I slept on and off till 10:30 or so.

I had just done my hair...put on clothes...and fixed the makeup when the door bell rings.
Now...what is a girl that's been snooping around BDI's house a little bit do when the doorbell rings? Do you answer it? I mean...it's not your fucking house...You're not the girlfriend. You sure as hell don't live there. I felt like I shouldn't answer the door...like it was answering someones cell phone. What if some other chick he's dating decided to pop in & I open the door? My lugage, panties, a bathroom stuff strewn across the bedroom floor. I would feel a little bad about that...only bc I would hate for it to happen to me!

My curiosity got the best of me...I opened it.

OMG! Hiiieeeeeeeeeeee! I'm Lauren. Is B here?
Nope...no...not here...I know he told me where he was, but I forgot.
OMG! I'm from Texas too!
Wh--Oh...Wow...Uh...me too!? [how the fuck did you know I was from Texas?]
Well, my mom just wanted to say goodbye to B...She's going back to Austin today. You know I used to live here?
Really, well, why don't you guys come in for a minute

Time Out
So, now I'm that girl who's inviting strange women into BDI's house while he's off philanthroping.

They stay for 30 minutes or so...we make small talk about Texas. I can't stop staring at L's enormous jugs! Hot damn. They were freakin HUGE!!! Realize...this is ME saying this. E-fuckin-normous.

BDI calls to say he's on his way home. I tell him Lauren came by. He asked if I gave them the tour.

Uhhhh...yeah...since I live here now.

WHAT?!?! Bizarre.

In my ever conspiring mind I think she stops by to check me out since she wasn't on the list of people going to George Carlin that night.

Fast Forward to dinner with 4 of his friends. They're pretty cool. They look skeptical of me. Later GiGi likes me...I smoke with her...smokers like fellow smokers. GiGi's boyfriend and I talk about carbon sequestration, global warming and suicide. I like this guy. He likes to throw around his wine knowledge, recent travel experiences and pointless trivia...but so would I if I was him. He told me my martini wasn't cold enough. I said, "Who are you, James fucking Bond? I haven't the discriminating palate I suppose."

I sleep on the car ride back to Scottsdale from Pheonix. I'm such a good date.

Reality it Relative

Flying Friday

I'm in the silver BMW on the North Side. Can't wait to see you!
Yea! My bag is about to be here...I'll find you.

Anxiety and anticipation took over my stomach. I see him...talking to me on his blackberry in the far left lane. A timid smile and wave. He swerves across three lanes of traffic like any spoiled kid who doesn't have to worry about messing up their car. He jumps out...kisses me on the cheek and gives me a big hug. I haven't seen him in three months. God he smelled good. Hugo Boss? I don't care. It was intoxicating.

I jump in and off the weekend goes.

We drive around Scottsdale. Definitely the playground for the well-to-do. I didn't see a Target anywhere.

Cocktails before dinner at the house. It's that brownish/tanish stucco...like every other house in Arizona...and two stories. We came in thru the garage, where the golf cart is happily humming plugged into the electrical socket. Inside is total bachelor. Not much furniture, but a huge ass plasma TV hanging on the wall. We stop to say hello to Ebb & Flo. Ebb's the baby frog. Flo's a Beta. Ebb likes to hide in this hollow rock thing while Flo patrols the waters. They make a good team. Upstairs is the guest bedroom number one. We joke about me staying in up there. HA! Hell no! Not when there's a Temputpedic downstairs calling my knot ridden back!!!

He pours me half a shot of some stuff that smells like amaretto in the bottle. He picked it up in Lithuania or Istonia or some weird country. I smell it again and insist I can take a whole shot! It came out my nose all over his kitchen. He just laughed...I was embarrased. Apparently, he has done this to many of his friends since being back from the Russia trip. Same outcome every time.

Dinner 10:30pm Mountain Time. 12:30am CST. We hop in the golf cart and ride down the side walk to dinner. He claims he's being 'eco friendly'. I think he's just a geek. But I love that. Seafood, Salad, Steak...a bottle of wine. I SO wanted a peak of the check. I told him I would throw my card in and pay half...but I doubt it would go thru! We both chuckled. He doesn't know the extent of my brokeness. I get the feeling he thinks I'm joking. During dinner he leans over and kisses me on the lips a couple times. I love it when guys kiss you in public. Especially when the place is crawling with beautiful people. I felt very spoiled. And I liked it.

Sat & Sun to follow.

Once Upon a Midnight Shower

So, BDI and I pretty much have nothing in common. He openly admits to having expunged some riff raff (Let's do the time warp again) from an apartment complex he bought and resold. I fully intend to picket with my Save Montrose signs when my house gets sold by the capitalist and to the capitalists.

BDI has many a fancy thing...like the sassy computer I'm typing this on while he naps naked on his remote controlled Temurpedic bed, complete with vibrating action and all. I think about the rabbit ears on my 19" television set from the early nineties.

He's active in some organization that he just today was elected VP of social activities. My phone hasn't rung in the last 4 hours.

We drive around Scottsdale in his two door BMW. I think about the irritating piece of tinting that's coming off the window of me killer 'rig'. He's got horrible road rage. Oh wait...so do I. Nix that one.

We lead enormously different lives. There are many sexy things about his grand life. But sometimes I wonder what would happen if he sat outside, on the deck one night and was just with himself and a cigar. Would the introspection prove too much? Would loneliness and isolation grab hold of him and shake him like a rag doll? Would the pangs of reality be overwhleming? It's easier to push them to the back of your mind when you have money and vast popularity.

What happens when he's 50? Will he still be flying random girls out to his house for a weekend of pretending to be boyfriend/grilfriend?

Past all that. He's so much fun. He's actually got a great sense of humor that occasionally goes places it shouldn't. Ok. So, maybe we have a couple things in common.

What the hell does "My hips don't lie" mean?

And where can I get a pair that DO lie?!?!? While I have no real beef (or chorizo) with Shakira...this song is so lame, lyrics wise. And yet, when it's being XM'd into SV's car and can't help but whip out my best goat like, quivering voice and sing along.

Music is an amazingly manipulative tool. Just ask the people that cry every Sunday bc there are some killer power chords in another lame-oh song. I realize there is an element of conviction and spiritual canoodling with the Big Man, and people cry bc of that too...So, there's my disclaimer.

I'm gonna go to my parents church next weekend after I come back from a weekend of shacking in Scottsdale, grab the mic and belt out Aish Tamid...just to see what happens! My dad would love it. He's probably to oldest gentile that listens to Matis, but that's what I love about that man.

Another song with ridiculous lyrics that I love...Smells Like Teen Spirit. "A mullato, an albino, a mosquito, my libido...Yeah". WTF. This is a band that defined a generation and gave guys everywhere an excuse not to bath or cut their hair!!! And all with ridiculous lyrics. However, any time I'm flipping radio stations and I hear it....I stay on that song and sing along at the top of my lungs. Humans are weird.

PS-I got reemed for not saying thank you to GB for his latest installment of photoshopped masterpieces...So, here are the pics that I've titled, "Every action has a reaction". Thanks GB.

Oatmeal & Green Tea

Ya know...I used to think it was cool that I had a bowl of women's health oatmeal every morning accompanied by a green tea. And now...I just think its pathetic. I've eaten the same exact thing for breakfast for months now. Months. I'm turning into my father. He has eaten PB&J, a yogurt cup and a piece of chocolate for lunch for the past 25 years. That's circa 6,250 lunches that are exactly the same (if you factor in 2 weeks vacay). And...it gets worse. Come 11am, dear ole Dad realizes mom forgot his hershey kiss, and goes a little nuts.

"J, where is my chocolate!"
"Well, we were all out this morning."
"But, I ALWAYS have chocolate....This is a bad day."

Funny how drama and dependence on my mother seems to run in the family.

So, I see myself falling into this sad pattern. Drive to work. Check my websites. Make my tea first so it has time to steep. Make oatmeal. Eat it fast. Cold oatmeal tastes like shit. Drink tea and now the day can begin.

Thank God for Arizona, hot tubs, an expensive champagne, or I might have wanted to rip my beating heart out of my chest and die in my nasty, dirty apartment this morning.

"Oh My God...You're the Blonde" the Tony Hawk/Jet Lee Reprise

Ok...this is EXACTLY what I get for thinking I am brave enough now to have strangers read my blog!

So, back in January, which btw I thought this was SO much longer ago, I was probably a little drunk and decided to profess my love to some guys hair. It's hot. I'm not backing down from that!!! Well, he had these friends...who are all adorable...and I'm not just saying that bc you crazies found my post about you guys that I thought was safely buried in archives! So, the friends show up at, where else, Pub Fiction. I almost immediately know them as Tony Hawk and Jet Lee. I'm not inebriated enough to talk to them; a little time passes.

This douche of an Irish guy comes up to me and starts mumbling something in a terribly thick accent. I just nodded...asked for a cigarette and pretended I had to go to the bathroom. Well, Stripper V and I come out & of course crazy Irish boy is waiting. He says, "I lit your cig, but you lit my fire"!!!!!!!! HA! Props to my man from the mother-land. That was the most ridiculous thing a guy has ever told me. Oh wait...no it isn't. The most ridiculous was in Abilene, TX. This old dude asked me to dance some country song with him. I mean old...65 minimum. So, I think...this sweet grandpa type wants to dance...isn't that cute. He tells me in one of those ignorant sounding Texas accents, "I saw you and your friend shakin' your hips over there, and I knew I had to ask you to dance." He draws me closer to his pearl snap shirt that he probably castrated cattle in earlier that day and proceeds. "I said to myself 'strap a saddle on that thing and I'd ride ya for eight seconds'." What the fuck?!?!?! I was 18 at the time!!! SICK!

Ok...so, I've had a few GnT's. And I'm asking Stripper V if I should go bump into Tony & Jet. Of course she says yes. So, I nestle myself in an open spot at the bar...Look at Jet and say, "I know you." He, in a quasi-condescending tone, replies, "yeah we were just here".

"No, I saw you guys here before. You were with the tall guy with the gray hair."
"Oh my God! You're the BLONDE!"
"Uhhhhh...OK."

Shortly thereafter, it comes out that my little post about Anderson Cooper, Tony Hawk & Jet Lee may or may not have circulated through some channels to ALL of the aforementioned people! Humiliation ensued.

"This is really not how I envisioned talking to you to go down."

I felt like Elizabeth Bennett when she's touring the grounds of Pemberly and Mr. Darcy walks up...unbeknownst to her. Humiliated. But I was drunk so it didn't really hit me till later.

Then they told me they thought I was snobby! Ouch. My mother is the only person that's ever called me a snob. So, that one kind of hurt. I'm sorry to anyone that I've ever told they should read more...I don't want to be that snob girl who reads. I have enough geeky titles and am not in want of another.

One thing leads to another, and I'm now on the phone with Anderson. I have no idea what I said...probably nothing.

We chat for a little while longer...and it finally hits me. These people aren't laughing with me...they're laughing at me. Ouch again. So, SV comes back...and we leave. Me feeling a little less confident...ok maybe a lot...and wishing Al Gore and his stupid internet invention never made it big! =)

Do you think I'm just jealous?

So, I'm looking thru this magazine, 002Houston, or some such debauchery. Paul freaking Wall was on the front a couple months ago...sparkling 'grill' and all. Ouch. And I notice a tiny ad at the bottom of one page. It's for a brand spanking new condo for rich people! Besides the fact that Houston does NOT need another huge condo building for rich people...this one is going up less than one block from my house!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For those of you who don't know...I live in North Montrose. It's pretty much just one 1930's sytle house after the next. Many have been turned to apartments. Some, young families buy and fix up. So, basically, they're going to have to tear down all these beautiful houses full of character and history to erect some monstrosity of red brick....for rich people! GO BACK TO SUBURBIA YOU STUPID RICH PEOPLE! Alright...I don't mean it. But seriously. I'm concerned. My artsy neighborhood is going to become overrun by these phony urbanites that probably always pay their rent on time! You know the ones...that walk around in $300 jeans and high heels on Saturday morning...perfect makeup and all. I smile peacefully as I walk by in my black gauchos...dity Converse...and glasses thinking secretly, "I wish you'd get out of my neighborhood you Crusaders for Capitolism!" Isn't that sweet and open minded of me? Eventually, they will take over all my spots. Lite Nite Pie has already felt the effect. They're skrimping on the goat cheese on my favorite pizza, the Boss Man, and they fired all they substanse-a-ly challenged employees that were always condescending and famously rude while serving you, but somehow I loved them. The infamous Midtown crew took over Friday night karaoke at the Proletriat...what's next? I can only imgine the hell these newly urbanized members of Montrose will raise while driving down the road and they see the sign for Gay.com. It just looks like a Tommy Hillfiger ad anyways. So, I prepare myself for yet another masacre on the "under privledged" in society, but this time it's really close to home...a couple of houses down. And I'm sure I'm next.

**Disclaimer**
I like to be dramatic and actually have less a problem with capitolism than this post would lead one to believe. Nor do I hate rich people. I've lived with them the majority of my life...I just wish they would not mess with my little neighborhood.

***Art work-compliments of Guacamole Boy and his mad skills***

To lezzies, faggots, dykes, cross-dressers too!

I heart lesbians and new friends.

So, Stripper V and I did something rather odd this weekend. We actually met up with a guy from the internet that neither one of us had any intention of sleeping with. Wowsers! This is a break thru. Anywho, how we met him is a long story...but we ended up at the St Arnold's Brewery tour for his sisters girlfriends 30th birthday party. Very odd.

The Pretty One-Wearing these fantastic wedge shoes...stylish jeans and a pullover linen top with a little bling lining the shallow 'v' neck. Short, bob haircut with perfect makeup. Very purdy...you'd never be able to tell she likes to suck the fish taco.

The Dykey One-Wearing fit to waist jeans with no shape to them. Can't remember the top...the hair was straight to the shoulders with no movement or volume. She wasn't extremely dykey...but you get it.

The Brother-Wearing a green terry-cloth polo style shirt and shorts. Enormous tattoo on the back of his right leg...and the real killer...a tongue ring. Now...I've never been with a guy with a tongue ring...but it sounds sort of fantastic.

Warning to Guacamole BoyBrown Sugah...stop reading now...you won't approve of the following:

This got me to thinking. I'm REALLY tired of boys. I mean. I love getting 'cocked' if you will...but oral sex does hardly anything for me. (Sorry to anyone who reads this and might have performed that act on me...not my favorite and I was probably faking the noises bc it's expected.) So, ultimately, I can't be a lesbian. I mean my girlfriend would ALWAYS have to strap it on. However, wouldn't dating your best friend be ideal? I mean...Stripper V and I would totally be each others bitches. Not only would we be the hottest lesbians in Houston, we would have a great relationship. She and I would do fashionably gay things like become members of the MFA. We'd march the annual Pride Parade and get front row tickets to RENT every time it's in town. We'd fight over who got to be Maureen, and SV would always win bc she's more fabulous than I am. The living situation would almost kill our relationship...SV's pretty damn neat. And anyone who's been to my place knows I don't mind leaving a dead roach carcass out for a while. It serves as a reminder to the others...I feel. SV would walk out of the main room for a minute after railing me for being so messy, and I would make that 'you're such a meanie' face behind her back as I am the most passive person in the world. But ultimately, I know what hurts her feelings...SO I WOULD NEVER DO THAT STUFF ON PURPOSE!!! I know what makes her happy (shoe shopping) and what makes her smile...WHY CAN'T GUYS TREAT GIRLS LIKE THAT?!?!? I would always listen and be attentive. I would call her just to say hi & let her know I was thinking of her....I would be a great girlfriend....This is a really creepy post. I'm going back to being boy crazy.

Mad Pilates & Materialism

I almost hate myself for this. But ever since that stupid boyman from Scottsdale...Baron de Intercontinental if you will...bought me that stupid plane ticket...I've been waking up every morning and doing pilates out the wazoo.

It's odd to me that a booty call boyman is whipping my butt (abs, thighs & arms also) into shape more than any other type of external motivation. I mean...what?!?! Who cares. It's not like I was firm and healthy looking when first we hooked up in Austin. Geez.

Moreover, in case you haven't heard, the bastard is loaded. I'm also hating myself bc I find myself uncharacteristically attracted to things like, Marc by Marc Jacobs tops, fake sun tans, and Charles David wedges. Excuse me, Susan, but you're supposed to be this free thinking, independent, quasi liberal twenty something that if she could afford to live the organic lifestyle...she would! What's wrong with you?!?!?! Life is NOT about BMW's and Tiffany's rings! (Stripper V...stop rejoicing!)

But, God, I wanted those $115 sandals...They would look so nice in the Scottsdale sun...walking next to my loaded booty call boyman.

I don't even know who you are anymore.

=)

Things I Have to Keep Telling Myself

#1 Just because a guy buys you a plane ticket to come see him...it DOES NOT mean he likes you. It means he's loaded and has more money than sense [cents] .

#2 Your puns are ALWAYS funny.

#3 Quitting smoking is a ridiculous idea that you wish you never came up with.

#4 If the guy you're seeing/talking to/dating/f-ing doesn't call...it means he doesn't want to talk to you.

#5 Hooking up with peoples' cousins isn't always as hilarious and awesome as you first thought.

#6 Admitting you have a ficitional boyfriend named Mark Cohen on MySpace...not your smartest move.

#7 Look in the mirror fatty and put DOWN the left over Easter candy!

#8 You really might never have a boyfriend again because you're weird. Weird and Fat. Bad combination.

#9 Both your younger sisters will be married before you even get another boyfriend. Maybe you shouldn't use condoms in AZ?

#10 Life is not as bad as you think it is. So knock it off. You have great friends. A great family. And would only do one thing differently in life. That's pretty damn good.