10 November 2007

Red Stapler, east coast style

Anyone out there from near Richmond, VA? I'll be there next week!

Overheard phone conversation in the 15-items or less (shouldn't that be "15 or fewer items"?) line at the grocery store, where at least 10 people could overhear:

"I don't f***ing care. I told him it was too late. I said I wasn't f***ing in love with him anymore and that I wanted to be with you, f*** it. He shoulda f***ing known when he pulled that f***ing sh*t with that f***ing b*tch that I wasn't gonna f***ing sit around forever and wait for his f***ing a**. It's his f***ing loss, you f***ing know, I mean, sh*t, you can't f***ing disrespect me like that and f***ing get away with it. I told him I was gonna beat that b*tch's a** but f*** it it ain't even f***ing worth it anymore. He's all crying and sh*t but too bad, so sad, f***er. What? A 24-pack? Sure, yeah, Bud Light, I got it. Okay."

I think someone needs a new image consultant!
There's a great video up at Linkateria. It is one of those "only on the internet" things. Check it out.


My new house decoration. It is a tin La Catrina that I got at Dia de Los Muertos. La Catrina reminds us that, no matter who we are, no matter how fancy our clothes are, the Angel of Death will come for us someday.

Why is that a good thing to remember? So we will live like we don't have forever. We will hold our loved ones and say what we mean. We will do the things that are important to us. That's why La Catrina welcomes me into my home each night.

09 November 2007

And I write like a 2 year old, too

Today is my blogiversary. Time flies blahblahblah doesn't seem possible yadayada.

One cliche is true - I couldn't have done it without you.

I wish I could personally thank each of my readers AND ESPECIALLY MY COMMENTERS for helping me to become a better human, because you really have.

You have encouraged and cheered and suggested and prodded and questioned me. I thank you for indulging me and for continuing to read.

I'm happier, more compassionate and smarter because of you. And now I'm raking in the ad money, too (My first check, for slightly over a month, was $25.48 yeah baby, that's what I'm talking about).

If you come over, any of you, I will take you out to either a nice cup of coffee or some fish tacos at Pepe's. Promise. Because I love you people.

08 November 2007

A Veteran's Day Wish

To me, the best thing about blogging is the community that develops.

I feel all alone and screwed up, yet when I muster the bravery to write a truthful blog post about just what a mess I am, people come out of the woodwork to tell me that I am not alone, that others feel just like I do.

It makes my life a lot richer and more satisfying, knowing that I am not an outcast but a struggling little human just like everyone else.

Today I found a blog by a soldier who got a brain injury during military service. He got a big piece of shrapnel lodged in his head, and his recovery has been rough on himself and everyone around him.

I noticed that he has very few comments. Can you do me a favor and go over and introduce yourself? Even if you are a lurker on my blog, please don't lurk on his.

Linky love would be great, too. This man stood up for our country, and I feel like the least we can do is honor him by reading his story and by telling him he isn't alone.

Thank you.

07 November 2007


I already cancelled my Facebook account over the titty thing, (because I am all about the boobies) then I reinstated it with a "Facebook Sucks" button, just to see if I could earn me another Golden Shit Stirrer Award, but it didn't work. Facebook wasn't paying attention to my little Agent Provocateur act.

Now there's this.

If I understand this right, Facebook wants its users to recommend products, and they will send those recommendations to all of the user's contacts...um because why?

Am I going to get PAID to recommend things? And even if I am, do my contacts have a way to opt our of my noxious ad-spewing blast?

Look, I recommend things all the time. I back my truck up and dump my shit into the Internet's tubes and people seem to like it.

Sometimes on my own blog, other times of Epinions,Chowhound or other sites.

So what's the difference, then?

On my site, Epinions and Chowhound, I don't go banging on anyone's virtual door to advertise to them. They stop by for a reason, to see if they want to wreck their spines with a crappy Dirt Devil vacuum or not.

"But you have ads on your site. What's the difference NOW, Ethical Girl?"

I hope people who read my site know that my ads come from a feed, and while I can choose not to carry particular content (I don't do tobacco ads, for instance), I have no choice over what advertisers appear in my sidebar and I don't endorse or unendorse (is that a word?) any of them.

I'm already not so big on Facebook. It is a minor part of my online life because my blog is where I live on the internet. But if every time I go there, I get a pile of ads from contacts I may or may not know well, recommending everything from hair product to hemmoroid cream, well, I'll go play somewhere else. Again.


Goldie loves squeaky toys, and the ones she loves most of all are these little soft hedgehogs. She has about 8 between my parents house and my house.

Because the old ones were so torn and drool-covered, I bought 2 more this weekend. I am amazed at the amount of joy she gets out of them, considering the fact that she has so many in reserve. She is so proud of her new toys. She really knows the difference.

Of course, my mom always says her granddog is a genius.

Three more seconds in my 15 minutes of fame over at Queen of Spain's BlogHer video cooking thingie. More fun than the FoodTV network.

06 November 2007

She who pays the piper

My gym, LA Fitness, is extremely lame.

As a result, we haven't had music in my water aerobics class for 3 weeks, despite whining, complaining, cajoling and getting pissed off.

The plug out by the pool blew and apparently there is no modern invention that can take the place of AC power for a boom box. Crazy!

Doing aerobics for an hour with no music makes it seem like 3 hours, especially when the quiet, timid Israeli teacher is there on Saturdays. And I go to class 3x a week. Interminable.

After a fruitless call to the manager ("We're working on it," her voice mail said) I decided to act like a Muffett (my sister's old fake sorority - motto: "Don't fuck with a Muffett) and take matters into my own hands.

I loaded up my high-tech $50 boom box with C batteries and a CD and took it to class.

Thus, for the first time in 3 weeks, we had music. And I guaran-damn-tee you it was the first time that particular class ever got to, in our very vanilla suburb, dance along to "Say it Loud - I'm Black and I'm Proud!"

doot doot.

And a movie reco: "Talk to Me" with Don Cheadle. It is the story of Petey Greene, a legendary Washington DC DJ (back when that meant on the radio). The acting is great, the story is great, the costumes are fabulous, and the music is too cool. Suebob says 2 thumbs up.

05 November 2007

I can't make this up (in 3rd person like an NBA star)

Scene recap: Suebob sits reading blogs and eating reheated frozen pizza (not bad, actually).

First, she reads
Kevin Charnas' post
about people who RSVP and then don't show up:
So, I don't want to turn this into anything nasty. I don't want to tell you how approximately 40+/- people who actually made it a point to tell us that not only were they coming, but they were bringing people, DIDN'T show.

Not only did they not show up. They haven't called or emailed to apologize.

Suebob mentally agrees that these people are kind of jerky.

Then she reads Queen of Spain and thinks about what it would be like if the Queen and Kaiser moved away, and how much she likes all the local bloggers she has met and

HOLY CATS!! SHE SUDDENLY REALIZES SHE IS SUPPOSED TO BE DRINKING WINE WITH VenturaMom at that very moment. At a soiree she had RSVPed for and was in great danger or not showing up to.

So that's what she did. And it was fun. Period. End of story.

04 November 2007

Color my world

Conversation at the Pharmacy

Woman with her cart parked in front of the hair dye: Oh, excuse me, let me get out of your way.
Sue: That's okay. It always takes me a while to remember what color my hair is.

(Pecan, by the way)

Advantage of dragging your floor-length mirror outside to dye your hair in the back yard: You don't get dye all over the bathroom wall like usual.

Disadvantage of dragging your floor-length mirror outside to dye your hair in the back yard: You get to see your body in a swimsuit in a full-length mirror in the unforgiving light of a fall afternoon (and then I died).
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