A Pill Isn't The Answer

WWSD? Suzie would say okay and welcome him back.

This just in -- I received a text from Dick saying he is willing to go to counseling to figure out why he's such a dick. I said I needed proof and he brought me back a doctor's signed prescription for Zoloft (an anti-depressant).

Okay, wow! I fucked this man over so bad he needs medication? He's sad because he had a woman that took care of him and his children? He can't function because he had everything and now he can't cope? Ugh!

I wish he could switch places with me for one day. I wish he could referee the kids, fix breakfast lunch and dinner, keep the house clean, keep himself looking presentable, go on countless job interviews, battle the old perves on a regular, and feel halfway decent when the day is over. It isn't easy.

Give me medication. Give me something so I can forget the fact that I'm doing this on my own. So I can forget the fact that I could have been so many things, but chose this instead. Give me something so I don't feel bad when my son asks me what I did to make dad go away. Give me the piece of mind to know that karma is really real.

I can't stand people who hide behind shit. If you have problems, admit them and deal with them. Don't hide behind shit or sweep them under the rug. Your problems will always be there until you deal with them -- medication isn't going to do it for you.

Girls Rule, Boys Drool

WWSD? Suzie would talk to the children in a nice, polite way and ask them to behave.

Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that all the neighborhood kids want to play over at our house. What I don't like is that they are all boys and often end up picking on my daughter (who is not only the only girl, but the youngest as well). She often gets the short end of the stick and after hearing them torment her yesterday, I decided enough was enough.

They were playing kickball and nobody wanted the girl on their team. After hearing countless You take her. No you take her! I threw on my tennis shoes, marched my ass outside, and said Look, boys against girls. All the boys looked dumbfounded, but agreed. So my daughter and I took our places, ready to kick the shit out of the ball -- and that we did.

For thirty minutes, we beat the snot out of the guys. They couldn't keep up, could not get us out to save their lives, and were getting pretty pissed off. I couldn't help but laugh at their pitiful excuses for why they were losing to a couple of girls and listening to them constantly placing blame on each other. Finally, one of the boy's mom called for him to go home. As he was getting ready to leave, my daughter said Girls rule, boys drool! The little boy hung his head and did the walk of shame home.

I'm hoping those boys learned their lesson and if not, I think I'll suggest a friendly game of dodgeball next time -- complete with a lead filled ball.

Tool Foolery

WWSD? Suzie would wait patiently or hire a handyman.

Dick was serious this time. The real estate agent arrived today, looked over the house, and told us what we needed to do. Apparently, it isn't as cut and dry as I had originally thought. We will have to make a few repairs and fix some minor eyesores before we can even list the house. Unfortunately, this is going to take longer than I had thought and most of the repairs require power tools -- which is not my area of expertise.

Dick, being the cheap twat that he is, wants to save money and do the repairs himself. Problem is, he doesn't have keys to the house and I don't want to be anywhere near him. This means that I have to find somewhere for the kids and I to go whenever he wants to bring his sorry ass over here and fix shit. Great.

I think I'll start watching the Home and Garden Channel and the Do It Yourself Network 24/7 instead. Between all the info and my ability to improvise catch on quickly, I should be able to give Bob Villa a run for his money in no time flat. Within a week, I should be swinging a hammer, operating the drill, and sawing wood like I've done it all my life. And if not, I will at least have learned how to use a table saw properly (this will come in handy when I cut Dick up into bite-size pieces for the fish).

Wish me luck. If I don't become discouraged by the fact that these people can renovate a whole house in thirty minutes (minus ten minutes for commercials), I'll definitely be discouraged by the fact that I have yet to work up enough courage to turn the jigsaw on.

Golden Cock Award - Brian

I get so sick and tired of the stupid men I encounter. The ones that think they can play games, beat around the bush, and get mad when I don't fall for their bullshit. I have decided to start a weekly post in honor of all these douche-bags. I will award one lucky guy the golden cocks (1 cock means they aren't that bad and 5 cocks means they are pure assholes). This week's award goes to Brian -- my air conditioning guy.

Brian has been to my house four times to fix my AC. Each time, he replaced something, told me it would work, and left with a check in his hand. Each time, what he did didn't work, I'm still sweating my ass off, and he has to come back. I even asked him if he'd just replace the whole unit as it would probably end up costing about the same if he kept replacing parts he thought were bad.

Brian returned yesterday to replace some coil that he promised would fix my problem. After he was done, he told me that he was going to be sad now. I asked him why and he said that he wouldn't be able to see me. He said he could no longer keep replacing things as an excuse to see me and figured he'd ask me out to dinner now.

So let me get this straight -- this ass has known what was wrong with my AC, but refused to fix it just so he could work on buttering me up. I've been sweating my ass off in my own home because this bastard was working up the nerve to ask me out? That is pathetic. Let me guess, if we did start dating, I'd be in a constant state of "wait" while he took his time making decisions and actually doing something. Thanks, but I'll pass.

I'm giving Brian three golden cocks (it would have been four, but he did refund my money for the fictitious work he had done) and a swift kick in the ass.

Three Men And A Lady

WWSD? Suzie would mind her own business and enjoy her dinner in peace.

I get so sick and tired of hearing how women bitch and complain. Men are the same damn way. I overheard a few of them talking in a restaurant and it wasn't much difference between their conversation and the way I carry on with my girlfriends. As I sat there eating my coconut shrimp and sipping my pina colada, I listened in on the man-fest.

I learned that guy #1 was upset in the lack of sex between him and his wife. He was asking the other dudes for advice which I'm praying he doesn't take. I'm not sure the wife will dig the offer of a threesome to spice things up, but hey, what the hell do I know? She might be into that sort of thing.

Guy #2 was having problems at work. He felt under appreciated and had just lost a big deal. He was thinking of career changes and one of the dudes offered "bartender" as a possible career choice. "Think of all the drunk chicks, dude."

Guy #3 was having women problems. He apparently couldn't get past three dates before they failed miserably. He was told to try Eharmony or an equivalent path.

Of course, me being the little Suzie that I am, figured I'd offer up my own advice. I got up, waltzed on over, and slid in the chair beside guy #2. I told the first guy to help his wife around the house more and to up the romantic gestures throughout the day. This way, she won't be so tired at the end of the day and will be more in the mood after receiving more affection. I told guy #2 that he had two choices -- he either needed to work harder and quit his bitching or find a new job. I reminded him of the current economy and how hard it is to find decent work. I informed guy #3 that his problem was probably due to his wandering eye. After watching him check the ass of every woman that walked by his table, I could see why no woman would hang around too long.

I then got up, walked back to my table, and ordered dessert. I left the restaurant that night not only knowing that I helped the lives of three strangers, but got guy #3's phone number as well (he actually left his business card on my table as he was leaving). If I do decide to go out with him, I'll bring my fork in case his eyes need readjusting.

Suzie For Hire

WWSD? Suzie already has a job -- her job is in the home.

I need a job, bad. I have been hunting for a job for weeks now and nothing. Not a call back, not a kiss my ass, nothing. I'm starting to freak out a little bit. Dick canceled putting the house on the market (and I still have no idea why), so I'm still paying the hefty mortgage along with all the other bullshit. The money in the bank is slowly dwindling away.

I've thought about having a yard sale. Dick has tons of shit laying around here and I'm sure I could get a few bucks from quite a bit of it. Frankly, I'm sick of looking at all his shit anyway. I've thought about cleaning houses being as I love to clean, but keep imagining myself ending up in an old perve's house and having to repeat this scene. I've even thought about standing on a corner and seeing what comes my way (kidding, kind of).

I finally got a call back the other day. The company conducted an interview over the phone. I thought all went well and they said they'd call me back to set up a time to come to their office and fill out all the necessary paperwork. That was a couple of days ago and still -- nothing. I've tried to call them numerous times, but there's never an answer.

I guess I'll be hitting the trail again tomorrow. No point in waiting for something that may or may not happen. I think I'll don my short skirt and low-cut blouse, apply my makeup perfectly, and attempt to kick some ass tomorrow. Somebody better hire me or I may just have to go postal! If you happen to turn on the news and hear about the crazy woman bomber don't worry, it's just me.

Punk Ass Pansy

WWSD? Suzie would take the flowers in and display them in her prettiest vase.

I hate cowardly men. I can't stand it when a guy likes you, but is too scared to say anything about it. He hides behind anonymous flowers and cards in an ill attempt to woo me from afar. That pisses me off to no end. Just fucking tell me you've got the hots for me. I'll probably just shoot you down, but at least we'll both know where the hell we stand.

I've received flowers three times in the past week. They were left on my doorstep with a note and everything. At first, I thought they were from Dick and was going to just toss them in the trash, but curiosity got the better of me and I read the notes.

The first note said "These are not from Dick. I hope you have a wonderful day." The second note said "I cannot stop thinking about you." And the third read "I know what you are going through, but just know that I am here."

What the fuck? Some stranger leaves me flowers to wish me a wonderful day and to let me know he's here for me? Um, I don't think so. I don't even know who the fuck it is, so how is he here for me? This has to be the most cowardly attempt to pick a chick up that I've ever seen (either that or Dick is playing more games).

I've since posted a note on my door that has already received a few chuckles from the postman and UPS delivery guy. It reads: To the sorry son of a bitch that has been cowardly leaving flowers on my doorstep without letting me know who you are, fuck off. I have no desire to meet a man with such little backbone. I have a thought, why don't you take those flowers, shove them up your ass, and come back when you've grown some balls.

I hate guessing games and yes, I'm a bitch. Have a wonderful day.

Too Little, Too Late

WWSD? Suzie would accept the apology and work past the trust issues.

I love to watch someone who knows they screwed up try to place blame on anything or anyone around them. Seeing them squirm in knee-deep denial always gives me a chuckle. Watching them stutter through endless excuses and blab on about meaningless "buts" tickles me to my core. No matter how hard they try to cover up their faults, they can never seem to hide them completely. They still shine through like booty dimples in spandex leggings.

A couple of nights ago, Dick came over to pick up some parts for his truck. While he was here, I kept to myself. Apparently, he was looking for my affection as my distance seemed to piss him off. Before he left, he mumbled a few words about having finally met someone else and that it was going good so far. I told him I was happy for him and waved him through the door.

I have been ignoring his texts since then and last night, I guess he'd had enough. He made up another excuse to come over. I let him in the house without saying a word and returned to my movie. After getting his things, he walked in the living room and asked if we could talk. I simply shrugged my shoulders. He went on to apologize and said he hadn't found someone else -- that he was just mad.

I could bite my tongue no longer and these are the words that flew out my mouth: "How in the hell are you mad? You left. You are the one playing the damn mind games. While you're out doing god knows what, the trust in this relationship has left the damn building. I will never believe a thing you say and do not want to spend the rest of my life wondering what happened while you've been gone. Too little, too late. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my movie."

He fucked up and he knows it. The sad thing is, I'm not sure this will ever work again. I cannot see myself with someone I cannot trust and at this point, I'd trust Scott Peterson before I trusted this fucker again.

Piss Me Off And You Can Call Me Bitch

WWSD? Suzie would have dismissed it as an accident and went on about her day.

We all know how much I hate grocery shopping and it's not only because of the pervy, old men. It seems as if my car is a magnet to anything that will cause dents and dings. I can't count the number of times I have come out of the store and was greeted with a note offering an apology sitting under my windshield wiper.

I went to the store this morning, grabbed my groceries as fast as possible, and headed out the door before I had another run-in with the old man. As I approached my car, I noticed something shiny. Upon closer inspection, I saw that someone had apparently opened their door into mine. I looked on the windshield for a note, but there was none. I glanced at the car next to mine and there it was -- my fucking paint on their fucking door.

I know accidents happen, but common courtesy is to leave a note saying you did so. If you aren't going to leave a note, don't keep your piece of shit parked by mine with the evidence clearly there. You are asking for a bitch slap -- which is just what I did.

I put my groceries in the trunk and then carefully maneuvered the cart to it's proper location -- all the way down the side of the offender's car and into the cart corral. I then grabbed a piece of paper from my purse and scribbled this note:

"I apologize profusely for the damage I did to your car. It seems I was so busy trying to figure out who could have opened their door into my car and not be bothered to leave a note that I hit yours with my cart, on purpose. Enjoy the rest of your day -- bitch."

I think I'm going to put an ad on craigslist for someone who would be willing to do my grocery shopping for me before I end up in jail or shot.

I Have Mail

I have been horrible at answering my "Suzie Q's" so I figured I'd knock them all out with one post. Here goes:

Q: I have to ask, does your husband know about your blog?
A: Yes. He actually read the first couple of posts. Since he's been gone, I doubt he's read any of it, but he does know it's here.

Q: I see you refer to your husband on BC and sometimes you say husband and sometimes you say your ex. Which is it?
A: I honestly don't know where we stand. He literally packed his bags and left one day. If you read my blog, you know as much as I do where I stand with him. I guess it depends on my mood as to what I refer to him as.

Q: You do a lot of mean things. How do you sleep at night?
A: Quite well, thank you.

Q: Are you as bitchy in real life?
A: I blog about my life. If you think I'm bitchy here, you would think I'm bitchy if you met me. I don't change who I am for the sake of the blog.

Q: When do you think you'll start dating again?
A: As soon as I find out where I stand with my ex, husband, Dick.

Q: How are your kids handling the situation?
A: They are holding up pretty well. I never bad-mouth their father to them and I know that helps. They are just as confused as I am as to what is going on, but we're keeping each other's spirits up.

Q: What happens to your blog if you and Dick do split?
A: I'll always be Suzie and will always have something to bitch about.

One More Time For Old Time's Sake

WWSD? Suzie would light the candles, dim the lights, and have some nice background music playing.

Me? I'm going to hell in a hand basket.

Dick came to pick up the kids last night. He had been texting me all day and hinting around as to some possible "things" we could do. He gets here and asks if we can talk. We proceed to the bedroom and shut the door. He says he misses me and wants to you know. I tell him to take the kids to his parent's house and meet me back at our house at eight.

He left, looking like he had just conquered the world.

Eight o'clock rolls around and he's right on time. He opens the door and is greeted with my fine ass (what? I can't think my own ass is fine?) fully dolled up and waiting patiently on the couch. It was all I could do to not burst into laughter while watching him watching me. He had no clue what was coming (a hint -- it wasn't him).

Things begin to get hot and heavy. For a brief second, I missed the good old days where this was actually pleasurable. Just as soon as it was all about to go down, I pushed him off, grabbed my robe, and asked him to leave. He of course, looked confused as hell and I simply said:

"I refuse to be just your sex toy. When you can get your head out your ass long enough to think about the kids and I, then I'll consider giving myself to you again. Until then, I'd rather have sex with Richard Simmons while listening to Sweating to the Oldies. Now if you don't mind, I have some rather meaningful shit to do."

I then locked myself in the bedroom until I heard him leave. God what an asshole! I'm hoping that wasn't his way of saying I'm sorry -- If so, it was pretty pathetic.

Boys Will Be Boys

WWSD? Suzie would know exactly how to handle this situation.

I love that I'm the cool mom. I love that all my kid's friends want to come to our house to play. It's easier to keep my eyes on who they are hanging out with and what they are doing. Having a house full of kids has never bothered me, until now.

One of my son's friends seems to have developed a crush on me. He continues to bring me hand-drawn cards and flowers he has picked from his yard. He has stopped playing with the other kids and just wants to sit and talk to me. It all makes me feel uncomfortable and I have no idea what to do about it as I do not want to hurt his feelings in any way.

I've thought about trying to set him up with one of the neighborhood girls, but if it didn't work out -- I'm scared he'd torch my house. I've thought about being blunt with him, but I see that going just as bad. Perhaps I should just ignore him -- I'm sure his feelings may be hurt, but that seems like my only safe bet.

On the other side, I could use this to my advantage. I could get him to mow my lawn as we know that didn't go over so well with me last time. I could use some help weeding the garden and the flower beds. The fence could stand a few nails here and there and my car could stand a good washing as well. Hmm. This could actually prove to be rather useful. I wonder if he'll accept cupcakes as payment?

No Insult, No Injury

WWSD? Suzie would turn the other cheek and excuse the behavior as stress related.

I love when someone tries to insult you, but they can't seem to find anything bad to say. They fumble over their words looking for any flaw and continue to come up empty handed. The look on their face shows their intent -- they want to hurt your feelings, but just don't know how. Lucky for me, I'm damn near perfect (kidding).

Listening to Dick trying to insult me has to be one of my all time favorite pastimes. Seeing him searching his mental databank for anything to throw at me is more amusing than watching a woman walk in six inch heels after one too many drinks. I love it! He always fails to come up with anything remotely hurtful and looks like a jackass in the end.

Apparently, Dick has decided to delay selling the house (I have no idea why, but whatever). I tried to inquire as to why the hell he'd do that and the verbal games began. The usual bitch and whore ensue, neither of which I am so it doesn't affect me at all. Then comes the you were never good at (fill in the blank with pretty much anything) as to which I know better and it goes in one ear and out the other.

By the time the conversation was over, he was verbally spent and I was laughing like hell. I offered a simple I didn't know you felt that way followed by the dial tone and that was the sword in his side. When will he learn, he'll never win with me?

So here we are, back to square one. I have no idea what is going on inside Dick's pea-brain. He is apparently more confused than I had originally thought. I'm hoping he'll pull his shit together sometime soon and figure out what the hell he's doing. Until then, I'm going to continue doing what I do -- writing about it.

Not Your Piece Of Meat

WWSD? Suzie would have said thank you, but no thank you.

I've been putting off clothes shopping for the longest time, but my kids decided a growth spurt was in order and the weather is staying warm. Unless I wanted to continue doing laundry every three days, we had no choice but to go shopping for summer clothes. All was well as my daughter was ooh-ing and ahh-ing over all things sparkly and girly. My son could not have cared less. All of a sudden, I felt hands grab my shoulders and I turn to see a man -- not just any man, but Dick's best friend from back in the day.

Of course he complimented me on such beautiful children (you would too if you've seen them) and asked the usual how have you been and followed that by what I dreaded the most -- how is Dick? I replied with a simple I wouldn't know and braced myself for the worse.

It was at this point the hair on the back of my neck stood up. It was obvious by this prick's body language that he was pleased to hear the news. He actually smiled in a way reminiscent of the big, bad wolf from the classic children's tale. He grabbed my hand, looked in my eyes, and said so I guess you'll be needing a new man?

Oh, no he didn't!

I quickly yanked my hand from his and looked him dead in the face. I (as calmly as possible) told him that no, I did not need a new man, but if he knew where I could get a low-priced lawnmower to run over all the assholes I've encountered lately I'd be extremely interested. I then turned and walked away.

I swear, the next time I go shopping, I'm putting a sticker on my ass that reads this piece of meat is not for sale so don't bother. What is it with some guys and why me? Perhaps another date with the devil is in order. Maybe I can sweet talk him into sending them all to hell.

Suzie Doesn't Want To

WWSD? Suzie wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

Something extremely terrifying happened to me yesterday. Something so unimaginable that it scares me almost as bad as spiders. Just the mere thought of it has my skin crawling and my breakfast trying to work its way back up. I realized that I don't want to stay single forever. I realized that even though Dick did a number, I still had love to give. But to do that, I will eventually have to date again. Date again? Ugh!

Dating sucks donkey balls! I've never been a fan of the butterflies in you stomach as it just makes me want to puke. I hate the whole putting on that people do -- saying things they don't really mean and only doing so because they think it's what you want to hear. The half-ass compliments that are only uttered in an ill attempt to woo you. The whole to kiss or not to kiss? To sex or not to sex? And of course, the weeding out of the guys who are obviously just trying to get in your pants.

Oh god. What will I wear? Do these jeans make my ass look even bigger? Why is he late? Why didn't he call? When will he call? I wonder if I just offended him? What is that smell? I wonder if he likes me? Is he telling the truth? Why does he keep twitching like that? Was it something I said?

I am not looking forward to having to go through all that again. I'd rather stick my head in the toilet and allow my children to plunge away. Seriously. Year number two from my five year plan is looking more and more appealing after all.

The Male Brain

WWSD? Suzie would patiently decipher each and every one.

I really don't understand men sometimes. You tell them to leave you alone and they won't. You flirt like crazy and they act like nothing's happening. You shove a foot up their ass and they get mad. They shove theirs up yours and you're supposed to like it. I am tired of trying to figure men out. Unless they speak to me in English and clearly state what it is they want, I'm not going to bother with any of it.

For the last several nights, I have been under the attack of drunken texts -- ranging from I love yous to I hate yous, I want you backs to I hope you rot in hell. The first couple of nights, I tried to decipher Dick's intentions. I attempted to pick apart his slurred words (yes, he's slurs when texting) looking for any meaning whatsoever. I quickly came to the conclusion that not only was there no meaning, I really didn't care to know it if there was.

I have since turned my phone off at night, but that only delayed the inevitable. As soon as I turn my phone on in the mornings, I am attacked by the constant beeps. The night's conversation comes pouring in at once. The latest text has me the most confused:

I love you. I want you back. I called Tom (the real estate agent) and he should be by tomorrow. I hope you rot in hell for what you've done.

Yeah, okay. You love me, but want me to rot in hell. You want me back, but are putting the house on the market. And for what I've done? He left, not me.

So you see, I'm done with trying to figure out the male brain. It is too damn time consuming and I have better things to do. I'd rather spend my time with a bunch of old ladies playing Bingo and discussing which brand of denture cleaner works the best than attempt to decipher this shit.

Assed Out

WWSD? Suzie would have simply grabbed some newspaper, rolled it up, and squished the little bastard like nothing happened.

Me? I freak the hell out and almost kill myself in the process (see, I wasn't joking).

I hate spiders almost as much as I hate Dick. Seriously. I was trapped in my living room once for over an hour because one decided to hang in the doorway, taunting me with his ability to move up and down so effortlessly. I knew if I got anywhere near him, he'd pounce on me quicker than some of the horny, old (and rather limber) men at my local supermarket. So I sat there, for over an hour until my son came in from outdoors to squish him for me (yes, I get my son to kill bugs -- sue me).

The other night was no different. I had went upstairs to check on my sleeping kids before turning in myself. As all was well, I go to head back down the stairs. I clear the first two steps when something catches my eye. It's a damn spider! Without thinking, I tried to get out of the way and lost my balance. I fell the next eleven steps and landed flat on my ass!

Luckily, all I suffered was a nasty abrasion to my arm (as seen in the picture). The worst part about the whole damn scene was that after closer inspection, it wasn't a spider at all -- it was a common housefly. I almost killed myself over a fly!

So the moral of the story is this: If you don't pay attention to the details, you'll find yourself flat on your ass every time.

Now go ahead, laugh at my expense. I have some really nice things planned if you do.

[Edited to add: It turned out fuzzy, but my son took that pic and actually taped his Spiderman logo to my shirt. He is now on my list too.]

Unwise Old Man

WWSD? Suzie would ignore them and go on about her chore.

I hate grocery shopping. It has to be the worst chore ever (aside from scrubbing pissy toilet seats). It probably doesn't help that my local market tends to be the hangout for horny, old men. You know the kind -- they stare you up and down, casting you in their mental pornos while grabbing their crotch as if they've developed a sudden itch. Every once in a while, I guess the grabbing gets good to them and the utter stupid shit. Yesterday, I had enough.

They saw me as soon as I walked in. The hairy old bastard is the worst. He will stare at me like I would never notice. He does not care who sees him fondling his (lack of a) package. He is downright rude and I was flat out pissy (I was in the middle of making homemade mac and cheese when I realized I was out of milk). I knew this was going to get ugly.

As usual, looking like a duck with ducklings in tow, I dash down the aisle, grab the milk, and proceed to check out. The cashier rings my purchase, I pay, and I head for the door. Just as I reach the door, there went the comment -- Will you look at the ass on her.

Now keep in mind that my kids were with me and this comment was made loud enough for all in earshot to hear.

I completely lost it at this point. I did not want my kids to witness what I was about to do so I had them sit on the bench by the door (facing the opposite direction) and gave them my mobile phone to take pictures of the birds outside. I then walked over to the hairy bastard and told him that not only did I have an ass, I could act like one as well. I opened the milk, poured it down his pants, and for once this man was speechless.

Needless to say, we didn't have mac and cheese last night, but I feel better knowing the milk was used for a greater purpose.