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.]