Please bookmark the correct page at http://suzannadanna.net/ Princess of Irony

I’ll just hide in the bathroom. The. Whole. Damn. Time.

Issue Date: Wednesday, Feb. 01, 2006

Dear Concrete Company that is busting up my cul-de-sac,
Hate you.
That is all.
With venom and daggers from my eyes,
Susan

I took off from work yesterday at 1 pm. I told myself that it was so I could go get some sleep but with the construction going on in front of (and in) my yard, there was not going to be much resting until they stopped their little crunchy/SLAM!/scrape-scrape at 7 pm - again with the hate. Did I mention that they start at 6 o’clock? No? Well, just to make sure that we are not confused here, that is 6 am… like morning time. Can you say crack of Dawn?

You don’t know Dawn? She’s a tart, always showing the crack of her ass. A little modesty could go a long way Dawn.

Anyway… So, the real reason I took off? Well, I was super productive up until say, oh noonish and then I hit a wall. An ‘I don’t wanna anymore’ wall. Those kinds of barricades don’t just fall down on their own. You have to come at them with both barrels blazing. Barrels of “take off early from work” and “maybe read some Patricia Cornwell or just watch VH1 with the cat in your lap”.

Ladies and Gents, I have senioritis in a bad way. I am SO looking forward to this weekend with my friends. I am also a bit anxious about going to Nacogdoches. Why you ask? Well, to make a long story very short… if you are new and have not perused the archives… I have history there. History and an ex-husband in law enforcement.

X? No, he wouldn’t cause any trouble. He wants everyone to like him (it just really didn’t work that well on me for a long period of time), and his brother is the same way. Just about as docile as lambs (shut it Trix…. Trying to paint a picture here. Eh.).

I am, however, worried about my ex-mother-in-law. She is an unhappy, masochistic, holy-rolling, matriarchal, passive aggressive bitch. And I mean that in the sweetest of ways.

Ok, so no, I don’t. I really can’t stand the woman.

Her son and I have been divorced since… oh, about five or six years (I left in 1999) and just last year she sent me pictures. In her letter, “Don’t forget about meeeeeeee… blah blah blah sourpuss blah.” She sent pictures. Pictures she said that were of my ex-step-daughter.

Y’all? There was ONE picture of my ex-step-daughter and about 6 or 7 others of my ex-husband, my ex-father-in-law, my ex-bother-in-law, all of their trucks and motorcycles and anything that she could tout, “See this? My offspring are manly men.” Gah. If she hears that I am in town the hotel will get a call, which they will thoughtfully patch through and I will hear, “Well, aren’t you going to come out and see me?”

Oh, hell no.

There will be a rule. No one answers the damn phone in the hotel room. No one. You need me? Call my cell, or knock on the door.

Oh shit. What if she comes to the hotel and knocks on my door?

Ok. Two rules, no answering the phone and nobody is allowed to answer the door either.

I’ll just hide in the bathroom. The. Whole. Damn. Time.

I am also sad because a few of the crew can’t make it. LuLu and Mr. LuLu are going to be there, D’ and Glo are going to go, J.Wo will be there Jay & Brenna will be there (they have no choice, they live in Nac.) and Mister and I are getting to go. But Chad can’t come, Trix said that she would rather boil in hot cow shit than be in the same town as our ex-mother-in-law (although she said it a lot more colorfully) and I just found out this morning that Troy and his wife Shi will not be able to come.

Which brings to light another issue.

Last week I was in the car with my boss (seriously, this ties in… just give me a moment, or twelve). For some reason we were discussing the churches we grew up attending. He asked me why I don’t go there anymore and I told him that Dr. Preacher at said church would give a three-point sermon ever damn Sunday. It was so tedious, so easy to predict… and the nail that sealed that coffin shut (ooh, damn, poor choice of words) was the fact that he did a three-point sermon when he was, in fact, supposed to be delivering a heartfelt eulogy for one of my friend’s mother, yes… at her own funeral.

At the name of the mother my boss said, “You mean Betty ____? E’s ex wife?” And I squealed, “R and W’s mother!” and we both yelped, “YES!”

Not very excited that we knew a woman who had passed or that Dr. Preacher did a three-point sermon in place of her eulogy, but because we knew some of the same people.

Boss went on to tell me that R and his wife S had just moved back to town and they opened a chiropractor’s office. R and his wife are both doctors and R’s dad and his wife were going to be moving back here from the Carolina’s.

Squeal, squeal squeal… so excited to know they are back. Yadda yadda yadda… ya’ll get the point.

The next day boss calls me and says, “I got their information for you. His email is Blah and their phone number is Blah-Dee-Bloo.”

So I have the way to contact R.

R used to write me poetry in the 8th grade (still waters and all that) and send me flowers for no reason. He spent most of his middle and high school years at our house. My dad, when ordering pizza for my group of friends, would order R his own pizza.

There is history there.

He is a stoic marble of stoically silence. Very stoic… you see?

On the way home from work after getting R’s information I called my dad.
Self: “Yo, Pop… guess who moved back to town?”
Daddy: “Who?”
Self: “R and his wife, and they opened their own chiropractic practice.”
Daddy: “Oh wow, that’s great, yeah I remember you telling me that he was in school to be a doctor.”
Self: “Uh, I did?”
Daddy: “Yeah, when you saw him at his mother’s funeral.”
Self: “Oh, well, that was the last time I saw him.”
Daddy: “Really? What did he say?”
Self: “Uh, I think it went along the lines of, ‘Susan.’ And I said back, ‘R’ and then he introduced me to his wife, she hugged me and was all ‘Oh, I have heard so much about you’. That’s it.”
Daddy: “Well, baby, you know that if you want to have any kind of contact with him, you will have to make the first move. He’s very….”
Self: “Stoic?”
Daddy: “Yeah.”

So I asked Mister the next day at lunch if he thinks I should contact him. And Mister said, “Well, you do seem to put a lot of importance on old friendships… more than those whom you had the friendships with. Not that that is a bad thing…”

Basically, I get all het up and excited when the prospect of an old friendship presents itself. Mini-reunions, hanging out with the Ya-Ya’s, friends from my childhood. You know, sappy shit. For God’s sake, I looked up my 5th grade boyfriend. And when that excitement isn’t reciprocated, I get my little feelings hurt. But, Mister is right, I care about people who have shared a part of my life, no matter how small. (Except my ex-mother-in-law. She’s just pure evil.) That is why it was always so hard for me to actually burn that bridge and shut the door on friendships/relationships that have run their course.

So my question is this. Email R and be all, “Hey man, glad to hear you are back in town. I was talking to boss and he mentioned your family. Just wanted to send you a little note to say, I AM NEEDY, PLEASE TALK TO ME!” Ok, maybe not that last part. But I just don’t know if I should open myself up again.

Lordy-bee, this sounds like a Dear Dairy entry. My apologies.

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And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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