The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for SusieWorld! Thanks for reading!!!
Here’s an excerpt:
600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 8,300 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 14 years to get that many views.
So I got another magazine in the mail today. Architectural Digest. I never subscribed to this magazine, so it’s one of life’s many mysteries. Kind of like how we never knew why my husband kept getting issues of Nickelodeon Magazine for three years – and the issues followed us through a move!
So here’s what I learned by flipping through Architectural Digest:
1.) Only really rich people have homes featured in Architectural Digest.
2.) The Prince of Wales is on the cover, which reinforces #1.
3.) The Prince of Wales likes to wear kilts.
4.) The fact that the Prince of Wales likes to wear kilts makes me think of what’s under the kilt and, as it’s Prince Charles, I’m all grossed-out now.
5.) Paintings of boobies are perfectly fine to hang on the walls of homes featured in Architectural Digest, provided the head above said boobs looks like Dwight Schrute wiping his nose.
6.) It’s artsy to have a bunch of random chairs on your patio with no tables and no semblance of organization.
7.) There is a casino in Arizona called “Talking Stick Resort.”
8.) I will never have a home featured in Architectural Digest.
9.) Some of the homes featured in Architectural Digest are actually quite ugly.
10.) “Architectural” is not very easy to type.
I have Sirius satellite radio in my car and every Thanksgiving I start tuning in to Holiday Traditions, the channel that plays the “good” Christmas music from the ’40s to the ’60s. You know. The classics – Sinatra, Nat “King” Cole, Mel Torme, the Mills Brothers. (Who are the Mills Brothers??)
What I’m learning is that there are a lot of sexy songs out there from Christmas music’s heyday. Sexy and a little gross.
Has anyone heard the song “Daddy.” I don’t know what makes it a Christmas song, exactly, since it’s really just some woman asking “Daddy” for all this stuff. I mean, any DECENT sugar daddy would know that gift giving is not reserved strictly for the holidays! Sample lyric: “You want to get the best for me.” I’m all for greed. Truly, I am. But there’s something about calling the old dude you’re sleeping with solely for the purpose of waiting until he dies to collect an inheritance “Daddy” that kinda creeps me out.
“Daddy” is along the lines of “Santa Baby,” but more gut-churning. “Santa Baby” is basically just some slut asking for a bunch of unattainable things from SANTA. Not an old dude she’s sleeping with. Wait. I could be wrong there. I guess these two songs are exactly the same.
Another song, one I actually like despite the huge number of bad recordings of it, is “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” This one isn’t gut-churning. It’s CHARMING! I like a song that encourages staying warm with cocktails and cigarettes. I especially love hearing modern singers sing about smoking, even when their voices are ear-splitting. It’s somehow satisfying to know that my frowned-upon vice is still talked about in music every year at Christmas.
There aren’t too many songs out there like these anymore. I don’t see Mariah Carey singing about smoking, though I can actually picture her with a sugar daddy crooning about all the insane things she wants for Christmas. We are talking about a woman who commissioned a life-size ice sculpture – OF HERSELF – for her own birthday party.
Stay tuned for Part Two of my amazing Christmas music blogogy – Why Suicide is Most Prevalent at Christmas.
It's really mean to do this to your pets.
My friend Emily reports that she almost has her daughter convinced that the first Thanksgiving was really about the Pilgrims and “Indians” coming together to make green bean casserole. And of course it was the French who suddenly came onto the scene with their fried onions.
So it got me to wondering what REALLY happened at the first Thanksgiving.
Like who brought the canned yams and marshmallows? And who brought the Stovetop Stuffing?
And the poor turkey that gave its life so we could all be grateful for something. I don’t know what the Native Americans had to be thankful for. They were about to be completely oppressed and have their land stolen from them by the white man.
Benjamin Franklin wanted our national bird to be the turkey. If that had happened, would we all be eating bald eagle on the third Thursday of every November?
I’m also thinking the Native Americans should have had their own Occupy movement in an attempt to Occupy their own land from the 1% – the Pilgrims.
I think these are some of the first questions I’ll ask when I arrive at the pearly gates. Assuming, of course that I don’t go to Hell with all my friends.
I just rewrote the lyrics to the old jazz standard Young and Foolish. This song is dedicated to my dad.
Old and wrinkly
I never longed to be
Old and wrinkly
It feels wrong to be
Lying in my rest home bed
The sunlit days go by
Soon enough I will just have to die.
I am wrinkly
One day I just got old
Now I wonder
When my brain turned to mold
Forgetting what I just ate
Now I am senile
I wish that I could sit
And nap for a while.
I nearly tossed my TV Guide across the room in absolute terror when I came across a full-page ad for this:
This monkey is creeeeepy!
Note that Baby Babu “sucks” its thumb. CREEEEPY! And “she” also has “Real Touch (TM)” vinyl skin. So monkeys feel like the backseat of a 1974 Pinto? Okay.
So of course I immediately had to visit the Ashton Drake website to find out more about this not-so-adorable baby monkey and found SO MANY OTHER CREEPY DOLLS. Creepy enough to make me miss Baby Doe all over again. There are other monkey dolls available, like Mollie here:
Mollie has BLUE eyes. I don't know of any real monkeys with blue eyes. Is this a Planet of the Apes thing?
Mollie is described as “realistic” and a “toddler.” Or a monkey for toddlers. I’m not really sure. But she costs 150 bucks! No toddler should have a toy worth 150 bucks. Not even Tori Spelling’s toddlers.
But wait! There’s more! Check out the following horribly frightening baby collectibles and ask yourself one simple question: Who the hell buys this shit??
"Imani" apparently became an evangelical Christian at a very young age. Even her blankie is all preachy! Plus, she "sings" Jesus loves me, but her voice probably sounds like a music box. Odd talent for a toddler.
"Nizhoni" is allegedly a Native American baby doll. But I think she looks like she was dressed for Halloween by racist vinyl parents.
This little guy, possibly Nizhoni's adopted baby brother, doesn't even have a name! He's just a member of the "Small in Size, Great in Spirit" collection. Poor little disturbing thing!
This little guy looks really disappointed in his team. And rightfully so. Have you seen the point spread for the Indy game this weekend??
Okay, I've seen Snow White and those dwarfs never looked like this! They are ugly now and were certainly ugly then, or so I imagine. Anyhoo...here they are in all their creepy, vinyl glory. Or maybe these are just 7 of Jon & Kate's 8 kids and the brattiest one didn't get a doll.
If I had a gazillion dollars, I’d buy up the entire Ashton Drake collection and keep them all in my guest room to scare people into not staying for more than one night. Because it’s really an imposition.
My sign about the abandoned baby has been removed. I took it down out of the kindess of my heart, so as not to alarm the neighbors about a baby that is no longer missing. But this is what wound up in its place:
While they’re claiming they’re only selling board games and electronics, they’re probably not mentioning the fact that they will be selling my baby!!! Baby-selling is frowned upon in these parts and with the number of times the police have had to show up at my next-door neighbor’s house due to noise complaints, these garage salers were smart to not tip off the police to their evil baby-selling plans.
If I didn’t have Sunday plans, and were actually a caring foster parent, I’d hit this garage sale and maybe even hit one of the people trying to sell an innocent doll, abandoned so guilelessly by her birth mother. For all I know, the poor girl was born in a dumpster outside the nearby high school during the homecoming dance. Okay, now I’ve gone and made this dark.
Keep Baby Doe in your prayers. If one of the people hosting this garage sale is a mechanic, she may be sold for parts!
I just performed a welfare check on Baby Doe and she’s GONE! Whoever took her left my flyer, though. I do hope they read it because the next time they ditch their baby on my driveway, I’m calling the cops!
I went out to check on the baby and she was GONE! Just when I'd made the decision to adopt her.
This morning I headed to my car to go to work and came upon this:
Yes. It’s a doll. And it was in my driveway. Right near the walkway to my front door. Which leads me to believe that some child or perverted doll fetishist adult was walking around my house late last night.
But I’m a good samaritan. I placed Baby Doe, as she is now called, against a lightpost and taped a little note to her tiny baby shirt.
After about an hour with no response to her query, “Are YOU my mother?” I opted to take more drastic measures and made a sign.
The sign has only been up for a little while, but I’m hoping the irresponsible mother comes forward and claims Baby Doe. I’m not prepared to be a parent, but I can’t leave an innocent baby on the street overnight. She’s only wearing a t-shirt and footies!
Of course, the first thing I did, as anyone else would do in such a situation, was go to Facebook and post all these pictures. I received several suggestions on what to do – call CPS, become an instant mommy, grab the doll by the throat and start waving it in the faces of all passers-by, yelling, “Is this your doing??” None of them seem appropriate. Perhaps some kind-hearted soul will take pity on Baby Doe and take her home with them.
She is a little underdressed for our chilly fall weather, but her clothes are clean and there are no other signs of abuse. But she’s most certainly been neglected! Who would abandon such a precious thing? It’s the ideal infant – it doesn’t cry, pee, or poop. No breast feedings required every two hours…. Honestly, she’s every mother’s dream!
The more I think about it, the more I believe I will adopt Baby Doe. Does anyone have any hand-me-downs? I don’t have a full-time job and I know her father won’t support her, even though we’re still happily married. I’m sure he’ll frown on my new idea to turn one of the rooms of our new house into a nursery.
And what do I name her?? For now, I’ll just call her Doey, I suppose. Name suggestions are welcome, but please keep them weird. The weirder, the better.
And here’s the script of the Baby Doe Saga:
ME: Holy shitballs! Someone left a baby doll in my driveway. And what the hell were they doing so close to the garage??
BABY DOE: Mommy, I’m cold.
ME: Oh, well. I’ve got to go to work. Let’s see what happens when Dave comes home and finds her.
BABY DOE: Don’t leave me, Mommy! I’m cold!
ME: (Gets in car, drives away.)
ONE HOUR LATER….
DAVE: (Gets out of car.) Holy shitballs! Someone left a baby doll in my driveway. Maybe if I toss it on the lawn, someone will come claim it.
BABY DOE: NOOOOOOOOOO! *plop*
SEVERAL HOURS LATER:
ME: (Gets out of car.) I wonder what happened to that baby … Oh, there she is. What’s she doing in the middle of the lawn?
BABY DOE: Mommy! Help me! The grass is all pokey on my delicate plastic baby skin.
ME: (Entering house.) Dave, what’s the deal with that doll? Did you toss her on the lawn.
DAVE: Yeah. I figured someone would come by and pick her up.
(Distant infant wails can be heard in the distance.)
ME: Oh. Well. Okay then.
HOURS LATER.
ME: I’m going to tape a note to this thing and see if someone comes to claim her.
BABY DOE: Silence. She’s too cold to speak and the hypothermia is starting to set in. Either that or she’s being totally passive-aggressive with the whole silent treatment thing.
ME: Wait. No one will notice a little post-it taped to the kid. I’d better make a flyer.
BABY DOE: Silence.
I quickly whip up a flyer, complete with Baby Doe’s photograph, threatening to call CPS on the irresponsible parent who ditched her innocent baby. And trespassed on my property to do it.
Photos are taken and posted on Facebook and my job is done. Except now I’m somone’s mommy.
There's no coffee in there. It's just an obvious prop. And it's not very "green," either.
If you’re anything like my husband, beware – I may just ruin television for you if you read this blog.
I am a distracted TV viewer. I’m always doing puzzles or folding laundry or something else while my TiVo runs my favorite shows. So I don’t pay attention to much. But one thing that has driven me from distraction is the infinate number of empty cardboard coffee cups being used as props on TV these days. Because it’s so fucking OBVIOUS said cups are empty!!!
You can tell they’re empty by the way the actors hold and move these cups. It’s clear they’re light as air – especially when you hear the hollow noise the cups make when they touch a surface.
Ever since this flagrant lack of respect for the coffee drinking viewer came to my attention, I can’t focus on the scenes before me. I just stare at those empty cups and wish someone would drink out of something transparent for a change. Like on Cheers when they were forced to drink something that looked like real beer, but probably tasted like PBR minus the benefit of (alleged) alcohol content.
Days of Our Lives, the soap opera I’ve watched shamefully for 20+ years, is the worst offender of my empty cup pique. The only character on this show who hasn’t been seen holding an empty cup is an infant. They all hang out in a coffee house with their empty cups saying God knows what because I’m so distracted by the emptiness. Most coffee joints actually offer you glassware if you plan to drink in. But not the Java Cafe in Salem, USA! They don’t give a rat’s ass about the environment. You’re drinking air out of a paper cup no matter what!
So why can’t they put some kind of liquid in these cups? Just fill them with water or something. But don’t drink out of an empty cup and tell me it’s coffee. I ain’t buyin’ it.
On the bright side, IT’S NATIONAL COFFEE WEEK, EVERYBODY! Go celebrate by having a barrista actually put something in your cup.
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