It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

TO: American Express
FROM: Suzy Soro

Thanks for extending my Panasonic digital camera warranty for a year so I can rid it of Black Dot Disease.

To actually help me, however, you're going to have to answer the phone in your service department when I call. I know, weird, but that's how it works.
One of the items I added to my list of a thousand things I had to get done before surgery was to have my living room ceiling repainted so the health inspectors wouldn't fine the owners of the building. I did not have 'patch, prime and paint the bedroom' on my list. Nor did I have 'repair peeling paint in the bathroom' on my list. Those were added because I pointed them out to the health inspector as a joke, like, "You think the ceiling is bad, take a look at THIS." I'm thinking of putting a large barrel and a sign at the entrance to my front door that says, "Welcome to Casa Flaking Paint Chips. Please help yourself to a complimentary hat."

I set up an appointment with my internist today and the nurse told me to get my pre-op orders faxed to their office.

"The doctor needs to check your blood count to make sure you won't bleed-out during surgery."

And I needed to know that specific detail, why? I don't want to know why they're taking my blood. Just take it and shut the fuck up already. Now that information is stuck in the frontal lobe of my cortex, where panic and obsession live side by side searching for Xanax.

The finale of Project Runway was won by Christian Siriano, pictured below. Only 21 years old, his clothes were over the top, made for supermodel bodies and utterly heart stopping. When one of his models bitched about the towering heels he made her wear because it was impossible to walk in them, he turned to the camera and said, "Oh puleeeeze, I walked in them for 5 hours; if I can do it, she can do it."

Nobody is more fabulous than a queen with a dream.

My new TV obsession is The Real Housewives of New York City. Totally outdoes the O.C. women, who are all trashy and booby with bleached blonde teens who are more annoying than I am. If that's even possible.

My favorite New York couple is the one who are merged. "Inseparable since our second date." I can't figure out whether I'm jealous or just jealous or maybe jealous? Mr. Merged picks out handbags for her, which could be a 10 on the Creep-O-Meter. In their defense, they actually act like they're still in love. Mrs. Merged wore a Brazilian thong on the beach at St. Bart's. For the non-connoisseur of the Brazilian, there is no coverage over the ass. Finally, partial nudity comes to reality TV. Can full frontal be far behind?

Please spare me the comments on that double entendre. I beg you. I'm not a well person and could break into spontaneous bleeding-out at any time.

End of chat.