It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

I have plumbed the depths of hell and bought an "Oprah Book Club" selection, Edgar Sawtelle. I expect it to suck as every book I ever bought based on Her Rotundness' recommendation has sucked. I stopped buying them but a few years later bought James Frey's A Million Little Pieces, which I loved. Then Oprah got all up in her weave and appeared DEVASTATED that some parts of the memoir were not true and APOLOGIZED to her viewers. Puhleeeeeeeeeeze.

I had AAA come and install a new battery on Tuesday. The gas tank was full but half of it had evaporated. I drove to get a Big Mac and then got my car washed. Then it rained the next day because God likes to remind me every once in a while that I'm not in charge of everything. That's how much HE knows.

I drove to Costco where the lines were long and the shoppers mean. I was trying to negotiate my cart around a woman who OF COURSE didn't move after I said, "Excuse me; I have trouble walking and my hands don't work well." She replied, "Sure, as long as you stop HITTING ME." So I smiled sweetly, which is virtually impossible for me, and added a huge limp to my walking pattern plus drool and crossed eyes and hobbled away like Quasimodo. It gave me immense pleasure. God, I make a perfect 10 year old.

I didn't go to Malibu for Thanksgiving after all. Some of the guests I wanted to see weren't going to be there so I went to the party across the street, which was fabulous. Johnny and Carson (who was one of my friends who helped me during my recovery and who had been though a similar situation with her leg) are a married couple and all their friends are in the performing arts. Directors, singers, radio newscasters, etc. No kids! But dogs! Yay! A friend of theirs cooked two turkeys in their smoker. The moment I saw there was no green bean casserole in any form I was thrilled. They did asparagus with hollandaise, so much better. I didn't take my camera and after I saw the crowd, I was sorry I didn't.

Here's a pretty cheap and FABULOUS gift for your friends who drink: Caramel Vodka

1 bottle cheap vodka
1 and a half bags of Werther's Caramels
1 large vessel
1 funnel as needed

Do not use cheap caramels or expensive vodka!!

-Pour the vodka in the large vessel
-Add the caramels
-Leave overnight until all the caramels have melted.
-Pour back into empty vodka bottle after removing the vodka label
-Wrap with Xmas paper and a bow

The caramels will take up a lot of space so all the liquid will not fit back into the vodka bottle. I never got around to figuring this part out. My friends and I would usually drink what wouldn't fit into the bottle and take turns mocking AA by announcing "Hi, my name is Suzy and..oops, there's the bell!" They give you 5 minutes to speak and then ring a bell. Even if you're having a stroke at the podium, get off! It's worse than school and I think we all know how well I did there. Which might explain why I can't figure out the caramel into vodka bottle ratio.

I have not heard from my surgeon in Mumbai.

End of chat.

An Indian Thanksgiving. The REAL Indians.

I wrote my surgeon in Mumbai asking if everyone at Jaslok Hospital was okay. They're right in Mumbai. I also wrote one of my newer readers, Braja, who is funny, from Australia and currently living in a small village in India.

She writes about it today on her blog. She explains how the U.S. is seen from abroad. And around the world. We are NOT a popular country but you already knew that, right? I'M still popular, of course, but you already knew that, right?

While I was there in 2006, there was a terrorist attack at a train station. I was in a temple by my hospital and they ran us through metal detectors. At the time I didn't know why but read about it later on. They deliver 2 newspapers a day to your hospital room, kinda like here, only not.

Click on the label at the end of this post to see all the pictures I took of these lovely and kind people.

I still haven't heard from my doctor. Maybe he's helping the wounded. Braja said they killed Indians as well, which I hadn't heard on our news. I woke up at 4 a.m. thinking of him and all the people in that hospital. The news this morning is now announcing they're still under fire today, which I think is tomorrow there. The International Date Line is clearly for people who can count.

I think we all know where that leaves me.

End of chat.

So Much For Keeping A List

I had so much to do yesterday but only did one thing. So that whole going to call AAA and driving the car on Monday thing? Didn't happen. It was too cloudy. I did, however, add renter's insurance to my car policy because in 16 years I haven't had it and you know, clouds can lead to a 12.7 earthquake.

Do you get in trouble for starting a fire in your apartment and then say your hands were so numb you couldn't pick up a bottle of vodka water to spread it knock it out?

There's a cricket living in my bathroom. I can't remember which ones chirp, the male or the female, but this one doesn't chirp. It also doesn't leave the bathroom. Years ago I would just drop a Harper's Bazaar on it and wait a few days to scrape up the corpse. On occasion, I would keep them off death row and cover them with a glass and slide the paper underneath etc. etc. and free them outside while doing the Heebie Jeebie Dance. Then a few years ago my mother and her friend told me crickets bring good luck and never to kill one. So because of my hands I can't even lift a Harper's Bazaar much less aim a glass over a cricket. So I decided to just ignore it. It's been there about 3 weeks and it did disappear for a while and I thought it had died or escaped. Then the last 3 days I saw it again. Today I was in the kitchen and saw a baby cricket, where the bathroom wall and the kitchen wall meet.

I guess it was a she cricket and gave birth to probably one thousand babies. If I have great luck this year I'm going to be asking you all for name suggestions. Lots and lots and LOTS of name suggestions. But I'm glad I didn't kill the mother.

Good grief, I'm the crazy cricket lady.

While I call AAA, go read the latest part of my memoir at Scrivel.

End of chat.

SINGLE, MARRIED & DIVORCED - Last Cartoon

© Single, Married & Divorced

Jokes from the show Single, Married & Divorced starring Suzy Soro and Leslie Norris
Written by Leslie Norris
Illustration by Andre Noel

Click on the label below and it will take you to the other 7 cartoons from our stage book

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

I woke up this morning and shuffled into the bathroom and got a glimpse of my feet. I jumped and thought, "Oh my GOD, my feet are bleeding."

See yesterday's post if you don't get that.

Web MD is the devil. Trying to discover why my hands are still numb and my upper arms are unusable and clicking from page to page and symptom to symptom it appears I might actually have died a few years ago.

"The Secret Service also has cautioned the public not to assume that any threats against Obama are due to racism." What's it from then? His height? The Secret Service detail must be leftover Bushites, i.e. STUPID.

Lindsay Lohan got flower sacked in Paris when she showed up wearing a fur. I can't believe PETA asks people not to wear fur. Maybe I should ask them to stop wearing crocs. Or clothes that don't match. Or to throw on a lipstick. All of that kills MY SOUL but I don't tell other people how to live or what to do. When they were throwing paint on 130,000 fur coats, I'm hoping that some of the celebrities sued for destroying personal property. I'm not wearing a dachshund, PETA, fuck off.

My family and I have reconciled and my sister has come over once a week to help me, which has saved my life. She's like the Cleaning Whisperer. Sponges, pots and pans, and detergent all gather around her legs when she enters the kitchen.

At one aisle in Mayfair Market we both exclaimed "Oh wow, look!" I turned to her and she was pointing to some unpronounceable foreign bottled water while I was pointing to those new Strawberry Eggos. Twins!

She even let me drive her new BMW as soon as I removed my hands from around her throat. So come Monday, AAA to jump start my car and then Thanksgiving down at some friend's beautiful home in the jewel of Southern California, Malibu. They have one bathroom with the most outstanding tile work I've ever seen. EVER.

They finally cancelled Monk after 9 painful years of Tony Shaloub making the same 3 faces over and over. We got it. OCD. NINE YEARS OF OCD.

"Crackalackin" has replaced "Mamma Mia" as the most obnoxious words on television.

End of chat.

Finally, An Intelligent Post

This is my first pedicure since MARCH. I just don't feel right if I don't have mani-pedis. I'm a big girly girl. Plus I go commando, what's not to love? Shut up. Can you see the scars? One is below the right ankle. A little indentation. There's one on each side of the foot. Isn't this a fascinating post? The right foot is a little pinkishette. But you can barely see the scars and how many of you have now walked to your gun cabinet? I'm happy even though my hands are still numb and who has loaded their gun and aimed it at the monitor?

End of chat.

SuckedIn By LinkedIn

Even though I've accepted invites to LinkedIn, I never used it. Then I broke down recently and invited people.

This is a picture of me and Janette Barber from the 1996-97 Comedy Issue of Dancing Bear Productions. I pinched her contact info off another friend's LinkedIn profile. I hadn't seen or talked to her in 8 years. It's hard to read the copy below but she produced the Rosie O'Donnell show and is now working on Rosie's new variety show. She has lots of Emmys. For followers of Rosie's old show, Janette was the "Ja" in Jahero.

The profile next to my name says 'Hates Everybody.'

My favorite Janette story happened in Buffalo, NY when we were both working for Airborne Eddie. I was headlining but was panicked because Janette killed everywhere and I now had to follow her. So I called her and shared my fear and she pooh poohed the idea that I couldn't follow her. I then called my manager and shared with him and he dismissed me with "I only handle headliners so deal with it."

So of course I got laryngitis the hour after I arrived in Buffalo. During the week my voice got worse and worse until I sounded like Lauren Bacall smoking Cohibas. Then there was a fire in the hotel and they sounded the alarms and Janette didn't come out of her room, which was next door to mine. I pounded on the door until she casually opened it.
"What's up?"
"WE'RE ON FIRE!"
"Really?"

A fireman ran past us.

"Oh, okay, just let me get my book."
"JA - NETTE." She ran back into the room and then reappeared at the door.
"Wait, I need a sweater cuz it's cold out."
"Yeah, you can wear it to the MORGUE."

As we waited outside, I didn't see a book.
"Where's your book?"
She held up a spiral notebook, where she kept all her jokes. She was risking her life for a bunch of jokes. I, on therother hand, would've gladly watched mine feed the flames.

ANYWAY, by the penultimate day of the gig, I could barely talk and asked Janette to switch with me since her spot required 30 minutes while mine required 45. Janette said she'd gladly do it to prove to Eddie how good she was because up until then Airborne Eddie wouldn't book her as a headliner. But he agreed to the switch as I was begging him to give me a break.

Janette killed.

Eddie only booked her as a headliner after that.

End of chat.

The Blog Schmooze

Heidi gave me this which I think is her way of telling me I talk too much. Joy Behar calls me Aunt Blabby so Heidi is probably right. "The Schmooze award is for bloggers who...“effortlessly weave their way in and out of the Blogosphere, leaving friendly trails and smiles, happily making new friends along the way. They don’t limit their visits to only the rich and successful, but spend some time to say hello to new blogs as well. They are the ones who engage others in meaningful conversations, refusing to let it end at a mere hello - all the while fostering a sense of closeness and friendship.”

I'd like to hand it off to Nanny, who has just been laid off after 16 years of sleeping with her coworkers doing a top notch job at her company and Susan, who is dealing with a whore named Dawn Bicker, a slut sleeping with Susan's husband.

Hang in there girls, were pulling for you both.

End of chat.

The Year Of The Woman 2008

1. Ali Vincent wins The Biggest Loser after 4 seasons of male winners.

2. The first woman tries to run for the White House.

3. The first woman in 24 years runs for Vice-President.

4. Dr. Rachel Maddow, a self-titled "butch lesbian" averaged a higher rating of the 25-54 much sought after demographic in the first 13 out of 25 days of her MSNBC TV show, beating CNN's Larry King for the first time.

5. Ann Dunwoody becomes the first 4 star Army general in U.S history. (took her 33 years)

Jews support Jews, gays support gays, white men support white men, blacks support blacks, Latinos support Latinos. So I support women and will die trying. I don't care about ANYONE'S politics because ultimately, it all ends up being the same politics plus or minus a filibuster or two. I wish I had been a fly on the wall when the CIA briefed Obama on what is really going on in the world.

But I wish Obama the best and will support him as one of his first acts is taking on a serious U.S. problem, The Baggy Pants Law in Florida.

Before the Internet, when bloggers and websites reported that Palin had her daughter's baby and a gay friend claimed Palin's son is gay and circulated a picture of him blowing another guy. (It was so out of focus and obviously photo shopped I'm pretty sure it was Cheney going down on Bush.) And other sites reported Obama wouldn't pledge allegiance to the flag and was a friend to terrorists. Even TV was recently caught up in the Palin hoax re Africa.Really shameful behavior for America, the stupidest and most violent country in the world. Due diligence has been replaced by Perez Hilton. The irony is that for all the mudslinging, Obama and Palin each became superstars.

When Prop. 8 (legalize gay marriage)was defeated here we were all shocked. But I had to wonder, I was asked to pass that blow job photo to as many people as possible. I didn't, obviously. Did other gay people send out the same hateful and erroneous email? Did people believe it? Did they forward it?

Because karma IS a bitch.

End of chat.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

My family has a demented strain of Green Ballitis:

1. My sister's cleaning OCD is so severe that you can now see the fingerprints from the carpenter who built her French side tables in 1879.

2. My mother stretches every piece of fabric she touches. EVEN AT MUSEUMS WHERE IT SAYS DO NOT TOUCH.

3. This was the bar in my Dad's apartment. He tore down a wall, moved a jacuzzi and made one of the bedrooms into a bar. Obviously my father was the normal one in the family. Kind of. He saved every lottery ticket he ever played. He then took the time to arrange them and COUNT them. And here they are: 12,881. I'm hoping those were only a dollar each because if not, my sister and I would have been a lot richer 8 years ago when he died.

4. There's no point in listing my peccadilloes as there isn't enough bandwidth so that's why I wrote my book, All the Bad Sex I've Had, a very, very, very long book. Chapter 2 (part 5) is now up at Scrivel. OR just click on my name on the home page and all the previous parts come up, albeit backwards, which is definitely a metaphor for my personality. Some names in the book have been changed to protect the guilty, including me, and some haven't, like ex-Yankee Reggie Jackson. It hasn't been vetted by lawyers so I hope they have WiFi in prison.

All the odd chapters are about the guy I call Elvis in this blog and it's a continuous story about his dead wife, me and him and how she won't leave us alone for 5 minutes already. Every even chapter is about one of the idiots I had bad sex with and explains what's wrong with me.

"Elvis" is like the guy in "You're so Vain." He exists but I ain't blabbing. For once.

End of chat.

Yoshi And The Green Ball

This is my sister's Shih-Tzu, Yoshi. I had a Yorkie named Kiko. I have no idea why we both gave our dogs Japanese names. We both think we had a previous life in Japan. Regular readers should know by now that my life is full of paranormal activity. As a matter of fact when I typed the word 'Japanese' it turned itself into a link without doing it to any other word in that sentence. And it was a blank page with no links on it.

Do I have proof of past life stuff? Yes, and it's in my book which is over at Scrivel.com. (just click on my name and you turn into a millionaire.) There is WAY more out there than most people imagine. I've been studying metaphysics since 1983 and some stuff even scares the shit out of me. Remember when both my TV and stereo turned themselves on in the middle of the night? Anyway, this is Yoshi and his Green Ball. We can't actually say those words and have to call it GB. This must be a habit we picked up in feudal Japan.

GB is Yoshi's pet. He stands around with it in his mouth. FOREVER. When he lies down, he tucks it gently under his chin and puts his head over it. My sister bought the same ball in red and he was all "I don't THINK so." She can't bring GB with her when she travels because he would drive us crazier than we already are.

The most fun is to hide it and ask him where it is.

No animals were harmed in the typing of this post. But I did beat the crap out of my sister.

End of chat.

Ruby

I've never been a giant fan of food. I keep waiting for the pill that says "lunch" on it. When we were kids I came upstairs to find my mother, who was a gourmet cook, (French, duh) shoving a Baked Alaska into the oven. She looked over at me and said, 'Don't ever marry a man who will make you do all the cooking.' And I never did. However, I turned out to be a great cook and cooked for all my ex-boyfriends, may they rot in hell, which I'm pretty sure is where they all live now.

So I was thin my entire life until before this last surgery. I got up to 147 because I stopped exercising and was so unhappy. Now that I'm finally back to 123 I find Ruby, the reality show about the once 700 pound woman who is now around 500 lbs.

I have watched Sweat Dripping Into Their Dishes Iron Chef, Relative of Famous Movie Director So That's Why She Doesn't Use Her Married Name Chef Giada di Laurentis, Husband Cheats On Her Chef Rachael Ray, Where Is Her Husband Chef The Barefoot Contessa and Cholesterol Chef Whose Husband Married Her For Her Money Paula Butter Dean. Not ONCE during any of these shows did I feel like eating. McLoserstene used to marvel that I could watch them without eating as she said she could just turn to the food channel and gain five pounds.

Ten minutes into Ruby and I was ready to have dinner for 12. And because there are so many delivery restaurants around me, I had to eat my takeout menus. I have no idea why Ruby set me off on a feeding frenzy since she barely ate anything in the show. So I'm not going to watch it anymore although I WOULD like my own show. They could call it Skinny Bitch.

End of chat.