Monday, September 22, 2008

Don't Make Me Blog You

Happy Monday, I have no v*gina. And how was your weekend?
No really. From here on out I am a Barbie doll. Not even Barbie because she’s too sexy what with her waist smaller than her head and all. I’m more like Skipper, her sexless friend, or Ken or Midge or even the Dreamhouse, inanimate and safe. On Friday night Bryan perused my blog which he hardly ever does and said he thinks I say too much. About us “doing it.” About my boobs. He says that there are weirdos out there and I agree. The world is chock full of people gone bad, thieves and drug addicts, murderers, the p-word which I don’t even want to type as I don’t want any traffic associated with those people. (Hint: it rhymes with theyshouldbekilleddeadophiles.) And so even though it makes me laugh to imagine some creep sitting alone at his computer at night with a tub of vasoline, using one hand to search for “married people sex” or “doing it” or “boob cancer,” I vow from here on out to be a little more cognizant of my nether region. Wait, is that too much? Nether region? Down below? The area which I cover at all times with a thick poly/flannel blend printed with calico and dusted for fingerprints? Yeah, that. Shhh.

On Saturday we went out for breakfast. Me and my wholesome family. I ordered the veggie frittata. Is frittata too sexy? I think so, too. Okay, I ordered the veggie egg scramble cooked into a shape. The shape was not a p*nis but more of just a block, a brick of breakfast. There we were eating when all of a sudden this woman stopped by our table. Bryan? she said. And my heart dropped. Don’t blog about that, Bryan said later, and I am sorry. This is my life, too, he reminded me, and it’s true. He didn’t ask to be married to a blogger, a blabber, a Barbie doll with boobies and a computer. My waist is way larger than my head, though, and so when that woman stopped by our table I slid back in time. When we were 20 Bryan and I were broken up. But we weren’t. We were everything and nothing and boy was she something. Well she sure has gotten cankle-y, I said as soon as she left our table. Does Elmo want a bite of potatoes? Bryan asked Zoey. You can’t even look at me right now, can you? I asked him, trying to smile. I mean don’t you think? She’s gotten kind of fat? Surprise, surprise, Elmo would not eat the potatoes. Look at me, I said. No, Bryan said, nervously laughing. I’m afraid to. You’re going to freak out. It’s been 15 years and you’re going to freak out. And again he was right. I was. And this is his life, too. And so I cannot tell the story of seeing her again, how that woman standing by our table beckoned forth the ghost of a person I do not ever want to be again. Weak. I was weak then and now she is thick. And perfectly nice, yes, I am sure she is nice. Nice if you like v*ginas and wh*res and a knife in your he*rt. But I don’t. Not anymore, anyway. I am no longer that girl, twenty and weak. Because now? Now when I sit at the computer alone at night this is what I type into the search engine: Bryan. Zoey. Calico printed panties. Dreamhouse. My animate life, strong and safe.

Happy Monday. But I have this.

Blog poster from here.

13 comments:

Bluestreak said...

"Nice if you like v*ginas and wh*res and a knife in your he*rt"

yup, sounds about like me at 20. slightly emotionally inept (i.e. weak).

bakingwithplath said...

Your way with words amazes me and makes me so jealous.

Erin said...

Oh nooo, I can't believe you ran in to her! At least you were there as a gorgeous married-to-Byran woman with a beautiful daughter and she was there as cankler (made up word, yes, I know). Can't wait to hear the whole story when I talk to you next, and I wont tell Bryan you told me.

Judy said...

Every sensible thought in my head and gut says, "Don't Comment, Judy. You're the Mother-In Law and you're going to poke your nose into what's NOT your business." Now, since we know, good sense rarely stops me from talking, here I go.

I have the utmost respect and love for my wonderful Son-In-Law, Bry. I love you, Bry! And I can see that having a writer in the family is going to be an issue at times because if Susannah writes honestly (whether in a Blog or in a Novel), she has to write about what she knows and what is most important to her-and that, of course will be personal stuff-about herself, Zoey and you because you are the most important people in her life-you ARE her life in great part. It must seem like an intrusion at times because it IS your life too. I also understand the real concerns about unsavory people reading the posts-but I do think that the Blog is fairly well kept anonymous in terms of details as to where you live, work, etc.

I was concermed when Sus was considering trying to commercialize her Blog to make some money-like many other bloggers have successfully done. My main concern was that (no offense to you money-making bloggers out there, please!), once you start allowing ads and endorsements on your blog, isn't that the beginning of the end of real honesty? Of "free speech"? For instance, if you allow a McDonald's ad on your blog, how can you ever make any type of negative remarks about fast food? Also, once large companies have a piece of you, they are going to be looking at your content to make sure you are writing things that don't in any way reflect poorly on them. The result has to be some modicum of censorship leaching in.

I can see where you wouldn't want some of your personal moments out there for the world to see. And, let's face it, hyperbole always makes for more interesting anecdotes-like the post about your being sick. Everyone knows that the descriptions about you were "heightened" for effect. Though, no offense, Bry, I don't think there's a woman out here who's ever had a sick husband that doesn't "get" what Sus was saying. Men, in general, don't tolerate illness as well as women-especially women with young children. And men, in general, are not the best caretakers and nurturers when it comes to caring for sick wives.(And I know that's a generalization which isn't that different from "profiling" which isn't fair.) Having said that, I can honestly say that I have NEVER seen a better Dad than you are-no ifs ands or buts. I have been amazed to see how you jump in and take care of Zoey without being asked. The sweetest scene I've had the joy to witness in a long time was in Santa Monica when Sus and I popped into your hotel room the day of the Wedding-and there you were bathing a cranky Zoey after caring for her all day-with more to come.I also saw you with Sus when she was having her last very hard time with Panic problems-almost incapacitated, You were so loving and supportive. You are wonderful with Zoey-and you are a fantastic husband and person and I am proud to have you in our family-more than you know.

Having said that, I think that living with a writer is a challenge. I KNOW it is! For any writer to be any good at all, the most basic tenants are to write about what you know and care about and to write with as much honesty as possible. If you don't do those things, then you can't be much of a writer. If Susannah has to start censoring herself, her writing will suffer. And, it IS your life too she's writing about. I surely don't know how other writer couples do it but I hope that you both can come to some common ground. I wish I had the answers. But I do know that Susannah loves you and Zoey more than anything in this world and that comes through loud and clear in her writing. Love you ALL.
Mom/MIL

Misplaced Country Girl said...

The only reason I come to this blog is to hear about your nether regions. If you stop talking about that I'm out of here.

Well, not really. Ok I lie. I won't actually go away.

Maggie May said...

whew!

it's not for the faint hearted, being a writer.

rad post.

tara said...

ahahahahaha. Cankles. Glad I have skinny ankles and I'm sure you're glad too after your run-in!

Leslie/Miss Havisham said...

I like your mama's comments about the commercialization of blogging. She put it better than I could have. I would like to add that I agree that men are the absolute biggest babies about being sick. Bigger babies than babies, in fact.

Also, it's REALLY hard for me to not blog about everything. Especially work. I have this job that many find hyper-interesting and I'm terrified of talking about it because it makes me really "searchable" and on the radar of PETA and other animal rights groups. If my blog were responsible for an attack on my facility I would never forgive myself.

Don't clam up too much. Slide us tasty morsels of gossip here and there. At least let us know how your vag is doing from time to time.

BTW, am I the only one who feels sympathy for "theyshouldbekilleddeadophiles"? My sister was a criminal psych major and felt the same way but it's like once you have kids you go on the warpath.

I just think they should be quickly euthanized along with children/adults who show signs of ACUTE sociopathy. Thats just my controversial opinion du jour.

JackeeG4glamorous said...

Good use of the * if ever there was one Sus!

My darling friends bought be a bottle of tequila for my birthday celebration - looks like a huge tequila filled phalic pillar of porn. But I cannot use my new camera to snap a "cute" picture of it because my husband doesn't want me to spread it all over the internet. (Did I just say that word? spread?)
[keep it honest-keep it real baby, it's what your audience loves] {me too!}

kelly said...

you are such a fabulous writer, susannah. just thought i would mention it for the one millionth time that i thought it...

Judy said...

Having already, as usual, said way too much, too long, I'm Baaack. I've been thinking about this post all day even when I didn't have the time or even want to (good writing does that, right?)I am not referring to Bry's reservations about your frequent references to your genitals, boobs, etc.-well I am but this isn't directed at Bry just at the point that he's making about how the words/content may be attracting the pervs and it occurs to me how sadly ironic this is.

If the entire reason for and the incredible reception with which the "Vagina Monologues" was met says anything, isn't it a vivid comment not only on our collective,individual and cultural repression against talking about and using the actual names of our glorious bodies and functions ....instead of "down there" and "doing it" and such? And now that we as women are finally feeling free and even proud to say VAGINA (and maybe even some of us other than Glenn Close or was it Meryl Streep, I forget-aren't they the same person anyway?) can say "Cunt" and not feel pornographic and ashamed, we have to censor ouselves because there ARE creeps out there using a search engine to jerk off while reading us using the names of our body parts and not euphemisms. Amonsgt so many other things that we should be able to revel in is that we can conceive, carry and give BIRTH to a real PERSON and if that's not a WOW, what the Fuck is? I mean a good rip-roaring climax would be plenty of reason in and of itself, right? Add to that the most incredible forum that the internet is and the freedom that it so amazingly gives us also brings with it the FEAR of speaking honestly to a huge number of like-minded readers-because there are creeps with vaseline or spit? Come ON!. I use to get so angry when Andy and Susannah were young because we had a great deal of trouble allowing Susannah the same independence and freedom to do things at a certain age (like going with a group of girlfriends to a rock concert alone-one of those milestones of parental trust and fairly monumental teen firsts). It WASN'T because we trusted her less than Andy, it was, like so many things in life, that her sex made her more vulnerable. It's a real damned if you do and damned if you don't because the danger is real but keeping a female from doing the same thing her brother could do under the same circumstances is not only sexually biased but, worse, it engenders a feeling of fear and vulnerability and not long after that sneaks in shame.

I wish I had the answers to even one of these things but I don't. My gut feeling is that, whenever a female can do something in relative safety, go for it. Otherwise, where are we? Back to talking about "down there" as if it's something shameful...until we, who just began to climb out of that pit, start to slide back into BEING filled with amorphous shame? I hope not!

O.K., now I'm through.
mom....AGAIN

The Lil Bee said...

I think you meant Vaggie Frittata. You ate a Vaggie Frittata, Susannah. Oh, and those ankles were fat and sloshy with bits of cellulite in them. I can even see that from here.

Robin said...

Love your writing & love your mom. Don't be worried about cankles lady, just look at you and your beautiful life - I bet her heart dropped (assuming she has one?).