Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Noon: Arrive home. Zoey demands to watch The Little Mermaid. Her temperature is now miraculously 98 degrees and she wants to sit on top of the coffee table, not the couch as the couch is for babies. Direct quote.
Monday, October 27, 2008
I've got something cool I want to show you. Over here!
Friday, October 24, 2008
You’re just going to have to trust me that this photo is yours truly. Because no matter now hard I pleaded, Bryan just would not take a photo that included my head. I mean, there I was doing my Jazzercise routine in our living room last night, the perfect opportunity for me to make good on the deal I made with the Blogiverse. Grapevine left! Grapevine left! Chassé! Chassé! Clearly Bryan was dazzled by the sparkle of my elastic unitard suspenders because he didn’t take one photo that included my face. Anyway, that’s that. Snap! Amen. And now for this. Happy Friday:
Thursday, October 23, 2008
How Does One Tie Together a Camel Toe with Past Life Regression and Site Issues? Oh, You'd be Surprised. Now with Bonus John McCain Mention!
The packaging reads: If there is someone you want to get to know, show ‘em the Toe!! Easily and securely attaches to the included “Toe-Belt.”
Not tested on camels
Call for sizing chart*
“I wanted to impress this guy at the bar, so I opened a beer with my cup, we’ve been going out for three days, he drives a Camaro, I’m in heaven!”—Bobbi-Marie Mudflap, age 52
“When I am not wearing it, I use as a recipe card holder, I am always finding new uses for it!”—Rhonda Sluichuck, age 45
*Look for Jr. Model coming soon!!**Cougar model includes built-in bottle opener So there. I have said my Hail Mary's and repent for whatever I have done to warrant this heinous computer karma. Please, for the love of camels. Help me find the light and the way back to my feed reader.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
UPDATE: IT IS NOW THURSDAY, OCTOBER 23. NO LONGER INTL' CAPS LOCK DAY. NOW I AM JUST FLAT-OUT YELLING. GAH! MY GOOGLE READER STOPPED WORKING AGAIN, MY BLOG STOPPED SHOWING UP AND I'M SO INCREDIBLY FRUSTRATED. THE END.
I cannot get you close enough and so I drink in your breath, the sound of your voice, the way you look at me from under your eyelashes. Since making you I have been hungry. Your hair dusted with sand, the butter of your forearms inked with purple star stamps. You have no idea. I surrendered long ago.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
As such, a bounty of pumpkins, a field and fog...
Monday, October 20, 2008
October 20th, 2008: This day also seems to go by the moniker of Josh Maggot. From the minute I walked into work the day has been pelting me with bbs hot and hard. At noon I am fairly certain I heard the day call me a cunt. What this day does not seem to know, however, what Josh Maggot himself did not know back then, is that it will remain short, wiry and mean. It will be forever aiming its gun at something, anything, nothing, its mouth full of foul sound. It will grow stunted and dark, limited, while I will grow up, grow tall, go to sleep and wake up to another day. Perhaps tomorrow will have a different name: Serena, maybe, Allaire or Lily. Something soft, I am sure. Or maybe tomorrow will be named Dorothea Shaw. She was my 4th grade teacher, a hippie who would pull us on her lap when we fell on the playground, one hand hovering over the scraped arm or knee. She would wave her hand three inches over the owie in question in rhythmic circles over and over and over, lulling us into silence and then quickly shake her hand off as if the pain were sticky. And it worked. The pain flew away.
May your day be named something nice and your tomorrow even sweeter.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Two days ago we were driving, I don’t remember where to. Zoey’s sippy cup fell on the floor and rolled under my seat and she screamed that she wanted it. Mama! Mama! My sippy cup! With my left hand on the steering wheel I wrenched my right arm back and around, my fingers grazing blindly at cloth, lint, the stray goldfish. I can’t reach it sweetpea, I said. But Mama! My sippy cup! And she would not stop with the screaming. I was on the freeway driving fast. I can’t get it for you right now Zo, I said. It’s not safe. Lesson one: do not reason with terrorists and two year olds. Mama! My sippy cup! Get ittttt!!!!! And I lost it there driving a tad bit over the speed limit. Through clenched teeth I spat, BUT. I. CAN’T. REACH. IT. And from there in her car seat Zoey spat back, BUT. I. WANT. IT. Surprised, I glimpsed in my rear view mirror and she was sitting there just laughing. How long do I have before Zoey answers my questions with an automatic no? Can I have a kiss? No. Did you miss me? No. Before she stops laughing? The thought. Quite simply: It breaks me. Long time readers of Petunia Face might have noticed that for the past few weeks my own mother has been missing in action. Judy of the paragraph-long comments. We got in a fight. I won’t get into what it was about, mainly because it’s over. Ish. It’s over-ish. The thing is no matter what she is my mother and I am me. We push each other’s buttons like it’s nobody’s business and we love each other even more. She is at once both too much and not enough. BUT. I. WANT. IT. And I am at once loving and hateful that she can’t always reach it. In the end the answer is still yes, always yes. I remember what it was like to be in her belly. Yes, it was warm. Yes, I heard her voice. And yes, there were disco balls and a fog machine, strobe lights, it was a party. She is a party. And yes, I still feel the beating of her heart.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
And if you should so much as slightly question this assertion I will most certainly get all Texas Cheerleader Murdering Mom on your ass.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Next up: Maury Povich.
I'm sick at home today. Snot-nosed, phlegmy, swollen and red.
With love from the living room couch,
Susannah UPDATE: Holy Snot Rocket! Right now I'm watching The Tyra Banks Show and good lord that girl is a blowhard! Check me out, live blogging from the sick bay but I just couldn't help myself. Tyra Banks is one self-righteous boob.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
My apologies for the wonky camera angle. No, I wasn't trying to get all Tarantino on you. I just can't figure out how to turn the video right-side-up, but the song, well--it's THAT cute that it can be watched from any angle really.
Monday, October 13, 2008
My husband is 1/8th Native American (7/8ths “other” hotness). It then follows that my daughter is 1/16th indigenous. Which makes me, as 100% Anglo-asshole, their conqueror, oppressor, leader and the cause of the ultimate genocide of their culture, religion, land and their peoples. You know, 1/8th and 1/16th respectively. To honor this day I plan on forcing Bryan and Zoey to don loin cloths made of Seventh Generation paper towels while they clean the house and cook my meals. While they are doing so I will ransack their rooms for gold, spices and the odd quarter. I will discover America from the living room couch. If they so much as make a barbaric peep I will sell them into slavery, or better yet, feed them to Nacho, my hunting dog/cat. God Save the Queen! I will shout, raising my ice cream spoon high over head. Because I can. Happy Columbus Day to you, too. Whatever the eff that means.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Here I am, lo these 22 years later. On occasion I still wear zit cream to bed and my accents have not improved. However, telecommunications have been refined and crank calling is almost a thing of the past, a memory of a bygone era, like pagers and plastic triangle earrings, Clearly Canadian and walkmans. I have better things to do than pick up the phone to prank. Books to read, laundry to fold, a daughter to raise, The Hills to watch. Which is why I simply could not resist. This morning I saw on I Love to Watch that somebody had posted Spencer Pratt’s cell phone number. I could feel my lips tingling with anticipation, with, how do you say... bad accent? And so it was that this morning sitting at my desk at my very important grown up job I became for one short minute an Uzbekistani mankini waxer calling to confirm an appointment for anal bleaching, and did he also want to groom the vagina hair on his upper lip? Then I hung up and a minute later I was Heidi’s mother calling to tell him what an absolute douchebag he was to ever talk to me like that, then I became a hooker with a suspiciously deep voice, then LC calling to say I can grow a better mustache than he could. It was delicious and if there was a slam book I’d totally write in that, too. Spencer Pratt has a small blonde penis. Check this box if you agree, this box if you prefer your members (only) of the diminutive peach fuzz variety.
Am I mean? Yes, as only an inner fourteen year old girl can be. Are you mean? I don’t know. But here is his phone number: 818.854.2616. I double dog dare you to call before the number gets turned off. And then we can paint our toenails and braid each other’s hair.
TTFN! (Ta Ta For Now.)
p.s. Paige, if you don't call Speidi I'm totally putting your bra in the freezer.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Petunia Face's Economic Stimulus Plan (Beware: This Post May Contain Complex Heterodoxical Supply and Demand Macro Market Jargon. In Theory.)
Tomorrow I am getting a deluxe facial. I am also contemplating buying this, this or this. Truth be told I have nowhere to don that last this but if I'm going to be fiscally fucked I'd rather be fucked in a pretty red party frock. Fuck that, right? After all, my balls aren't blue. That, my dears, is my economic stimulus plan. To keep calm and carry on, as it were. To take a cold shower and still steam my pores. And you? What are you doing in this session that nobody will just come right out and call a re(cession)?
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
image via 30reasons.org
But I wonder. Why doesn’t everyone see it this way? What does the air taste like outside my bubble? Are the colors the same? The rainbow? Do they arc and play, is it pretty? Way back when in 1704 Sir Isaac Newton concluded that different colors are present in all light, that prisms do not create colors but merely separates what is already there.
For the rays, to speak properly, are not colored. In them there is nothing else than a certain power and disposition to stir up a sensation of this or that color.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
So Tuesday, yes, I won another fellow blogger award. Okay, maybe you are shocked at that.
I'm down with the whole proximity and butterflies until it gets to the part about "not being interested when we give them a prize," and then I cry foul. Because me? I am shamelessly interested in prizes, in cakewalks, ribbons and trophies. Most days the first thing I do when I get home from work is strip down to my bathrobe and adorn myself with bows. I like pats on the head; I lap up praise and compliments and piddle on the hooked rug at the slightest hint of criticism. Still. Simply AnonyMom gave me this prize and I am not giving it back even if I am interested in the prize. Thank you, AnonyMom. I will wear it with pride.
And now for the propagation in no particular order, I'm just scattering the seeds:
p.s. Does it mean that I am sick if when I look at the above Google image of Ruby Tuesday the first thing I think of is the giant stinky poos these men will make later? Their guts so obviously full of Fork-Tender Ribs and Ruby Classic Burgers? Yes? Yes it does make me sick in the cabesa? Wait, please don't take away my award! I am still down with the Proximidade! I still love you! I just love you with a side of ranch dressing now because that's what Tuesday is all about, it being Ruby and all.Happy Tuesday!
Monday, October 6, 2008
From Left to Right With Face-Fulls of Make-Up But Beautiful Even Without: Sara with the green scarf fresh back from Russia, Luck Be A Lady Herself: Amber, another Amber and the only one who knew it's best to wear grey to a make-over, Lilah beaming in the middle, Yoli full of smiles, Mollee pg and beautiful with baby #2, Rosalie there on the top right end; and on the bottom row from Left to Right, Jenny with her coveted purse, and Moi, looking a bit like a tranny.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Check out my blong. Yes, that was a typo but I'm keeping it. "Bling" is so LYNMT2005APIJFMAASWPDYT (Last Year, No Make That 2005 And Plus It Just Flags Me As A Square White Person, Don't You Think? for those who may not be up on the latest acronyms). Plus, "blong" mixes the dazzle of bling with the weight of schlong and that is a beautiful thing. Anyhoo. Where was I? Oh yes. My blong: the snazzy new ROFL Award. (Again for those not up on the acronyms: ROFL stands for Running on Four Legs. Which I don't do so maybe that's wrong. Now I'm just trying too hard to be funny. So here it is flat out and real: Rolling on the Floor Laughing Award, hosted by Chicky Chicky Baby. When I told my husband that I won this award he replied quite dryly, "oh you crazy bloggers with your ROFLS!" Little did he know that I won the award for writing about pooping at work. If he had realized that he would have made me a freaking cake.) A Smeddling Kiss nominated me and now I want to make out with her. Which my husband would also probably make me a cake for doing, but that's a post for another day. Anyway, thank you Smeddling Kiss and Chicky Chicky Baby. I am honored to think that across this great nation people now think of me while dropping an office deuce. Okay, vainversation topic #2: Me! And Zoey! And Bryan! With pics!!! Last night I found this old montage I made of the first year of Zoey's life and I thought I'd share it with you: Vintage Petunia Face before there was ever a blog:
And then I decided to make a new video, something slightly less schmaltzy and a little more upbeat. Petunia Face Productions presents Zoey From One to Two and Then Some:
I don't think I need to tell you where to go to make your own video seeing as how the logo is all over the damn place in those montages. Suffice it to say perhaps someone is more narcissistic than I? Ahem, http://www.onetruemedia.com/... Happy Friday to all.
Susannah (Who Does Not Run on Four Legs) UPDATE: GAH! I don't know why my videos are cut off on the right side, but I blame it on Sarah Palin.
UPDATE ON THE UPDATE: Rosalie is my tech support. Go to her blog for your own IT questions. ;0
UPDATE ON THE UPDATED UPDATE: Still not working!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
I am simply falling apart today. Really rawther tired tired tired!
Coming unraveled, it would seem. It started with a traffic jam, then an office full of work requests. (Can you believe? The gall?) Of course it's nothing a little nibble on a Nutter Butter won't solve, nom nom, ne temps fait pas!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Today I'm guest posting over at The Lil Bee for Melissa who is probably right this very minute bobbing around in the clear turquoise island water, naked. Natch. Come visit me! Don't worry. She said I could have a few friends over...