Photo courtesy of www.scientificamerican.com

Seriously I have succeeded in an unplanned new path! No, I’m not trying to trap a guy by getting pregnant. That’s not my thing. Mainly because my tummy is flat and I’d hate to stretch it out again.

I officially stand at a 100% success rate for successfully setting up people. I’m a matchmaker. I’m a human love connector. That shit deserves an award. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT PEOPLE! That’s epic.

Let me share a specific story to illustrate my success.

My dear friend (and waxer) was single 3 years ago. So was a guy I worked with. Both had been in other relationships prior. And I’d had known both for many years before that.

One day I had a brilliant idea. I’d set them up.

So we did it. Sight unseen. They both agreed to meet for a cocktail. I agreed to join them with another decoy…the boy’s best friend.

That was July 3rd, 2007.

Soon it will be July 3rd, 2010. And guess who will be getting married that day? They will. Adorable, right?

Here’s my secret. I only set up people who will hit it off for the long haul. And by people, I mean two very specific people. SO WHAT that this is the only couple I’ve ever set up! It worked. And I’m taking all the credit.

Maybe I’ll get a free wax job out of this. Do they call those things wax jobs? Boy does that sound like something worse.

I was at a friend’s house recently and felt super uncomfortable while peeing. Then I realized why. The toilet paper direction was opposite of how I keep mine.

I’m an over girl. Always. Under is just wrong. Thankfully all hotels agree with me or I’d have all sorts of problems staying in them. And if that were the case, I’d have to camp. Which would turn me into a hippie (see step #8). And I can’t do that!

I’ve been known to change the toilet paper direction at other people’s homes without realizing what I’m doing.

So please, tell me what you think. I’d like to confirm that I do it the right way so I can change the world. One roll at a time. Because that’s how I roll…small actions that eventually change the world.

Because when you order take out and you ask for extra spice, you will get this:

FOUR HUGE CONTAINERS OF RICE! And when I say huge, I mean it. I swear each one was stuffed full and weighed five pounds.

Clearly the order taker heard “we’d like extra rice” versus the intended “we’d like extra spice”.

So blame me if crazy things happen that can be traced back to the price of rice in China. And please, don’t tell Dr. Atkins what’s in my fridge. He’d have a heart attack.

Embarrassing myself by showing my boobs. Also not something new. But it’s always accidental.

I accidentally sent a topless picture of myself to one of my dearest friends. A guy friend. Much to his surprise this happened over an IM chat. Story is here. Lucky for me, this guy had already seen them. We dated years ago. For a while. Not like for a few days. MUCH longer. Like a few weeks. Because otherwise that would make me a hooker or something. Anyhow, that picture peep show was totally an accident.

I’ve even shown my boobs to a group of strangers. On an airplane. Of course, they didn’t sign up for the show. Nor did I mean to do it. But here’s the story retold. Clearly this live boob show happened unintentionally.

I’ve even purposely shared pictures of my boobs with that special man in my life. Hell, isn’t that the perk of being in a sexy and exciting relationship.  This was alway intentional. And always reciprocated. Meaning, I had also received pictures. It has been a mutual sharing event.

But ladies, be smart. Whatever you do, DON’T send pictures of your naked boobs, cleavage, thighs, etc to a man who you aren’t in a relationship with. You want to know why? They don’t have loyalty to you. Sure they appreciate the peep show for the time being. Men are visual. And they love the attention.

I’m here to tell you ladies, WAIT. Send pictures. But do it later. When he’s really into you.

Because otherwise these men will show these “sexy” pictures to other people. And they include names to call you. Trust me, sexy is not the descriptive word they use. It’s not cute. None of us want to be referred to the chick who “wears ugly bras” or to be called “big girl” or be tagged as a “a sure thing” for sharing this over email.

I’ve personally heard this from men who share this shit with me. From the men who willingly accepted these photos, and actually might have seemed excited to get them. At first.

So please, for the love of a higher power, STOP THE INSANITY. Okay, that was dramatic. But for those of you who feel sexy, and you should (we all should), share those pictures! But only share them with someone who has your best interest in mind. And I don’t mean just for the night.

This post was inspired by recent a recent reality tv show episode, articles I’ve come across and real life boys I’ve had to listen to.

Having pictures of myself talked about didn’t happen. I’m not saying it couldn’t happen. Aside from the events above, I’ve only shared photos with boys I’m “with”. So if they did show others, it would be the ultimate breach of trust. And paybacks are hell. Especially when I save all the photos I’ve received.

Side note to exes: In the rare chance that you read this, please don’t worry. I will not share that picture of Mr. Youknowwho or of you doing that pose.

Side note to readers who get this far: I do not choose to be with men who come up with names for that part. Ever.

So I told Elle that if she made and brought me a cup of coffee I’d do a tickle fight with her. Yes, I’m *that* mom. Bribe my kid for quality time and memories.

Anyhow, my kid is a doll and quickly agreed. Not only did she bring me coffee, she also brought me a cute note.

Note stated: YOUR THE BEST!

My first response was, “Awwwww, so sweet. I love you.”

My next response was, “Oh honey, let me show you something.”

And the note became a spelling lesson.

You are = You’re

Here’s proof that I’m a horribly critical mom!

Please use a mirror to look at the image. Image also shows that I can’t get my iPhone to send emails and I had to use my MacBook Pro Photo Booth to snap the shot. And Photo Booth apparently only takes photos backwards. My kid DOES NOT write her words backwards. She’s not that talented.

This Wino Wednesday post was inspired by my new house pour….Yellow Tail Shiraz-Cabernet. So delicious. So inexpensive. So worth my time. So worth sharing. (Photo is courtesy of the Yellow Tail website.)

I had a lovely evening drinking wine and hanging out with a friend (who, by the way, brought me dinner). We enjoyed a few glasses of wine. And by few, I mean heavy handed pours of my house wine. My friend and I chatted. We laughed. Friend left my house.

Then the worst thing EVER happened.

I went upstairs to wash my face. I set my phone  on the bathroom counter. Hell, I’m never more than two feet away from it. I reached over to grab it. It slipped out of my hands. It fell on my cushy bathroom rug.

It shattered.

And left me with this face…

Suddenly I hate my hands for being slippery. I hate my iPhone for being fragile. I hate my bathroom rug for not being made of feathers. I hate my iPhone cover for not protecting it. I hate my iPhone for leaving glass shards in my hand. I hate drinking for causing clumsiness.

I hate…wait, I don’t hate anything!

Shit happens. (Although I still think the sad look in the photo is justified.)

Now I just wonder what I did before I had this piece of equipment. Hell, it’s only been in my life for a few years but it feels like I couldn’t live without it. Is there anything you have that you can’t imagine surviving without (besides other human beings)?

P.S. For those who care, I have an appointment at the Apple store to get  a replacement at 10:10 am today. Twelve hours is long enough for me to be without this appendage.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

Sometimes it’s just too big!

I could be speaking about a few things. Hair, gut, ass and serving size. Those things can definitely be found too big.

But what I saw over the weekend was added to the list. This is a house in Salt Lake City which I pass often. It’s just down the road from my liquor store.

The water features at this modest size house are ridiculously big.

Anyhow, the lesson here is…to scale people. Make it to scale.

At least that’s what I thought when I discovered the game Words With Friends. It’s an app for the iPhone which is just like Scrabble. And it seemed so innocent. Until I noticed a trend. Check out the letters on the right side going down:

This is the order of games I’m playing. I can’t make this shit up.

Two other images to share which are my proudest:

My highest point word ever. (This one isn't dirty. I'm just bragging.)

Rhyming with Rambo works. And the points are PERFECT.

So if you want to play with me, I’m Susanmercedes. And I promise to keep it as PG as I can. Just don’t blame me for the dirty stuff that creeps up.

Elle followed my (sporadic) tradition of including a note on a napkin. Today she did this while I wasn’t looking and stuffed it into my lunch bag.

She makes my heart smile. Every damn day. So full of unconditional love.

Here are my thoughts in return: Dear Elle, thanks for teaching me that you can never give enough love, hugs and kisses everyday to the loved ones in your life.

Please notice the SDSU lunch bag…that conveniently fits a six pack of beer inside. I know, I used it for something way less fun. Except that sugar free pudding. That stuff must have crack in it. And the berries are divine too. Off to get my fix.

And so does Elle…

I got coffee delivery!

I got breakfast in bed.

All because I’m loved. By the most beautifully talented 10 year old I know.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you all!

However you choose to have love surround you.

Here’s how you do it.

Step 1: Stop taking showers. Personal hygiene can be taken off your to do list.

Step 2: Master the game of hacky sack, fine tune your drum skills and learn to toss hippie sticks.

Step 3: Brighten up your wardrobe with handmade tie dye clothing.

Step 4: Believe in unicorns and their magic.

Step 5: Grow out your hair. And for men, grow out your beard. All the way down your neck.

Step 6: Make sure you have at least one sleeping bag in the trunk of your car.

Step 7: Stop eating meat or go big and become a vegan.

Step 8: Never stay in a hotel again, only camp.

Step 9: Dust off your Birkenstocks. Don’t forget to wear them with socks.

Step 10: End all of your conversations with the word “peace”.

This list was compiled based on my experiences. What would you add to the list?

There is no way I could be a hippie. I don’t even like granola. And now that I have the list, I know what NOT to do.

I emailed in sick from work. Yep, I did. I sent an email. It’s way more technologically advanced than using the phone and calling in sick.

They can easily survive with me. I’ve got the best staff ever!

Worst part about this cold…it comes with an insatiable appetite. I ate an entire bag of Cheetos on Saturday night. I know, it’s an exciting life I live.

Worst part about being home today…my housekeeper is at my house today. Listen to her talk radio show. Really loud. I may have to drown it out with the sound of daytime tv up in my bedroom. Which will be another reason to make being home today suck more.

Anyhow, I must end this post and check my work emails. I have to make sure nobody else emailed in sick and left me with work to do from my lap top. In bed.

P.S. I realize after several failed jokes over IM this morning and after rereading this post, my sick funny isn’t actually funny. I apologize and appreciate your readership in the good times and the bad.

Elle said, “We were all just talking and hanging out in Dan’s room.”

My jaw dropped. “Elle! You are not supposed to hang out in a boy’s room!”

She was quick to respond, “Mom, don’t worry. It was clean.”

God, I love that kid. She is so very innocent.

I wonder if she’s mine.

I drive fast. I take chances. Everyday.

And today I got busted. Again. There were two other times in 2009. Each happened within a month of the other. In fact, the second time I got pulled over in 2009 was when I was on my way to traffic school as punishment for the first time.

2009

January 30, 2010

Before I drove a Mercedes, I ALWAYS talked my way out of tickets.

I was tested today. Using my best charm with the very handsome highway patrol officer, I tried my hardest to get out of this ticket. We talked about our kids. He shared where he grew up and what his dad did for a living. And we giggled about turning on the passenger seat heaters when we have an unsuspecting passenger. He does it too!

But it all ended with him doing the unthinkable (in my mind). Of course, I batted my eyes and asked him to not give me a ticket. He laughed. A little too hard. And said, “Well, I already gave away all my warnings this morning. But I’ll be gentle.”

Bam. He slapped me with a speeding ticket. Of course, he only put it as 10 mph over the speed limit. I was going significantly over that. And by significantly, I mean 23 mph over. Then he started to tell me about what to do (i.e. call this number but you must wait…), but quickly stopped the explanation, told me that I should know how to do this after mentioning all my other speeding ticket experiences in 2009 and then told me to slow down.

So here I am. Wondering if I should get a car that is harder to speed in. Any suggestions?

At our last training session, she tossed me the elastic band as she walked over to get some hand weights. I quickly put the band on and waited for her to return.

She returned. She rolled her eyes. She waited while I took this picture. I needed a break.  (Yes, I know this picture is hideous. Hell I was sweating my ass off for 45 minutes at this point.)

Then she made me take the elastic band off my head and put it on correctly. For those of you who don’t know, this is how it works.

Again forgive me for the quality of these pictures. I was super rushed. That’s what happens when you stall on a trainer.

She handed me the weights. You know so I could hold them over my head as I did side steps from one side of the gym to the other. Twice.

Once again my trainer got her way. My ass will thank her later.