Put down the remote and back away from the TV slowly...

Growing up in Oklahoma, there was never much to do. The summers were unbearably boring. I usually slept till noon and woke up just in time to watch all my afternoon soaps. The TV remained on until I went to sleep. In fact, I told time by what show was on. If Days of our Lives was on...it was the 2 o'clock hour, Sally Jessy Raphael?...must be 4, The Carol Burnett Show meant it was 5..so the parental units would be home soon.

This was my life until college. Then I had to read books, so I never had time to. I was dumb enough to enroll in Spanish Lit, Russian Lit, and Fitzgerald all in one semester. Have you seen the size of Russian novels?? Luckily, I had the same professor for all three classes, and he pitied me because he knew exactly how much I had to read. So during this time the TV was just a foreign object that sat on top of another larger foreign object that didn't work. (yep, my parents were so typical mallu that they set a TV on top of another non-functioning TV)

Now that my reading days are over...forcing myself to read is like pulling teeth. My eyes start to get heavy, the words blur, and I start seeing hallucinations of myself standing on a table eating icecream with a frog in my pocket. (my initial sleep phase is really strange). Instead, I find myself watching more and more TV!!! This wouldn't be so bad if I was a sane person, but I'm far from it...so my life gets all twisted in the tangle web of reality TV...not to mention my new obsession with LOST. The season finale of lost sent me into a complete tizzy. For the rest of the evening my mind was consumed with thoughts of WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN??? The show had me so completely freaked out that I couldn't go to sleep. I think the last hour I saw before I finally fell asleep was 3 am. This tells me that A. I need to get a life and B. I need to quit watching so much TV.

I have decided to devote an hour a day to reading and hour a day to writing. This should cut my viewing pleasure in half. Perhaps then, I can find my sanity again. I've also decided that my little cousin Les, who is too young to work, will not be following in my footsteps by watching TV all the livelong day this summer. So, I have decided to take it upon myself to bring some culture to her life. I will be taking her to watch Shakespeare in the Park this summer, however...I have a brilliant plan!! I will make her read the plays before we go watch them!! And then, on our car ride there, we will discuss the play...so I can make sure she actually read it and knows a bit what to expect. Gosh...I can't wait to be a mom, so I can torture my own kids in this manner!!

DON'T PUSH ME CUZ I'M CLOSE TO THE EDGE...I'M TRYING NOT TO LOSE MY HEAD...

I have found a wonderful, tasty treat that is very low in fat and calories. It is the Weight Watchers fudgesicles. There's nothing better than coming home after driving through 5 o'clock traffic in the sweltering heat to plop on the couch with one of these icy, cool fudgesicles. For a moment, it is pure bliss. I mean, I would like to drop by the drive through of Braum's Ice Cream on my way home, order a scoop of german chocolate icecream on a waffle cone, but...I resist. So, this WW fudgesicle is the next best thing. The last thing I expect to hear while I'm trying to enjoy the blissful moment is an earful of grief! But, no...my mother does not ever spare me from that. It doesn't quite matter that I've had a harrowing day at work. I don't think the woman would care if I was the President and just spent the afternoon sitting with the Heads of State determing whether I should declare war....she would still give me grief from the moment I stepped my 2-inch heel inside the house.

Her: Don't eat those all the time. They're not good.
Me: why not? They're low in fat.
Her: How do you know?
Me: Hmm...the nutritional labels.
Her: How do you know if they're telling the truth??
Me: They have to.
Her: Why do they have to? You don't know that.
Me: Irritation level now rising...and I begin to sing the Puff Daddy song to myself before I answer her. Because they HAVE to...I'm sure there's some law which makes it illegal to not have accurate labels.
Her: Well, you shouldn't eat that all the time or the cheese sticks.
Me: The cheese sticks are fat free...and I'm eating them as a form of calcium.
Her: Cheese is not good
Me: I thought the fudge bars were not good.
Her: Neither of them are good.

This discussion leads to a 15 minute argument in which I have to notify her for the 150,000th time that she is NOT a registered nutritionist. To which she responds, that I can eat whatever I want, she won't say anything ever again. This is so untrue because the next day...it merely starts all over again. Then she goes into her schpeel saying I get mad easily....that poor, innocent her can't say ANYTHING...without me getting defensive. Sorry, I just can't take it when an insulin dependent diabetic who eats anything sweet within the radius of 10 feet is telling me not to eat fat free cheesesticks and lowfat icecream bars! Then she gets all supser sensitive and says if she doesn't tell me these things...who will tell me? To which I reply I'm THIRTY. I don't need to be told about what to eat. THAT shoulda been done when I was ten and hoarding dingdongs! Where was all this knowledge then?? Furthermore...I have good vision with my glasses...so when I look in the mirror, I can see what eating the wrong thing can do...Thank you kindly. She then shakes her head with this sad expression...that "She'll never learn" expression...Then she mutters something about how hard she tries to "help" me... *Sigh* At that moment, sighing is about all I can do...followed by a rolling of the eyes...and my favorite chinese word "Shuyomow" I love that to this day...she has not figured out that this word means shut your mouth...she thinks it's the "ong" language...which is my family's version of pig latin...all of us cousins speak it fluently in order to talk code in front of our parents. I stray from my topic...so anways...I was just wondering...do moms get paid to be annoying? Or do they just spend all that time and energy to annoy for free??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

TGIF

Yesterday, I had to run an errand at work and went down to the first floor. A lady in that office said something to me before I left, which struck me as kinda funny. She said "Happy Friday Eve." I've heard the term "Thank God it's Friday" for as long as I can remember, but I couldn't truly relate to the word till now.

I guess I was a nerd when I was younger because I loved school. This wasn't because I enjoyed being immersed in the world of academia. I was a social butterfly back in those days and school was FUN. I mean, who wouldn't have fun hanging out with their friends for 6 hours, passing notes, dodging attacks from the "cowboys," etc. Fridays were simply the dawn of a boring weekend at home with my parental unit. In college, I barely went to school anyway (heheh), so weekends were just another day off of school. Plus, I had to work helliant weekend shifts at the drug store that I had worked at since 16. So, a weekend full of "facing," inventory, stocking, cashiering, and unloading trucks was not my idea of a good time.

But now, there is nothing sweeter than Friday at 4:45. In fact, I start looking forward to it on Thursday, which is truly Friday eve. On Monday, everyone around the office looks a bit sad. With great nostalgia, they tell me about the wonderful weekend they had golfing, shopping, farting around, etc. On Tuesday, the sadness has just moved to being pissed. Everyone looks as if they don't want to be here, but have no other choice. By Wednesday, everyone's just doing their best to make it through the week, finish the crap they gotta do...so they have this "don't mess with me" expression. Finally, by Thursday, it's as if everyone feels that relief is on the way. People start to smile a little bit. Friday's just outta control! Everyone's smiling, socializing with everyone else about weekend plans, and laughing over silly jokes.

Now, I truly understand the meaning of Thank God it's Friday!

It's me...SusanVee

"Who are you and what have you done with SusanVee?" If I had a dime for every time I've heard that question in the past three months, I would buy that Ipod Mini without so much as a flinch! This seems to be the question lingering on a few inquiring minds.

I admit, I have been doing some strange things lately, such as emailing salad recipes, opting to drink water when coke is available, and running 3 times a week!!! Indeed, this is not my normal behavior.

My cousin Lisa makes the best dern desserts on this side of the Mississippi...but before I was allowed to eat her dessert, I was forced to eat dinner, which included veggie lasagna and various other healthy based dinners. This would make me cringe. She and I were raised in polar opposite environments. I remember her mom making broccoli as a side dish for every meal we ever ate. Ding dongs were the side dish at my house. If we were lucky, it was served up with a can of ravioli. Mmm...mmm good. She grew up hating fast food. I grew up thinking it was fine dining. She stayed true to the lessons learned in childhood...like vegetable are important. But, so did I...dingdongs are invaluable!! So imagine her shock and dismay when I emailed her a recipe for spinach artichoke salad topped with fresh raspberries and light raspberry dressing!!!

The sound of coke as it pops and fizzles when poured over ice is the most beautiful sound...very much comparable to that of a baby's first cry....NAH, it's actually better! I can't even remember when the last time I partook in the joy of sipping on a nice cold one. I remember during our trip to Mexico, I went through a 24 hour span with out coke and felt so ill. Then I found out that the market on the corner sold 2 liters. My eyes dazzled like diamonds when my friend handed me one and I could feel the cool of the bottle against my hot flesh. My hands were trembling as I grabbed it from his and I clung to it protectively against my chest. So imagine Sheryl's shock when I told her that I kicked the habit and opted for water when Coke was available!!!

I've always went walking, but I have a severe case of the shin splints, so to think of running was BEYOND me. This is why I initially opted for biking. I'm not one who is really good at moving, so many people thought that this might be a bad idea considering my lack of coordination. Lord knows, I can't dance. When all my cousins get out on the dance floor and jam to our favorite 70's retro, I stand in the middle of them and take pictures. When they discuss trips to ski, hike, etc...I vote to stay at home. Running is way more movement than I am used to.

I'm not sure why the sudden changes are occurring. I'm not a head strong, determined person, so this is really quite unexplainable. However, one thing is for certain...I'm still the same old SusanVee. Be assured that I still talk too much, have random thoughts, know every word to 70's music that was made way before i was born, and my first love will always be Johnny Carino's Chocolate Cake....some things are just way too good to forget. I think I was just ready for a change. I'm tired of my sweaters, (RIP Black sweater that has been missing since January), looking pregnant in saris, and being identified as "the chubby girl." Most importantly, this gives me a sense of control in my uncontrollable life.

Cat...it's what's for lunch!

A friend and I were talking about "breakfast" today. I know, it's a random topic of conversation, but I'm known for discussing random things. Every morning I see this woman go down to the cafeteria and come back up with two slices of bacon and a piece of toast. She eats this daily without fail. I think what is most annoying is the fact that she's SKINNY! Anyway, finally, today I just had to ask her. "Do you ever get tired of eating bacon?"

She looked at me as if this was an odd question. "Why? Do you smell it?" I assured her that the stank of frying pig flesh is more like a scintilating aroma to me. After which, she told me that she loves bacon and could never get tired of it. "I've been eating bacon every morning for the past 20 years." I stared down at my cup of oatmeal and imagined eating it daily for 20 years. I could handle that. I just can't handle eating it HERE for 20 years. I told her that I've been eating oatmeal every day for 3 months and haven't gotten tired of it yet either. Infact, it's almost just the opposite. I have a strange emotional attachment to my oatmeal. I don't eat it on the weekends, but on the weekdays, there's just something wholesome and comforting about it. *yes, I'm aware of the fact that I'm strange* I've done the same ritual breakfast thing throughout my life. From kindergarden to highschool it was dingdongs, throughout high school it was a sausage biscuits, and in college it was an otis spunkmeyer blueberry muffins. ( which my cousin Lisa vowed was fat free and I so stupidly believed her since I thought she was the smartest person after God.) And you wonder why I'm having to lose SIXTY pounds now?!

So this oatmeal/bacon conversation brought me to my next realization/question. Why is it that people can eat the same breakfast every day for the rest of their lives, but not the same lunch or dinner? Seriously...that's really strange. Let's take me for example. I can eat a "Smart One" (frozen food) for lunch for 3-4 days out of the week since it has a wide variety of different entrees. However on the 5th day, the whole appeal of frozen food leaves me. I start to mentally psyche myself out. Like today for instance, I heated up the entree, took a bite of the beef in the stirfry and thought it tasted like cat. Not that I know what cat tastes like. But whatever that meat was...it wasn't beef. I threw the entire thing away and now look forward to the 1 o'clock hour so I can blow this joint and go have a sub. And dinner? Forget about it...it's even worse. If I have leftovers for more than 2 days, I start to feel sorry for myself...like I'm some starving, malnutriouned kid.

So, the fact that we can eat the same breakfast on a daily basis PROVES that we could eat the same lunch and dinner...but it's all mind over matter. Now that I've gotten this all off my chest...let me go get a drink so I can get the taste of cat off my tongue! =)

I See Red...

I find myself a little bit irate today. My blood is boiling and I see red. I've heard that publishing companies, in general, don't do such a hot job in marketing and promoting books. This is something that makes very little sense to me. Shouldn't they put money and effort into marketing books since this is the key ingredient in selling books, which is the way these people make money?? You'd think, but apparently not.

Last week I got an ANNOYING email from the marketing person of my publishing company. Keep in mind, my publisher is small. They have 200 authors and ONE marketing person!! Nevertheless, this is not my problem. I'm not going to excuse her for incompetencies just because she's overworked. Maybe she needs to let the higher-ups know, so they can hire someone else...LIKE ME! I have no marketing degree, however I think I could handle the job quite well, since I've pretty much taken it on PLUS my current full time job for the past year! Back to the anoying email...In this email, the marketing director so GRACIOUSLY notified the authors that we get a WHOPPING 50$ off our OWN books when we order 100 books or more.

THAT is just lovely. Thank you for taking 5 minutes of your day to write an email to sell ME my OWN book...since you're not selling it to anyone else!!! This was the first thing that agitated me. Second thing occurred when I was roaming through Barnes and Noble on Saturday afternoon...and saw a flyer for the Oklahoma Book Festival , which takes place next weekend..."over 60 national and LOCAL authors will be available to sign books." What?!? It sure would have been nice to be made aware of this event. Now, if my publisher was in NY...I wouldn't expect them to know about this event. But they're in OKLAHOMA! ...and this is a BIG event.

So after I inhaled and exhaled five times and calmed myself down. I contacted the people at the festival to see if it's too late for me to take part in it. I'm anxiously awaiting some sort of response. Afterwards, I decided I had to voice my frustration to my publisher. So, I wrote the marketing person. To which, she responded that she didn't know about the event, and can't stay on top of everything because she has 200 authors to represent, yet she understands my "frustration", however she asked me to mail her a list of contacts (TV, radio, newspapers, bookstores) for her to send press releases too, and I had not done that as of yet.

WHAT? EXCUSE ME??? Thank God I save all emails from these people! I quickly copy and pasted my email that I sent to her in September of 2004!!!!!!!!!! Finally, she apologizes and has the nerve to ask ME if SHE has contacted them. To which I reply "if you're asking me, then I'm going to have to guess NO." She then emails me back saying "since neither of us can remember I'll go ahead and contact them." I'm sorry, it's not my JOB to remember...it's yours! How are you going to forget something like this? Don't you have a file on each author? Copies of your work??? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! So now a year later!!...I'm back to the basics on this book.

Why is it that people like this have great jobs and an office with a view? And people like me drudge to work every day?

Sue's Soapbox...

I had a conversation the other day about prejudice. I've always been taught that prejudice stemmed from ignorance. I guess it just shocks me how ignorant people come in all varieties. It doesn't always mean uneducated or uncivilized. I know many ignorant people that hold multiple degrees, earn six figures, use 10$ words, but spout off pure ignorance.

I'm not trying to bash my own people or use blanket statements that group us all into one neat, ignorant package. But, many Malayalees are guilty of being elitists. They seem to think that only Malus are educated, have family values, are religious, and culturally aware. I used to think it was just the older generation, but sadly enough I see the ugly head of ignorance raising its' head among my peers.

I think what bothers me most is Malayalee churches. By definition, a church is the hands and feet of God. This means a church should go where Christ would go and do what Christ would do. However how many of our churches are equipped to minister to any random non-malayalee person that walks through the door searching for truth? Sadly, I think most churches would not be able to meet that person's needs. We send missions teams to various countries, homeless shelters, and city missions to minister and "plant seeds" as if that is enough. What about cultivation? Who takes care of these people after our week stay or one hour visit? What are these ministerial outings really about? Are they to meet the needs of the people or are they to satisfy our own needs and perhaps ease guilt? If a church is located within a community it MUST meet the needs of that community, not just the Malayalee community. When we get to heaven, it's not going to be a sea brown...it will be a sea of colorful hands raised in unity.

It bugs me when I hear people say, I don't know how to talk to "white people"...or i can't be close to someone who's not malayalee. Good Lord, step outta the box!!! The world is so diverse, and you're only experiencing an itsy bitsy portion of it. It's fine to relate more to people who were raised the same way you were...but you never know how much you have in common with someone until you communicate with them. Clearly...I'm on my soapbox...and I will now officially step off. I just needed to vent, and now I feel better!

I'm telling you...It's a crap conspiracy!!! I'm notifying my local authorities!  

Geez, this stinks!...

I don't know if I've just become overly observant, or if there is truly a problem in the world today. I've noticed lately that everywhere I go, I see crap. I'm not sure if it's bird crap, dog crap, frog crap, squirrel crap, or other unknown creatures crap, but it's definitely crap. I went to the lake the other day, to the grassy part around the lighthouse and there was so much crap that you couldn't walk without carefully planning what step you should take next to thwart the enemy attack of the crap. Why are people so inconsiderate to walk their dogs around a high traffic area and then not have the common courtesy to bring a pooper scooper or something???

when I walk around the neighborhood, it's not so much a problem of dog crap. I guess dogs just crap on their own lawns, and I don't typically meander across other people's lawns. I think it's kind of rude to walk on grass. But, in the neighborhood I have to deal with bird crap. Now, typically bird crap only gets annoying when it's smeared on your windshield. But we have large geese in our neighborhood that drop a large load of CRAP on the sidewalks.

Seriously it's getting to a point where I'm thinking...WTF?!? Why is there crap everywhere I look/step??? This morning, I opened the garage, and as I was walking to my car, which is a mere 5 inches from my garage, I almost stepped on a huge frog turd. I got in my car and started to contemplate this situation on my drive to work. I've never noticed this much crap before. Is it just me? Does anyone else out there notice an increased amount of crap everywhere you look/step???

Maybe this is just a sign that I need to buy an Apple Ipod Shuffle, so I can concentrate on music at all times, which would perhaps make me too busy to notice such things. But, then I'd be oblivious to the crap...and might step into a problem!!

It's a "Good Thing"...

Yesterday, I discovered something that will change the course of my life forever. Yes, folks...I discovered bloglines. What a wonderful invention! I never knew you could go to one website and access all your favorite blogs...or learn when all of your favorite bloggers have a new post. Indeed, as Martha would say..."it's a good thing." Thank you to Mr. Old Ooch for showing me that things like this existed...and thank you to Ms. Scorpsy for convincing me that even an idiot like me could figure it out.

In my best attempt at being a good citizen, I passed along the wealth of information that was given to me. I immediately contacted one Ms. Sunu K to tell her about bloglines. I knew that this would be an answer to her prayers. As fellow floblos, we all read each others "stuff" out of common floblo courtesy. I mean we are all of the same weird "kind"...however Sunu is the most dedicated floblo reader that I know. If given a quiz, about our floblos, I'm quite sure she would know every answer. In fact, that might make for an interesting conversation after church this Sunday. Anyhoo...I thought she deserved a way to minimize the time she wastes...err, I mean devotes to us. =)

Happy Cinco De Mayo...

In keeping with the theme today..."Cinco De Mayo"...I thought I would discuss my affinity for Hispanic culture. I'm not sure when this began. Perhaps it was back in Chicago when I was in Mrs. Weingarten's kindergarten class. It was there that I met Melinda Mendez. She was a little hispanic girl, and we were the best of friends. For some reason, I was just captivated by their culture. I had a wild imagination back then (that still exists), and I vividly remember talking to my stuffed bear in an unknown tongue, which I deemed as Spanish.

In college, I studied Spanish literature. This was completely intriguing to me. They intertwine their deep-seeded belief in mysticism with their fiction and come up the most amazing tales. Some of my absolute favorite writers are Laura Esquivel, Pablo Neruda, Clarice Lispector, Octavio Paz, and Isabel Allende. Laura Esquivel takes the highest ranking honor with her brilliant novel "Like Water for Chocolate." I loved that book so much that I took it in the bathtub with me because I couldn't put it down. I ended up dropping it in and blow drying it for hours just so I could keep reading it.

My love for the Hispanic culture can be seen in my own novel..with the inclusion of the ever-so-wonderful Carlos. If only he was real! Blah. If only I knew more then about Spanish culture to include more. I think my mission trip to Mexico topped it all off . I have become even more fascinated with the language and culture since then. Sometimes I just watch the Spanish channel...just to hear them speak. I can pick up a few words here and there and I just smile from ear to ear. Today, a group from our Latin American division was visiting the states. My friend who works in that division stopped to introduce me to all of them. You would have thought I was meeting royalty by the way I was smiling. As I walked away...I heard her tell them I went on a mission trip to Mexico and helped the children there. I was so excited that I could pick up that much Spanish to understand her!

I plan to live out this Spanish fascination by taking Spanish classes...perhaps this summer, if not in the fall. Then, I will use my Spanish Speaking abilities to go where God leads me. Somehow, I don't think this kind of love was placed in my heart for these people for no reason. We'll just wait and see what happens! ;) Happy Cinco de Mayo!

In the midst of a legend...

I remember when I first moved to Oklahoma, Barry Switzer was the head football coach at OU. And a few years later, he had moved up to the NFL. My brother was/is/forever will be a huge Dallas Cowboy fan. He had posters of Switzer and scantily dressed "cowgirls" all over his room. I never understood/will understand football, so the Sooners/Cowboy craze is just beyond me.

However, I was kicking myself in the shin for forgetting my camera when Barry Switzer came to my desk this morning and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Barry Switzer." I was star struck. It was THE legend himself...talking to me...asking me for kleenex...ME!! My co-workers were just as mezmorized. "I feel like I'm walking on Holy ground!" one exclaimed.

I've worked at AF for 6 years, and to this day my brother thinks I work at Eckerd Drugs. (I worked there in college.) Actually maybe he assumes I work at a bank since I don't wear the Eckerd uniform anymore. God knows he thinks I'm too stupid to actually get promoted to store management. Regardless, he has no clue I work at AF or what AF stands for....so a part of me wishes I had my camera, so I could have taken Barry's pic (we're on first name basis after I lent him Kleenex) , so I could show my brother. Maybe...just maybe he would have been slightly impressed.

Confessions of a teenager's overbearing cousin...

"Susan Chechi, I feel sorry for your future children." This was the comment made by my 15-year-old cousin, Leslie as we drove to the mall yesterday in search of the perfect prom dress for her older sister. I love the fact that Ashley and Leslie are growing up because now I can rest in the passenger seat as one of them drives, I can make them run mindless errands for me, and they are old enough to watch more movies than just rated PG. These things make my life a lot easeir. However, it's difficult to actually see them growing up. It's almost painful. I still remember gagging as I attempted to change Ashley's diaper when she was 2 and peering at Les through the glass window of the Newborn Unit when she was born. So, it's just weird to accept the fact that they are both taller than me, (which means I have to look up to them if I don't wear heels), that guys talk to them and they talk to guys, and they wear more sophisticated clothes than I do.

I'm forever yelling at Leslie for wearing clothes that make her look older. She rolls her eyes, which is so typical of teenagers today. Bleh. But shopping for a prom dress for Ashley took the cake. How and why do these little girls fashions include plunging necklines, bare backs, and peak-a-boo mid-drifts?!? They should be banned from highschools everywhere! "This looks okay, right?" This was the question asked by Ash in reference to the gold beaded dress with a neckline that basically went down to her naval. Okay, maybe I exaggerate just a tad. But, I've never worn anything that shows so much cleavage in my 30 years of life! I looked at her mother waiting for outrage. "It's okay," my aunt shrugged. I was outraged. This was sheer lunacy. I grabbed Ash by the shoulder and spun her around to reveal her bare back. Finally, my aunt gave the appropriate answer. "No, mola." Thank Heavens!

I think both girls were ready to escort me home in a straight jacket and muzzle by the end of the night. Ash did find a pretty dress...that I somewhat approve of. It's a lovely shade of green with silver beadwork. Of course it's strapless and shows a bit of cleave, but I guess I'll deal. However, I have taken it upon myself to find her a nice shawl that will cover her up a bit. ;)