Gladys Susag

On this day of days, I decided to lighten my mood with the memory of an old friend.

I used to work at a care center in my early years of high school. Save for working the summer concessions, it was my first salaried job. I started at fourteen and stopped working at said care center a little after I turned sixteen.

My job for the longest time there was to make the evening snacks for the elderly, making sure to provide each resident with their proper diets of low salt, sugar free, gluten free, or just a simple sandwich of their choice.  I got to know a great deal of the residents there, welcoming the new, chatting and bickering with the old. A select few of the residents stuck out to me. One, above all else, was Gladys.

I loved Gladys. "Potato chips" she said every day, that blank stare, hands weakly reaching out. 

Gladys was blind, her eyes a very pale blue. She was one of the residents who actually cared to talk to me, tell me stories, recognized my voice. I became familiar to her, as she did to me. 

Before she would even tell me what evening snack she would like, I always already had the small bag of Lays ready to open whenever she gave me the cue, as she could not open them herself.

"What's the weather doing out there?" She would ask.
"Snowing. Lots of snow on the ground." I would say, sitting in her recliner next to her bed. I always like to stay if even for a moment before finishing up my day and clocking out.
"Feels like it. I bet it's covered like a winter wonderland!" She would giggle joyfully.

Even after I quit the care center (my reasons are my own, though I loved the old people) I still continued to visit regularly, even if once a month. 

I recall a time I saw Gladys three days in a row.  She had remembered my voice, and from a previous week, remembered me telling her that I had a band performance. "What instrument do you play?" She would ask, and each time I would gladly tell her, as if it had been the first time it came out of my mouth.
"The clarinet and bari sax," I would tell her. Then we would talk about how big the bari is.
For these three particular days in a row, she said to me, " My dad used to play when we were kids. Do you know what he'd play?" She said with a mischevious smile.

The first time, I smiled, curious as to what her father did play. "What was that, Miss Gladys?"

"My father played the radio! Haha!" She laughed so fondly at her own joke.

The second and third time, she asked "Do you know what he'd play?", I smiled fully, already chuckling at what she was about to tell me. Each time, I too laughed at her joke.

Her birthday was in March if memory serves me correctly, and one year I wanted to do something special for her. I remember her telling me her favourite flowers were the same as mine- tiger lilies. At random, weeks before, I found a random teacup with lilies on it. I thought it would be a perfect gift. My mum said I should get her real flowers as well, to touch.  When I got her the flowers, I got her a balloon as well- one that sang when you tapped it.

To my knowledge, Gladys, like many of the other elderly, had no one that came to visit on a regular basis, if even at all, so I didn't think I would be ruining any special birthday plans for her.

I walked in the room and knocked on her door, "Miss Gladys, it's me." I handed her the teacup, telling her what was on it, let her touch the flowers, to which she commented was lovely, then, "Here, this is a balloon. See what happens when you poke it."

With all of her 95-year-old strength, she tapped that balloon and it began to sing "Happy Birthday" to her. She giggled with delight. I stayed a bit as we talked about the weather, my schooling, and the latest care center gossip. I only saw Miss Gladys a few more times that year. I'll never forget the day I found out that Gladys - MY Gladys - had passed.

I was sitting in my senior year government class, picking up the newspapers and skimming through them for articles that I might need for my journal.  My eyes just happened upon the obituaries, and there she was. Gladys "Susie" Susag. I was shocked. I read her little article, and at the bottom the funeral was that very day that I was reading the paper- one hour before I read the damn article. I could feel my face getting hot. I was angry.

Angry that no one told me. Not a RN, CNA, Nutrition Service Aid that knew I visited- no one. Not a phone call. A heads up. I ran to my mother's office in the school building, since she worked there. She knew how much Gladys meant to me.

Before I opened my mouth, she asked what was wrong. I couldn't talk and handed the paper to her.
She looked up at me, eyes wide, mouth gaping," Oh, Honey!!" And the tears started to fall. "No one said anything to you?" She asked. I just shook my head no, buried it in her shoulder.

It was winter, there was snow on the ground. I didn't want to look for her grave. I felt terrible. Terrible I didn't know. That I couldn't make it. Who went, if I didn't? I didn't know of any family she had; of the years I worked there I never witnessed anyone visit her.

By the time I graduated, I went looking for her- searching for her. Asked workers at the care center, asked officials at the hospital, no one could tell me which lot she was buried in. Even tried going row by row, grave by grave through the cemetary, having a friend help me. The grave diggers couldn't tell me much.

I'll cut this short, and tell you I never found her grave. I don't think she holds it against me. She knows I'll see her again. Maybe even one day I'll find her grave. For now, she's still a special woman forever in my memory.

Duct Tape Dress

The subject matter is about as plain as the title. This is the making of it... it was quite a week...


We were on a band trip. Isn't that how all good stories start out? Anywho, me and my crew were never ones for sleeping at night. There was me, Squats, Miss Pepper, and Sprank all put in one room together.

"Ladies, I need your help with something." I said as I pulled out the rolls upon rolls of duct tape I bought from the store earlier. Delicious colours consisting of Taxi Cab Yellow, Turquoise, and Safety Vest Orange.

"There is a duct tape prom dress competition, and I'm doing it."
After many minutes of strategizing how to start, we decided the skirt of the dress was better than anywhere else. We made a belt of tape around my waist, then tried to make streamers as a skeleton for the bell of the skirt. Wasn't working.

"We need something to hold the shape of the skirt as we make it." Said Pepper.
"What if we each hold a side and just wrap it?" Asked Squats.
"No, no! Ging, stand on the table, and we'll tape the bell of the skirt to the round table, and build it from there!" Said Pepper.

"Yes! Perfect!" So up I went, standing tall on the small round table in the hotel room, head touching the ceiling. The gals started wrapping, cutting, and double-siding the yellow tape, but this skirt project was taking longer than expected....

"Hey Guys? I think my legs are going numb." I said, trying to hold myself in a very upright position.

Pepper looks at Squats. "Ging, did you lock your knees?" Squats asked.

"What what?"

"Like, are your legs completely straight? Without a slight bend?"

"Yeah they're straight. It's how I'm keeping the skirt frame so tight...."

Pepper looks at Squats again, sighs. They look up at me, "We're going to get you down."

I felt my knees buckling as they detached the tape skirt skeleton from the table.

"Shit! Catch her!" Said Pepper, and I went toppling down on Squats.

Sprankle sat and watched, the youngest of us by three years, having no clue dafuq these gals were doing....

I just lay there for a second before laughing.

"That means she's okay right?" Said Pepper.

"No, she laughs when she gets hurt. Is she hurt?" Said Squats.

"Ging? Ging?" They kept looking at me, calling my name, but all I could do was giggle.

"Ravioli" I said.

"We don't have a can opener." Squats said, looking at the top of the can.

"I have a pocket knife?" Said Pepper.

They butchered the top until it was safely jagged at the top.

"I can't eat this cold." Said Squats.

"The coffee pot!" I drug it down to the floor with me, and put the can on the little hot plate of the coffee maker.
"Spoons anyone?" Squats said.
"Here, use these!" Sprank jumped in on the comotion with stirring straws.
"This is so worthless." Said Pepper giggling. Pretty soon we were all laughing like lunatics, me sprawled on the floor in tape, the other three gathered around, all of us like barbarians next to a fire. Our fire was Ravioli. Fuck yeah.

Next, we tried to start the bust. "Just wrap me up, with the sticky side of the tape facing upward, then we'll go through and wrap me with the tape facing down and make it look nice."

Next thing you know, "SUCK IT IN! SUCK IT IN!" Pepper was laughing hysterically. "Ging, your boobs are huge!" Squats said, looking at my profile. They wrapped my ribs and stomach so tight my boobs were popping out. Sprank laughed her ass off.

"We have to cut it! THERE'S NO OTHER WAY!" I said, struggling to breathe.

They got the scissors and cut it down the back. I held it up, looking at the form of the figure still held.. "Dude. It'll be like a corset."

The next weekend, hours before the prom was the next time I was working on it. Crunch time. I had another ging help me on it this time. We made the string out of duct tape, punched holes in the back of the "corset" and voila. then we attached the skirt, added accents with the Turquoise and Orange, and the man came over.

The pro slapped together a tux much more efficiently and quickly than the dress. His mum even made him a duct tape tie. We were ballin. To top it off, add two pairs of duct tape converse. Fuck. Yeah.


Needless to say, it was friggin hot as hell to wear. No ventilation. We stripped the duct tape garb and put on our dancing clothes for the rest of the evening.

That, my children. Is the story of the duct tape dress.

Black Sheep, Black Sheep, have you any wool?

Alright, I suppose every blogger does this in their miserable life, so I shall carry out this tradition. I'll try to keep it as interesting as possible. I'm going to tell you thirty random facts about me, assuming you don't know them by now... I always think of myself as an open book but it always appears someone is astonished by things later in life I always thought was obvious, or common sense. So. Close the window if you're not ready to know so much about your ginger or keep reading if you dare.


1. My favourite sandwich is still as it always was - Bacon, Banana, Peanutbutter. Grilled.

2. I do not like the military. For so many reasons. Though I always find that wherever I go, I house and take care of them.

3. I really. Really. REALLY. Don't like being touched. Unless I've known you for YEARS, ever notice me wince when you've tried to give me a hug? Rub my shoulders? Pat my back? Just don't do it. Yeah. That kinda does make me into a huge prude. Deal with it.

4. I have a kitty named Bacon Shaymus.

5. I was called Cherry Pie mercilessly in middle school. I even taddled. Got the dude in trouble. Became friends with him in High School.

6. I have a "Pants Optional" sign I painted in my living room, because I don't like to wear pants in the comfort of my own home, and don't think anyone else should either.

7. I strongly dislike electronics, credit cards, and cell phones, and won't use these "basic living essentials" unless completely necessary. Like blogging. Because I'm a funny bitch like that.

8. The more I mean mug you and cuss at you, the more I like you. Try not to get all asshurt about it.

9. I'm unapologetically attracted to scruffy looking men. You can keep the muscles, the fancy technology, and all that other shit women like...money?. I like em dingy with a nerdification in class, ya dig?

10. I love to see the look on people's faces when they find out I'm not a moron, just really happy. At the same time, it really hurts to see who always thought I was a giggly moron.

11. I like toes. rounded, painted, hairy, crooked, Asian, stubby... I don't give a flipper. I like toes.

12. I still noodle around on my bass, but really don't play as much as I used to, or as much as I should.

13. When in math classes, I pretend we are the last people on Earth to figure out the equasions given, and try to get the answer as quickly as possible so the world doesn't blow up. Doesn't take me that much time. Because I'm a nerdpro like that.

14. I gave a friend her first mo hawk with a pair of orange handled scissors... it was my first time too.

15. I've successfully stolen thousands of dollars worth of road signs years ago and sold them.

16. I think it's really stupid that the same people who tell me to be more sensitive about my language, (i.e. words such as retarded, queer, and fuckshit) are the same people that tell me not to be so sensitive about the subject of porn. Disgusting felchers.

17. If you press lightly with your nail on my ginger skin, it will instantly puff up. My back has been used as a human canvas to friends many times. The picture won't go away for hours...

18. I've had snakebites for two years now as of Thanksgiving weekend.

19. I love old people and I miss working at the care centers.

20. In high school, I successfully convinced everyone that I was afraid of the colour purple and one of my teachers even gave me a different coloured sheet of paper when purple was the colour of the homework assignment. It was a social experiment on my own to see who the tormenters were.  It went on for a good two years. You're all bastards.

21. I've never turned down a vaccum salesman. I always feel obligated to buy the vaccum. My mum stopped letting me answer the door to them when I lived with her. No really, it was pretty bad.

22. When I go to stores in malls with my best friend, we like to talk in Swedish and French and act like we're from the countries just to see if anyone ever asks where we're from. Only two people ever have and one asked us how to say "Motorcycle" in Swedish.

23. I just bought a clear vase so I can oil paint on it and put my kitchen utensils in it.

24. The colour of black/yellow/brown skin makes me all kinds of giddy when put next to mine... I very much enjoy the clash of colour... might explain my taste for the exotic man.

25. I really want a piano in my apartment. I miss playing.

26. I just learned how to make my Mema's famous chicken and oyster gumbo for Thanksgiving and now will carry out this holiday meal tradition for my years to come.

27. I really do enjoy running. I tell people that it's stupid because I hate running in front of people because my boobs are huge. I couldn't even type that out without laughing...

28. I think I want to be a coroner when I go back to college. Maybe a marine biologist. Maybe I'll just bartend for  few years. Either way, I know I won't have a set profession that will last the rest of my days but you can bet your ass, one day I'll be famous for something.

29. I don't think I've spoken more than ten words to my little brother since I graduated high school. The last time I saw him was the day before I left for Mississippi and I realized all I ever wanted from him was a hug. Stupid dick.

30. The curtains match the drapes. Deal with it.

Laugh At My Suffering. It's Funny.

I was walking down beach boulevard, needless to say, the highway next to the beach.  It's about one in the afternoon, maybe two. That's very vital information. Broad daylight. Seriously.

Everyone and their mother knows that all I do all day- all day long- all spare time- for enjoyment- is walk.  I walk everywhere; to the bank, to the grocery, to a friend's house (if I had any here in Mississippi, I might still do that to) and even when I didn't have a car, I walked abot forty-five minutes to and from work.  I don't mind it, and when I was living in small towns up north in Montana and Wyoming, I had no problem walking out at night until about three or four AM just because I had nothing else better to do whilst insomnia insued.

Since I've been back in a bigger city however, everyone fears the worst and is so damn certain that if I walk at night, I will get mugged, raped, or the latter. So, to calm their minds, I started taking walks after I got home from work or sometime after lunch. Damn pessimists.

For those of you not aware, I work graveyard shift as a housekeeper at a hotel resort here in the city.

Back to the story, yesterday I am walking home from my couple hours' walk, and every person I pass up, I come up with different scenarios as to what would happen if all the pessimists were correct. What would happen if the two gentlemen on the bench staring at me as I come closer are actually theives that want my ipod and headphones?  What if that old man sitting in the sand is actually some nasty old pervert wanting to jizz on my leg as I walk by? What if that woman in a stroller really doesn't have a baby in there, but an AK-47 she's just dying to try on a ginger talking by that dresses funny?

You get the picture. Rediculously rediculous thoughts. But you never know..

So as I'm nearing the lighthouse where I am to cross the street to head back to my humble abode, I see a black Pathfinder parked on the side of the sidewalk. As I walk closer, I notice the passenger window is open, and in the driver's side is a Mexican man in his mid thirties or so, and he takes a glance at me and I give a little smile back and am on my way.

I blow up this story in my head wondering if he's the kind of guy that would jump out of his car, bash me over the head with a beer bottle, and stash me in the jeep before anyone cared to call the police. 

No sooner did I think this thought that I saw a shadow out of my peripheral, and I immediately squatted down and protected my head letting out a small "WOAH BUDDY"...

I looked up to see a woman driving past on her bike. Followed by two children on their bikes. Followed by the assumed father. By the time I stood up looking at the children, I was already laughing my ass off at the tardass I just made myself look like, and the father was laughing as well, apologizing that his wife scared the piss out of me.

I kept laughing hysterically, because those that know me, know once I get started, I don't ever stop.... ever.

I told him it was alright and bid them a good day.  Twenty feet ahead of me, I sat on a bench to recoil my nerves.  A few minutes of out right laughter to myself and I got up once again to head home.

Right then, the Pathfinder pulled up, and the Mexican man spoke to me through the passenger window in his best English, " Need a ride to a place?" He smiled at me.

Now I really felt like a shmuch.

"No rita necessita, gracias." I said in my best Spanish.

"De nada," He replied, then drove off waving with a smile. 

I giggled to myself like a madman the whole way home. 

For the love of Baby Rays, don't tell an already delusional paranoid person that the world is out to get her. Just let me keep believeing the world is a safe place ;)

Going Away Party

This children, is a drunken story. It shall not be looked highly upon and all names are fake.. the story is real. This is what we call a bafoon children. Read on.

Nine in the morning. Three men say to a lady, "Lady! You gotta catch up with us! Time to start drinking!" Lady looks to the little Miss who is also present.
Miss shruggs.
"Lady! We're hungry! MAKE US FOOOOOOD!!"
Lady looks to Miss, "Like to come with me to get groceries?"

To the store they go and come back with ingredients to make spaghetti. Whilst the ladies were out, the men distracted their hunger by means of video games. Miss stayed in the living room with the men whilst Lady tended to the food.

Better catch up.... she thought to herself.

She lined up three shot glasses on the counter, reached into the fridge and poured Jager into all three. She emptied them, lined them up again, and repeated.

The Chocolate man looked up to see her downing the last one, "Hey! You're supposed to be doing those with us!"
"I'm catching up" she replied. "Six down, how many more to catch up?

"You did not just do six!" Said the Chocolate man.
"Oh yes she did" Said Mexican.
"We watched her," Said Miss.

Chocolate man poured another round. "This time, we take them together."

Chocolate man and Lady each shot one, and before Chocolate man could oppose, she did the third.

"BACK TO THE COOKIN!" She said excitedly.

This. Is going to be interesting.

Somewhere in the midst of cooking, she slinked into a mini skirt and her highest leopard print heels. "I wanna be pretty!!" She squealed with delight.

Now cooking in her heels, the men watched carefully, as not to have her break something. This was quite the show.

Once the Vodka Spaghetti was cooked, she dished it out to all her friends then a bowl for herself. "I want to eat outside!" She said.
"No! Said Roommate. "You know what happens when you go outside like this."
"I'll be good! I'll be good!" She screamed.
"We are going to regret this" Said Roommate.
He allowed her outside but only under his supervision. Instantly, "I wanna go for a walk!!"

"NO!" Roommate insisted. He put his bowl down on the porch,scooped her up, and had Chocolate man put her in the bedroom and locked the door.
Next thing you know, the Chocolate man is yelling, "GET OUTSIDE GET OUTSIDE!! SHE WENT OUT THE WINDOW!"

Lady escaped the room through her window, crawling in her mini skirt and still.... wearing the 4 1/2 inch stilettos.

By the time the men got out, she was running down the stairs and across the parking lot, laughing wildly as she went.

Oh wait you missed that- she RAN DOWN THE STAIRS IN HOOKER HEELS WHILST SCHNOCKERED. And we continue-

"But I wanna go on a walk! I'll be good! I'LL BE GOOD!" She plead
"Bitch you're screaming already." Said Roommate.
"I'll take her" Said the Chocolate man.
She squealed again, with delight.

she walked about 15 minutes away until they got to the beach. Then she took off running... same shoes.... through the sand and into the water.
She did not know the Chocolate man was afraid of jellyfish. She did not know she went too far out, almost past the pier.

"Get your ass back here right now Lady!"
She giggled, and tried to swim away in the barely 6 inches of water. Lots of sand was building up. Finally she stood up and began running away again, the Chocolate man trying to run out of the water in his jeans.

He was nice enough to let her wear his shoes home as he carried her's. His feet burning on the sidewalk. As soon as she arrived in the parking lot, she began running up the stairs and instantly into the shower. "Too much sand!" She was yelling and giggling and carrying on.


At about six in the evening, the Lady woke, chipper and uppity as ever. "Who put my clothes on me?" She asked as she walked into the living room.

They all just looked at her and the little Miss chuckled a little.
"Never again,"Roommate said, "never again."


So children, the moral of this story? Don't peer pressure someone who will make you regret it ;)

Success

Okay, so I've made reference to "tastes like honey on stale bread" or "tastes like success" and instead of trying to explain this damn reference a million times over, I will gladly let you all in on an inside joke of how the saying came into play.

So about... last summer, Squatsy and I went to Lake Fresno up in Montana on a particularly hot day. We were there quite a while- long enough to swim out to the island in the lake and swim back, frolic on the boat docks, and get mostly dried on the shore... shore? no, the edge. Stupid Montana lakes don't have shores.

Montana also doesn't have bodies of water NEAR anything... they're all out in the middle of no where.

Anywhozers, we were damn hungry and so terribly thirsty! On any other given day, it was a hands down that I would have some kinda food in the car- most of the times it was peanut butter and jelly with bread and doritos or some awesome shit like that.

This trip was more spur of the moment and we just kinda left, not even thinking about food stuffs.  Just for shits and giggles, I started rooting around in my car anyway. I found some bread in the back seat under the mountain of things in my car from whence I lived from that summer. Stale bread. . .. pretty sure from the weeks before when I had gone out and brought snacks.

I rooted around some more, and in my middle console found some honey packets.  Usually after working, I would wait to empty my pockets in my car and I would have honey, straws... whatever else a waitress has in her apron after work.

Squats and I each took a couple of slices of that stale bread, ripped open our honey packets, and poured on the car-hot substance. We locked eyes, eyed the bread, closed our eyes and prayed to god we weren't gonna get sick.

"What does it taste like?" She asked me.
After a few brief moments and a bite more, I looked at her smiling, "Tastes like success."
She started to chuckle, "Wait wait wait. So you're tellin me, honey on stale bread tastes like success?"
"Yes. Yes I believe so."
"I've always wondered what that tasted like....."


So there you have it. That is what I am referencing from and now you too can have an awesome saying that no one understands.

Family Time

Soooooo after begging and pleading, I finally decided to go stay with my cousin Juju and Mema in Mobile, Alabama whilst Hurricane Isaac was in motion. I don't have work for the time being, and I suppose being alone in my apartment would have gotten dull... I would have ran out of puzzle.


So staying at my cousin's has been a blast. I get to hang out with little people, Juju's five year old crazy gal, and 18 month old little guy.  Keeping him entertained is quite simple- an empty toilet tissue roll will do. As for the five year old, I think she talks more than I did when I was her age ( if y'all can imagine!) and she's all full of conversation. 

Being five and all, she's yet to get exposure to a crazier side of humanity- the side with tattoos, piercings, and wicked hair styles.  She's very curious about mine. Observe our conversations we've had these past couple days..

"Why do you have holes in your liiiiyups?" (She has an adorable accent and it must be noted!)
I chuckle a little bit, "I'll tell you when you're older. I have no idea how to explain it to someone under the age of fifteen."
"Oh. Well I have a friend and her sister has a hole in her nose. She wants one too because that's what you do when you're older."
"You get holes in your nose when you're older, huh?"
"That's what she is gonna do! Like her sister! Are you gonna get holes in your nose?"
"Nooo, not me. Where do you think the boogers are gonna come out if I have a hole in my nose?"
"GROSS!"

"You have holes in your ears too!"
"Yes I do. It's where I put my jewelry."
"Like your diamonds in your liiiiiyups!"
"Haha sure."
"I like them. I think they're beauuuutiful! I think they're pretty because they're blue. And I like blue. But not really. I like pink actually."
"Thank you?"
"Come play with my bunnies!"

*We're sittin on the couch and I notice her lookin at me so I look and smile back*
"You have orange hair."
"Yes I do. Rare for someone to have orange hair."
"Do people make fun of you at school?"
Well actually.....
I just chuckle.
"Do people make fun of you for your glasses?"
"No. People actually like my glasses. Do YOU make fun of me for my glasses?"
"No! I think they're preeeeeyuuttty. I have glasses too!"
"Oh you do eh?"
"Yeah. Minnie Mouse ones."



These are the fun times I have whilst during a hurricane. Family for the win.