Dorkville

Hey people. In case any of you didn't know what I meant when I said me and Katie go right back into dork mode when we get together... Behold!



In the interest of full disclosure, all this footage was actually from my last trip, in dec. This is the kind of thing we get up to when we know we only have about an hour or two of fun time before being inundated with kidstuff.

This trip was more laid back, well, except for sex-robot dancing and pretending to be Charlie's Angels, annoying our husbands with dramatic, loud bad-singing along to the radio, and imitating anyone nearby, including each other.

We did wind-up going to Forever 21 one day. I'm always surprised no alarm goes off when we walk into that place. We were so busy having fun I didn't even think to capture any of it on film. We had a blast pretend trying on the clothes just like in the video though, and holding impromptu dance parties while gelled, skinny-jeans-wearing male sales associates gave us murderous glares of disapproval.

One thing about being 40 & over that is awesome-- such intimidating tactics have absolutely no effect on you. At all. If anything it just eggs us on. At one point I announced, to any of them within earshot, "Look, we're over 40. Don't fuck with us." Then I pretend put-on a super poufy, flouncy micro-mini that looked like it was made out of cotton candy that had been trimmed into some kind of poodle from outer space get-up.

Rough, gravelly, rednecky manvoice-- "No dawtah uv mahn is leavin' the house dressed like a common hohr!"
(Most of the dresses in this place leave you wondering if they really are supposed to be a dress or some kind of long shirt. They barely cover your butt!)
Whiny, Texas, drawly, girlvoice-- "Bhutt Daiddy!" ~stomp~
~bows at the end of this "Forever 21 theater" performance~
"What? No-- I don't need a dressing room. Go tag something Justin Beiber."

The only thing that would have made it more awesome would have been if school was out so we could have single-handedly de-cooled a bunch of stuff for the local teens. We can't wait until Megan is about 13 and we can follow her and her little tweeny pals around and embarrass the crap out of them. ~rubs hands together~

Race vid + man babies + me making an ass of myself, kind of.

Hey freaks. Fear not, Weird Wed has not been totally preempted. Hang in there. After this initial bit of business you'll get your disturbia on.

First, another mountain bike race vid from Hillside. This has gotten pretty fun for me. I'm still learning the basics, and haven't even figured the camera all the way out (which already tanked btw and has to be sent off to be fixed. Bad sign.) But, since I'm not riding right now, it's fun to watch other people hit it, plus, I love music, love tromping around in the woods, and editing footage is pretty fun too.

The more I figure out what works and what doesn't, the more creative I'll be able to be with this. It's fun to have another medium to fool around with. I've already got ideas for future projects-- an all girl vid w/b awesome, and one of purely "antics" could be really fun.

One thing I think I need is a cowbell. Some people weird-out if I don't say anything (and I'm usually just trying to not interfere w/ their ride), and others freak if I cheer them, and then they mess up. If I had a bell I could clang it before people get right to me to warn them.

I also need to be less shy about asking people I don't know to pose with their bikes etc. Basically, if you are a rider and reading this, assume I want to shoot you, so find me and say hi. :) And girl riders-- feel free to ham it up if you see me shooting in the woods in any way you feel comfortable.

Anyway, here's footage from the rescheduled Cold Bear Challenge (Skinny) Race. The music is Foo Fighters "All My Life". Kind of repetitive, but I was trying to get everybody in it, and like I said, learning curve... (if you click "watch on youtube" you can full screen it. big file version)



Okay. Way to be patient Weirdos. This is a reader submission from Slagporter Kris. There is a whole website with tons more pics if you're into this. "Manbabies" = mui creepio if you ask me.

In other SueNews:

Mah braynes iz mostly un-fried now. Enough to weld at least. Waiting a few days for the novel. That takes more cortex.

Last night me and Pam shot the "Gravity Box" at Woodland Trails. WOOOT us! This is another of those things we said we'd probably never do. The first time we saw it we were like, "How come there isn't a big pile of dead bodies down there?"

But, now that we're ruined by mountain biking, there are no more never's, and the fun just gets scarier and scarier. ~shivers~

Anyway, we did it, it wasn't even that scary. It was pretty fun. After, we were in another section approaching another caution hill and trash talking just for fun. (This is sort of a hobby of ours.) I go, "Oh good-- caution just means FUN to us, because we are that bad-ass now." And right then this guy on skate skis blew by us with a giant smirk on his face. ~Bows~ Yep. I should have known better than to feel all BIG, but, oh well.

It was pretty funny.

Anonymous contribution:

Hey people. I know at the moment we're all SOOO glad all the running around and hub-bub is over. Someone sent me this excerpt from their holipalooza pre-Christmas shop-a-thon. I laughed my butt off. I think even if you don't know the person it's still pretty funny.

I went to Cub yesterday to do a little shopping and when checking out, was asked by two cute little local high school football players if I would allow them to pack my groceries. (You know how they do that to raise money? That kind of thing. They weren't just randomly chivalrous.)

So I said yes, and handed them my cloth bags that I always carry with me. As I paid for my food, I noticed them casting furtive glances my way and giggling. Thinking way more of myself than I should, I assumed they were commenting on my overall Courtney-Cox-Cougar-Hotness, as I did look exceptionally fine if I do say so myself. I gave them a big smile and said "thanks boys" in my very best Mae West voice, tossed a few bucks into their contribution bucket and sashayed out.

Got home and while unpacking my groceries, discovered at the bottom of my bag a random pair of CLEAN white cotton, Hanes, granny-panties left behind from my last overnight trip to [my daughter's] house in which I'd used the bag to transport my clothing.

I blushed like an Amish girl at a Ron Jeremy film festival. Holy mother of God! There is ALWAYS a price to pay when thinking highly of myself. Now I've gone and corrupted those poor, innocent young boys!!!

Thanks for the laugh Anon!

Pwn'd by old ladies...

When Trusty Pam and I pulled into the lot to register for our big kayak race Sat and I saw all the sleek, narrow, torpedo-like racing kayaks I thought, "Okay, there's a growing likelihood we won't take first." Then when we got shuttled to the starting point and saw it was a mass start for the kayak class, and they wanted us to seed ourselves (in other words, if you're slow, get the eff out of the contender's ways), and all these guys started dragging their little skinny kayaks down to the water to get a good spot, Pam and I said, "Yeah, let's hang out at the back." But I thought, "Yeah, because a come from behind win would be even more sweet. heh heh heh"

Here is some of our competition lining up on the other bank.

The bridge was the starting point. All of a sudden the announcer said, "Okay, the race is starting in 1 minute, so get into position!" and this canoe came by and totally blocked us in (you can click to zoom and see the perpetrators). So when it started we were way back here somewhere still. Not good.

Right from the get go Trusty Pam and I were not exactly looking like the the Olympic rowing team. Our rather short, fat, sit-on-top kayaks literally looked like toys next to all those fast, long, skinny boats. Plus while other racers were decked out in neoprene get-ups, Pam and I sported these rad rubber rain boots. I'm sure between our boats and our boots we had the competition quaking in their spiffy waterproof leggings.

Also, my magic pants didn't wind-up being all that magic after a bunch of lap-fulls of river water (rapids). I could have really used that "This Is Not Pee" t-shirt by then end.

This is my kayak. Pam's is exactly the same but green. They're awesome for the kind of kayaking we normally do-- farting around on the rivers, looking for little rapids and "secret passageways" to check out.

But seeing those at the race made us notice the bottoms of ours, really for the first time as dumb as that sounds. Ours have this kind of two tiered hull, that's wide and kind of flat. All those holes are for drainage, but also create drag. Basically, I'm making my case for our kayaks being great for stability, but bad for racing. And I need to make this case, because three old ladies totally kicked our asses. (like, seventy-year-olds!)

Everyone started so fast, plus we had a sucky position, so for the first fifteen minutes or so my arms were totally on fire, but after that I began gaining on some people and passed as many as I could. Frustratingly, there were three old ladies and this one middle aged dude ahead of me (aside from all the super athletic young dudes who had vanished downriver by then-- far out front of the rest of us). I was paddling my ass off. Meanwhile the old ladies, one wearing a big floppy sunhat, were ahead, leisurely paddling, chatting, & taking water breaks. Grrr.

Finally I pulled ahead of two of the ladies and the guy, but floppy sunhat was still pretty far ahead of me. I didn't know where Pam was, but I assumed right behind me somewhere. Every time FloppySunHat would stop to rest or drink water, I'd think, "That's right Floppy, you just drink some more refreshing tasty water, 'cause here I come. pwn pwn pwn"

But I never did catch her. Not only that, but the other two and that guy re-passed me eventually. My stroke rate was way higher, yet they just pulled ahead. We went back and forth a few times, me out front, them, but in the end I was in back. The one right in front of me, who wound up finishing ten seconds ahead of me, actually stopped paddling to blow kisses and wave whenever there were spectators on the bank. All the while I was paddling with all my might for three hours straight.

At rapids I'd gain a little because I love bumpy water and go aggressive there, and the ladies seemed a bit tentative, but I wound-up fourth of the women racers and Pam was fifth. Truthfully, we were worried we were last and laster, but there were a good half dozen or so racing kayaks behind us, so I guess we can hold our heads up. (Even though I've got a bad feeling the rest of them weren't really "trying to win".)

And it was a really nice day, and we, as usual had fun hangin' together. I'm telling you though, those old ladies must have been made of 90% gristle. After we barely had the strength to hold up our traditional McD's cones. I have no idea how pam could steer the car. Ow.

Boob Job

Last night I went to bed before midnight for the first time all week and cra-hashed. Slept for 9 hours straight. Today I'm giving myself a recovery day-- half day of welding, little light run, vegging out-tonight.

Kind of felt like the sistah-hood took a hit on this one, but I gave Jez a boob job yesterday. It was just with her placid expression, small frame, and pretty meh chestal region she was beginning to look a little Asian, (art-wise). I needed to take her a little more brick house. So, check out the new girls. Not gross, not porno big, just, biggER.

And Sunday I got the river on her. I'm psyched about the leaves now, and had another idea of adding a raven. I have a thing for ravens. They're cool, smart, live super long, and mate for life. In my story when Jez bites it she calls ravens down to scavenge her remains so she can become part of the natural world again. This is probably weird and freaky, but to me it's kind of cool. Anyway, I think she's going to get a raven on her right shoulder.

Sat morning I delivered that birch commission to the VeryNiceUnitarianWisconsinites. These guys waited two years almost. Talk about being a loser on deadlines (but I did have some unexpected shop-not-getting-built-in-time, back-going-out, leg-bone-cracking complications). These guys are super cool, and really support art and artists. It was fun seeing them again and visiting other artwork they've bought from me over the years. Karen made these awesome cinnamon rolls for us--yum!

They insisted I pose by it too, so here's my Vana White impersonation.

On the way to their place we passed another of the many "humiliating episodes from Sue's life" historical sites scattered around the TC area. Maybe someday there'll be some kind of a tour with markers and wayside rests and everything...

Back in the day I always drove crap cars around. The fuel pump on my ancient Pontiac Sunbird went out on 694. This car became know as the "Daisy Duke Mobile" because eventually the doors broke too and I had to crawl in and out the window. Amazingly I got good enough at this that I could even do it in a skirt and maintain my cool. (Just let me keep thinking that okay?)

So I'm on 694, stranded (pre cell days), and start walking. There are tons of cars beeping at me because I was like, 20 & had really long hair, & am a girl. I was wearing my usual-- black tee shirt, and my baggy red and black plaid shorts (and of course loads of black eyeliner). This was about as punk-ass an outfit as my employer back then would let me get away with.

I decided the exit was too far down. Naturally undeterred by a six foot chain link fence, I climb on up. Cars are still beeping and stuff and I want to get off the road asap. When I climb over the top, my shorts catch on the chain link, but I don't notice in time, so when I go to jump down I become stuck in mid air. I'm now hanging, by my shorts, six feet off the ground next to a busy freeway at rush hour. I kicked at the fence and flailed around until they finally ripped and I fell down, tumbling into the weedy ditch.

Thank god this was pre-cells, pre-youtube.

Tonight I'm putting a blue streak in my hair, and not doing another damn thing. Later.

Adverbishly Forging Ahead

Hey people-- A big thank you! to everyone who commented and emailed about the whole genre conundrum. I think my best bet is to assume the agent who prompted this overhaul is expecting to see a YA manuscript. So I'll steer it that direction, as much as my characters and the story allow, and take it from there.

I cannot tell you how lucky it is that I'm having to go through all this. Rereading the whole thing after thinking I was "all done" with it about four months ago-- lets just say--- NOT! Man, what a suck-fest! There are still lots of things I like about it, but then I keep finding this other stuff that I'm like-- wtf???? Anyway, I hesitate to say this time I'm really going to pwn it because that's apparently what I think every single time and obviously I am delusional! (But I am... gonna...)

In other SueNews my stoopid tibia fracture has been acting up again. I cracked it last year (or mebbe the year before, we're not sure since it's hurt for, like, 5 years) BUT ANYWAYS-- last year I finally got it x-rayed and my doctor was like, "omg! Your leg is like, totally about to fall off!" (ok, not really, but it was big time cracked in half). They wanted to put a rod in it, but i wasn't very into that idea, so instead opted for this space-age physical therapy treatment where a high school kid (ok, not really, but he IS young) tortured me by grinding a bunch of plexiglass objects of varying shapes all up and down my leg.

I'm still not sure if it really helped heal my leg or if I was unwittingly duped into participating in some kind of Cheney-esque homeland security torture techniques seminar-- but, my leg got better and yay-- i could run again. Now it kind of hurts because of my big race with myself last week (I totally kicked my own ass-- pwnation!). So... boo basically. I'm going to have to baby it along for a while now and AssFat will be trying to capitalize on this sitch. Guess again dude.

Oh-- speaking of fat-- after literally months of trying I think I finally succeeded in making myself sick of Trader Joe's "Lacey's cookies", so, take that moderation.

The last item involves boogers so if you're squeamish I'd stop reading now. While I was skiing today with Trusty Pam I had an incident. You should know that before the problem was discovered I skied past the whole Elk River Ski Team, giving them all a big smile and imagining how they were all probably secretly jealous of my color coordinated (for once) get up and my retro, old school ski gear.

Earlier, I'd had to blow my nose-- OK, no big deal, pretty common when you do outsidey stuff in winter, except--- In winter your face gets cold, and when that happens it sort of loses sensation little. Somehow when I blew, I managed to create some kind of snot geyser, that shot up over my sunglasses and onto my hat-- where it clung like disgusting booger linguine.

Pam finally pointed it out.

Yeah. Super Sexy.
Why, oh why?...
Oh yeah, because it's me and that's just how I roll.
Be warned-- blow with caution people!