The Truth About Ryan Seacrest and Dick Clark

Since I have reached the age of 40 I have been hiding under a rock trying to make it go away. Although hiding under the rock didn't make 40 go away I did have the opportunity to hear some good under the rock gossip (or make some up). This gossip involves someone who is ((gasp)) older than me Mr. Dick Clark.

I heard that Dick (although he is at least 102) suddenly started to age. He had been holding off aging for the last 50 years by drinking the blood of small children and animals. But when that no longer worked he invested his fortune in finding a cure to aging. His team of evil doctors came up with a plan. All he needed was a young good looking down and out guy. He found Ryan Seacrest.

Ryan was living under a bridge and was desperate for cash. Dick gave him an out. He could have Dicks amazing fortune if he agreed to give Dick his body and he took Dick's. He told Ryan that as long as he kept up a good blood supply he could live for a long, long time. He would even have a young wife a mansion, a tremendous fortune and a swimming pool. Ryan said OK. The switch was made and Ryan is now in actuality Dick Clark.

Dick (in Ryan's body)went on to a mass his own fortune and now lives once again in the lap of luxury and has at least another 100 years to go in his body before its time for another change.

Hey I'm 40 I'm allowed to be crazy if I want.

Maybe that should be my tag line.

(By the way not that I didn't love your suggestions but I'm leaving the tag line contest open for another week or so. Hey I'm 40 I can do whatever I want!)

Here It Comes

So I am turning 40 on Sunday. I must say I thought it would be a lot more graceful than this. I feel like I am heading into the future whining and crying and being pulled along by my feet by father time. When I imagined this day I imagined myself shoulder straight head up walking proudly into 40. But keep in mind I also imagined flying cars and weekend vacation to the moon (sort of a non cartoon Jetsons). But here I am 39.99999 and moving on. I am depressed sore and generally filled with anxiety.

I keep doing a mental recap of life so far and I think Hey Suzie buck up things are pretty good you've accomplished a lot. I wont go into my list of accomplishments as my mother would say its a kenahurah and will call the fates down to destroy any happiness I may have. But I think I have a pretty good list. But I still feel terrible as the big 40 descends.

I think I may be having a mid life crisis. And perhaps I should just embrace it. I mean I've already gotten the tattoo maybe I should get a bright red sports car and some arm candy Perhaps I should run away and join the circus or start a religious cult. But I think I may be too tired for all of that.

So instead I will go to bed at 9pm all this week wake up and drink decaf and try not too eat too many birthday cupcakes my son will make with love and probably some snot. Ain't aging grand.

Please Dont Tell My Mom

I wasn't sure if I was going to blog about this as many family members read my blog. But I have decided that as I approach 40 I'm a grown woman and I can make big grown up decisions without having to explain myself . So here goes I got a tattoo. (Please don't tell my mom please. I know Ill be in some bigggg trouble!)

But I did. I got a tattoo its kind of big but I love it. Its on my hip over some very flattering stretch marks. Its a sea horse. I got a sea horse because the female squirts her eggs into the males pouch and then she goes off gallivanting on her own. The male then clings to a weed and swells up and is forced to sit and waits for the babies to emerge. Now I know this has nothing to do with my life as its been years since any form of gallivanting has not occurred f but its a reminder to myself to maybe start doing a little galli every now and then and save some vanting for later.

I went to Daredevil Tattoo. When I got there it was filled with 18 year old boys covered from head to toe in tattoos. Rap music was playing at top volume. I thought run run now why you can. But I didn't I sat there the old lady in her career pants suit silently hoping a meteor would strike the shop before my appointment.

Finally the owner a nice more my age lady appeared and she took me into a back room. She played some blue grass (apparently this is where the old folk hang out) and helped me settle in for the tattoo which I will name Pain Fest 2009. Pain Fest 2009 consisted of me trying not to bite a hole through my purse while a needle poked repeatedly into my skin for an hour and a half. I tried to be cool but its hard with your shirt tucked into your bra strap as you sit in the equivalent of a human sewing machine. She was however very nice and getting this tattoo proves I'm not really old I'm just enhanced age wise.

So here it is my sea horse!

Just a reminder please do not tell my mom!

A Letter To My Bod

Dear Body:

You have been a good body Ive been really pleased about our relationship. You breathe you eat and make it possible for me to do everything I need to do in the course of a day. Remember that time we went to the beach...it was all thanks to you. You body are to be commended.

Lately I've noticed you are beginning to hmmm.. whats a nice way to put it..fall apart. I'm not sure who gave you the fall apart message perhaps it was that nasty 5th vertebrae (she's always causing problems) or maybe someone told you this year we would be turning 40.

Contrary to popular belief 40 does not mean one has to fall to pieces. It is not necessary to tell hair follicles to fall out. It's not par for the course to cause us to end up in the hospital in abdominal pain. Neither do you need to give into to migraines, excessive gas, incontinence, scumming to gravity in important and unflattering areas,wrinkling, hemorrhoids or anything else you may associate with the dreaded four zero.

It is my great hope that we will have many many long years left together. I would love to see the world and body it would be my greatest dream to have you there with me. So do me a favor ignore the big four zero its just a number and not a message of destruction and please tell the 5th vertebrae to get a life.

Love,
Suzie

I'm Back!

I'm back. Did you miss me? The trip was great lots of sunshine and deck chairs. Lots of fatty foods and frozen drinks. And the crowning glory , child care! Ahh that was the life.

But now I am back and normal life comes flying at you faster than a baby on a greased sit and spin.

So to really get a good does of reality I went to sign up for driving lessons. It was a brave move on my part since I've never been comfortable with the idea of driving. I always crash those electronic driving game into the wall or run someone over in the first two minutes. But I made a promise to myself that I will learn how to drive in the next three months. So I swallowed my fear and went to sign up at the driving school. Of course I asked lots of questions like are their duel controls for me and the driver? Will the teacher yell at me? How many people crash while learning?

The woman was very nice and answered all of my questions and then said to me:

I know how hard it is for middle aged woman to learn how to drive? Middle aged woman always ask questions like that.

WHAT?!?!

WHAT DID SHE SAY!?!

MIDDLE AGED WOMAN! ME? WHAT THE...!?!

Suddenly my fear of driving was the least of my worries I was now a middle aged woman. I guess I saw it coming people no longer calling me miss and the dreaded Ma'am rearing its ugly head. The reduction of cat calls while passing construction sites. The rechecking if its mammogram time at the doc. It all lead here to the first time I have been called middle aged.

Suddenly there I was a middle aged woman standing in a driving school. It was awful it was unpleasant and worst of all it was the truth (I think how old is middle aged anyway? Isn't it 50 now. I mean jeepers I'm only 39! Still a spring chicken still in my thirties at least for another few months. Whats wrong with that chick anyway who says things like that! That's it I'm taking my toys and going home!)

I should have never come back from vacation.

That's It I'm Offically Old

This morning I decided I could no longer go outside with my coat unbuttoned. Due to my expanding waistline I was unable to warmly affix the coat to my body and since the temperature had fallen to a balmy -10 I thought buttoning the coat might be a necessity today.

The only way to accomplish buttoning my coat was to move the buttons. This would involve (gasp) sewing! Bravely facing the unknown I took out my needle and thread and began by threading the needle.

I noticed as I did this that the hole had gotten mysteriously smaller than it had been the last time I used it. In fact it was no longer a hole but a pore. An tiny itsty bitsy pore that dared me to try to put some thread though it. I squared my shoulders and decided to face the task head on. No microscopic needle hole was going to do me in! I cut the thread like a pro sucked on the end and began threading.

I held the needle as far away from me as I could hoping to use my telephoto sight to thread the needle. I pushed it through and success! I was not old! I was not loosing my sight! I was young and spry! I had done it in just one try!

Then I moved the needle and realized I was not the owner of a brand new threaded needle. I had threaded the air and that would not help move my buttons.

I went to the bathroom and turned on the bright lights. This was the kind of light that showed every blemish every ounce of cellulite. It was mean light and today it was my friend.

I held the needle and cut the thread again. This time I would not fail. I pushed and shoved and squinted and twisted but even in the bathrooms harsh light I could see that needle was no closer to being threaded than Elmo was to being the voice over for Darth Vader in Star War 105.


Finally I realized there was no choice. It was time to get out the big guns. My Granny glasses. The kind that costs $10 from the drugstore and fit in their own cardboard flowered carrying case. A real fashion statement. I stood in the bright light mean light looking like Old Mother Hubbard. Holding that needle out to the end of my arm dressed in my granny glasses bathed in the unforgiving bathroom glow. I battled and I grunted and a danced around but finally. It was done. The needle was threaded and I was victorious.

I looked up and both my kids were looking at me silently. I thought I could see pity in their eyes as they quietly shook their heads.

Get the walker out kiddies Granny's home.

A Halloween Tale

Maybe it because Halloween is around the bend or maybe its because Little S is teething all night long but some scary thought have been drifting in my mind lately. Scary thoughts that make you shiver and pull the covers up just a little higher.

Turn down the lights grab your teddy bears and pass the candy corn its time for a Halloween numbers tale.

At 30 I was married.
Spooky right but it took me five years to drag him kicking and screaming down the aisle

At 35 little B was born
Creepy and scary but it took a little convincing too

At 38 Little S was born
Eerily enough that took some convincing on my part

I will be 40 when Little B goes to kindergarten and 43 when Little S goes to kindergarten
Hold onto your hats it gets even creepier still

I will be 47 at B's Bar Mitzvah and 50 at S's
Get the flashlight!

I'll be 52 when B finishes high school 55 when S graduates
Hold me!

56 for college
I cant look!

between 60-70 when they get married and have kids
I wanna go home!

Ill be dead before my Grand kids have a Bar or Bat mitzvah
Oh MY GOSH!!!!!!That's it turn on the lights! Give me that teddy bear and a case of candy corn and a large martini!


I'm so old!!!!!

I hate Halloween!

Yet Another Suprise From Father Time

Last night after a fun filled evening of temper tantrums, whining, cleaning of snotty noses and diaper changes and dog rescues (they were hanging from his ears) I finally got the kids to bed put my feet up and switched on the TV. Suddenly I was affronted with a most horrible sight three long, course, black hairs were protruding from my big toe. In horror I lept from the couch before my husband could see the trees that had sprung from my toes and ran around the house in a desperate search for an iron forged super sized tweezers to wrestle the black monsters away from my aging tootsies.

Now I know I am getting older. Yes another birthday is swiftly approaching. But even age needs some limits. I have resigned myself to the usual aging things. I know that if I even look at a cupcake I immediately gain 5 pounds where as when I was 20 I could drop 5 pounds just from dancing to a hip tune by a Boy George. I know that even though I could stay awake till 4am when I was in my twenties I now need to be in bed by 9:30 lest I risk drooling open mouthed on the couch (a sexy sight). I know that although I used to be able to read the jokes on a bubble gum wrapper with ease it now takes a magnifying glass, some bifocals and a pair of x ray specs to even be able to read the warning label on a bottle of Geritol. I get it Age! I'm aging! I'm old! But this? My toes?

To quote my son Not Nice Age! Not Nice!