I Would Have, Without Pictures

  • I would have posted a crappy cell phone picture that I took while driving except that I don’t leave my home anymore.
  • I would have taken a  picture of what I ate for lunch except that I already ate it for breakfast.
  • I would have shown you the obituary picture of my dead cousin except I’m too depressed about it.
  • I would be linking to a picture of wedding cake topper featuring a groom locked into a ball and chain that would be suitable for the offspring of two criminal politicians but what else could I say about it?
  • I would have shown you a picture of a dog eating a raw egg that fell on the floor yesterday but Stedman was too fast about it.
  • I would have shown you photographic evidence of the aftermath of that egg-eating but how can you photograph 6 hours of foul dog farts?

The Wedding of the Century

Here at Cripes Suzette, we totally approve of bride-to-be Chelsea Clinton’s choice of headpiece for her gluten-free, vegan wedding.

Chelsea, you never looked so good.

Thank goodness she came up with this idea – we just couldn’t imagine HOW she was going to get around the fact that her old face was growing back. Now if only Hillary would cover her head with a big hat. Or a bag. A plastic one.

Don't you just hate that MOO is keeping all of the government hair dressers busy pinning on her photo-op hair and nobody is available for Hillz?

I keed! I’m actually quite thrilled to see the old Hillary come back into the spotlight, all spackled and blow dried and squeezed into a girdle.  The Obamadrone Hillary that we have now is not much fun. I sure do hope she pulls out a necklace from her Wilma Flintstone collection. It wouldn’t be wise to try showing off her real gems around the new father-in-law, Ed “Nigerian Scammer” Mezvinsky. Sticky fingers, you know.

Missed you, Hillz!

Exciting Personal Update

It’s not that I don’t have anything going on in my life. It’s just that I wanted to share this landmark event with you:

buh bye

We emptied out another jar of Classico Pasta Sauce today and so I was able to add the empty container to  my collection of drinking jars. I’m particularly pleased about this because I have a feeling that time is running out. Look at their product page.

They’re promoting a new economy size – it’s a 44 ouncer and it comes in a round jar. Let me tell you right now that this is the beginning of the end. See how all the products so far have some in the squared jars that I love so much? If that’s been the company’s stand-out characteristic on shelves full of round jars, why change it for this product?

Because a round jar is standard production and most likely less expensive than a squared one, you say? Well then – with that kind of thinking  how long will it be until someone one, say for instance a 20-something MBA, figures out that now that they can save a few cents on round jars for all of their products and rely on the establishment of the brand to mark their distinction in the marketplace.

Now see? You thought I was being funny when I made my announcement  in that second paragraph. But it turns out that I have gathered you all around me to witness the beginning of THE END OF A GOOD THING.

Did you forget that I am a trend spotter?

Detour: Pub-liss-ity

In 1958, Lana Turner’s star was not what it once was. She was sensitive to the fact that other fading stars had become fodder for the gossip mills by appearing in public escorted by younger men. She was careful never to be seen with any man younger than she was, let alone become romantically linked. Here, she discovers that her current lover Johnny Stompanado has lied about his age and was 33 years old, not 43 as he told her. At the time, Lana was 38. She tells him that the affair is over and tries to throw him out. He accuses her of being drunk and refuses to go.

After overhearing that fight between her mother and the abusive, controlling  Johnny,  later that evening a 14 year old Cheryl Crane listens to Lana’s anxiety-ridden recounting of how Johnny threatened to have her face cut up if she tried to leave him.

From the book:

“Mother, why don’t you call the police?”

She cringed. “The pub-liss-ity,” she said. The press would have a field day.”

Returning from a nightmarish Acapulco vacation in March 1958, Lana Turner and Johnny Stompanato arrive in Los Angeles, where they are met by Turner's daughter, Cheryl Crane.

Oh gawd, I love this book.

Detour: A Hollywood Story by Cheryl Crane with Cliff Jahr

I Have Never Made A Pickle Fan

… and I guess I never will.

* sob sob sob *

Look at this. The smooth creaminess of the cream cheese that contrasts with the sharp crunch of the pickle. The sweetness of the gherkin vs. the tang of the horseradish. A base that is soft yielding bread on one side and golden toast on the other. If ever there was a canape meant for a Gemini, this is it.

Just when I had decided on Petals ‘N Pickles as our Mad Men watching party appetizer, word came to me that one of the twenty-somethings has developed an intolerance to cheese. I tried mightily to argue that cream cheese is a fat and not a cheese – which is 100% true – but it was decided that we could not in good conscience serve this.

This is a terrible blow to me because all of my adult life, I have considered myself to be the type of person who could crank out Petal N’ Pickles at a moments’ notice, I have never done so. I don’t know why – I always mean to do it but it just never happened. I’m on a mission now to create an alternate past for myself and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up to all the Petals N’ Pickles I never made.

I forgot to mention that both twenty-somethings are vegetarians so there goes your cocktail franks and your Cheesy Baloney Foldovers. Clearly, I need a new posse.