It's 3:50 a.m.

I'm staring at my computer screen, mostly on the Good Eats Message Board. Yes, I'm a food geek, and damn proud of it. Mostly a Good Eats geek - but c'mon, look at this guy - can you blame me? Oh yeah - I didn't put that little photo montage together - someone on the message board did, but I think it's damn admirable work. Call me crazy.

Going on vacation tomorrow - so I should be sleeping. I can't. Nothing's really bothering me, I just woke up, had to pee, and to quote the Emperor in Amadeus, "well, there it is". So, here I am, updating a journal that's hopelessly out of date, and I'd be damned surprised if anyone actually reads it.

Why don't I update more often? I have to say that often I feel like I don't have a lot to update. But, I know there is beauty in the minutae of my life... hell there was millions of dollars in Jerry Seinfeld's minutae, there must at least be beauty in mine. Or at least humor. Or maybe absurdity. Or self-indulgent assumptions that someone would read this and actually think my blog was worth reading.

That's the funny thing about "blogs"....I think that the word "blog" kinda sounds like "blah" for a reason - and why I don't just troll for blogs randomly. Too much "blah". However, I love reading my sister's - it's hilarious! I need to read her boyfriend's more often - 'cause he's pretty cool. At least I think. I don't know him real well yet - but he loves my sis very much, and a guy who loves my sis can't be all bad (I'm playing with you, Jay - I look forward to getting to know you well enough to pick on you in person - the only problem is I have a feeling you can dish out more than I could ever give - but that's kinda fun ya know).

It'd be fun to get to go to Cincy without my daughter, get rip roaring drunk and get to hang out with my sis and her boyfriend - be "Party Sue" as opposed to "Mom & Instructor Downes". It's hard to party here - first of all, it's a town of 8000, and I have a job in which I have to keep a decent community reputation. I can't just go to the Fireside and participate in the "Foam Party", because next thing you know there'll be pics of me, covered in foam, chugging a beer - and there goes my job. Plus, I have to say, the people who frequent that establishment aren't really my crowd. I require some assimilance of intelligence, or wit, or insight even in the people I get drunk with, or else all you have is a drunk who can drool and say "I love you, man" all night. No fun to have one's inhibitions lowered to find someone incapable of talking about the things that I have to have my inhibitions lowered to talk about.

Secondly, as Robin Williams stated, you can't come home drunk to a child. Claire is old enough to know better, and she would be really disappointed, and wouldn't understand. And frankly, that's not the image she needs to see from a parent. So, "partying", as it were, doesn't happen here.

OK - now I'm tired. Gotta at least try to sleep, or tomorrow I will be even more bitchier than normal. :) If you happen to read this - whether you like it or not - drop me a line, just because I'm curious. Love to make new friends, ya know. And I'll try to visit here more often.

Peace-
SuzieD