Tuesday, June 30, 2009


Suzanne speaking...
Fresh from the city of sin.

And after a three days in a row of hanging out in Nevada, I found that the sexiest time of the day was in the afternoon. Why you ask? Two words: pool parties. If you haven't experienced a Las Vegas style pool party, I suggest you dip your toes into the chlorine and do so as soon as possible.

I've always enjoyed the concept of a 21 and over pool/lounge because I always come home with stories to make the devil blush. There is something for everyone even if doing naughty things under water is not your style. Just imagine the hottest night club, but with lounge chairs you can nap on.

Too much beer? You won't drown, there is no deep end, just shallow water where you can dance and drink. Parched? Just sit down and re-hydrate while you get a tan. Hungry? Grab the cocktail waitress in a thong and get an app. Your feet hurt? Oh wait, they won't because you're not wearing your stripper heels. (Although I'm certain there will be several females at the pool with 5" platforms and ankle bracelets).

The people watching from what I've experienced, is the best. The array of characters that step into the pool can become quite comical. I was recently at Wet Republic at the MGM hotel and saw women with false eyelashes, caked on MAC make up complimented with a curly coif. Faces began to melt and beads of sweat were surfacing atop layers of make up. So cute, right?

If you must put something on, just make sure it's waterproof. Clinique products will not let you down.

I don't know about you but I don't think I can bring myself to pick up a curling iron before a pool party in 107 degree weather. The water WILL hit my skin... and hair. And my sunglasses will be on. Plus, it's almost impossible to avoid drunken splashes from the pool and obnoxious people with water guns.

Another reason why pool parties are going to rock your world: at a club, ugly tattoos are hidden under dress shirts soaked in cologne. But at a pool party, if tribal bands and tramp stamps turn you off, the red flags are in permanent ink for your convenience.

This summer, pool parties are a must on my agenda. There are a few really good ones in Los Angeles, including the one at the Custom Hotel, that I'd like to make a splash at.

So here's hoping for a safe and sensual summer for all of you. And thanks for reading. I'll be back...

of Make Me Blush
and contributor to Five Lipstick Stains On Your Collar.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009


I finally decided on an outfit. That only took me a week. I bought new shoes, but I'm not wearing them, I'm wearing my "You know what" boots, even though I don't think that's going to be happening tonight. Don't get any ideas.

Shower. Shave. Shaving takes sooo long. Exfoliate. Lotion. I used the last of my favorite juicy couture lotion because all the other men in life have said they liked it. I should have done a self tanner, but then again, what if I ended up looking like an ooompa loompa?

Blow drying. My arm is getting tired. Oh you're texting me...you're excited for tonight. Me too. I think. I mean, I'm a Celebrity, Get me Out of Here is on, and I have a bottle of cab to finish and I'm already exhausted. But no, no. God, I have so much hair. FUCK. My straightener won't turn on! Oh, it's not plugged in. God, why am I so jumpy? I updated my twitter "hot date"...ughhhh. Shouldn't have done that. Now everyone knows.

Ahhh that's better. This is a good Cabernet for only being $1.99.

Make-up time. Lots of concealer is needed, have I mentioned how exhausted I am? There...I look like myself again. I'm actually pretty. It's amazing what a little Nars Orgasm blush can do. Orgasm. That's funny. Not happening.

The underwear dilemma. Horrendous, cute or sexy? Sexy makes me feel...sexy, but then I might be more apt to do bad things. Horrendous...no, I mean we never know what could happen. Cute. Settling on cute.

Should I text you and have you call me when you get here so I can be outside waiting? Or what if you brought flowers and we have to do that whole thing? I don't have a vase! I should, a girl my age should own a vase. Don't bring me flowers, it's cute but it's just easier that way. I won't hold it against you if you end up being "the one."

I'm waiting. I keep putting extra mascara on and it's getting all clumpy and I am starting to look like that crazy evangelical woman, remember her? Putting mascara down...walking away. My heels click clack across the floor as I pace. Sounds like walk of someone who is hot. I sound like someone who has it all together.

Text! You're around the corner. Butterflies. You are really cute (from your pictures) and over email you're so funny and intelligent and you know the difference between "your" and "you're"...I would totally have your internet babies.

A little more mascara...why the hell do my eyelashes seem to disappear no matter how much Dior Show I pile on? Ok. Ready. I look good.

I just drank the rest of the Cabernet from the bottle. From the bottle? No vase and drinking out of wine bottles. I am a catch.
The door shuts behind me. There you are. Here we go.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

An enigma.

"Wow this is awkward... What now?"

He is in love with someone else. I can not and will not let myself comprehend it. If I do, my thoughts and loneliness will consume me. The rational-heartless part of me is, "fine", and the nonsensical-clothes ripping part is screaming at the top of my lungs, "Why can't it be me?!" I feel pathetic and invisible, while we make conversation. {Make being the key word.} Sometimes, I can see it almost touch it, and then he casually blows it away. I have sunk to a new low of low. Why can't our minds and hearts forget when they are rejected? I do envy the woman that can master the art of apathy. I want to be angry at him, but I can't. He did not do anything to deserve wrath or spite. That would be a "typical" guy move; and yet, he is not a "typical" guy. He is the 'writer'.

Monday, June 22, 2009

By A Thread

What is it that keeps us hanging in?

What keeps us from taking the plunge?
no, not the emotional needy and ripe-and-ready for disappointment plunge once the object of our affection turns out to be unfortunately human,
-but the plunge to say, it's okay, I can give love, I can receive love, and I don't have to let it control me. I can enjoy it like I can enjoy the delicious smells coming out of the bakery window as I walk by it down on the Promenade, not mourning the loss once I've turned the corner and it is no longer taking over my senses?

For me, it is because I don't want to be wrong....how can I respect myself if I give my heart over to someone who doesn't stand up to every preconceived notion of the perfect man that I've ever dreamt up?
How can I consider myself loved if all of my rose-petaled fantasies aren't fulfilled?
How can I give love and not expect it to be permanent and lasting?

And, worse yet, if I do this thing and lose my heart anyway, heedless of my misgivings, and, in the end, it does fail and I am left alone again, how can I face myself? How will I be able to stand up to the torrential self-loathing I'll feel that I broke all of my rules that so intricately protected my heart once upon a time, and failed?

But, as my mentor once asked me, if I do all of these things, and experience love, vs. not doing them and staying closed off forever, will it have been a better life?

To feel the wind and currents and warmth and pinpricks of love and all it entails, or to stay wrapped in padding, impervious but unfeeling?

Which is better?

Which is worse?

We must all decide for ourselves...

But do - decide. Don't not think about it and later wish you had.