This picture always reminds us of us. I'm not sure
which is supposed to be which.
Suzanne can tell a story. She usually makes an impression. It's not
always good. She's got the best body of any woman I know. Clear green
eyes. A vein that stands out on her forehead if she laughs too hard.
Pale skin that's almost blue. She's got T&A and a huge brain. She claims
she's a genius. She would fist-fight boys in high school. She once pinned
a man who tried to cop a feel. And she told him every woman in the bar
could do it, too.
Suzanne thinks I'm funny. She'll hate you forever if you call her Susan
(I've found this is a trait common to all Suzannes. Keep it in mind).
She knows how to pick pockets and makes awesome desserts. She's a daddy's
girl. She has a sister, Kelli, a 6-foot dental hygienist and really
nice. She has a mom who's friendly and occasionally disapproving.
She's the kind of girl you'd expect to have a Doberman or a huge, dirty
mutt, but she has a tiny fluffy amazingly fat dog called Toddy that
she got for free at the yard sale next door. Toddy has stinky fish-breath
and is missing many teeth. Toddy can catch loogeys in her mouth. Clear
your throat and she'll come running to turn circles and beg.
