Susan J. M. Fritz moves to California and promptly...well...you'll see.

Important author's note: the following uber-random post was composed and auto-saved about a month ago, but the author suffered a severe mental lapse and failed to follow-through with an actual posting. So, instead of letting all this randomness and self-effacement go the way of the dodo, it will be presented here in real-time archive glory fashion.

In other words, feel free to skip this and read http://www.tmz.com/ instead...

Greetings from sunny California, home of happy cows, blond highlights and fake boobs of all sizes! As some of you know, after leaving New York City in June, the topic of "where will Susan live?" has lingered in serious limbo. Since I have spent the greater part of the past 12 years on the east coast, there was always a distinct possibility that after my hiatus in Oregon (or sabbatical, which I prefer because it makes it seem as if I have a job to go back to), I would return to New York City or some other east coast town. Considering everything I own minus what I managed to carry on the airplane bound for Oregon still resides in New Jersey AND I simply adore and worship the Big Town (NYC), it would seem to follow that I'd move back there. But I just love curve balls too much, people! Have you learned nothing about my unpredictability? Any college kids out there could write a paper on the "Predictability of Unpredictability" and just give me a little end note...I'd love to be referenced in an end note. It seems to me there's no reason to go and try to make life simple at this point. Besides, the only thing I thought about with any kind of certainty was that I'd love to live in a warm/hot place. Bingo!

So here I am at last. Mind you, I don't have a place to live or even an air mattress to sleep on when I do find that place, but they have stores here...outlet malls, even. And Target! And...Walmart.

And here I begin the "real" post.

My best good friend (whose name shall be protected for fear of the embarrassment she would inevitably suffer) knows the following 2 pieces of information about my life. "Kelly" will undoubtedly shake her head even more intensely in a few sentences, and honestly, I fear for her neck and the future chiropractic adjustment she may face. Kelly, I hope you have comprehensive insurance, because the following is lame cubed!

Piece of info #1: Shortly after purchasing my new used Ford Focus, I started the long, 13-plus hour drive from Great Falls, Montana to Cannon Beach, Oregon. Three or so hours into it, I needed a break and set out to get some grub and satisfy my Nostalgia Tooth in Missoula, MT (Go Griz!). I did that, but...I got greedy and decided to stop one extra place for some coffee. I went in, exchanged pleasantries with a North Face-outfitted college kid, got my caffeinated beverage, and walked back to my new used car. After giving myself a pat down even the TSA would approve of, I finally accepted the fact that the keys I could clearly see in the passenger's seat were the very same keys needed to unlock the car. I did not strip search myself (get your mind out of the gutter!), but I did do that thing most of us do when we lock ourselves out of anything (car, gym locker, house, etc.). I rifled through the filofax-in-my-brain of McGuyver-esque plans that would result in a magically-opened car door. "Let's see...I've got some ABC gum in my pocket...and I'm sure North Face kid would hook me up with a fork...and I do have some pretty powerful telepathic powers which, combined with the scientific properties of osmosis could potentially result in the keys passing through the passenger-side window and into my hands..." In other words, I went to that irrational place where I could and would do anything to solve this problem. But, short of going back in time, which I also contemplated (Huey Lewis, help me!), I had no choice but to call a locksmith. Luckily and thanks to the advertising prowess of Flo & Co. at Progressive, I was able to easily recall the 800 number which sent over a locksmith for free! Problem solved again...for now...

Piece of info #2 (it took a while to get here): While talking to her on my phone outside of the gym a few weeks ago, I admitted to Kelly (remember Kelly...it's still not her real name...she's in the Suzness Protection Program. I admitted to Kelly that I was waiting for my mom to deliver me my spare set of keys since I'd locked myself out of the car racing into spinning class. Yes, I was racing into the gym so I could move my legs in a circular motion and sweat a lot--on purpose. The best part of Piece of Info #2 is what happens next. So the key delivery is complete and I'm driving away a few minutes after my mom. I get a call from her: "Suz, have you passed the McDonald's yet?" As you may surmise I do not frequent Ray Crock's establishment for personal use, but have been known to "help a brother out" with a Big Mac craving once in a blue moon. "Not yet, dude", I quipped. "Whaddaya need?". She, Linda--my mom, needed some cash because in the race to leave her house to deliver the keys to a girl who'd locked herself out of her brand spanking new used car, she'd left her purse at home. Need I say more? The pomme de terre does not fall far from the tree. Indeed.

And now, the moment Kelly (not her...ok, you know) is waiting for more than any of the other tens of readers...

Piece of info #3 (aka: What Kelly Doesn't Know Might Save Her): So here I am in Los Angeles. Day 2, in fact. I've just gotten my hair cut. I'm thirsty. I require gum. I spot it in the distance. I know this place can satisfy those two needs...and for less money than someplace else...and it's just so convenient...and I promise myself it will just be this once, a quick 2-item trip. As often happens with the Suz in a giant store, I am instantly overwhelmed and my 2-item-limit censor is disarmed. Wait, don't I need shampoo...and conditioner (you can't get one without the other), and maybe a Rubik's Cube--those are back, right? Let's just say I overstayed my welcome, although not excessively so. I did just want to get the heck out of there. You see where I am going with this, I trust. Walk to car, self pat-down, disbelief, cries of "Good Grief!"

Idiocy, that cruel time-thief made me lock myself out of the new used Ford yet again. I will save you the extra reading about the locksmith to follow...rinse and repeat; ditto from the previous examples.

......Instant Karma? Um, yes. I haven't been to a Walmart in years...since my Connecticut days, I think. I mean I was thirsty and wanted gum and it was right there, but even so. Lesson learned? We shall see about that. Third time's a charm? All I can say is the Wrigley's Polar Ice gum had a bitter, bitter taste as the sun set upon the City of Angels and Mega-Store Demons.


P.S. While I did get a haircut today, I did not get blond highlights. I also have no immediate plans to resize my boobs, although I may purchase a push-up bra...not that it's any of your business!

Addendum, written March 1, 2010:
As of this posting, I do have a place to live, minus the air mattress. I'm not there yet, but in two shakes of a lamb's tail (remember my vow to supply an endless stream of old-fashioned phrases?), the Suz will return to once again fight the good fight in her new used Ford Focus...and with a current addition to All the Suz!