A One Liner

100% genuine comment made last week

"Houston, we have a problem? Why is it always Houston? Why isn't it ever anyone else?"

An Immaculate Perception

I know that I usually set the scene for these stories with a brief introductory paragraph about the conversation that inspired Susan's particular piece of wisdom, but I haven't got a clue what brought forth today's gem from the deliverer of alternative intellect. So let's cut straight to Susan...

"Do you need more than one horse to make another one?"

Yes, you did read that right. That was Susan asking me what the facts of life are. I know what you're all thinking- what you're willing me to do. Shame on you. I like a practical joke, but not even I've got the bollocks to mess with someone's head that much. I told her the truth. Sorry, I know, I'm the best friend someone could have. If you discount the website dedicated to her stupidity. However, I did ask her why she might have thought that.

"Because I've got a friend and her horse is pregnant and no other horse has been near it."

As you students of Susan will be aware, this is textbook Susan. Faced with the mystery of how the horse got pregnant- rather than consider how she may have come into contact with another horse, Susan's mind has had to seek affirmation that horses must mate to create a new life.

And this is why we love her.

A Short Tale

Hello eager awaiters of all things Susan. I'm afraid I only have a short story today- let's face facts I've been spoiling you recently anyway. Susan may be an idiot but she doesn't make a priceless contributions to my life like envelope-gate every day.

We were taking about 4 wheel drive vehicles in the office. I'm not sure why, I'm not particularly excited by cars so I suspect an office alpha-male must have started the topic. Anyway, I'm rambling- the point is that there was a conversation afoot about 4 wheel drive. Susan's contribution was:

"why is it called 4 wheel drive, don't all cars have four wheels?"

A perfectly valid question of course. For a nine year old.

I'll be back next week and I promise something more substantial. Until then, I have some homework for you: some of you have suggested that you know a Susan yourself. In order to distract us from the terrifying prospect of a world filled with Susans, I'd like you to give some thought as to what the collective noun for Susans would be. A wrong of Susans perhaps? A condition of Susans? I'm sure you can do better. Fairwell.

PS Some of you have emailed me. Thank you very much! I'm not ignoring you and I will reply.

Mass Stupidity

Susan and I work in an office, as you know. Everyday we send out dozens of sets of documents. I could tell you what the documents are but your life would be no richer for this explanation. In fact, a sense of melancholy would cloud your hitherto sunny disposition, and I want my blog to be an uplifting experience for all concerned. Except for me of course- my suffering is, sadly, necessary for your pleasure. The only important thing to know is that the documents are the same everytime and are sent out in A4 envelopes.

On the day in question we had run out of A4 envelopes. This in itself would have certainly passed for an event, and even without the Susan-related developments we would have had lunchtime conversations for years to come that started with the phrase "do you remember the day we ran out of A4 envelopes?". But without our heroine's input, it probably wouldn't have made it to the heady heights of 'weblog entry'.

Susan was left baffled by her predicament but luckily her workmates displayed their lightning-speed problem solving skills and suggested that we fold the documents in half and place them in A5 envelopes. To which Susan asked:

"but won't that cost twice as much to post?"

In Susan's fragile mind, the documents were now heavier because they were inside a smaller envelope. We tried to explain that a decrease in area doesn't bring about an increase in mass. She was, of course, unable to grasp this and after several attempts to explain the logic behind her question she accepted the reality. That evening as we discussed it in the pub, it was apparent that she still hadn't actually figured it out in her own head but was simply taking our word for it. I still think even now if she could she'd try to prove me wrong over this, but sadly both logic and physics think Susan's a twat so they still stubbornly side with me on the issue.

A Note to my Friends

It has come to my attention that by writing this blog I am gaining myself a reputation for being a sinister, untrustworthy figure. Following a conversation I had at the weekend, I would like to point out to people reading this, whom I know, that I am NOT writing a blog about you- you can open your mouth without fear of cyber-ridicule. You're just not interesting enough. Unless you're Susan and you're reading this. In which case the good news is that you're interesting. The bad news is everything written here except that last sentence.

Sorry, no Susan story today you idiocy-whores. Tomorrow...