Oh Sandy baby


Dear Sandra Suess,

You don’t know me, but we share a first initial and last name. And apparently you have recently become active on the intertubes filling out all kinds of forms where they ask for your email address, and you just thought you would make up one that sounded real using your first initial and last name followed by a popular email provider domain. The problem is, Sandra, that this is a real email address. It is mine, and I am getting all your junk mail now in my formerly mostly-free-of-spam email inbox. Apparently, you like to peruse People.com and solicit information from websites offering to help you collect disability benefits, among other things. And really, who am I to judge you for that? Still, while I understand how yucky it is to have to give up all that personal info, and I myself have made up email addresses in the past, I implore you to use ones that are less likely to belong to someone else. If you really want to appear authentic, why not try an unlikely but still recognizable combo? Something like “sandrasuessreadstrashypoprags@domain.com” or similar would be just fine with me.

Thanks for understanding,

Stephen Suess

I’m either gonna punch you in the face or buy you a drink


I was pretty exhausted after my  long trip back from Paris yesterday, but I had promised my friend Ruthbea that I would have dinner with her and a group of her friends since she was in town for only one night. I made my way to the restaurant, and being the first to arrive, wandered over to the bar for a drink. Ruthbea assured me that I had met at least one and perhaps as many as three of her group of friends before, so I was watching the hostess stand for any recognizable faces. And there was one guy there at the stand who looked over at me and marched directly up to me and said in a somewhat menacing voice, “What the hell are YOU doing here?”. I paused for a moment to look at his face and attire and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to recognize him, either as one of Ruthbea’s friends or from somewhere else. I paused and said, “I am waiting on Ruthbea…”, and he said “What?!” and then walked off in an odd huff. Then I saw him go behind the bar and realized he was working at the restaurant and wondered if perhaps we had met somewhere before. I sometimes have a shitty memory for these things (despite being able to remember random number sequences from years ago) and so I chalked it up to one of those chance meetings that confuse.

Later when Ruthbea and the gang arrived, we got seated at our table and as I recounted the story to Ruthbea, the guy came over and apologized. He told me I looked exactly (but exactly!) like a jerk ex boss of his who had fired him two years earlier, and that he had been shocked that the guy had the nerve to come into this place. He was going to have him (me) thrown out when he realized his mistake, and he brought us all a round of drinks to apologize.

We all had a good laugh about it, but it did get me wondering just a little about my doppelgänger who is out there, somewhere, in the food services industry. I wonder if anyone has ever approached him out of the blue thinking he was me. Perhaps some random stranger asked him to fix something computer related or translate something into French?