I’m gonna leave this here for whenever it becomes necessary to use:..
Susie Riley, widely known for an impressive collection of dinosaur earrings, the complete inability to shut her damned mouth, and her shamelessly excessive use of exclamation marks, was found dead this afternoon in her living room surrounded by her silly basset, a half-eaten box of Girl Scout Thin Mints, an empty bottle of good-quality vodka and a well-worn Pottery Barn Summer 2015 catalog.
Ever the quintessential Glamour magazine DON’T girl, Riley, 57, was donned in her favorite (albeit perpetually stained) Wonder Woman pajamas and an autographed Sleeping Beauty tiara. While the official cause of death is not yet known, it is likely due to either acute ocular injury resulting from a botched eyeliner-pencil incident , or permanent brain damage suffered while binge-watching reruns of Dynasty.
Blessed with the gift of countless friends, many of whom (unsurprisingly) hail from either the law enforcement or bartending occupations, Susie was generous with advice and selfish with chocolate. Throughout her life, she most enjoyed irony, fried clams, raucous laughter with friends, hearty games of Scrabble, sniffing Scotch tape, day drinking, the word MOTHERFUCKER, her beloved Red Sox, Sugar Pops breakfast cereal, sippy-cup runs in her golf cart, and the strong sense of empowerment that only comes when pushing a full shopping cart through a discount liquor store. Her pet peeves included preconceived notions, kale, reality TV, the sound of cellophane candy wrappers in a movie theater, organized religion, mosquitoes, hypocrites, pitching coaches being allowed on the mound, and the play Cats.
Susie leaves behind one Barbie-head desk lamp, a lengthy TO-DO list of unfinished yet brilliant writing projects, an adoring, well-trained and now available husband, a kickass beef burgundy recipe, a collection of nearly 400 plastic windup toys and a ridiculous assortment of other crap her poor husband must now sort through and/or burn.
In honor of her propensity toward procrastination, a list of Riley’s more exemplary accomplishments will be published at a later date, more likely well beyond the deadline of this publication. No burial arrangements have been set, although a BYO event in the ladies room at the Bleachers section of Fenway Park has been discussed.
In lieu of donations, Susie’s husband, Rick, kindly asks that her friends stop in to help identify some of the more bizarre kitchen gadgets she’s purchased over the years, many of which resemble small weapons of torture.
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