Author Archives: lucysfootball

About lucysfootball

I'm not the girl with the most cake. Someday. SOMEDAY.

Curved like a road through mountains

What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains.  –Tennessee Williams

This is a line.

(It was supposed to be a straight line, but listen, I cannot draw a straight line with what software is free on the interwebs, ok? So just ignore the fact that it squiggles a little. Pretend it’s totally straight. DO NOT JUDGE MY LINE-DRAWING ABILITIES!)

Most people’s lives follow this straight line, for the most part. They’re born, and they go to school, and then probably college, and they meet someone squishable and they marry that person, and buy a house with a porch swing, and maybe have some kiddos who are equally squishable, and get a job, and work that job for many many years and put money into their 401ks and buy cool things to play with that are shiny and pay their taxes and eventually they die.

This is very stable, isn’t it? It’s really nice. It’s nice to know you’ll wake up, and the same thing will happen, and you’ll have someone there to share things with, and maybe kids, and probably, oh, I don’t know, family picnics, or something. Vacations. Probably a dog.

This is ALSO a line.

However, it is squiggly and all over the damn place and sometimes backtracks upon itself and has strange valleys and peaks that kind of look like a man’s face and I think in one place it kind of might look like I tried to make a penis, and in another place a rabbit, to make you laugh, but I totally didn’t. (Again, please do not judge the line. There’s a reason I’m a writer and not an artist. It is not the nice line’s fault.)

This line is MY life.

There is nothing straight about this line. Like, it starts out kind of straight, but then it goes kind of haywire, and then KEEPS going haywire, because it does not know where it is going or what it is doing. It is a very confused line.

And sometimes, when you think it’s going straight (like, see where there are places where it SEEMS it’s going straight?) it decides “HA HA! I WILL GO JIGGEDY-JAGGEDY ON YOU!”

When, Lord?! When the hell do I get to see the goddamn sailboat?!

When, Lord?! When the hell do I get to see the goddamn sailboat?!

“Amy?”

I can hear you, you know, even though you’re using your most polite voice. It’s ok. You don’t have to be polite with me.

“Your line metaphor is very…nice…and SUPER-artistic…but…where are you going with this?”

Yeah, I probably should get to the point. I try to…but you saw that line up there, yeah? It has a mind of its own.

OK. So when your life is a crazy waggly line, there are good things and bad things. Like, you have a lot of experiences and stories and you meet some of the best people (whose lines are usually all over the place, too…us wacky-line people, we tend to flock together. Probably because our lines get all tangled like the last two skeins of yarn in the bottom of the bag and we can’t extricate ourselves…but that’s neither here nor there, really.)

It's easier to just stick together. We get all knotty if we try to split up.

It’s easier to just stick together. We get all knotty if we try to split up.

However, life with a wiggly line is also about making the most IMPRESSIVE mistakes (falling in love with the least-likely human beings who break your heart into a million pieces; losing your job repeatedly; crazy brain-chemistry; not being able to sleep for days; shall I go on?) and not ever knowing what’s coming up. You’ve heard about waiting for the other shoe to drop? Well, you’ve always got a big old workboot hanging over your head. At first, that boot comes as a surprise. You’re all, “what the hell? I JUST GOT BOPPED BY A BOOT! Where did that boot come from?” and you look up at the sky all suspiciously. Then the second boot falls, and you’re all, “another boot? WHAT IS HAPPENING.” But then another boot, and another boot, and you kind of get used to boots. You’re always on the lookout for boots. It’s not the easiest way to live, always having one eye out for gigantic metaphors falling from the sky. But if you know it’s probably coming, you don’t get so out-of-nowhere smacked.

Duck & cover. DUCK AND COVER, I SAID.

Duck & cover. DUCK AND COVER, I SAID.

This past Monday, I went into work. I do that, on Mondays. Most weekdays, actually. I worked. I went to lunch. After lunch, I came back to an email saying I had a meeting. I went to the conference room, and about ten other people trailed in, and we made some confused jokes about why, exactly, we were in this conference room, and there was this weird whistling noise and I was all, “huh, what’s that, I wonder, maybe the air conditioning?” and then the CFO and HR came in and told us all of our jobs had been eliminated and the BIGGEST BOOT EVER smashed me upside the head and I was all “SHIT that’s what that whistling noise was. It was coming from a really, really far distance, this time, is all. Breaking the sound barrier, far.”

Squiggly line! I had been so happy and comfortable with my amazing job with my awesome coworkers that paid ALL THE MONEY that I forgot about the squiggly line and (eep!) THE BOOT HANGING OVER MY HEAD AT ALL TIMES!

(Apparently I am to blame the economy. Any guesses who Dad thinks is to blame for this? Those of you who guessed “the government” win. What do you win? I don’t know. Nothing from me. I can’t afford to get you a prize. I don’t have a job right now, suckas!)

So here I am, yet again, friends and bloggonians, underemployed, waiting to hear from the unemployment people, waiting to hear from the food-stamp people, picking up a few hours as I can at the answering service (thank you again, answering service!), applying to a million billion jobs, networking with everyone I can think of in the hope I can maybe, just maybe, find a job that I actually really love, not just settle for because it puts money in my pocket but also sucks my soul out of my nose.

I'm not this serious yet. I can't guarantee you I won't get there, though.

I’m not this serious yet. I can’t guarantee you I won’t get there, though.

(Side note: I apparently am VERY equipped to sell insurance. I have, unsolicited, gotten four emails and a phone call from three different companies that want me to sell insurance. I assume they saw my resume on one of the job-searching sites. One was from the AFLAC duck, which was humorous, but I still don’t want to sell insurance, even if an anthromoporphic duck thinks it’s my calling. I also got an email from someone telling me I’d make an amazing realtor. I can’t think of anything I’d be worse at than selling homes or insurance. If I was living on commissions, I’d be eating out of dumpsters.)

Flattering, duck. But, no.

Flattering, duck. But, no.

Luckily, the upside of having a line o’squiggliness for a lifeline is that the ups always come. The downs are always right around the corner, but the ups are there, too. Sometimes you have to wait a little longer for them, but they’re there. The boot gets cranked back up to wherever it hangs in wait and things get rosy again, for a time.

And there’s a slight possibility that the boot WON’T fall again. That’s the thing about that boot. You can’t trust that it will or will not fall. You’re just always nervously waiting for it…but that doesn’t mean it’s a definite.

And shh…I’ll tell you a secret:

Even though it drives me insane at times, and even though there are times I mutter angrily “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE NORMAL LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, AMY!?!?”, I’ll take my squiggly line over a straight line any day. My squiggly life has brought me such joy. I just have to wait out the bad patches. And avoid those falling boots.

I wouldn’t know what to do with a normal life, anyway. I think you have to vaccuum and wear polo shirts or something, in a normal life. I’d be very unprepared for such things. I look terrible in polo shirts.

Time for the next leg of the adventure. Don’t fail me now, squiggly line. I have to believe you have some sort of plan.

(You do, right?)

*grin* (I knew it.)

*grin*
(I knew it.)

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An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 33)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

Here we are! End of March. Weather’s pretty much the same as it was in February. This is all very disheartening. I am very much ready for spring. I want mud and growing things and the smell of fresh newness and all this snow to melt so I don’t have to risk my life every time I pull out of a driveway onto a road, dammit. COME ON, EARTH. We’ve suffered through a bothersomely long and cold and snowy winter. Please give us our spring. We deserve it now, please. Pleeeeease.

I am trying very hard to stick to a writing schedule; I have it all written up and hung where I can see it and it tells me what to write when so I can get things out there. Some are for the blog and some are for the OTHER blog and some are for OTHER people’s blogs and some are for submissions for publication, because I’m trying to be fancy this year and stop procrastinating. I mean, I’m not getting any younger. I have a lot of words in me. I’d like more people to see them. I think this might be the time to do that.

Yep. Totally me. Only much less corsety and much more pajama-and-cat-hair-y.

Yep. Totally me. Only much less corsety and much more pajama-and-cat-hair-y.

So, just in case you’re new (and if so, hi hi hi! Welcome to the old Football. Sometimes I write things here. Sometimes I get busy and don’t have time. I’m thinking of you ALL THE TIME, though! Like a friendly stalker!), let me catch you up on this recurring post. I’m obsessed with my stats; I like to check what search terms drive people to my blog; then I feel REALLY BAD this isn’t what they were looking for. So I write them a letter of apology (as you can see, this is the 33th one. That is easily divisible by 11! In case you weren’t aware! That makes it a very good number! If you’re interested, search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? Eh. Who knows. Good times, I guess. Good times and crazy search terms.

I didn’t get many questions this month, but I got a lot of search terms. I thought about splitting this into two posts, but I’m too damn lazy. So this is going to be one hellaciously long post. Hope you’re all up for the challenge.

Here we go, jellybeans. I called friend A. jellybean at work today, and he was all “WHO CALLS SOMEONE JELLYBEAN?” and that made me laugh. A lot. Because I do! I call people jellybean!

I only call the people I really, really love food-related nicknames. It's a thing with me.

I only call the people I really, really love food-related nicknames. It’s a thing with me.

are you brave enough to delete people you dont like from your facebook Am I brave enough? Is this a dare? Is this like how Marty in Back the Future couldn’t not get in a fight if someone challenged him? Well, if it’s a “brave” thing (which I would argue), then, yes, weirdo, I guess I can claim that. But mostly the people I unfriend and/or delete isn’t a dislike thing, it’s more of a “I no longer know/talk to this person” thing, so I start thinking, “do I really want them on my personal Facebook page?” and the answer is 99% of the time no, no I do not, so I unfriend them. I realize this is not what normal people do; I can only assume, per the sheer mass of friends most of you seem to have on Facebook, you never unfriend anyone, and are friends with everyone from your newspaper delivery boy to your 98-year-old Nonna, but I’m very weird about social media. As for deleting people, there are some people I’ve blocked, yes, for various reasons, some of them stalkery, some of them ex-friendy. None of this is really all that fascinating, dear. To answer your question: yep. I’m as brave as that sassy redhead from the Scottish Pixar bear movie. Rawr.

Merida would NEVER fear deleting someone from her Facebook!

Merida would NEVER fear deleting someone from her Facebook!

blogging etiquette for kids I’m curious. Is this about child-bloggers, or is this about “should I post my children’s photos on Facebook?” Are child-bloggers like sweatshop workers, and you force them to blog every night after school and they’re all “I DON’T WANT TO, MOMMY!” and you’re like “you’ll DO it, and you’ll LIKE it” and they cry and cry and you offer them an ice cream sandwich if they finish the damn thing? I’m not enjoying the idea of child bloggers at the moment. If it’s about putting children’s photos on the internet…well, you have to trust your gut on this one, and know that if you do it, there are weirdos that will most likely put your child’s photo on a porn site. The world is full of such nonsense. I am pretty selective about what photos of The Nephew I put on here. Like, I just did the zoo blog, and it needed at least a COUPLE photos of The Nephew, or you’d think I’d made him up and drove to Utica alone, but I made sure he was all bundled up, or behind a lion photo-thingy or something. Probably still pervs will find my blog, though. That’s what pervs are good at. Well, that and searching my blog for things like “literotica dogs and ladees.” STOP THAT.

bubble adult finnish necklace scientific articles worst of There’s a lot going on here, and I’m not 100% sure what it all means. I even did some variations of searches on this, and nothing. Andreas? Any ideas? There’s science here, but also necklaces, and since Andreas’ fiancée makes such gorgeous jewelry, maybe they can put their heads together and figure out what’s happening here, even though technically the two of them are Swedish, not Finnish, despite currently living in the land of the Finns. This is becoming very tangled so please enjoy this photo of a bubbly jeweled thong thing I found on the intertubes.

Yeah. This isn't at all ouchy-looking.

Yeah. This isn’t at all ouchy-looking.

coloring pages of eyes nose mouth of tim tebow Why would you WANT this? Only his eyes, nose, and mouth? I don’t…does anyone even talk about Tim Tebow anymore? Remember he was such a big deal? What happened to him? Is he no longer praying and causing everyone to have aneurisms over the separation of church and sportsball? HOLY CRAP IT’S A THING. It’s really a thing. WHAT IS HAPPENING. Who wants this? Kids? Adults? Women with crushes? Pastors? I am so confused, you guys. The internet never fails to amaze me. Sincerely.

This scares me. Kind of a lot.

This scares me. Kind of a lot.

facebook funny coworkers blocking you HA HA HA! That IS funny, your coworkers blocking you! Oh, wait, I think that means they hate you. I think that means you fail interpersonal relations. Not sending you a friend request is one thing…blocking you, that’s pretty serious. Dude, did someone tell you this is funny? They were lying.

i am not mad i just need sex Can I tell you a story? One of the things I hate most in the world is when you’re in a terrible mood, and someone (male, female, it doesn’t matter, both do such things) say something like “ugh, SOMEONE needs to get laid.” I usually say in response to that, “SOMEONE needs to get laid out” and then I make a move like I’m going to punch them in the neck, and also I say something totally inappropriate like “are you implying I don’t know how to masturbate?” because I have learned that there’s very little that shuts people up quicker than talking about female masturbation. Why is it that male masturbation is not only understood as something that happens and is normal and also a joke on all the sitcoms, but female masturbation NEVER gets talked about, and it makes people all freaked out as if it’s like sacrificing a virgin to a volcano? That probably has nothing to do with this search term, but why not take the opportunity to rant a bit, you know?

Why does this look like a child wrote it? *shudder*

Why does this look like a child wrote it? *shudder*

i hate it when people think your stupid quote images Oh. Sigh. Do we need to have this talk again? You’re = you are, your = possessive for something that belongs to you. “I hate it when people think YOU’RE stupid.” Not “your stupid.” I mean, go on and own your stupidITY, darlin’, that’s ok, but not in this format in this sentence. OK? And if you find an image with it spelled this way, don’t use it, because then people WILL think you’re stupid.

A whole SHIRT that's a grammatical nightmare. I kind of ironically want this.

A whole SHIRT that’s a grammatical nightmare. I kind of ironically want this.

i looked silver fillings brother’s mouth HOLY CRAP NO! NOT SILVER FILLINGS! (What does this mean? Anyone know?) My brother has no fillings. My brother and I have excellent oral hygiene due to fluoride pills as children. *curtseys*

i love you then i hate you. i wanna throw you from a cliff then I thought maybe this was a song (I’m not ruling that out – it might be, still, I just don’t know which one, if so.) But if it’s NOT a song…man, don’t be throwing people off cliffs. Did you read about that woman who got married, then right after took her husband up to the mountains and pushed him off a cliff? It’s all very salacious and who knows what happened there. I’m sure it’ll be on 20/20 soon enough. Or one of those Nightline: MURDER! shows and they’ll call it “The Newlywed Killer” or something. I get it: the people we love sometimes are extremely frustrating. But clench your fists or yell into a pillow or get therapy or something. Don’t murder them. Because then the next day, when you’re over it, they’ll still be dead, and you’ll be someone’s bitch in a prison cell. Do you want that? I don’t think you do.

i was the class clown but now i’m not that funny Yeah, that happens. Sometimes when you get older, you no longer have that forum in which to crack everyone up. I mean, you’re not in a classroom setting anymore, and you’re no longer all hormones and awkwardness, and you don’t NEED to be funny to survive…so your need to make loud fart noises when the teacher sits, or say things like “Jenny Jacobs is a tampon!” really loudly leaves you. It’s ok. Watch old standup videos and think about your long-lost glory. Take out the yearbook where you got voted Class Clown and cry a little on the signatures. Tell sad jokes into your shaving mirror and go off to your soul-crushing job as a stockbroker and think, “WHY ME? WHY LORD WHY ME?” You’re welcome, Crackup McGurk. Best of luck. Here’s a banana peel, go fall down and see if anyone laughs. (Bee tee dubs? Those of us the class clown were mocking back then are adults who are making people laugh on the regular now. Just an FYI. Hope you’re happy thinking about all those people you’re not making laugh now.)

Aw, the tears of the class clown. *sniff*

Aw, the tears of the class clown. *sniff*

if u r bad then say me ur dad What does this mean? It’s like a little textspeak rhyme. Let’s translate it into normal human English. “If you’re bad, then say I’m your father.” Is this an alternate way to say “Who’s your daddy?” or even “Who’s been a bad girl?” I’m completely befuddled. I refuse to use textspeak. It bothers me so much. I get it’s faster if you’re texting all fast, but it’s not that much faster. And why are we in such a race? I text everything the same way as I would write. It makes people laugh. They comment on it all the time. “You text and write the SAME!” Yes. I’m very old. It’s what I do.

im doing my paralelle parking on my 7th hour of driving . . . is this a good thing ? I don’t know because I’m confused by your question. You’ve only been driving for 7 hours and you’re learning parallel parking? I guess that’s good. I’ve been driving for 22 years and I’m still terrible at parallel parking. I’ll walk an extra ten minutes rather than parallel park. So if you can master it, you go, brave driver, you go. And don’t you let anyone tell you that you don’t need to know how to do it. You do. MASTER THAT SKILL. It’s one you’ll need as an adult, no matter what anyone tells you, and sometimes there’s no choice but parallel parking, and if you can’t do it, you’ll turn around and go home in tears. I mean. So they tell me.

i’m in my 20′s perhaps This, to me, seems to be something one should know. Are you in your 20s? Or are you NOT in your 20s? “Perhaps” is not the right answer to this question. Unless you were raised by wolves and don’t know your true date of birth. If that’s the case, awesome, can I meet your wolf-mom? I think wolves are neat.

it’s so hard not talking to you Ooh. Ouch. Yeah, I’ve had those people. Sorry, lost searcher. It gets better, one way or another. Either you and your person will find your way back to one another (it really does happen), or time will heal all wounds (or, if not heal them, at least make them easier to live with…time and distance do that) and you’ll breathe a little easier each day until one day you won’t realize until about halfway through the day that you haven’t thought about that person all day. Then you’ll get a little weepy, because it seems like you lost them all over again. It takes time, hon. I’m sorry. It’s one of the hardest parts of this whole human-gig we have going on here, and I’ve been there. Sending you much love. You will get through it. I promise.

lemurs happy birthday OMG! Is it the birthday of ALL THE LEMURS? Every last one? Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have thrown SUCH A PARTY! Happiest of birthdays, lemurs! I hope you have the best year and are not eaten by the hyenas!

THE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY LEMUR! He looks a little drunk, to be honest. Did someone serve this lemur too many free drinks on his birthday? Come on, people. Fess up.

THE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY LEMUR! He looks a little drunk, to be honest. Did someone serve this lemur too many free drinks on his birthday? Come on, people. Fess up.

lucy is a person very especial Oh, sí. Muy especial. Especial en la cabeza. Muchas gracias, mi amigo.

maddest musicals ever Now, what are we talking, here. Mad-angry or mad-insane? I’m going to nominate Sweeney Todd for a little of both, for sure. The people in Les Misérables are pretty pissed. Cats is batshit insane. The cats talk and leap all through the audience and scare children, I mean, come on. The titular character in Phantom of the Opera is a lunatic. The characters in Assassins are both angry AND crazy. I could go on, but I feel I’d be boring someone. Or a lot of someones. But if you need a really specific list, I’m your lady. Let me know what you’re looking for, sweet potato.

people who.find friendship waste of time is not friendship Well, isn’t this a nice little adage. People who find that friendship is a waste of time are not your friends, I would assume would be the grammatically correct version of this? Well, good grief, why are you even hanging out with such people? What kind of person says, “I find this whole friendship gig a waste of my precious TIME” to you and yet you continue to hang with them? That’s really more on you than on them. Hit the road, Jack, if that’s happening. I’ve totally been culpable of not keeping in as good of touch with my friends as I should, especially when busy or when my head’s in a bad place (sorry, friends, I love you!) but I don’t know that I’ve ever said, “friendship, man. What a waste of ma TAHME.” If I ever say that, please take me outside of the barn, tell me to think of the rabbits, and put me down, George.

sexscarf I don’t have much to say here, other than this is a most excellent word, and would make a great band name or book title. Someone make it so. SEXSCARF! (You know you can just use regular scarves, right? Right.)

I Googled sexscarf and this came up. Does this look like a sexscarf to you guys?

I Googled sexscarf and this came up. Does this look like a sexscarf to you guys?

short romance stories for middle school Ooh, I love a challenge. “Today was the day! Morton would tell Penelope he loved her. But just as he approached her, he tripped over his too-low-hanging pants, and when she turned to see what the clatter was, her hair got caught in her braces. Better luck next time, Morton!” How’d I do? Pretty romantic, no?

the stupid smile when a person sends a message Yes. This. Sometimes this. That’s all I have to say about that. Thank you.

unipegaso animal OMG UNIPEGOSO. This is totally a Spanish unicorn-pegasus HYBRID. It would say things like “muy peligroso!” and it would also fly you off into the sunset most impressively. Can I have a unipegoso? (SIDE NOTE: there were Mexican wolves at the zoo last weekend and they wouldn’t howl back at The Nephew so I said, “maybe they don’t understand you, I’ll try it” and I said, “Ay yi yi! Muy caliente!” and THEN howled and the wolves STILL didn’t howl back. But The Nephew looked at me like I was insane and said, “Aunt Amy, those wolves don’t talk HUMAN. They speak WOLF.” And then I had a coughing fit that was also giggles.)

A BEAUTIFUL UNIPEGOSO!

A BEAUTIFUL UNIPEGOSO!

volue bases question- if you get a chance to become invisible then what will you do anything else? I have to say I don’t know what “volue bases” means and also I’m confused by this question. What will I do anything else. Like, anything else EVER? Well, yes, I would imagine I would continue to exist, wouldn’t I? Only I would become invisible, like at parties and also maybe if I saw someone I didn’t want to socially interact with. And if I had a wedgie in public. I would not use this power to spy on people. If you spy on people you just find out things you wish you didn’t know, like the fact that your friend is sleeping with the guy from work you’ve had a crush on for two years and hiding it from you because she secretly hates you. I mean, I hear you can find those things out. If you were to spy.

what does it mean if boyfriend rated most like ingo montoya OMG. Are you freaking out over one of those Buzzfeed quizzes? You seriously are, aren’t you? Yesterday it told me that the Breakfast Club character I was most like was John Bender, and I totally rejoiced. Although it’s wrong. I would sadly be most like Brian, the geek who blew up his locker. Also, it’s “Inigo” Montoya. Anyway. It means nothing, is what it means. It means your boyfriend answered enough questions that sorted him into the most-like-this-person category, per whoever made the quiz. Those quizzes are always wrong, by the way, and one of my friends online pointed out they’re a really good way for whoever’s sponsoring Buzzfeed to get marketing statistics out of you and you aren’t even aware they’re doing it. So I wouldn’t worry; your boyfriend probably isn’t prone to swordfights, piracy, or revenge plots. Probably. But if he starts rhyming, look out.

Even Inigo knows Buzzfeed is bullshit.

Even Inigo knows Buzzfeed is bullshit.

what is gasolining I’m really not sure. I was so worried it was going to be a sex thing, but it’s not even a thing-thing. I guess maybe it’s setting someone on fire with gasoline, but it could also be fueling something with gasoline. You could be on the cutting edge with this, searcher! Use it until it’s everywhere! It’s your day! Hoorah hooray!

when pan plays people listen radio I thought this is a Pandora marketing slogan – When Pandora plays, people listen – but apparently I made that up in my head. Nope. This is about Pan. The little goat-footed trickster. When he plays, man, people LISTEN. And also get into SHENANIGANS!

LISTEN, PEOPLE! It's Pan, dammit!

LISTEN, PEOPLE! It’s Pan, dammit!

why you always hating bitch you need a hug *sniff* It’s like you really know me. Come here, you big galoot. Gimme a squish.

wildpark poing plan WILDPARK POING! Listen. I have not yet given up my plan of seeing Wildpark Poing someday. I don’t believe in bucket lists, but if I did, I would totally have this on there. In like all-caps and with stars around it. SOMEDAY I WILL SEE WILDPARK POING! And you can all come, too. I’ll let you. Only, virtually, of course. We wouldn’t want to scare the animals.

I'm coming for you, Poing! I have not forgotten about you!

I’m coming for you, Poing! I have not forgotten about you!

ww.i.knowe.this.person.a.spell.to.let.him.know.i.love.him.com Is this a site? About magic and/or love? Don’t cast love spells. If they work, that person never loved you, and you are just seeing an illusion. How will you ever know if they would have loved you on their own? If they don’t work, you’ll feel stupid. Also, don’t you know the “and it harm none” warning? Controlling someone else’s thoughts, emotions and feelings is harming them. No love spells, darlin’. Find someone else and love them, ok? Oh, wait. A spell to LET him know you love him? I know a way to let him know you love him WITHOUT a spell. TELL HIM. Here, I’ll script it for you: “Hi, (name of person I love.) I know we (are just friends/don’t know each other at all/are Montagues and Capulets/are related by blood.) I just wanted to say I love you. No, no. Not friend-love. Love, love. I want to kiss your face and also let’s take all of our clothes off and just kind of revel in the nudity for a while until we do the naked be-bop. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, having you make me happy, and building this amazing world with the two of us together. What do you say?” If they say no, DO NOT GO HOME AND CAST SPELLS. What did I tell you about spells? But if they say yes…well, I’d expect your first kiddo to be named Lucy, of course. YOU ARE WELCOME! (They’ll never know you love them unless you tell them. TELL THEM. Is it the scariest thing ever? Sure it is. Just bite that bullet and do it, ok? What have you got to lose? What have you got to gain?)

Whoo-hoo, we made it through March! April’s chock-full-of-goodness…and then comes May! With trips to Europe! And the hugging of people I love! WHO LIVE FAR AWAY!

Until next month, my poor lost lambikins. May Google be kind in your searches.

Love, Me.

(As always, thank you to Mer for the inspiration for these posts!)


Why zoos aren’t usually open in the winter in the northeast

Last month, The Nephew, his mom and I went to the science museum in Schenectady to see butterflies and a planetarium show and also play with huge Lego blocks and train sets. It was very much enjoyed by all parties and the minute it was done, The Nephew’s mom and I started talking about our next adventure, but weren’t sure what it would be.

She sent me a message on Facebook not long after I’d gotten home saying that The Nephew had already planned our next adventure.

Your nephew wants our next adventure to be at the zoo! I told him it’s too cold for a zoo in the winter so we can go in the spring or summer. He said with his infinite wisdom “Mom, the animals don’t just disappear in the winter. Take me to wherever they put the zoo animals when it’s cold. Maybe Aunt Amy will know.” Impossible to argue with that!

Well, I have to agree. How can you argue with that? So I began to research local zoos.

At first, I thought of the Binghamton Zoo, which used to be open year-round when I was a student. I know this because friend R. and I used to go there, and once went the day after an ice storm and were the only ones in the zoo and it was just the best. The animals were all frolicking just for us, and I got a puma to come out of its home by saying “rrawr?” and it said, “RAWR” and came out and we had a happy talk through the wire. He seemed very engaged. He was probably lonely. Or wanted to eat my face. Debatable, I suppose.

But the Binghamton Zoo is no longer open year-round, and a lot of other zoos nearby are also closed for the winter, so I started to despair until I found…

THE UTICA ZOO!

Open year-round and a mere 90 minutes away. We would see our animals in the wintertime after all! AUNT AMY WINS!

So we packed ourselves into the car, and an hour and a half later, we arrived at…

The Utica Zoo!

Driving through Utica makes me sad. It was a grand town, once, and now it’s kind of falling apart, and the buildings have a lot of broken windows and are filled with lost grandeur. You can see how beautiful it must have been, once, though. The buildings are beautiful and stately in that old-fashioned way, and look like they’re waiting for the next act…but the next act isn’t coming, I don’t think. I think the show’s been cancelled. And things like that hurt me. I love history. I don’t like when things are thrown away like that.

On the drive there, mostly The Nephew played Angry Birds and said, “Aunt Amy! Play this level, it’s easy!” but they were never easy, and then he would sigh like I exhausted him and he would say, “Oh, just give it to ME” and then he’d solve it in a second. (I’m terrible at Angry Birds. Those pigs are WAY wily.) He also is fascinated with family relationships. “Aunt Amy, who is your mom?” he’ll ask me, and I’ll say, “Your grammy is my mom!” and he’ll laugh and say, “Oh!” and then he’ll say “Aunt Amy, who is your dad?” and I’ll say “My dad is your grampy!” and he’ll laugh and say “Oh!” and then finally he’ll say “Aunt Amy, did you know my daddy’s mom and dad are my grammy and grampy?” and I’ll say, “Yes, did you know your dad is my brother?” and he’ll say “OH!” and this always cracks him up and he laughs. To REALLY make him laugh, I call his dad my LITTLE brother. “No! He is a grown-up MAN!” he’ll say, then giggle and giggle. I enjoy that kids don’t understand that once, the GROWN-UPS were ALSO kids. This makes me smile, to think that in a child’s mind, we’ve always been this age.

So there were a few signs when you first entered the zoo saying “paths may be icy.” We were all, “pooh pooh! How icy can they be?”

The answer is…glare-icy.

Apparently, in order to stay open all winter, they had to cut back on grounds maintenance. None of the pathways had been cleared at all. There was ice and snow and SO MUCH ICE ZOMG, and of course The Nephew tramped along it merrily (and fell once, but picked himself right back up like he’s made of rubber and kept-on a’runnin’.) At one point, the path just STOPPED, and we had to tromp through the snow, and The Nephew was all “well, now we are lost in the WOODS!” and he was sort of right. But then the path started again, sort of. It got so bad I purposely walked through the snow instead of on the path because the path was slipperytown. Bad news, Utica Zoo! I realize salt wasn’t probably a good idea with all those animals. But sand? Maybe? Or don’t be open? Because you are COURTING DEATH with those paths, you guys.

Other than the DEATH-ICE, and how cold it was (we all had windburned faces and chilly legs and hands when we were done) and the fact that about half of the animals were gone (I don’t know where…I guess wherever animals go when it’s cold? Vacation? Florida, like retirees? Just inside in the groundskeeper’s buildings? Anyone know?) it was kind of an awesome zoo. You know how much I love zoos. It would take a lot more than a little ice to put me in a terrible mood.

What’s that?

You want to see photos of our day at the zoo?

Ha, it’s like you don’t even know me. I took a MILLION photos of the zoo. The whole time, I told The Nephew’s mom, “This is for a MOST IMPRESSIVE BLOG I will be writing about this adventure!” and she said, “Of course you will!” She totally knows about the bloggery. Most of my people do. It doesn’t even shock them anymore.

Let’s go to the zoo!

First we had to go to the bathrooms, and outside the bathrooms, randomly, was this loose peacock. The Nephew was all “LOOK AT THAT!” and wanted to I think either pet or ride the peacock, but the peacock was having none of that and booked it away from us. (Isn’t it pretty? I’ve never seen one up close!)

Here’s The Nephew chasing it as it walked away. He really wanted a pet peacock.

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It was all, “listen, dude, I am JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU” and The Nephew was all, “No, seriously, come back, I will play “In Your Eyes” to you on a boom box! YOU COMPLETE ME!”

Then we saw some goats. I know some people who like goats. I took a lot of photos of these fellas.

This one looked like a genetic abnormality. Therefore he was my favorite.

There were none of those little feeding stations at this zoo. I hear rumors that they all had to be removed because hooligans were breaking into the zoo to steal the money in them. This goat didn’t get the memo. He wanted me to feed him. I had no food. Only Tic Tacs. I don’t think the goat wanted Tic Tacs.

This goat looks like he knows a secret. Do you think it’s the secret of why they didn’t put any sand on the paths so we almost died like a hundred times?

This goat was chewing on a log. I don’t know why, either. But it made me laugh. He was SO FOCUSED on this. He didn’t even look up. Look at his funny pupils! This is why I love goats. They have curious eyes.

I think this is the genetic abnormality goat again. I was a fan of his.

ZOMG GOAT! Stop with the log, already, people are going to think you have a complex!

Next was a thing I loved, and I think I need to get it on a teeshirt.

I BITE! And there was NOTHING IN THE CAGE! So it was totally scary for no reason. I like that it’s in ALL-CAPS.

But then the bitey thing came out. What do you think it was? A cougar? A wolverine?

Nope.

This stork-thing. I would think he pecks and pinches more than bites. Just to be safe, though, in case his beak was hiding sharp teeth, we didn’t poke him.

This is his wanted poster. I BITE, DAMMIT!

Yes, I know. That’s a lot of snow. We’re really mired in this neverending winter up here.

Thought you’d like to see some adorableness. Here’s The Nephew taking a photo-op in front of the children’s zoo. He has many layers on. We were chilly, yo.

Yeah, I know. Worst photo ever. See, my nice camera totally died almost immediately and I had to use my phone for the rest of the day. This is a zebra. He was really far away and to get to him, you had to cross TREACHEROUS ICE. So I decided to zoom in as far in as I could and call it a day. HI, ZEBRA! (He totally finds me fascinating. Look at him checking me out.)

This is a camel I decided to call Spicoli. He seems to be stoned, and really laid-back. I think he would call you “dude” a lot and laugh inappropriately. Look, he totally has hay in his hair and he doesn’t even CARE. And he looks like he’s grinning at NOTHING. (Also, apparently in the winter, this kind of camel grows a lot of dreadlocks, and their humps droop randomly to one side or another. Just makes them look more like stoner-camels to me.)

This was some sort of peacock with a huge lacy tail. There was no sign on this exhibit so I can’t even tell you what kind. I liked how fancy it was. This peacock would ALWAYS get invited to the dance.

MERKA!

The Nephew didn’t see this eagle at first, then when he did, he was kind of tired, and said “That doesn’t even LOOK like an eagle” and I said, “No? What does it look like?” and he sighed and said, “A big bird with a yellow beak.” But later when we asked him what his favorite animal was, he said the eagle.

Oh, pretend there’s a photo of a sea lion here. They wouldn’t stay out of the water long enough for us to photograph them, but they were very cool. One popped up long enough to kind of clap his flippers at us, then disappeared again. I do so like sea lions.

Why does every zoo have Cotton-Topped Tamarins? These things freak me out, man. Where’s that stoner camel. He’d calm me down. I think he has something that’ll help me out with that.

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Snakes! This one’s pretty. I think it was a corn snake.

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I don’t remember what kind of snake this is, but the photo turned out well. Sometimes that happens.

These were gigantic pythons, and they would most definitely eat you and digest you. I even like snakes but I’m glad they were safely behind glass.

The website said there would be so many turtles and tortoises, and there was only this one. This is for Heather. She is my tortoise-friend and she said I would love this guy the most of all the turtles and tortoises. She was right, considering he was the only one. Sadly, this is not a very good photo. Good grief, why is it so RED? Sorry, Heather.

It is very hard to see, but up in the upper left-hand corner of this one is a beautiful owl. I love owls. I went “hoo! Hoo!” to him but he was all “I’m napping, lady, sheesh.”

This is not a helper mule, as much as I’d like it to be. This was just a donkey. He was pretty cute, though.

This was a HUGE Flemish rabbit. The sign says they can grow to 28 pounds. I was all “The Nephew! Come see this huge rabbit!” and he came over and said, “Aunt AMY, that rabbit isn’t that huge. He’s just really fat. I think he eats too much food” and that made me and The Nephew’s Mom giggle.

Look at this guy. He’s GORGEOUS. I sincerely want an owl. On the way home, we saw two hawks, too. It was a raptor-bird kind of day.

Look! He looked at us! He wanted to be our friend!

It’s hard to tell, because he’s very blending-into-the-landscapey, but this is a beautiful lynx. He watched us the whole time but not in a scary way. In a “bring me home!” way. The Nephew said I could bring him home, and he PROBABLY wouldn’t eat Dumbcat. I like them odds.

I saved the best for last. What do you think is best?

What’s that? You can’t see them very well? I CAN FIX THAT!

LIONS!

At first, The Nephew said, “I don’t think I want to see lions…” in a scared little voice, but then he realized they wouldn’t eat us and he was cool with the lions. This one was pacing the whole time we were standing by it. He wanted to eat our whole faces. I loved him.

I’m going to be obnoxious and show you a lot of photos of this lion. He was my best fella.

Isn’t he so PRETTY? I do love big cats.

And you know what you have to do when you’re around the lions.

You HAVE to make a lion face! (Those lions don’t even care.)

Then we discovered one of my favorite things at zoos…

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One of these “you are an animal” face-thingies! First The Nephew was a lion. You can also see Aunt Amy behind him holding him up so he didn’t fall on the little teeny-tiny piece of wood he was standing on in order to be a lion. I especially like the paws on this thing. Very realistic.

I am a scary lion! This is totally my Facebook cover photo right now, yo. This is like the best thing ever. RAWR I AM A SCARY LION (who is also holding a Utica Zoo sign, for some reason!)

Then we were cold and tired, so we hoofed it to the gift shop and The Nephew decided he wanted a scary lion thing that bit things and grabbed things but we convinced him that really he wanted a spelunker’s hat with a VERY cool flashlight built in (when I told him the word “spelunker” he repeated it and giggled – this kid LOVES learning, it is so good for my heart) and I got a NEW FRIEND!

His name is Trent. He is a very brave tortoise, and not at all afraid of Dumbcat. (Right after this photo was taken, Dumbcat randomly started purring and headbutted poor Trent right onto the floor. Oh, Dumbcat. That’s no way to treat your new housemate!) Don’t even mock my warm flannel PJs, yo. It’s going to be NINE DEGREES tonight. Where is my spring?!?!)

Then we all went to a diner and The Nephew had pancakes and french fries (which was an awesome combination, I thought) and I helped him clean up some spilled milk and I told him I was helping him because I loved him all the way to the moon and back, and he said “I love you TWO TIMES that!” and I kissed him on his little head because that made me have tears. Oh, do I love that child.

Then it was time to go home, and tonight I am ouchy from walking and ouchy from windburny but we had a lovely day. But I would recommend that you probably don’t go to a zoo in the winter that DOESN’T upkeep their paths, though. Total liability. Otherwise? Good times had at the zoo by all. Including the animals. They were probably so sad to see us go. We’re excellent zoo visitors. No one was as happy as we were. We won zooing!


The doing of all the things

Yo, people, s’up. I have been doing a million billion things, and have been attempting to put together a coherent post, but my brain’s not cooperating. So instead, I’ll give you a recap of what’s up around the old Lucy’s Football homestead, which might be interesting to…I don’t know, no one? Maybe no one. But it’s about all I can do, sadly; larger topics and/or themes seem beyond me at the moment.

I went on a my first internetty date. I am not going to go into detail, because that seems rude. Let’s just say that we weren’t a match, and that seeing one another will not be repeated. But, in more cheerful news: I now know I am capable of going on a date, like a normal human being, and carry on what is mostly a normal human conversation, and eat food without spilling it all over my top. All of this without dying of an anxiety attack. So, although it was far from a win romantically, it was a win personally. Will I be attempting this again? Um. Let’s just say that’s up in the air for the moment? There might be more craziness out there in the world than I’m prepared to take on at this particular moment. Or ever, actually. But we’ll see.

Do not like. Do. Not. Like.

Do not like. Do. Not. Like.

I saw the Book of Mormon. It was one of the best musicals I’ve ever experienced, and I can’t stop singing the music at inopportune times. Which is…well, most of the times, because if you know the songs, you know they’re kind of vulgar, in the most cheery way. It was an amazing musical, and had a great story, and the production was flawless (but of course it was, it was one of the touring companies coming through town, they don’t do shoddy work, and if I told you how much I paid for my ticket, you’d probably choke on whatever foodstuffs you’re currently consuming) and it made me smile so much my teeth dried out at one point. There was a rude asshat in front of me who insulted the nice retired teacher sitting next to him, and I wanted to punch him in the smug American-Psycho-lookalike face, but other than that, just a perfect evening. The show’s worth all the hype, but if you don’t like cussing, don’t go (or you’ll end up like the people at intermission I heard talking in the hallway, all “This is so VULGAR! Did you know it would be so VULGAR? It’s just so VULGAR!” Yes. Yes, it is. The South Park guys wrote it. Did you think it would be about rainbow kittens? Come on now.)

Here, this will make you happy. “I Believe” from the 2012 Tony Awards. (Don’t worry. This isn’t one of the naughty songs. Totally safe for both work and more easily-embarrassed ears.)

I got to see meet Christopher Durang. If you don’t know who this is, you’re probably 99% of the population, so don’t be upset. Christopher Durang is a playwright who was very popular in the late 80s/early 90s (although he is experiencing a resurgence and won the Tony for Best New Play this year) and I was in two of his shows in college (and did a scene from a third in acting class.) He’s absurd, and sarcastic, and hilarious, and intelligent, and remains one of my favorite playwrights to this day. He came to one of our local colleges to give a talk, and I got to see him talk, and then he did a book signing afterward – and I didn’t even freak out. Well, inside. Inside I was freaking out. But I was calm and charming outside, and that is a TOTAL win. That’s the first time I didn’t freak out and make one of my idols think I wanted to wear their skin as a suit. I’ll blog more about it on the book blog one of these days.

He totally looked just like a normal, ordinary guy. I like that when you meet a hero in real life they can masquerade as a typical human.

I went to a science museum with The Nephew. We saw a planetarium, where the presenter was asking questions none of the kids could answer, so she opened it up to the adults, and all the adults were afraid to answer, so I totally answered, because I like being a smartypants and I have no shame (and The Nephew was SO IMPRESSED with me – “you knew that!” he said. Yep, kiddo, I totally did. I am a nerd. We know all the things) and we saw many exhibits about how light and sound and waves and energy work, and a butterfly house (but The Nephew was not impressed because the butterflies weren’t landing on him, so he was like, “I’m done with this now!” and ran out) and gigantic Lego pieces so you could build a life-size house, and many train sets to play with, and one of those machines that makes your hair stand up if you touch it but it didn’t work on me because my hair was already a mess but it did make me all static electric so I was shocking people if I touched them. We had a day of adventure.

Me & my best little guy being beautiful butterflies. He LOVED this thing. Something about putting his face in a butterfly face entertained the heck out of him. He's a blogger's dream.

Me & my best little guy being beautiful butterflies. He LOVED this thing. Something about putting his face in a butterfly face entertained the heck out of him. He’s a blogger’s dream.

I am living through a winter apocalypse. This is the strangest winter ever. GIGANTIC SNOWFALLS! ICE STORMS! POLAR VORTEXES! (Vortices? I don’t ever remember the correct plural of that, and I’m too tired to hit the Googles at the moment.) Yesterday it was 45 degrees here. today it’s 20. It’s enough to give one whiplash. I’m so ready for spring. (And in funny news, I’m hearing from some of my friends who live in places that usually get a lot of snow that they DIDN’T get snow this year. I think we got all their snow. Awesome. Of course we did. Dumb snow. Dumb ice. I couldn’t even get in my car to go to work Thursday. It was iced shut. Took until about noon or one to even thaw enough to get in. SO ANNOYING.)

OK, it wasn't this bad...

OK, it wasn’t this bad…

For the first time in, eek, I don’t even know…almost ten years?…I submitted a piece for publication, and am working on others. I’m attempting to do some writing this year. If it works out, awesome. If not, I’ve written some things I’m proud of. I forgot how much fun it is to write things for potential publication. Fun and scary, all at once, actually. I’ve decided 2014 will be the year for trying things that are a little scary. So far, so good.

Dumbcat has been up to shenanigans – his latest thing is that he jumps on the bed at random hours like 2:21 am and 4:32 am and says “MEOW! MOM MOM MEOW!” and I say “oh, no no, Dumbcat, it is not time for this at all, Mom’s sleeping” and he said “meooooow” and I say “no no no” and he kind of sad-meows like “meoooooooow Mom you are the worst meoooooow” and then goes away for a little while and then comes back a couple hours later and we do it all over again. I’m not quite sure what this is all about. I think he just needs some attention, but it’s not so much fun when a person is attempting to sleep. Also, the other night my throw-rug in the living room was all rucked up and I went to straighten it and there was a dead mole under it. A dead mole! OK, a., how’d that mole get in my home? And b., why’d Dumbcat kill a mole and then hide it like a serial-killer trophy under a rug? (Also, moles are really kind of cool. They have velvety fur and you can’t see their eyes and they have little chubby paws and short tails. No, I didn’t touch it, but I had to pick it up with a paper towel to send it to its final resting place over the porch railing into the snow and so I took the chance to look at it, because how often does one get a chance to look at a mole?) So I’m somewhat impressed with his murdering prowess but also kind of sad about this poor little soft-looking mole who somehow got lost on his way to finding, I don’t know, grubs to eat, or whatever.

Clearly is wasn't THIS mole. This is a cheerful mole; my mole was a DEAD mole.

Clearly is wasn’t THIS mole. This is a cheerful mole; my mole was a DEAD mole.

I’m going to the zoo! After the science museum, The Nephew told his mom, “I want to go to a zoo with Aunt Amy next” and she said, “maybe in the spring, the zoos are closed now” and he said, “no, the animals aren’t gone for the winter. Call Aunt Amy. She can find us a zoo. I know she can” and you know, that kind of blind faith in me, that’s amazing stuff. So did I find a zoo? Bet your bottom dollar I did. We’re heading out of town to visit one next Sunday. There will be lions, and owls, and zebras, and sea lions, and ZOMG A HEDGEHOG!, and many tortoises, and SUGAR GLIDERS!, and teeny pygmy goats, and lemurs! The Nephew has never been to a zoo. So that means I got to take him to his first play AND get to take him to his first zoo. I’m pretty jazzed about this. Don’t worry, I’ve promised there will be many photos of us making animal-faces, and if I promise it, I’ll deliver. You know how much I love zoos and animal-faces.

Oh, I hope it's this one! This is a FANCY hedger! Look at her bling!

Oh, I hope it’s this one! This is a FANCY hedger! Look at her bling!

There have also been other things, like dinners with friends, and all the working, and various projects I’ve been working on, and this, that and other things. Busy, busy me. But it’s good-busy, for the most part, you know? Just busy. Happy-busy. And with all this busy-ness, the winter’s flying by…which means spring’s almost here, and you know what spring means. TRIP TO EUROPE! I’m only 69 days away from my trip now (from the time of me writing this, I mean.) That’s like nothing. Just a little over two months from now! I AM ALMOST THERE!

HERE I COME, MAGICAL FINNISH ISLANDS!!!

HERE I COME, MAGICAL FINNISH ISLANDS!!!

Happy week, you guys. Hope you’re all in the midst of grand adventures. The best kind of adventures at all. Hope to be back soon.


An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 32)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

Howdy, people! It is now officially almost the end of February. Really all this means to me is that I’m one month closer to going to Finland, and one month closer to seeing Andreas‘ smiling face in PERSON, you guys! (Well, again, as I’ve already seen it…and I see it every couple of weeks when we chat on the Google…but this will be better because it will be in the LAND OF FINNS!) Really I’m just tolerating this winter to make it through to the spring. Because the spring will be AWESOME.

Aw, these interspecies friends are ALSO waiting for spring!

Aw, these interspecies friends are ALSO waiting for spring!

Things have been cuckoo-bananas-crazy around these here parts, with many things going on and much, much busyness. But all is well, just a little hectic. Expect at least ONE post about ONE of the things going on sometime soon, because I have many photos that will make you glow and awww and squee. Once I get a few minutes to write about it, that is. Right now, I’m sneaking this in while I’m watching television and keep getting distracted by the pretty moving pictures.

So, just in case you’re new (and if so, hello, new friend! Sorry I don’t blog enough. I used to blog more. Maybe I will someday again), let me catch you up on this recurring post. I’m obsessed with my stats; I like to check what search terms drive people to my blog; then I feel REALLY BAD this isn’t what they were looking for. So I write them a letter of apology (as you can see, this is the 32th one. That’s kind of impressive, if you think about it. If you’re interested, search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? I think I feel like I have to, at this point. Like, maybe if I stopped, the earth would just stop SPINNING.

I got a lot of search terms this month, but they were mostly all variations on pervy things and Facebook questions (and someone was stalking my blog by typing in “Lucy’s Football cats” and “Lucy’s Football sex” and “Lucy’s Football Finland” and that’s nice, but who are you and what do you want with me? So after narrowing things down, we’re left with not many search terms or questions this month. I’m cool with that. I’ve got the attention span of a gnat right now, yo.

OK. Are you wondering what search terms brought people to the old Football this month? Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be? We’re just going to list them all out one by one this month, since there aren’t many of them. Switch things up a little. See how we like that. I don’t usually dig change, but I’m willing to try anything once.

“but fuck finland” Well! That seems rude. What a rude thing to say! I love Finland. One of my favorite humans of all the humans lives in the Finland. Also, Finland has awesome things like delicious chocolates, and reindeer, and the midnight sun, and raccoon dogs, and hedgehogs. Finland is filled with awesomeness. Don’t use naughty words about the land of Finns, yo.

a poem that will make mom not whoop daughter Oh, I think maybe you’re putting too much weight on a poem. If your mom is about to “whoop” you, no poem’s going to make her stop, kiddo. What, she’s going to read “The Road Not Taken” or “A Dream Deferred” and be all, “I shall not hit my child today?” Poetry does a lot of things, but I don’t know that it’ll stop a whoopin’, darlin’. Sorry to tell you.

accidentally posted blowjob video tumblr I can’t even imagine how this accident occurred. Sincerely. I’m so befuddled. Did you think you were uploading a video of a kitten, or something, and WHOOPS THAT’S OUR PERSONAL TIME! OK, first? Don’t record your sexytimes. I know it seems like a good idea (ok, no, no I don’t) but IT IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA. And second, don’t ACCIDENTALLY POST THAT ON TUMBLR. I don’t use Tumblr much. Can’t you just take that DOWN? I mean, anyone could have uploaded it, and saved it, and is now getting…inspired…by your artistic endeavor…but just take it down. At least MORE people won’t be “inspired” by it, you know?

This is the proper face for when you come across some of the things that are online that shouldn't be. Trust me on this.

This is the proper face for when you come across some of the things that are online that shouldn’t be. Trust me on this.

bdsm marionette picture OMG NO. Come on now. Marionettes are creepy enough as it is. Now you want one all tricked out to, what, spank you or whatever? You’re a sick mammajamma. Go elsewhere for your kicks. The only kicks you’re getting around here are in the bum. And not the saucy kinds, either.  Urgh.

chuggington gangster Is there a gangster on Chuggington? Or are you calling Chuggington a gangster? The Nephew doesn’t watch that show anymore, I don’t think. Strangely, the last time I saw him he kept singing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle song, and he laughed when I told him I saw that movie in the theaters. He laughed harder when I said, “I’m very old, The Nephew.”

Chuggington is very nice, so this was the scariest character I could find, and only because it's a monkey and I hate monkeys.

Chuggington is very nice, so this was the scariest character I could find, and only because it’s a monkey and I hate monkeys.

david busters yolo bears Dude! It isn’t a BEAR, it’s a HAMSTER. And it is AWESOME. Friend K. came over a while back and was all, “Why do you have that…thing…on your table that has a YOLO shirt” and I was all, “K.! IT IS A YOLO HAMSTER!” and she laughed and said “Only you would have a YOLO hamster on your kitchen table, Amy.” Also, it’s Dave and Busters, not David Busters. Come on, now.

Here is MY YOLO hamster! You can be jealous. It's ok.

Here is MY YOLO hamster! You can be jealous. It’s ok.

do you like my eyebrows Yes. I do. I think they’re fantastic. You’re lovely. Don’t ever doubt it, you!

female sounds of ecstasy Oh, honey. No. Just stop. You’re searching for this on the Googles? Don’t even bother, ok? The ones you’re going to find are weird fake porn, anyway. You know who makes realistic sounds of female ecstasy? REAL WOMEN YOU ARE INTIMATING WITH. Check that out sometime. It’s unparalleled.

finns kill reindeers Yeah, I think they do. I know Andreas has mentioned the eating of reindeer meat before. I think it’s a thing there. (It’s probably like hunting deer here, I’d think?) But, not to worry. Santa’s reindeer are fine, I think. They’re not in the land of Finns. They’re at the North Pole. Santa-ing.

This is the happiest reindeer EVER! Don't kill him, Finland!

This is the happiest reindeer EVER! Don’t kill him, Finland!

forehead ecstasy and passion What’s up with all the ecstasy searches this month? I think I blogged about the DRUG Ecstasy once. Are you confused about the difference? And listen, I know we have a lot of erogenous zones, but I don’t know that the forehead is one. If someone was all rubbing and licking my forehead, I think I’d start giggling and tell ‘em to get off. Just my prerogative, though.

grade 12 essay on what is happening to our young people?they disrespect elders,etc I’m not doing your homework for you, kiddo. You need to use your brain, ok? Or it will atrophy and melt out of your ears. Also, what a terrible essay topic. I would argue the opposite of this. I think adults always say this, in every generation, and you, Grade 12er, will say the same thing about kids your age when you an older person. Your teachers should come up with something better. Probably don’t tell them I said that, though, you’ll end up in detention.

hardest sheet music ever EVER? Man, that’s subjective. The answer is, ALL OF IT. Mostly because I can’t read music. But if anyone who does read music wants to chime in, please feel free.

in darkness and secrecy representivity Ha! I don’t know what this means, but I like how it’s phrased. It sounds like something from the code of conduct from a secret club. Are you inviting me into your secret club? I’ll think about it. Thank you, kind searcher!

SPECIAL PEOPLE CLUB! I need to watch this movie again. Like, immediately.

SPECIAL PEOPLE CLUB! I need to watch this movie again. Like, immediately.

morning porn OK. I’m curious. Is morning porn different than afternoon or evening porn? Like, would the naked laydeez be eating waffles, or something? Would you be in a different mood in the morning, porn-wise, than you would be when the sun was higher in the sky? This is all very interesting to me, in kind of a psychological way, honestly. Anyone have any ideas?

passenger singer sounds like speech impediment OMG HE’S BRITISH. It’s not a SPEECH IMPEDIMENT. What would you even think if you went to England? That they ALL have speech impediments? I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, to be honest. Also, British accents? Sexy as hell. Why are you thinking they have lateral lisps, or something?

Also, he's adorable in a beardy way, right? Right.

Also, he’s adorable in a beardy way, right? Right.

people you may know are they stalking me? or am i stalking them? This is such an existential question. Are THEY stalking YOU? Or are YOU stalking THEM? Well, I can answer this for you, because, as you know, I am apparently the Facebook guru of the internet. (And of the real world, I guess. Two people have contacted me this week in the really real world asking me Facebook questions. I guess I’m more user-friendly than the Facebook help section. I’m ok with that.) NEITHER OF YOU ARE STALKING ANYONE. There was a rumor a while back that the people in the “people you may know” are people who have searched for you; I find no evidence that this is anything more than a rumor, although it may be true, I suppose. I’m just not a huge conspiracy-theorist. No one’s stalking. You all put way too much weight on Facebook. It’s just social media, yo.

the proof is in the pudding bitch RIGHT IN THAT PUDDING! BITCH! This made me snort-laugh. What a thing to say. “How do I know you love me, Charles?” “THE PROOF IS IN THE PUDDING, BITCH!” “Um…what pudding? What does that even mean? Do you love me, or don’t you? Why’d you just call me a bitch?” “Man, that catchphrase really backfired on me, I think.” AND SCENE. (Also, don’t put anything in pudding. Pudding is delicious as-is, and also you might choke someone if you put that proof in that pudding. Wait, is that proof a euphemism? I don’t even want to know.)

upstate ny hunting cabins sale Are you trying to buy my parents’ cabin? It’s not for sale. Don’t touch it. It’s my thinking-place, and my zen-place, and it smells like pine, and I love it there. You can’t have it.

There you have it, internettians. Got it in just under the wire. This month has kind of kicked my ass, so I’m impressed this happened at all. Hi-YA! On to March! Here we go!

Until next month, my poor lost lambikins. May Google be kind in your searches.

Love, Me.

(As always, thank you to Mer for the inspiration for these posts!)


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