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No power in the ‘verse can stop me.

Christmas update: EVERY PACKAGE IS IN THE MAIL. Also, were you aware it costs like, your month’s rent to send packages to Arizona? That’s a total exaggeration, but kind of also true. Post office! Your rates are exorbitant!

Oh! Man, that was rude. HI EVERYONE. It is WEDNESDAY. That’s exciting, right? I mean, in a non-exciting way, that’s totally exciting. Today is also known as “Amy gets her annual evaluation at work day,” which I will not blog about because, you know, sometimes people get fired for things like that, but remember how in Firefly River Tam was all “I can kill you with my brain?” I’m going to be thinking that today. Unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to DO it, but I’m going to be thinking it. And that’s all I have to say about that. Because, fired.

Also, it is TWO DAYS BEFORE I GO HOME. And you know what that means, right? Yep. THE NEPHEW. SIGH TIMES INFINITY. The Nephew’s latest thing is that he’s scared of the Grinch. My parents have a Grinch ornament on their tree (which was given to them by their most fabulous – and only – daughter.) The Nephew freaked OUT about that so they put it in the back of the tree so he didn’t have to see it. Now whenever he comes over, he has to sneak around the back of the tree to see if “the scary green man” is still safely back there. Hee. I love The Nephew to pieces. In other news, I guess I will not be reading The Nephew The Grinch when I go home.

So I’m kind of Christmas-ed out, and I assume you probably all are, too, and there’s a lot of insane shit going on in the local news right now, I noticed, last night when I accidentally left the television on the local news channel (“accidentally” was more like “I can’t find the remote because I think it’s under the cat and the cat’s all the way over THERE and I’m buried under all of this wrapping paper so let’s watch the local news on unending repeat, fine, whatever, FINE”) so let’s talk about the crazy crap that’s going on where I live. That’ll be good times, right? Totally will. I know.

MERRY CHRISTMAS (IN HELL)

I know, I know, I said I wasn’t going to TALK about Christmas, I’m a fat liar who lies.

So there was this story on the news and in the paper and such about how Christmas trees are basically DEATH BUSHES and how they get dry and go up in flames JUST LIKE THAT POOF YOU ARE DEAD NOW.

This has caused a run on fire extinguishers and people are all freaking out and whatever.

Also, if you click on that link, it’s the worst, seriously. Look at that flaming tree. It’s a NIGHTMARE OF FLAMES. Holy crap.

They should be. THIS IS HORRIFYING. I don’t want a death bush in my living room. I blogged about this like seventy kabillion years ago, (please ignore the effed up formatting in that, I swear I’m going to fix that shit someday) but I’m petrified of fire, and I have been since I was a little kid and they made me watch some stupid filmstrip where a guy dropped a cigarette ash onto his couch and then like FOUR HOURS LATER the couch burst into flames and killed his WHOLE FAMILY because fire is INSIDIOUS and it WAITS UNTIL YOU LEAST EXPECT IT and then it eats your WHOLE FACE.

So you’re all Christmasy in your Christmas pajamas and your Christmas slippers and you put out your Christmas cookies for the cat burglar who’s breaking in at like 2 am and you’re comfy-cozy ready for bed and then YOU’RE BURNING TO DEATH IN YOUR BED MERRY CHRISTMAS. This is going to scar generations of children, seriously.

Fake tree. FAKE TREE. I know. It doesn’t SMELL as good. Get a damn candle. You know what also doesn’t smell as good? Burning humans.

Also, I don’t know how these trees are catching on fire. I think they might be like Regan in Firestarter.

I’m totally freaked out by the fact that Christmas trees seem to be spontaneously combusting and no one thought to tell anyone until this year.

AS IF AIR TRAVEL ISN’T STRESSFUL ENOUGH

So you know how air travel is like the worst thing now, right, and you have to put things in the right size Ziplocs or they think you’re a terrorist, and your lotion better not be too big, and you have to take off your shoes which totally freaks me out because I don’t like to take off my shoes in public because I don’t know where that floor has been? I’m going on a plane for the first time in 11 years in April and I’m already totally dreading the airport shenanigans, seriously. But there are margaritas and kookaburras waiting for me on the other end. I’ll take off my shoes for margaritas and kookaburras.

So anyway, this happened at our local airport on Monday. Did you click? Probably not. So some college kid was in the bathroom at the airport and some Miami guy made sexual advances toward him. Does it stop there? No it does not. The guy FOLLOWED HIM INTO THE AIRPORT and continued to harass him.

Now I don’t know who I feel sorrier for. The college kid, who was probably all, “No thanks, Bathroom Billy, I don’t really swing that way, so good luck with…um…that, probably put that away now?” and then Bathroom Billy was all “I LOVE YOU” and followed him through our airport, all “LOVE ME! LOVE ME! LOOK AT WHAT I HAVE FOR YOU HERE!” or Bathroom Billy himself, who really seems totally sad and lonely. He was probably really cold. I mean, he was from Miami. He’s probably lost and sad and chilly and looking for love in all the wrong restrooms and like a little lost baby duck and he imprinted onto the college kid and now he’s stuck in the jail all “WHAT DID I DO WRONG ARE YOU MY MOMMY?”

Also, if someone followed me through the airport waving his joystick at me I seriously think I would start laughing like a moron and probably ask him if the reason he got that past airport security is because it’s less than 3.4 ounces. I have inappropriate responses to weird situations. Then I’d blog about it. You know. As you do.

STOP DOING THIS PLEASE

This isn’t something I’m making fun of as much as something I really, really want people to stop doing.

So a local woman had her 3-year-old nephew in the car. She ran home to drop off groceries and get him some diapers. She left him in her car, with the engine running. She made a trip in. When she came back out? The car was gone.

I get it. Kids are hard to wrangle. The Nephew is two and a half, and he’s a wiggly handful. Like, this summer? We took him to the park, and someone gave him a popsicle? (That totally makes it sound like stranger danger. No. There was a family having a picnic, and he was crying because he fell, and the mom said, “Would your boy like a popsicle?” and The Nephew was all “YES I WOULD.” It wasn’t roofied or anything. Calm down, CPS.) And I was carrying him around, because I like to and he’s the best? And he decided, “Nope, done with this popsicle now!” and put it BETWEEN MY TITS LIKE THAT WAS ITS HOLSTER. Cold, The Nephew! Very very cold! And totally sticky! And the look on my face must have been hysterical because The Nephew just laughed and laughed and laughed. So I was cool with that. Anything that makes The Nephew laugh = ok in my book, honestly. So, yeah. Sure. Kids are a handful, and they wriggle and they don’t want to herd where you want them to herd and I get it. I do.

DO NOT LEAVE YOUR CHILDREN IN THE CAR UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES UNLESS YOU ARE STANDING RIGHT OUTSIDE THAT CAR WITH YOUR HAND ON THE HANDLE FOR LIKE .0005 SECONDS.

Can you even imagine coming back out and finding out YOUR CAR WAS GONE? I mean, seriously? I would die. I would literally die dead right on the ground. And if I didn’t, for some reason? My brother would kill me dead. And then he would resurrect me so his girlfriend could kill me, and she would resurrect me so my PARENTS could kill me. I mean, seriously. I don’t even leave my CELL PHONE in my car when I go in places. I don’t leave my PURSE in the car. I would never leave a HUMAN BEING in there.

OK, OK, I know you’re all “what happened to the KID, AMY???” He’s fine. I guess the carjacker dumped him a few blocks away and the cops found him and returned him to his mom, and the aunt was arrested for child endangerment, and her car was found dumped not too far away in front of a local apartment complex so the thief just really needed to get home or something, whatever. I like to think of him all “la la la I really wish I had a sweet ride this is a long walk home HERE’S A CAR WITH THE DOOR OPEN AND IT’S RUNNING THIS IS LIKE PROVIDENCE I’D BE A FOOL NOT TO TAKE IT” and then he drives off and hears this little voice from the backseat all, “Can we go get a Happy Meal, mister?” and is all “Oh, shit, looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.”

Also, don’t leave your animals in the car, either. In the winter, it gets cold like a fridge in there. In the summer, hot like an oven. If you’re a jackass who thinks that’s a good idea, I’d like to close you in a fridge or an oven for an hour or so, and then when you get out, see how apt you are to do that to an animal who can’t even tell you how much it hurts ever again. Also, I might punch you in the neck fourteen times.

To recap: don’t leave anything in your car that has a brain or is worth any amount of money. Or ice cream, unless it’s really cold out.

SO THAT’S WHERE I LEFT MY BLOW

So apparently there was ricin or something at one of our million local Dunkin’ Donuts Sunday.

The employees of the Dunkin’ Donuts cracked a roll of pennies and white powder came out and they all started feeling nausea and they had to be contaminated and hazmat was called in and no one knows what it was yet.

Here’s the best part of that article: “Willson said they (the pennies) originally came from a local bank, which rolled them on behalf of an elderly customer.”

Oh, damn! Some old terrorist, yo! Who nefariously ROLLED PENNIES! I mean, that is one tricky plan right there, no one would suspect death by a roll of pennies!

Here’s what I’m thinking. I mean, sure. It might have been ricin or something. Sure it might have. Or baby powder. Or flour. Or dust. Or confectioner’s sugar, you’re at the Dunkin’ Donuts. The power of suggestion is a very strong thing. One time I read some article where everyone thought they were getting poisoned and that there was poison in their building but really it was one person having an allergy attack and they all thought it was poison in the air but they really all got sick from the power of suggestion and I think they all wanted a sick day because they were assholes.

Also, let me tell you a terrorism story. Just because you don’t like cream cheese, you aren’t a terrorist. IT IS TRUE. I was telling someone last night how I didn’t like cream cheese (SIGH, yes, add it to the weird things I won’t eat that everyone loves, like onions, garlic, and beef) and the person (who I won’t out because that’s totally rude, RIGHT MOM??? Oh, shit) was VERY DISTRESSED that I didn’t like cream cheese. “Everyone likes cream cheese,” she said. “I think only terrorists don’t like cream cheese.” So I explained. “Cream cheese makes me gag. It has a very gag-worthy consistency. So much so I think that should be on the container: Philadelphia Cream Cheese! It will make you gag.” Then she decided to gross me out more by telling me how she will spread a bagel with like an INCH of cream cheese and then eat it which made me want to vomit (seriously, not only is is gaggy, but then it’s COLD on your TEETH and GUMS, how do you people find this delectable?), and then she said, “Next you’ll tell me you don’t like cheesecake,” and I said, “You did live with me for 17 years, right? I HATE CHEESECAKE it’s a CAKE that makes you GAG, a whole cake of gagging” and this started another whole round of “I’m pretty sure we’re not related and also that you’re a terrorist.” We did agree that Fritos are disgusting, though, and they smell like feet. So that was our Breakfast at Tiffany’s moment. THAT’S THE ONE THING WE GOT, MOM.

I got distracted again, didn’t I. No one looks surprised. You’re all learning nicely. Here, have a dog biscuit. Good job.

Anyway, so there might be terrorism going on at the Dunkin’ Donuts. I blame that effing hot dog sandwich. SO SO GROSS.

There. Now you are up to speed on all of the important doings in the New York Capital Region. What’s that? There are real news stories here that I didn’t even cover? You know what, you’re totally right. I must have left my press pass at home today.

Shut it, I can totally KILL YOU WITH MY BRAIN.

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About lucysfootball

I'm not the girl with the most cake. Someday. SOMEDAY. View all posts by lucysfootball

29 responses to “No power in the ‘verse can stop me.

  • blogginglily

    –MERRY CHRISTMAS (IN HELL)–

    Pa: What’s that smell.
    Ma: The Millers are baking.
    Pa: It smells awful, like burnt hair. What is it?
    Ma: Oh, sorry, their house is on fire, they’re literally baking in their skins.
    Pa: Why aren’t you doing anything??
    Ma: i’ve got these 7 batches of cookies to finish. Meh.

    –STOP DOING THIS PLEASE–

    And he decided, “Nope, done with this popsicle now!” and put it BETWEEN MY TITS LIKE THAT WAS ITS HOLSTER.

    HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

    –SO THAT’S WHERE I LEFT MY BLOW–

    I also do not like cream cheese in general. I like the flavored stuff, like lox flavored cream cheese on a garlic bagel . . . but cream cheese is sorta yucky.

    I used to hate cheese cake, because I thought it was made of cheese. But when I got older and learned it didn’t. . . it tasted pretty good!

    I also didn’t like carrot cake or coffee cake for the same reasons.

    I like blog headings. . .

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      This comment is full of awesome. I’m going to outsource my blog to my awesome commenters one of these days, seriously.

      How could you hate a cake made of cheese? I would love a cake made out of cheese! So would @lahikmajoe! I hate carrot cake, though. Just because of carrots. Also, there are usually raisins in there. *shudder*

      Like

      • blogginglily

        Yeah, I don’t want any carrots, raisins, or nuts in my cake. Or cheese. I want cheese in my cheese. . . or ravioli, I think I could settle for cheese in my ravioli. But not in my cake. I don’t like those flavors mixing.

        Similarly. . if any of my cranberry sauce touches my mashed potatoes. . . DEATH!!! Which reminds me of Francis from “Stripes”, “Any o’ you guys touches me? I’ll kill you.”

        Well, not death, but I don’t care for it. Same with pineapple on pizza. Same with pineapple on ham. . . wtf, people?

        Like

        • lucysfootball

          You and my brother would get along well. He doesn’t like any of his food to touch, and he doesn’t like to eat it in anything but a specific order: all the potatoes, all the meat, all the veggies. He can’t have one bite meat, one bite potatoes, one bite veggies. Because the flavors would mix in his MOUTH.

          I agree with pineapple on pizza. I don’t know if I mind it on ham – I like salty & sweet combos ok. But I’m a huge pineapple fan so it can get away with a lot.

          Like

  • lahikmajoe

    As I’m reading this Tori Amos is on NPR singing, ‘…Mirror mirror where’s the crystal palace/But I only can see the myself/Skating around the truth who I am/But I know dad the ice is getting thin…’

    I know you like her, so I thought I’d let you know. In a blog comment. You know…as one does.

    Have been thinking about journaling again. Might just leave my thoughts here in your blog comments. Might as well. I tell plenty of stories here.

    Ok, down to the comment…who doesn’t like cream cheese? And cheesecake? What is wrong with you? Really, this friendship can only work from a distance, because we’d simply argue all the time about food.

    All my favourite things are things that make you gag/hold your nose. Even if we knew each other in real life, I’d suggest that we move as far away from each other as possible. Makes the web even more practical, doesn’t it?

    About Christmas trees up in flames, my mom loved the German custom of real candles on the tree, and insisted that we light them at least a few times during the Christmas season. It always made my dad insanely nervous that the tree would *poof* go up in flames.

    Oh, the other thing was she loves the German custom of trimming the tree no earlier than Christmas Eve. My dad loved this one. He’d always drive up to the Christmas tree lot when there were only a few decrepit trees remaining. The tree salesman was so ready to get home to his family that he practically gave the tree away. Happy dad.

    I know Andreas has already made noises about this, but Amy! We’re going to miss you while you’re gone. I hope you take notes, and fill us in after the fact about what whimsical things happen in the Land-that-the-Internet-Cannot-Reach.

    Just think, when you miss us, you can use finger puppets and role-play all of our parts. I’m the one eating a lot of raw garlic.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I do like Tori! Well, I like her older stuff. (“Me and a Gun” – one of my top songs of all time. One of the most painful, harrowing, beautiful songs I’ve ever heard.) Her newer work kind of leaves me a little cold. Also, once I saw her in concert? And she got so into the performance she drooled all over herself. It was extremely off-putting.

      I thought you might have something to say about the cream cheese. I started writing it, and I honestly thought, “You know who’s going to take umbrage at my hatred of cream cheese? @lahikmajoe.” I would never argue with you about food, though. I’m very tolerant of what others choose to put in their pie-holes. Just as long as it’s not smelly and they want to breathe it on me or something.

      Aw! I was so touched when I read that you and Andreas would miss me. I will miss you, too! I think I have the “Twitter emails me” thing working again, and I can check email once and a while, so @ me and I think I can see it, if not reply! And I might – MAYBE – still be able to blog. And I’m only gone for three and a half days, really. Just Friday morning to Monday afternoon.

      And don’t you worry. I’m sure I’ll come back with DAYS of blog material. What else is there to do up there?

      I wonder if people are bemused or annoyed that we have email conversations in my comments? I don’t care, so much. I just wonder if they’re all, “THERE THEY GO AGAIN MYRTLE.”

      Like

      • renni

        I love Myrtle. That is all.

        Like

      • lahikmajoe

        “THERE THEY GO AGAIN MYRTLE.”

        This is a name that should make it’s way back into popularity. Really. I’d be in serious danger of wanting to woo a woman named Myrtle.

        We should do a blog post that’s exclusively comments. Like performance art.

        Wait, that’s sort of what we’re doing, isn’t it?

        Oh my goodness…did you really say ‘pie hole’. I say that all the time. I have a friend who insists that every time she hears ‘pie hole’, she thinks of me. Not because I’m a pie hole…because it’s one of my pet phrases.

        Freaky, huh?

        Like

        • lucysfootball

          We SHOULD do that. Someday. SOMEDAY. I’m going to think on this. We’ll do something collaborative. It will be awesome.

          I know, right? Myrtle is my bowling name. It’s my favorite.

          I LOVE PIE HOLE. We may not like the same foods, but things like this are totally bizarre!

          Like

    • blogginglily

      “About Christmas trees up in flames, my mom loved the German custom of real candles on the tree, and insisted that we light them at least a few times during the Christmas season. It always made my dad insanely nervous that the tree would *poof* go up in flames.”

      Oh my god! Really? 1) That’s uber old school and simple/elegant and classy and all that and 2) INSANE!!

      Like

  • Lisa

    I can’t remember the last time I watched the news. It’s always bad news!! Why can’t there be, for once, a woman who goes indoors to put her groceries down and then comes out to find TWO cars sitting in her drive because someone thought it would be nice to randomly give her one.

    Or why can’t there be a cream cheese that doesn’t make you gag??? The world is such a depressing place!

    Merry Christmas my arse. We should all just sit in a dark room and drink until we forget how crappy we all are… I’ve gone to a dark place. Damn it! This is why I don’t listen to news!

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      You should read the “Weird News” part of the paper. That’s what I read when I want news, but not bad news. It’s filled with things like “Polar Bear Dyes his Fur Pink with Algae!” and “Uncommonly Stupid Thief Locks Self in Safe!” and I love it. Cheerful! Non-threatening! Fun!

      Like

  • Omnibus

    Cleavage = holster! Love that! I love cream cheese, though; I even love the neufchatel 1/3 less fat cream cheese! I love anything dairy. (moo!) :)

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I love most dairy, too – I actually can’t think of any dairy I dislike, other than cream cheese, to be honest. I even like really stinky cheeses. It’s just the consistency of cream cheese. It’s like Play-Doh, only a little looser. And it’s in your throat. I can’t swallow something like that.

      Like

  • Rich Crete

    “Looking for love in all the wrong restrooms” implies there is a right one and that gives me a ray of hope.
    (Note to self: Try to remember, apparently titsicles are bad)

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      There is NOT a right one! Rich! No no no! You can find love. Just NOT IN A RESTROOM! You can do better! (Do you remember the politician a while back who got in trouble for picking up men in restrooms and he was all bumping their feet with his and he said that was the universal sign that you were looking to have gay sex in the restroom? How awkward! And what if you just accidentally bumped someone’s foot? I don’t think that’s a very good sign at all.)

      Well, it was a hot day, so it wasn’t an ALL bad titsicle. It was just unexpected. His little face of glee made up for it, though. It was SO FUNNY to him. Aw.

      Like

  • lynnettedobberpuhl

    Your NEPHEW sounds like a comic genius! That is a fantastic story. I like cream cheese, HATE cream cheese frosting, and carrot cake (vegetables in cake? Seriously? Almost as bad as vegetables in Jello, which is a thing, but shouldn’t be.) That is all, except, thanks for the laughs!

    Like

  • Mer

    I can’t wait for your search terms post this month now that “between my tits” is in a post!
    Also, I am sincerely sorry for living in AZ. You should look up our nut-job news – Sherrif Joe (thankfully not MY sherrif) is up to extra no-good. And, in local news, the hazmat team was called in for a meth lab in hotel room. Merry Christmas, Flagstaff!

    Like

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