This was totally going to be RANDOM CRAP FRIDAY until I realized I had sort of a theme so THEMED FRIDAY SORT-OF!
Oh, that was rude. Hi! Hello. It’s Friday! It’s another fun-filled day here at work, in which I did more work than a person could possibly handle before 10am, and then took some deep breaths and did some MORE work. We have a humongous deadline at the end of the month so I’m a little swamped. However, I’m a total rockstar so I’m powering through. Also, the death stomach flu seems to be on the wane, with only a residual sore stomach (yeah, I don’t know, either, what the hell’s that all about? I think from the throwing up? Is it like I did an abs workout? That’s funny, and the only abs workout I’ll be doing, in, oh, EVER) so that means I’m back on track for magic wine and loafing this weekend, huzzah! Oh, well, other than working tomorrow. And seeing a play Sunday. And doing all the writing because I have five blog posts I want to write by the end of the day Sunday. OTHER THAN THAT, all the loafing. Whew.
So anyway, SORT OF THEMED FRIDAY.
Nephew and Dad and Amy-family stories!
The Nephew had a foray out into the great winter wilds the other day. His mom is a big winter sports fan, and wants him to be, as well. She bought him wee baby skis when he was just a little Nephew. Well, littLER Nephew. So they went sledding, and it was a big hill behind a school, and at the end of his sliding, she put out her foot to stop his sled, and some snow shot up and caught him in the face.
OH NO NO The Nephew was NOT HAVING THAT.
He got off the sled and wanted to go HOME. NOW. Because SNOW GOT IN HIS FACE.
When my mom asked him a couple of days later if he wanted to go play in the snow he said, “NO. Snow got in my EYES.” She said, “But it melted, and you’re fine.” And he looked at her like she might be touched in the head, and said, very slowly, so she could understand him, “Snow GOT IN MY EYES.”
So, apparently, snow is the enemy, and also is burning lava.
Now listen, two things, here. No, wait, three. First, aw, because I know The Nephew’s mom just loves loves loves the winter and all things related to it, so this must be really sad for her. But, second, I am RIGHT THERE WITH HIM. I hate snow. I hate that it’s cold. I hate driving in it. I hate cleaning it off my car. I hate walking in it. I hate PLAYING in it. I hated it when I was a kid and I hate it NOW. I never understood, when my mom was all “get OUTSIDE you kids it’s a LOVELY SNOWY DAY” and kind of forced us out (which, now that I’m an adult, I realize meant we were driving her cuckoo-bananas) why people thought this was FUN. You had to bundle up like Randy in A Christmas Story so you couldn’t put your arms down and then you had to trudge along and snow always got up your sleeve or down your boot and melted in there and that sucked and what the hell did you do when you were out there, THROW it at each other? That’s dangerous as hell, why would you want to do that? BUILD something with it? That’s like WORK, yo. LAY in it? It’s COLD, you idiot. I just wanted to stay inside and read.
THIRD, I totally remember that hill that she took him sledding down and that is DEATH HILL. I was forced once to sled down DEATH HILL when I was a kid and I had one of those round sleds and those are super-fast and I went off the trail and I got all trees in my face and then to add insult to injury I had to walk ALL THE WAY BACK UP THE EFFING DEATH HILL with tree-lashes all on my face and shit and I was hurt so I cried and then all the snot FROZE ALL IN MY NOSE and WHY IS THIS FUN. It is NOT, is the answer. NOT FUN.
I’m with you, Nephew. Let’s stay inside where it’s warm and snow doesn’t get in our eyes like hot lava and trees don’t all whip our faces. We can have cocoa and play with Legos.
Second! Listen, my dad is on vacation? Well, kind of. He went to Florida for a couple of weeks with his brother because my uncle is looking to buy a winter home in Florida and he asked my dad to come with him to help. So my dad’s down there and I think he misses me, or is bored, I don’t know. Because yesterday morning at 6:45 – AM, mind you, not PM, A-frigging-M – my phone rang and it was his cell phone and I was all “well, that’s it, there’s been an accident or maybe Dad killed Uncle or something” but nope, it was Dad, and he wanted to CHAT. At 6:45 AM. CHAT. OK, at 6:45am, I am getting ready for work. Which means I am scowling around in pajamas having the following conversation with myself: “Stupid work. I hate work. This is like TORTURE. Dumbcat why are you under my feet I could have killed you or maybe myself. MAYBE THAT’S WHAT YOU WANTED. Are you trying to kill me, Dumbcat? ARE YOU? Dammit. It is SO EARLY. Even INDENTURED SERVANTS get to sleep in more than this. WHERE IS MY HAIRBRUSH. Why is my hairbrush UNDER THE Q-TIP BOX. This seems to be a conspiracy. DUMBCAT DID YOU DO THIS?”
So yeah, I’m not really up for social pleasantries at 6:45 am. But I thought, well, he’s bored, or something.
Nope! It apparently went SO WELL that this morning, he did it AGAIN. Only he let me relax a little more and waited until 7, and then I was putting on eyeliner so I only drew a huge eyeliner line all across my face when the phone rang and scared the shit out of me, no big deal, I was meaning to try out the crazy-homeless look soon anyway.
GOOD GRAVY DAD.
Things he wanted to talk about that apparently needed to be discussed at 7am:
What the name of the actress who plays Raylan’s wife is on Justified so that when he gets home in a week he can look her up on Netflix and get movies starring her because she’s pretty.
Did I think the real estate lady with red hair was flirting with him and my uncle, or did I think that all real estate women did that? (He didn’t like my answer, which was obviously, “Whatever it takes to sell a house in this real estate market, Dad.”)
Did I know that my uncle SAYS he has insomnia, but when my dad tries to talk to him at 2am, he’s totally sleeping? This seemed like false advertising to my dad.
Was it cold where I live? Was it cold where my mom lives? It was not cold in Florida. In Florida, it was WARMER THAN NEW YORK. (Cue my shocked face.)
There were other things but I was kind of nodding off and also trying to fix my eyeliner through a lot of the conversation so I honestly couldn’t tell you what they were.
When we go to Florida together in April he’s totally going to wake me up at 6am so we can have chats about things, isn’t he? DAMMIT.
Oh, also, and this is a story I told HIM, I think my aunt (the wife of the uncle who’s there with him) is probably totally or maybe not at all, probably most likely the latter, having a very steamy affair while he’s gone. Because on the news last night, there was some report about some lake resort town nearby, and the guy reporting totally looked like a 70s-era Sonny Bono, like with the pilgrimy curled-under bowlcut and everything? And he totally looked like a swinger, too, and kind of greasy. And he met a LADY (you have to say that in the voice of that guy from Saturday Night Live who was always drinking Courvoisier and saying “It’s a LADY” for that to work) and they had dinner. (This would have made more sense if I had the sound on, but I was on the phone at the time so I was watching it on mute.) And the LADY looked a lot like my aunt except I only saw her face for a fraction of a second. SO! Based on this totally serious evidence I think it’s pretty clear that my aunt is sneaking around on my uncle with Sonny Bono in a lake resort town while he’s off buying them a winter home. When I told my dad this he said, “I’m going to tell your uncle that because it will make him laugh but I think you and I know your aunt would never do that” and I agreed. Mostly because Sonny Bono is dead. I’M KIDDING! My aunt is lovely and so is my uncle and they would never ever cheat on each other because they are adorably sickeningly in love and it makes your Grinch-heart grow ALL THE SIZES. But that woman totally looked like her for a fraction of a second. Also, who still has Sonny Bono hair?
Also, here is something entertaining probably only to me. I’m kind of pre-planning my super-exciting trip to Maryland to visit R and A and BABY GIRL AWESOMESAUCE which is still many months off because, well, BABY GIRL AWESOMESAUCE has not hatched yet? And so I was comparing all the various methods of transportation to get there and their costs. So my options were: Greyhound, Megabus, Amtrak, driving, plane. Greyhound is apparently NOT EVEN TRYING anymore, because it took like MOST OF A DAY to make it seven hours, I am totally not even kidding. Megabus was super-cheap but it scares me a little for anything further than New York City. Amtrak kind of excites me because I can pretend I’m a fancy lady and also they’ve upgraded the trains recently so there’s WiFi and I’ll have my new laptop by then so I can play online all the way to Maryland and back. Driving is also not bad, because then I can bring all the things I want and also stop wherever I see something awesome to take asshatty touristy photos. Flying was expensive, but fast. But they’d make me take my shoes off and I couldn’t bring weapons. I don’t much like to go places where I can’t bring a weapon. I’m kidding. Sort of.
So I’m kind of deciding between Amtrak and driving, because with gas prices, Amtrak’s only about $40 round-trip more, and I was talking to my mom about it. And she mentioned the bus, and I explained my bus issues. And then I mentioned my biggest bus issue – THE TIME THE BASTARDS STOLE MY LUGGAGE.
Have I mentioned this? One time, I was coming home from college and I took Greyhound – it was before I had a car – and some ASSHAT STOLE MY LUGGAGE FROM UNDER THE BUS. I mean, I only had one bag, but it was a big bag. And the driver apparently didn’t bother to check the ticket and just willy-nilly gave my bag to some stranger. Well, stranger, I hope you enjoyed A FULL BAG OF DIRTY LAUNDRY. Which, by the way? Was pretty much all the clothes I owned, so that was fun to replace. Also, there was an irreplaceable heirloom in there that I was stupid enough to trust under a bus but I was a kid and you know how stupid kids are. So that was gone and I was inconsolable for days and I’m still sad about it now. ANYWAY, so now I’m totally wary of buses. OH! And also, since I didn’t insure my dirty laundry (WHO THE HELL WOULD) Greyhound only gave me back like $50 or something. I so glare at Greyhound buses whenever I see them now for being party to bag-thievery.
And my mom said, and I’m not kidding, “Well, you were asking for it, because the bag you used had Mickey Mouse on it. That’s why it got stolen.”
I think this is funny because this is ALWAYS HER ANSWER. This happened almost fifteen years ago, and she ALWAYS says I shouldn’t have brought the Mickey Mouse bag. It was a big duffel bag with Mickey Mouse faces on it. WHY WOULD THIS MAKE SOMEONE STEAL IT. Wouldn’t that make you NOT steal it? Wouldn’t you think it was full of Walmart clothes and Precious Moments figurines or something? I guess maybe that’s what they were looking for, I don’t know. My mother is apparently CONVINCED that there is a secret underground network of people who are OBSESSED with Mickey Mouse and you’d damn well better not leave anything Mickey-Mouse themed unattended because YOINK they will SNATCH IT UP. I am honestly curious what kind of luggage my mom thinks would have been safe. Like, all one color? Or are other cartoon characters safe? Would Looney Tunes have been safe? Or is it ALL CARTOONS? This needs to be investigated further in case I ever am forced to take a bus again and want to use one of my plethora of cartoon-themed luggage pieces.
OK, this is totally lengthy and my lunch break is almost done so HERE I GO INTO THE NIGHT LIKE A THIEF. Except it’s day. Happy weekend, all! Enjoy! Stay warm! If you go outside, look out for snow! In your EYES! Like ACID! BURNY BURNY ACID!