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My place smells like ghost bananas. Related: I might be overtired.

I totally feel like ick. I can’t decide if this is because I’m exhausted from all the theater hullabaloo or if it’s the medical situation or possibly a government conspiracy like my dad’s always telling me about. Maybe ALL THREE.

But anyway, it’s Sunday, and it’s closing day of my show. Which is nice, because I can go back to my hermit existence in my hermitage and be hermity, but also a little sad because I really did enjoy working on this one, and the cast was lovely. That doesn’t always happen. Usually you have one or two people in the cast who are juuuust a bit of a handful, to be frank. And it’s fine, you can work around them, or avoid them by hiding in a closet (NOT THAT I EVER EVER HAVE DONE THAT HA HA HA) or something. But this cast is lovely. There’s not a bad banana in the bunch. Just a whole bunch of lovely bananas. (Also, here is a story about bananas.  The other morning, I started smelling bananas in my place. And I was all, “what the hell with the bananas” and then I thought that a., I was probably showing signs of a seizure disorder even though the LAST time I thought I was having a seizure because I smelled bread baking Twitter informed me that it’s only when you smell burning toast, not just bread, so probably also bananas weren’t a sign of epilepsy; and b., I was losing my mind and/or craving bananas. Or maybe GOING bananas and that’s why they called it that. And then I was in my kitchen that night and I was looking for a bag of cat treats because Dumbcat was out of them and I knew I’d stashed another bag of them on top of the fridge and he was all “MEEEOOOWWW” because it was CAT TREAT TIME and he WILL NOT BE DENIED when it is time for treats – also, he totally knows how to beg for them, no joke, my old roommate taught him, he’ll sit up and pat your hand for them with his paw, so we’re totally going to hit the circus circuit like, any day now, the only thing that’s been holding me back is the preponderance of clowns on said circuit – and I thought, what is this bag up here? And the answer was, bananas that I’d purchased JUST A FEW DAYS AGO. Yep. I bought two delicious bananas as a treat for myself because I never buy bananas but I caved and bought bananas and then FORGOT I BOUGHT THEM and they were sitting on top of the fridge getting brown for days smelling banana-y. I KNOW. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost it. Side note of my side note: I had one on my cereal and it was HEAVENLY.)

Anyway. So the play is done, and I’ve planned out my theater-going for the month (FOUR PLAYS! I know, I’m totally stoked. Three straight shows and a musical. It’s a banner month for awesomeness in Amy-land) and I’m totally going to (eep) clean my place after the show’s over, because it kind of looks like the “before” shot of a Hoarders episode at the moment. And return people’s email that I’ve been remiss about. And write for my other two blogs that I’ve been unable to find the time to write for. And catch up on my programs that I’m weeks behind in watching. I’m so behind it’s like I live in a time warp right now and the past-me is hanging around the current-me wearing slouch socks and jelly bracelets and complaining about not having a date for the prom.

OH! Also, I’m behind on giving you THE MOST EXCITING NEWS. Remember my secret boyfriend Dr. Ruffalo? Yep. That’s totally progressing in a stellar fashion. The latest report? HE HAS READ THE BLOG. And? WAS NOT SCARED AWAY. Even MORE exciting, his FAMILY loves me (well, via my blog, anyway), and apparently want to come and spirit me away to Dr. Ruffalo-land so we can, well, court, I guess, I don’t know, whatever, it’s very exciting.  Honestly, family has always been a stumbling block. I tend to scare families away. I say the MOST INAPPROPRIATE THINGS. Like, ever. One time I made a joke about suicide in front of someone whose son had committed suicide. (That sounds awful. It wasn’t a JOKE. It was a flip remark, more than a joke. Even I don’t go around making “putting-your-head-in-the-oven” quips, come on.) It’s been two years and I have not yet finished beating myself up over this. Thing is, I KNEW HE HAD KILLED HIMSELF. I totally had forgotten, but it was in my memory bank somewhere. Probably wherever I keep my “I bought bananas” knowledge. My mouth was just being my mouth and not THINKING before it was TALKING. I am death to families, seriously. I can only imagine the conversations that are had once I leave my “meeting the family for the first time” dinners. “Um, beloved son, she’s NICE, and all, but…maybe…play the field a little more! Here. Here’s $100! Go find a nice prostitute! Daddy and I will pay for STD testing when you’re done. Shoo! Shoo!” “WHEW Myrtle that was a CLOSE ONE can you imagine having THAT WOMAN as a daughter-in-law? YIKESAROONIE.”

So, anyway. DR. RUFFALO! Are you STILL reading? Because that would be the true test of our complete and total undying love, right? I feel like I should say something scintillating and flirty but listen, you will learn this about me once we’re totally and completely in love, Dr. Ruffalo, I mean, assuming we aren’t already, I am just the crappiest at flirting. Like, you know how there are movies about people who are horrible at flirting and they try to wink at someone and the person they’re trying to wink at says, “Do you have something in your eye?” I wouldn’t even WINK, I’m so bad at flirting. I would quietly continue to read my book in the corner, and if you approached me, I would most likely say something blunt and insulting, like, “Did you really think it was a good idea to wear that shirt out of the house today? Did your mom advise you so? Because she was wrong.” Then I would be befuddled why you didn’t ask me out. I’m like an Amish person, or maybe an alien, when it comes to interpersonal relations. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR WAYS AND MEANS. I’ve tried. If it’s not be insulting you or ignoring you, it’s me crazy-eyeing you. Sorry. I get really excited and then it’s just scary for everyone.

(Here is an “Amy tried to flirt one time” story. I had a crush on a guy. Who I KNEW was bad news. I COULD NOT HELP IT. He was TALL and FUNNY and SMELLED GOOD. So I was all, “I will MAKE him MINE.” So I proceeded to crazy-eyes him to DEATH. Well, that wasn’t my intention. That’s just how my flirting came across. And I’m completely serious. We’re not even friends anymore. He sees me and he totally books it the other direction. I scared him. I think when he has fever dreams they’re me coming after him with knives and EYES EYES CRAZY EYES WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME CRAZY EYES. And then this other guy I had a crush on got married, I think to escape me. I mean, I have no proof that’s WHY he got married, I SUPPOSE it might have been because he fell in LOVE with the other woman, but that’s my take on the situation. Don’t tell his wife that. It might hurt her feelings. I CAN NOT HELP HOW CRAZY MY EYES ARE I WAS BORN THAT WAY.)

So, Dr. Ruffalo, if you are still reading, probably you will have to handle the courting portion of our courting. Sorry to put that burden on you. If it helps, I’m ridiculously easy to please as long as you use good grammar and punctuation and aren’t like a crazy racist hillbilly. I also have a love of your home country, so we’ve got that going for us. And today I totally stuck up for you on Twitter when you were VICIOUSLY ATTACKED by a HATER who I will NOT NAME who IMPLIED that you were NOT a REAL DOCTOR. I know, right? So there was a complete warning that I would bust out the fisticuffs and then he dropped the subject. Or maybe he just had something else to do and wandered off. Twitter can be kind of transitory like that. See, Dr. Ruffalo? I am really an excellent choice, because I will BUST OUT FISTICUFFS. Well, virtual fisticuffs, let’s not get crazy, here.  I don’t want to end up in the police blotter for fighting. How embarrassing would that be? Wait, does one end up “in” the police blotter or “on” the police blotter? They both sound equally likely, don’t they? I don’t want to find out. Hence the VIRTUAL fisticuffs.

Anyway. Enough Dr. Ruffalo. FOR NOW. You just wait, though, when we’re living happily in our home with pets and a million books and laughing about grammatical mistakes in literary journals and making meals together that include ALL THE FOOD GROUPS and not just me eating leftover pork chops while watching Desperate Housewives THEN you’ll all be sorry you were scoffy.

Oh, AND, it’s Oscar day, right? I haven’t seen a single movie that’s nominated, I’m useless. I don’t know if I’ll even watch. I know. It’s like the world’s coming to an END, here. DOGS AND CATS LIVING TOGETHER.

Happy Sunday, everyone! Enjoy the day!

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About lucysfootball

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

16 responses to “My place smells like ghost bananas. Related: I might be overtired.

  • sj

    How can he not fall in love with you from your blog?!

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Aw! This made my whole DAY. Thank you so much!

      His next step is to comment, right? OK, Dr. Ruffalo, our secret love cannot be left to wither in the closet like a sad forgotten plant! Step up!

      Like

  • Em

    OMG! I could totally be your aunt. Or your super young mother who had a baby in high school. (And we could have spent the 90s starring in a television show together. Or maybe the 80s. How would a TV show have worked? I’ve just confused myself. Damn.)

    If you add the fact that I can’t tell who the hell I should be flirting with in the first place, then we are the same person! Except in the ways we’re different! Also, I am spending today dealing with some cleaning because we may also have the same living room. :P

    Like

    • Em

      PS: Also, it smells like bananas in here because I bought a banana and I actually remembered buying it and went to sleep thinking “bannannnnaa. must. deal. with.” and when I woke up I was all, what’s with the banana smell, where am I?, even though I had it conveniently located on the table in front of me. (It’s not to the point that it’s a fruitfly condo, though. It’s just a bit brown.)

      Like

    • lucysfootball

      Hee! That would be awesome! My mom is ALSO that mom, because she was super-young when she had me. Well, not high-school young, but not too far out of it. People married YOUNG back in the day! It amazes me!

      Flirting is the WORST! I seriously need classes. I just don’t have a clue. And to add insult to injury, sometimes people are all, “Why were you flirting with so-and-so” and I’ll be all, “I WAS? Ugh, REALLY? I’m not even INTO him! I didn’t even MEAN to come across like that! THIS IS SO CONFUSING!”

      This week is all about cleaning up the clutter. This poor apartment. Gah.

      Like

  • lahikmajoe

    Dogs and cats living together? Is that a sign of something? Really? Huh…I’ve seen it.

    I like how this relationship is developing in your mind. We should find Dr Ruffalo’s blog and see how he’s documenting his falling in love.

    Your description of Crazy Eyes Flirting makes me think that we need to put this comedy to some good use. Oh wait, that’s sort of what this blog is, right? Good use. Excellent use.

    Like

    • Andreas Heinakroon

      I’ve got dogs and cats living together at home. Well, one dog and one cat; it’s not like a commune or anything. Anyway, they get along just fine, with no end-of-the-world-ness to be seen.

      Like

      • lucysfootball

        It is a “Ghostbusters” quote! You and Ken need to get together and watch this. Meet somewhere in the middle between your areas and watch “Ghostbusters” and report back.

        If I had the room and the time, I’d have dogs and cats living together ALL DAY LONG. Also probably fish, frogs, some geckos, a snake, and if I had a farm like I want, a bunch of farm animals. Because I DO want to live on a commune. SO MUCH.

        Like

    • lucysfootball

      Please tell me that you and Andreas are just being facetious and you really do know that “dogs and cats living together” is a “Ghostbusters” quote or you’ve totally broken my heart!

      I don’t think Dr. Ruffalo has a blog. Or Twitter. There’s a rumor he has Facebook. It’s being…investigated for me. Let’s leave it at that.

      Sadly, blogging is the only use I’ve found so far for Crazy Eyes Flirting. It certainly doesn’t work for the intended purpose, of getting me a suitor. I cannot for the LIFE of me imagine why.

      Like

      • lahikmajoe

        Oh Amy,

        This is what I meant about pop culture references. Of course I saw Ghostbusters back when it came out and of course the line sounds familiar when you say it came from that movie, but still…I’d have never made the connection without your help.

        This is help, right?

        Like

        • lucysfootball

          I think it’s enjoyable that you don’t get pop culture references. It just means you’re fancy.

          However, I can’t even imagine how confused you must be, reading my blog. There must be a lot of lines that just stand out as, “Hmm, what the hell?” Right? Sorry.

          It IS help. I will totally be your pop culture guide. You just say the word. I can’t help with music, though. There, I am lost.

          Like

  • lynnettedobberpuhl

    My cat will stand and balance on his back feet for treats; I like Dumbcat’s trick better.

    I couldn’t be happier that you and Doc Ruffalo are still a potential “thing”. I LOVE that you are throwing down on Twitter to protect his reputation. I too, am awful at flirting. ‘Back in the day, I went with “a warm and genuine interest” in lieu of “oooooh, we could be so hot together,” and for the most part that served me well.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Today I tried his trick to make sure he still had it, and he scratched me in his eagerness to get a treat. I think we need to work on “gentle paws” or else I could totally be slashed to ribbons.

      In all fairness, the throwdown may have been exaggerated for effect. (What? No. Not ME!) The unnammed person is very, very nice and I’m sure knows that Ph.D. doctors are real doctors, too. :)

      Warm & genuine interest = crazy eyes. We could be so hot together = crazy eyes. Hey, want to go get coffee sometime = crazy eyes. It’s the curse of crazy eyes. Sigh.

      Like

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