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!