Back to work. Boo. No one likes the day back to work after a holiday. It makes you totally depressed and cranky.
Do you want me to make it better? Because I can. I totally can. And I will! All for you, Damien. All for you.
I’ve been meaning to talk about one of these things for a while, and then ANOTHER thing came recently, and I thought, STOP DRAGGING YOUR FEET AMY YOU ARE SLOW LIKE MOLASSES.
This is a post about PRESENTS!
OK, so because I have some of the loveliest friends anyone has ever met online in the history of the land, on top of being funny and intelligent and supportive and sweet and kind, they ALSO sometimes send PRESENTS. I know! Can you even imagine? I don’t want to think too hard about what I did to deserve such wonderful people in my life, but I’m not going to think about it too hard, because what if they disappeared? Then I’d be bereft. Utterly bereft.
(SIDE NOTE: this is not a hint that anyone reading this needs to be sending me presents. It is actually the opposite. I am NOT soliciting presents. People I don’t know sending me presents is a little strange. Someday, when I am a fancypants blogger, maybe I’ll set up a PO box so people I don’t know can send me all the presents? But that shit costs money, yo, setting up that PO box for presents that might or might not come. I’m not The Bloggess over here. And I can’t be putting my actual address on my website. Because that’s how the killers come and steal you away and cut you into pieces and throw those pieces into the ravine. So, no. I am not soliciting gifts from strangers. Thanks, though. Much appreciated, the thought. Much appreciated.)
I have TWO LOVELY PRESENTS to discuss. One from near and one from far. See? This is a way to make your Tuesday back-to-work more joyous, right? Totally. Totally is. But I realized while I was writing this, it would be MUCH too long a post for one day, so you get a two-day present-post EXTRAVAGANZA. Aren’t you excited? Yeah, thought so.
Let’s start with Jim.
You all know Jim, right? Jim is my blogger friend who makes me laugh and laugh. He’s the one who was in Florida when I was in Florida and we did not cross paths (and, due to that fact, he is DEAD to my father. DEAD TO HIM.) Jim is a wonderful writer for many blogs, which are all in the blogroll over there, and an amazing dad and husband, and was on Facebook for, like, six hours, before he conquered it and now owns it and rules it completely. But not with an iron fist, that’d be rude. Probably with a fist filled with bacon or something delicious like that. Oh, here, you can see a Jim Twitter interaction. It’ll make you laugh. Also, I win Storify. Here is Late-Night Twitter Intercourse. There’s innuendo and/or euphemism. If you like that sort of thing.
ANYWAY, two weekends ago, Jim and his family and a gigantic group of supporters walked in the Highmark Walk for a Healthy Community to benefit ABOARD’s Autism Connection of PA in support of his wonderful daughter Lily. (He has another wonderful daughter, too. I AM NOT SLIGHTING EMMA. She is equally wonderful.) His group won fundraising. WON. Here, I’ll let him tell you: “We ‘beat’ all the teams but one! The team we didn’t beat was captained by someone on ABOARD’s board. . . so they weren’t competing. I’d still have liked to pummel them too. . . but it’s nice that of all the teams that ‘counted’, we winned. We winned hard.” Jim set an original goal of $1,000 for his team. How much did he end up making? $2,500, baby. $2,500! I’m not going to say I cried a little bit with happiness when I saw that total, but I might have…um…had some allergies act up. Yep. Allergies. Then I looked at the photos in that post and MAN were my allergies bad that day. WHOO. Damn spring allergies. That happen all year long. Whenever I feel ALL THE EMOTIONS. You need to click on that link and look at those pictures. You can have some allergies, too!
While I was in Florida, Jim sent me a message telling me he’d like to send me a Team Lily t-shirt, if they had any left over once the race was finished. Listen, I’m a huge sap, but unexpected kindnesses really make me totally teary. I know we’ve discussed this, but I went a very long time without any. People or kindnesses, I mean. So now whenever they happen, I kind of look around me all, “What? No. Me? Nah. That guy, right? You mean that guy. You can’t possibly mean me.” I also assume there will be takebacks, and I never, ever count on anything unless it’s in my hand, because I’m pretty sure if my heart gets broken one more time it’s toast. I think it’s held together with spit and twist-ties at this point, to be honest.
OFF TOPIC SHIT SORRY. So anyway, I was all, “JIM THAT IS SO NICE.” Then Dad was all, “Why do you look like you’ve been crying. Wait, you were just on your phone. WHAT DID YOUR INTERNET PEOPLE DO TO YOU.” So I had to explain that maybe Jim was going to send me a t-shirt from Team Lily, then I had to backtrack and explain Team Lily, and even though Jim’s still dead to Dad, he was a little LESS dead to him once he realized that the reason I was all weepy-eyed was because Jim had offered, just because he is nice, to send me a t-shirt.
So remember Sunday I was all, “I HAVE A PACKAGE I CAN’T HAVE???” I finally got to pick it up once the front office opened on Sunday afternoon, right before I went to my play. (Oh, side note, my play Sunday was wonderful. I saw God of Carnage. It was intelligent and it was well-written and it was well-acted and it was one of those shows where I left all, “MAN am I happy I live where I do. WE HAVE SUCH EXCELLENT THEATER.” Also, the ushers were nice, I didn’t have anyone yell at me about my seat, my seat was great, and all the patrons around me were quiet and nice. It was just a perfect theater experience. I deserved one, I think. I’ve had a crappy stretch lately. YAY FOR A HAPPY THEATER EXPERIENCE!)
Anyway: the package from Jim. So, first, I got the package from the lady in the office, and I grinned and grinned when I saw what it was. She laughed and said, “Wow, you seem really happy to get this one.” “It’s a present! From a friend!” I said, and apparently I sounded as excited as a kid taken on an impromptu tour of Toys R Us, because that made her laugh. But not meanly. Joyfully. I totally brought vicarious joy to the lady in the front office. I’m INFECTIOUS. (Ew, no, NOT LIKE THAT.)
Jim totally wrote his return address on the envelope. This means he doesn’t think I’m going to kill him. Or, maybe it means he thinks I MIGHT want to kill him but he can efficiently defend himself against me. Or I suppose it might be a fake return address, like when I have to fill out internet forms and I put in fake telephone numbers so I don’t get telemarketing calls. Or he knows how poor I am and that I can’t even afford to get all the way down there for murdering. One of those things, I suppose it means.
So, first, there was a NOTE. I love notes. Notes are almost better than presents.
(You can click on that to make it bigger. I tried to make it bigger for you, but the next biggest size was GIGANTICCCCC.)
Jim likes to give people nicknames. I hate nicknames, but I allow him, because he’s Jim. It’s hard to explain. Certain people get away with certain things others aren’t allowed to. Because I love them. That being said: ONLY JIM IS ALLOWED TO CALL ME AME. Or give me any nickname at all. Oh, well, ok, I take that back. Ken makes up names sometimes. Like “my little gingersnap” or whatever. Those are allowed (and strangely don’t put me in a sugar coma, even though they’re sweet. I know. I’m telling you, it’s the old double-standard of friendship. I’m not perfect, you guys.) And BFF has a nickname for me that’s allowed but it is PRIVATE and you can’t KNOW it. Hell, if BFF wanted to call me Jackass McJerkface I’d let him. He’s BFF. He’s earned it. (SIDE NOTE: he’d never do that. Are you kidding? He’s BFF. Why would he do that?)
This note made me laugh and laugh and snort a little, and maybe also have a few more of those allergies. Unexpected kindnesses. They’re my kryptonite. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
Oh, probably you need an explanation of the murder thing. We joke about murder. Me murdering people, my internet people murdering me. I really have no immediate plans to murder Jim. That I want to talk about, anyway. Not here. NOT HERE.
And yes, that’s my thumb. And my nailpolish. There’s nothing wrong with my thumb. It’s those Sally Hansen nail strips that have patterns on them. This one’s called “Aflorable.” Gag, “Aflorable,” gross. Most of the patterns are cooler than this one. I don’t love this one. It makes me look like I slammed my nails in a door and I have bruises or something. Not a fan.
And then…A LILY SHIRT!
What, you want to talk about the production values of this photo? FINE. Listen, I’d love to take a photo for you all someday where I am not making an insane face but I look WORSE when I’m not making faces. I promise. When I’m trying to look serious or happy or whatever, I look like a dummy. I look much better when I’m being a weirdo. YES my hair is a mess today. It’s ALWAYS a mess. I’ve TOLD you that. And YES I took a photo in the bathroom. A., there’s a mirror in there so I can see what I look like before I take the photo. And B., it’s the only room with light in here, I live in a cave. There aren’t enough plugs so I don’t have enough lamps unless I stretch extension cords all over until this place looks like a campground. I LIVE IN A DARK CAMPGROUND WHERE MOST LIKELY STABBERY IS ABOUT TO OCCUR.
Anyway, LOOK AT MY CUTE SHIRT! It has Lily on it! Aw! I love it so much! I wore it all day Memorial Day!
Thank you, Jim. I’m glad I know you. You are such a happy addition to my life. You have brought me much joy. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Not just for a present, obviously. For being you.
Tomorrow: part two. A present! From ACROSS THE SEA! With FOREIGN LANGUAGES and WACKY ILLUSTRATIONS! Are you already so excited? Well, if not, your excited-er is broken. It’s going to be ROCKING.
Also, here’s an added photo of Dumbcat, who was sitting pretty and posing for you all this morning. Like a pretty pretty cat-model. He looks sad, but I assure you he wasn’t. Right after this he flopped over and rolled and rolled like a weirdo.