Douchebags, are, apparently, the only exception.

Whoo! Busy couple of days. Lots went on! I’m just going to ramble for a while. Ready for rambling? Oh, shush. You LOVE it. SO SO MUCH.

First, look, you get TWO posts for the price of ONE today! And by “price” of course I mean “free!” Here, if you go over to the lovely sj’s blog, you can read my thoughts on reading The Hobbit for the first time. I know, I’m a little old to be reading The Hobbit for the first time. That’s addressed in the post, not to fret, my little chick peas.

Let’s see. Yesterday, I went to see my friend N.’s play he wrote be performed. I mentioned this a while back, right? N. sent me a message not long after I wrote the post about all the high school people sending me Facebook friend requests, asking if I’d be ok with him writing a play using that. Now, listen. I was ok with that on a lot of levels. One: I’m a writer. I mine ALL of my friends for material. Sorry, all. I totally do. I walk around my day gleaning shiny information like a magpie. Some is for my poems; some is for my blog, some is for personal emails; some is just for me. I honestly believe what separates a writer from someone who doesn’t write is that a writer sees more. And remembers more. And then uses that to build imaginary worlds, with that information as building blocks.

Oh, back on track, sorry. Second, N.’s writing is phenomenal. If N. asks if he can use something of mine for some of his writing? That’s a big fat yes every time. Because he’s going to make that shine, no matter what it is. Third, it’s nice to be asked. I mean, I thought that kind of showed a lot of respect, to ask about that. N. had similar high school experiences. He knows where I’m coming from with the high school thing.

So he sent me a one-act a while ago, which I read, and I loved it. It was fantastic. In short, a man returns home to tend to his ailing mother; while shopping for her, he runs into one of the people who used to torment him in high school. It was well-written (not that I’d doubted it would be) and touching and there were a lot of moments were I nodded and said, “YES” and a couple of moments where I had tears. It was painful and perfect.

Then last week, he emailed me and said it was being performed at a local playwrights’ night, and I said, “When and where,” and I meant it, even though I hate leaving the house. Especially when it’s hot. Oh, by the way, IT IS SO EFFING HOT. Hopefully it will go away soon, but blech it’s like almost 100.

I’m a delicate blossom and I frizzle easily.

Last night (well, nights and nights and nights ago for you all, since I’m days in advance, I promise this will stop happening in about a month when I go on vacation, I’m trying to get you all some vacation posts written, IT’S ALL FOR YOU DAMIEN) I got to see it on stage, along with four other one-acts, which varied in successfulness. Oh, also I totally saw my THEATER NEMESIS. I totally have a theater nemesis and I saw him there last night. I haven’t seen THEATER NEMESIS in probably a few years, or so? Since I had to FIRE him. From a show we were working on together. That was running at the time. For a number of reasons. And he was sketchy and we were SURE that he was going to murder me and put me in his trunk and drive my dead body to Mexico. So, yeah, I saw sketchy potential Mexico-killer last night for the first time in years. I don’t know if he saw me. I gave him the secret stink-eye the whole time.

He had these creeeeepy eyes. So creepy. Gah.

Anyway, N.’s play was fantastic. N. and another actor I know starred; N. played the bully (and broke my heart, knowing the little I did about his background, having to play the enemy; I don’t know that I would have found it any easier seeing him play the bullied adult, either, though.) I loved reading it, and seeing it made it even more poignant and painful and incisive. It was also interesting to see the reaction of the audience; I lived some of this, or variants thereof, and hearing people laugh, and seeing their reaction, to things that happened to me, or at least things that almost happened to me, or close to happened to me, was kind of cathartic. I’m not 100% sure I was supposed to get all of that out of this, but I did. And then I clapped until my hands hurt because it was wonderful. And also, I may have cried a little.

Then it was so ungodly hot so I went home and sat in front of the air conditioner and sighed merrily.


Then then then, I had work all day today, and it was the WORST. Second job day today. Not enough employees showed up; there are over a million people without power in Virginia at the moment, and we recently purchased an answering service in Virginia, so that meant a KAJILLION phone calls about no power or no air conditioning or no oxygen, and then some woman yelled at me for like a year and a half because she was a douchecanoe and thought she was special.

This is courtesy of BFF, who saw this and thought of me. AW! Best BFF EVERRRRR.

No, seriously. She actually said, “I understand there are RULES, but I am the exception to those rules.” Um. Yeah. No, no you’re not. She also dropped that she had two vacation homes in Maine in the first thirty seconds of the call, and that she was friends with VERY important people. Then she told me she was going to get me fired, and said I WOULD tell her my last name (heh, I didn’t) and that when she died of a heart attack on Tuesday, I’d have that on my conscience FOREVER. When I said, “well, you could probably call the office on Monday for help, so that doesn’t happen, since they’re open then,” she was FURIOUS. Listen, rich lady. You’re irrational, you’re used to getting your own way, and you’re more than a little bit nuts. And you’re a huge bully. Think I deal well with bullies? No. No, I do not. Threaten me all you want. I’ve been threatened by better than you. Face to face, actually. High school kids were a lot scarier. Trust me. They even would have scared YOU. With all of your VACATION HOMES.


Tomorrow is going-to-visit-C.-and-C. day, so I have to get to bed so I can do that because I have to get up insanely early for a Sunday (sigh, but it’s for a good cause) and then go to a fancy brunch and then go to a fancy play and then home and relax, whoo!

THEN THEN THEN! This weekend is The Nephew’s birthday! I can’t wait to see him. He was at my parents’ house tonight when I called to talk to them and was ADORABLE and LIVELY and had a bugbite and I told my dad to tell him the bugs like to bite him so much because he’s so sweet, and The Nephew said, “I AM NOT SWEET” all seriously and then giggled and giggled. And – ready for the best news? Next Saturday, I took the day off work, because I decided I deserved a full weekend off. Guess what my mom said? “We’re going to need someone to watch The Nephew all day Saturday, because we’re going to be busy preparing for the party. Do you know anyone who’d be willing to do that?”


I get to babysit The Nephew! All day Saturday! We will play and watch television and frolic and laugh and laugh and laugh! I couldn’t be more excited if you told me I had won ALL THE PUDDING.

Oh. OH! Shit. I forgot, I wanted to make a huge huge huge shoutout. You know Ken? The great and powerful Ken, right? Ken works for a newspaper now (along with a ton of other things, because you know what Ken is? Multitasky) because he’s amazing and wonderful, and writes beautifully, and The Munich Times snapped him up, as they should have.

(SIDE NOTE: Ken’s reporting at The Munich Times is not only Amy-approved but AMY’S DAD APPROVED. My dad read one of his articles not too long ago and said, and I quote, “You tell that assassin he’s quite the journalist. This article is both fair AND balanced.” Listen, I don’t know if your dads throw out compliments like Mardi Gras beads, but mine doesn’t. He thinks compliments are only given out when a person really, really, REALLY deserves them, otherwise they are lies. Sound like anyone you know? Anyone writing this blog, perhaps? So it was totally a deserved compliment from someone who probably gives out about ten of them a year. Tops. And eight of them go to NASCAR drivers for navigating difficult turns.) Anyway, TODAY, The Munich Times goes from being an online-only publication to a print publication. Ken’s been working like a madman with his coworkers to get this off the ground, and today’s the day. So, congratulations, Ken! I am so happy for you and so proud of you. This is only the first step in a million kabillion amazing wonderful Miss-Kitty-Fantastico things that are coming to you, I just know it. I don’t think I have anyone reading this who is within the area that can actually buy one of Ken’s papers except FOR Ken, who can probably have one for free if he wants one, but if I by-chance do, please go buy a copy of The Munich Times and support Ken and his people and print journalism and also it’s very good. I’ve been reading it online for a while now and I don’t even LIVE there and it’s good, is how good it is.

Happy day! Time for bed! Even though I’m at work now as this is publishing! I know, you’re all confused. My timeline’s off, too. Whew. Imagine living in MY head. It’s CRAZY in here.

About lucysfootball

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

15 responses to “Douchebags, are, apparently, the only exception.

  • sj

    First – thank you so much for writing that post, I loved reading it and i hope everyone else does too. <3

    Second – GO KEN! I have a friend in Munich, I'll see if I can talk her into supporting you guys. Love Ken, want him to succeed.


    • lucysfootball

      You’re welcome! Thank you for asking me to guest post! It always makes me feel so fancy. :)

      I know, isn’t it the most exciting? I wish I lived where I could just pop out to the newsstand and pick up a copy. I so would, too.


  • Charleen

    “…it was totally a deserved compliment from someone who probably gives out about ten of them a year. Tops. And eight of them go to NASCAR drivers for navigating difficult turns.”

    lol I don’t know why in particular, I just loved this.


  • Kris Rudin (@krisrudin)

    Um, there ARE no difficult turns in NASCAR. They are ALL just left-handed turns. Tell your dad if he want so watch REAL drivers make TRULY difficult turns, watch Formula 1 racing!!

    (you heard the one about Dale Earnhart’s son asking him for directions someplace? Dale says, “Go about 3 blocks and turn left. Then go for a mile and turn left. At the next street, turn left…” And his son says, “That’s kind of a round-about way to get there, Dad, all those left turns. Wouldn’t it be easier to take a right, somewhere?” Dale replies “Cars can turn RIGHT??”)



    • lucysfootball

      He doesn’t like those cars, I don’t know why.

      Oh, I could never tell a Dale Earnhart joke. Dale Earnhart is GOD in his house. One of them died once – the dad? The son? I don’t know – and there was SO MUCH UPSET, I can’t even. I called home and I thought we’d lost a family member.


      • Kris Rudin (@krisrudin)

        The dad died. You could change the name. Use Greg Biffle. He’s not a super-star. AND I’m related to him!! We share the same great great grandfather. (Biffle is my maiden name.)

        Your dad probably doesn’t like F1 because there are no American drivers – but there will a race here (in Austin) this year, and for the next 10 years (I think). So, it’s Merkan! ;-)


  • lynnettedobberpuhl

    So much happiness in this post! Even the part about Frau Fancypants Douchebag was happy because you won! And she is still hot and crabby. Not that I would wish power outage in this heat on anyone, because, urk. And Nemesis, too! What is a Hero without a Nemesis? I am so intrigued by this. Is it as good a story as the serial killer copier repairman or the super strange animal shelter guy (wait, was he a serial killer too? Damn, my memory fails.) So, keep the stories coming, lady. We are just sitting around waiting impatiently for the next one. Fine. In your OWN time then. Sheesh.


    • lucysfootball

      Nah, it’s not that good of a story – he was just flakey and weird, and for a variety of reasons we had to let him go (I probably shouldn’t go too into it, just in case someone reading this knows who he is. I sometimes need to behave, unfortunately.) Man, I hope I don’t run out of stories! What would happen then? Eep!


  • Andreas Heinakroon

    Congrats to Ken! That’s great news! Awesome!

    I don’t like sunny hot weather either. And now I’ve been put in charge of keeping all the flowers and plants alive until Fiancée comes back home. Plants drink A LOT of water when it’s hot and sunny. I hibernate. What was she thinking..?!


    • lucysfootball

      Oh, I’d be the worst at that. I think I’d set up some sort of hose-watering-system, and then I’d leave it running until the plants were drowning while I went inside and ate popsicles in front of the AC. I’m the worst at this summer nonsense. Ugh.


  • Andreas Heinakroon

    Also, congrats on having your life turned into a play, I guess? I’d be hesitant myself. At least until after I’m dead. Then I wouldn’t mind that much. A little, but not much.


    • lucysfootball

      It was only very loosely based. Only based on an idea he’d gotten from one of my posts. So it wasn’t at all embarrassing. (And also, pretty much everything I’m comfortable with being out there is…well, out there. So I’m ok with it being a play. Or a movie. CALL ME HOLLYWOOD!)


  • greengeekgirl

    YAY KEN! YAY! YAY! It’s cool that I know a for-real journalist.


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