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On-the-scene reporting from upstate New York, where there is no internet to be found

Here I am at my parents’ house! I have officially been cut off from the internet for seven hours. I would assume this is what going through drug withdrawal is like, probably. Shaky, headachey, jonesing for a hit. It’s probably best I’m not going home for a week later in the month. WHAT WOULD I DO. 

As long as I don’t see any babies on the ceiling. That was the WORST.

My parents have left for Dad’s reunion, where he will deal with the Super Sarah situation. (Also, BTW, the reunion starts at 6, and Dad is arriving – I’m not even kidding – at 4:30. I’m not sure what’s going on there. He wants to reserve the best seat? I don’t even know.) He is not jazzed at all about going and when I asked him if he wanted to talk about it, he said, “I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS AMY.” So apparently it’s all very much hush-hush, I don’t know. I know she’s going to the reunion, and she made a very big deal about calling up the woman who hates her the most and RSVPing in a VERY sanctimonious tone. So that’ll be fun. Mom said at the last reunion Super Sarah came up to her and was very wide-eyed crazy and said “have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior” and “have you found Jesus” and my super-super-SUPER-religious mom said, “I found Jesus long ago; he was never lost” and Super Sarah got all cry-eyed and said, “Oh, in his NAME, in his NAME” and I guess decided Mom was her BFF now or something. “Yeah, she’s crazy, but that’s no reason to be MEAN, Amy,” Mom said. (I wasn’t being mean. As I said before, I don’t mind religious; I just don’t want it crammed down my throat, thank you very much.) 

Will Super Sarah bring Spaceship Jesus? Only TIME will TELL!

So I am all alone in my parents’ house. My dad asked me what I was going to do while he was gone. I told him I was going to invite over a lot of people, most of them MEN, and we were going to drink many alcoholic beverages, and probably some of them would smoke DOPE, and we would most likely trash the house, and also at least one of those people would put Dad’s address on the internet. He nodded sagely. “That’s what they do,” he said. “You leave kids alone, and they throw huge parties. All kinds of trouble. Don’t you let those people put my address on the internet. That’s how they’ll track me. That’s how they’ll get me.” 

Huge party at my parents’ house, yo!

Instead of inviting over all the people (I don’t even know all the people, and even if I did, I wouldn’t invite them over; I don’t like people, you see) I am sitting here blogging, even though I can’t do anything with it until I get home and have internet access again, and watching Religulous. Why didn’t you people tell me how good this is? This is very good. And I am laughing out loud repeatedly. Plus, it’s very intelligent. I’m enjoying this a great deal. I had to wait until my parents were gone to watch this, though. This would make my dad’s head EXPLODE. First, it’s talkin’ bad about RELIGION, yo. (Actually, it’s not. It’s QUESTIONING religion. But to Dad, that’s BLASPHEMOUS.) Second, it’s Bill Maher. I think he hates Bill Maher. 

I loved this part. Loved, loved, loved. Maher & the guy playing Jesus at a theme park. A Jesus theme park! SO AWESOME.

I was supposed to get to babysit The Nephew all day today, but that fell through due to circumstances beyond my control. However, the minute I got home, Mom and I got in the car and went over to see The Nephew, because we had to bring him some things for his party tomorrow. When we opened the door, The Nephew was standing there with a gun made out of Tinkertoys, which he promptly shot us with. “Look, The Grandson, Aunt Amy is here!” my mom said. He looked at me and smiled and said, “This is a gun, but also it is to kill bugs.” Then he fell over and cried for a little while, and got back up and said, “Let’s go out to the pool!” Kids are pretty magical with their ability to bounce back, I have decided. 

BTW, these are still as awesome as they were when I was a kid.

Here are some things that we did in the hour that I got to visit with The Nephew: 

  • He sat in his kiddie pool with all of his clothes on, then tried to put his face in. When I told him he was not a fish and would drown, he said he could breathe underwater. “You can? Where  are your gills?” I said. He grinned and pointed at his neck. Aw! The Nephew knows where his gills would be, were he to have gills! (I still didn’t let him put his face in the pool. That water was filthy, you guys.)

    Kiddie pool! When I was a kid, our kiddie pool was a 5-gallon-bucket. You think I’m kidding, but I couldn’t be more serious.

  • Once he was soaked, he decided he wanted to slide down his new gigantically tall slide he got for his birthday. We thought his wet, wet pants would slow him down. Little did we know, his wet, wet pants, in combination with that slide, made him like TEFLON. He FLEW down that slide. He LAUNCHED off the end like a CATAPULT. I was PETRIFIED. He picked himself up, dusted himself off, and said, “I’m going to do that AGAIN!” He then did it about ten more times. I decided after that it was my job to catch him, or otherwise he was probably going to break his neck. I think he was pleased with this development, because right before he went down the slide, he said, “You’re going to catch me, right?” Right, kiddo. Every damn time. And I did. I caught him, and I swooped him up and then tipped him upside down and he laughed and laughed and my shirt got all soggy because his little clothes were SOAKED from that pool, whoo! And we did that over and over and OVER. My arms got tired. Didn’t care. Kiddo needed to be caught. I caught him. He laughed. Totally worthwhile.

    The Nephew’s slide kind of looks like this, only it’s part of a whole huge jungle-gym thingamabobber. It’s like the size of a HOUSE.

  • Then he decided he needed to go BACK in the pool, but while he was in there, he wanted to get all the water out of the pool. When I asked him why, he said, “because I don’t want to swim right now.” So he then sat on the edge of the little blow-up kiddie pool and the water all swooshed out and he made mud and THAT was cool for a kiddo.
  • Then we went inside, and he put on his other grandfather’s glasses (“other” in that it’s not my dad) and ran around until we were all, “Um…kid’s gonna kill himself with the dizziness” and his other grandmother asked if she could have them and he said, “Sure! If you put them on, you’ll look studious.” ZOMG THE NEPHEW. Studious! He is not even THREE yet! STUDIOUS! Yes, yes, his other grandfather told him that word, but he REMEMBERED it, and then USED it, in CONTEXT, CORRECTLY. This lady’s grammar-loving heart grew three sizes THAT day, let me tell you. (BTW: The Nephew is brilliant. BRILLIANT. I’m not even saying that. I’m totally being objective. I’ve seen other kids that age. This kid is AMAZING.)

    The Nephew is a BEBEH GENIUS, you guys.

  • Then we made some things out of Tinkertoys, and played with his cats, and when it was time for us to leave he was VERY SAD and we told him we would see him at his party tomorrow and he said, “Isn’t THIS my party?” and that made my heart hurt a little, but it was time for his lunch and nap and we had to leave. And he was all, “Just one more thing! Let’s play just one more thing!” and OUCH. It is not easy to be a long-distance aunt of a little person you love that much. It is not at all easy. I gave him many kisses on his little crew-cutted head and told him I would see him tomorrow at his party, where he will get all the gifts and swim and play with other kids and have chocolate cake. 

That was the visit with The Nephew. Oh, I ended up buying him (because I totally ran out of time to make a plan) two gigantic thingamabobbers at the store for his birthday – a Chuggington train set that totally talks to you and says things like “It’s not too hard for me!” (I will do my best to not say “EUPHEMISM!” or “that’s what she said!” every time he pushes the talking button on that train) and also a Hot Wheels building set where you can build many ramps where cars can go flying off the ramps and into the air and shit. The Nephew loves for cars to fly off into the air and also crash. It’s like it’s his thing. I was very pleased to find that. I will get him a magic flashlight for Christmas. I like that idea very much. 

This is one of the things I got. I am a danger at Target. They see me coming and start planning retirement homes over there.

Oh, also, by the way, my parents apparently live in an oven, because it is SO HOT here, and there is no air conditioning, and also apparently no fans. So sometimes randomly a tiny breeze wafts through you and you think, AAHHH PLEASE MORE but then nothing and so I’m a sweaty mess. GAH. I miss my home. 

And also, the drive home was fine. It was actually quite cool and rainy the whole way so I didn’t die of heat exhaustion. I brought a LOT of water, but I apparently didn’t need it. There were a lot  of people who pulled onto the highway and totally cut me off, then proceeded to slooooowww riighhhhttt dowwnnnn. I’m not sure what was going on there. Is it mind games? Mostly it made me muse that it’s a damn good thing I don’t have a gun in my car. Because then I would probably road rage and murder someone. I hate having to take off my cruise control. HATE IT. 

Also, this. THIS. Ugh, seriously? Pass and MOVE THE HELL OVER.

OK, time to scrounge up some food and watch some more television (oh, also, I had to watch a LOT of Tour de France today. Dad taught me many things. Mostly I picked my winners, who were the kooky guy who pretended to be Forrest Gump one time when he won and he was super-adorable, and the hot guy from the Isle of Man out of solidarity for Andreas’s old homeland. I would have rooted for the German guy out of Ken-solidarity but he had a shady face. Dad said that it’s obvious I pick my Tour de France winners like I pick my racehorses when we go to the racetrack and I end up losing all my money, but I have the BEST TIME choosing winners based on how pretty the horses are or what their names are or sometimes if the horse walked past me and he looked TOTALLY FIERCE.) 

This is Peter Sagan from Slovakia. Look at those eyes. Nice, right? Also, he’s kooky. I like a man with a sense of humor. Dad says he can’t win, though. Boo.

Oh, also, since I’m writing this days days DAYS in advance, can’t forget – today is my wonderful friend C.’s birthday, who reads this. HAPPY BIRTHDAY C.! I sent you a card but as with most things in my life lately I sent it LATE so probably you’ll get it once your birthday has passed but it’s totally funny so worth it. C. is wonderful, and we were friends in college, then roommates in college, then roommates again once I moved back to New York until recently when she moved away to live with her EQUALLY lovely boyfriend (ALSO a C., I know, I KNOW, it’s all very confusing) and I miss having her here because we TOTALLY used to have adventures, and she was the best at mocking television shows with. Happy happy birthday C.! I hope your birthday has many exciting components, like gifts and cake and balloons, but not anyone jumping out at you, and also not anyone dressed like a clown. Oh, also I hope that somewhere there are lemurs. Listen, C. LOVES lemurs. Here, C. This is for you on your birthday, because once you sent me the best email that I still laugh about regarding lemurs.

This is a baby lemur whose mom rejected him so a zoo is raising him and he is cuddling with a stuffed white tiger. AW LOOKIE! Happy birthday from baby lemur!

Off I go. Maybe I can get the dialup to work in a little bit. I AM JONESING FOR A HIT OF INTERNET DUDES. Later, yo.

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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 “On-the-scene reporting from upstate New York, where there is no internet to be found

  • sj

    I think the Nephew and Baby Girl need to be besties. [nod] Yupyup.

    Like

  • Mister Doctor Professor Susurrus M. Chiaroscuro, Esquire

    Bill Maher. That’s why.

    I NEED to know what went down at that reunion.

    And wasn’t it a dead baby? A dead baby on the ceiling and it’s little head spun around and then it launched itself on his face?

    Last night Emma and I were talking about bad dreams. I told her about this stupid one I had when I was little where the dream didn’t seem scary at all when told, but when experienced had chilled me to the bone and woken me from a deep sleep. Then she shared one with me. . . then I told her my most terrifying nightmare ever.

    This ties into the baby thing. . .

    I walked into the bathroom at my neighbor’s house. I was probably 12 or 13 at the time. The lights were dim. I was having difficulty seeing anything. The entire house was dark, and the only light was coming dimly from the floor of the bathroom so that I had to squint to see anything, and it was still difficult to make anything out.

    In those days I was in the habit of opening any partially open or closed doors when I was alone because of the short story “The Boogeyman” in which a partially opened door presaged the entrance of this baby murdering fiend. (all this I related to Emma, who laughed at 12 year old Jim’s nearly 6 year long need to open doors to verify there was no boogeyman inside).

    I turned to the shower, which had a curtain pulled shut. I stepped over to it and pulled open the shower curtain. Inside, the bathtub was filled with pale white intestines and rotting baby corpses slick with rot. Then the light cut off and someone pushed me into the bathtub.

    I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep for about a half hour.

    So I told Emma about the nightmare. . . and now she won’t go in the bathroom by herself.

    Dad of the Year.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I’ll tell you about the reunion tomorrow, but – spoiler alert! – you’re going to be sadly disappointed, because I sure was.

      I think it was a dead baby. A gross dead baby. *shudder*

      ZOMG that Boogeyman story is the WORST. I totally get that. I wasn’t even afraid of closets until I read that. DAMN YOU STEPHEN KING!!!

      Hee. You’re totally still dad of the year. She’ll get over it. It wasn’t HER nightmare. It’s easier to get over someone else’s.

      Like

  • blogginglily

    I don’t like rotting slick with rot. I didn’t notice that. I want to redo my comment now.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Tell me what you want me to make it say, and I’ll fix it. Bing bang boom. Like MAGIC.

      Like

      • blogginglily

        Nah. . . leave it. It’s not a blog post after all, it’s just a comment!

        Like

        • Handflapper

          Hahaha! The Boogey Man is why NONE OF MY CLOSETS HAVE DOORS, I take them off, one of the first things I do when I move into a house, I am not even kidding, and Nightmare on Elm Street is why I have NO UNDERNEATH MY BED, my bed is always on a platroom, which also cuts down on dust bunnies.

          Also my nephew who I used to love best in all the world but then he grew up and became a big obnoxious teenager so be prepared, Amy, THIS WILL HAPPEN TO YOU, and didn’t want to hang out with me so much anymore, walked in when my sons (older, much older, than nephew) were watching The Shining, and he STILL won’t go into a bathroom that has a closed shower curtain and I always have a clear shower curtain so he can see at all times that there are no rotting dead ghost women in the tub and he has begged and begged his daddy to have a clear shower curtain at his house but his dad won’t because he’s kind of a dick.

          I also want to hear about this reunion, and I must have missed a post about Super Sarah because I am unclear as to how she figures in your parents’ lives.

          Like

          • lucysfootball

            Here’s the Super Sarah post. She believes in JESUS ON A SPACESHIP. Also, DOLLS. *shudder*

            Ugh, that rotting ghost woman WAS terrible. Also, I’m not a fan of underneath the bed, but I have a big flashlight near my bed to kill monsters with. Or to huck at the cat if he bothers me. That hasn’t happened yet, but he’s on notice. DO YOU HEAR ME, DUMBCAT???

            Like

          • blogginglily

            I FORGOT about the Shining. That’s the other reason! I read it when I was little, then watched it late at night while my parents were asleep between scrambled bands on our TV.

            So clearly the Boogeyman affected you too. For YEARS I had to check closets and bath tubs.

            Like

  • Samantha

    I love that The Nephew used the word studious. That is adorable and impressive. :)

    Like

  • Charleen

    I LOVE the person driving holding up the sign. I have seriously considered making various signs that I could hold up to other drivers in various situations. “Get out of the fast lane, moron!” would definitely be one. “It’s not my fault; I’m using my cruise control!” would be another, for those people who you pass, and then they pass you right back because they hate being passed, and then you have to pass them again. But I think the one I’d get the most use out of is, “Such a nice car, too bad it didn’t come with turn signals!”

    Like

  • lynnettedobberpuhl

    I don’t think C should hold it against you if she gets her birthday card late because as far as I am concerned you have time travel going with pre-written posts and “when you read this it will be three days later but not yet today.” Seriously I don’t even know what day it is after I finish one of your posts. I am not complaining; I am just saying I don’t think the rules of linear time apply to you.

    Like

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