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If I were King of the Forest (not queen, not duke, not prince)

Back to work tomorrow! Many many long days ahead this week. My part-time job has been kind enough to give me some hours this week so I don’t get evicted and also so I can buy some groceries. I like to eat. You know, sometimes. When I’m hungry. That’s nice, eating when one’s hungry. So I have a long week ahead of me. The shifts I’m working are earllllly. Like, 7am early. Which is nice, in that I’ll be done with my day early, but that means I have to get up at FIVE A.M. Five! That is VERY EARLY, you guys. That means I have to try to get to bed around NINE. Is the sun even DOWN at nine? Guess we’ll see starting tonight! Also, people call the answering service at 7am? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? You should be ASLEEP at 7am. Or at least getting ready for work. Assuming you’re one of those employed people I’ve read about on the interwebs.

Look what I’ll get to see tomorrow! These things happen, or so I’m told!

Anyway, you will not be seeing me much round the internetty parts for a while. I’ll be working, running home, writing one of these, and going to bed. Probably until I get hired for a real job. Such is the GLAMOROUS LIFE I LEAD TA-DAH TA-DAHHH!

In news of scariness, I recently found out that some acquaintances of mine were also let go and can’t find jobs anywhere and they are a LOT more qualified for things than I am. And also nicer. And less mouthy. So, yikes. ANYWAY, mucho thanks to my part-time job which for the time being is my full-time job, because it is being a lifesaver. I really don’t want to be evicted. Where would I put my things? And my Dumbcat?

This may be me in the not-too-distant-future. Without the Blu-blocker sunglasses, of course.

Today in news of the embarrassing, I did a VERY SMART THING. So it was garbage-and-laundry day. So I cleaned up all the messiness and I put it all in bags. And it was empty-the-cat-litter day. Sometimes it’s empty ALL the cat-litter day and not just spot-clean the cat litter day. So I had one large bag of cat litter. Soiled cat litter. (Luckily, not very soiled. I’d cleaned it a couple days ago and Dumbcat is not very messy.) So I was going down the stairs with one HUGE HEAVY bag of soiled cat litter and one bag of garbage and keys and a note from my front desk that I had a package waiting for me and that’s a lot of things.

GARBAGE DAY! I didn’t have THIS much garbage. Only SORT OF this much.

So I got outside, and locked the door (because KILLERS) and walked to the car and got halfway there and looked down and what’s this? A TRAIL OF CAT LITTER. Yep. At some point, the bag sprang a leak and I left a trail of cat litter across the sidewalk, lawn, and parking lot. VERY CLASSY AMY! So I had to kneel down and perform emergency garbage-bag surgery in the parking lot and tie that corner up in a little knot and PRAY it would hold so I didn’t get litter all in my car trunk because EW.

Luckily, upon investigation, I didn’t spring a leak until the sidewalk, so the inside of my house doesn’t have a trail of used litter in it. Which has happened before. You’d think I’d learn. Also, IRONICALLY, these bags are the ones that are supposed to stretch and never break. MISLEADING!

These bags do not flex. And apparently cat litter is too much of a force for them. SIGH.

When I got home from throwing away the stupid leaky bags of garbage I made sure I didn’t look at the trail of cat litter so no one would know it was mine. What, I’m so not sweeping the parking lot, it’s all full of mud anyway. And the sidewalk is dirty, too. Our outdoors is full of outdoors here. If anyone were to say anything about the cat litter I would have been all, “Huh, wonder what happened THERE? THAT IS SO WEIRD!” Also, it’s raining now so hopefully THE SCENE OF THE CRIME is being washed away. Heh.

Dumbcat did not care that I went through all this for him, and when I got home, was merrily pooing in the clean litter like the dorky boy he is. YOU’RE WELCOME DUMBCAT. Enjoy your nice clean litter, bub, it only caused me ALL THE TRAUMA today.

My father is quite convinced that my mother caused Neil Armstrong’s death because the day before he died, she asked Dad, “What do you think of your hero Neil Armstrong being stripped of all his Tour de France medals?” so he thinks she is the reason Neil Armstrong is dead. Also he didn’t like how flippant she was about his friend Lance. Oh, married life, how much fun you seem.

This made me laugh more than it should have. Please tell me it was a joke?

Also, in happier news, my brother made it to Florida safely and was not sucked into the CONE OF UNCERTAINTY. Well, at least his plane wasn’t. I can’t say that he won’t be. He’s going to be there for four or five days, so I suppose anything could happen. I warned my dad about the CONE OF UNCERTAINTY today when we were on the phone and he was all, “Amy, I don’t think that is as scary of a thing as you’re making it out to be,” and I said, “No, Dad! CONE OF UNCERTAINTY!” and he said, “You could make anything into a story, couldn’t you? You’re amazing.” I don’t think “amazing” was a compliment.

Cone! of! Uncertainty!

To prove that my storytelling ability was not something I got from the neighbors, here is a story my dad told me tonight:

“A guy DIED on Saturday! He was walking at ELEVEN PEE EMM on that road we take to get up to camp? You know that road. And he was walking up by that spring where we get water? You know where. No, you do. NO YOU DO. You can get water? At that spring? You know that place. WHY ARE YOU PRETENDING YOU DON’T. Anyway, he was walking RIGHT IN THE ROAD! And a car HIT HIM! And now he is DEAD! Why do you think he was walking right in the road at 11pm in the middle of nowhere? There aren’t even any BARS up there. I think he was eating those hippie mushrooms. I know there aren’t any bars up there but I bet there are a LOT of hippie mushrooms.”

Hee, these are like Mario mushrooms! Power up, dude!

A normal person would have told that story like this:

“Hey, a guy got hit walking in the road up by camp on Saturday. He’s dead.”

Not me! Not me and my dad! WE LIKE FLAVA IN OUR STORIES, YO! However, it entertains me to no end that he gets all “huff huff huff” when I’m telling a story because it’s TOO LONG when he does the same thing ALL THE TIME. I learned it from you, Dad. I LEARNED IT FROM WATCHING YOU.

FINALLY! Before I go to bed because I’m pretty sure it’s bedtime, right? When a person has to get up at 5am? We need to discuss THE ESSEX LION.

Apparently, the British people and police are all in a kerfuffle because someone said “I saw a LION” so they’re searching and searching this town in southern England for a lion, even though there’s no reports of a missing lion, and no heatseeking helicopters can find a lion.

I feel like someone is the boy that cried wolf, here. Or lion. The boy that cried lion. If I went up to a cop here and said, “I saw a lion!” I think the cop would say, “You been drinkin’, ma’am?” No one would LOOK for a lion. What I have learned from this situation is that the British police have a lot more whimsy than the American police. This is probably a good thing. I like the idea of whimsical policemen.

In this article, which was just updated, apparently the search has been called off. THERE IS NO LION, FOLKS. Also, this photo made me laugh. It is supposedly the lion:

LION! Or…um…a blurry cat superimposed over a field. This is HILARIOUS.

This is the best photo ever. This is better than the photo of the couch floating in the loch that people say is the Loch Ness Monster. GIANT KITTEH!

What would a lion even be DOING there? Lions don’t just APPEAR. They are kings of the FOREST! Not kings of SOUTHERN ENGLAND. Oh. Shit. Shit shit SHIT. This is all because of the CONE OF UNCERTAINTY! It totally is! The CONE OF UNCERTAINTY dumped that lioncat there! Oh, man, this is bad. This is majorly bad.

Ooh, look at this one! The CONE of CONCERN! I like the CONE of UNCERTAINTY better.

OK. Here we go to bed. Many phones to be answered tomorrow! Many people that need my help when they call! Have a lovely day! Watch out for CONES OF UNCERTAINTY and GIANT LIONCATS!

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About lucysfootball

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

18 responses to “If I were King of the Forest (not queen, not duke, not prince)

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