You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.

I’m writing a little teeny bit of this now, then it’s off-to-work time, then the rest when I get home, then it’s off to bed for me. I know, it’s hard not to be jealous of my fancy-fancy life. Try not to be, though. Jealousy really will do you no good, and cause early-onset wrinkles. And who wants those, really? No one. Well, maybe some people like wrinkles, I don’t know. (SIDE NOTE! I strangely have no wrinkles yet, even though I’m getting old. Once, I was getting stage makeup done by a professional stage-makeup guy and he taught me a trick. When you’re doing stage makeup and want to age someone, the trick is to have that person make exaggerated faces. Big surprise, big sad, big mad. Things like that. And the wrinkles that causes – in your forehead, cheeks, the corners of your mouth and eyes, etc. – those are where your wrinkles will fall when you’re old. So that’s where the stage makeup guy puts the lines, because it’s more natural to go with where you’ll actually have wrinkles when you’re old. It looks more natural with your face.

I found this online labeled “old age.” Um. I don’t…this isn’t…don’t do this.

So, when professional makeup guy was aging me up to play an old lady with dementia – one of my favorite roles in the history of ever, I had so much fun with that one – he had me make big happy face, big mad face, all the faces, and then he was all, WTF? because I had NO WRINKLES AT ALL. And he was like, Amy! When you get old, you might be unwrinkled! You will never age! And it is TRUE. I look a good ten years younger than I am. I told someone how old I was a couple months ago and he laughed at me. “Yeah, right,” he said. I was all, “Um, no, seriously? I am? Why, how old did you think I was?” and he was like, “I don’t know, 25?” Hee! TWENTY-FIVE! Aw, how sweet is that? So when I am an old lady wearing purple and chasing children away from me with my cane and hoarding all the cats, I will look like I’m 50. That’ll be nice!)

Me when I am old! Only, I will look younger than this! Still with the crazy hair, though. I’m already working on that.

That was a very long side-note, even for me. I have to leave for work in half an hour. Blergh.

OK, I am home. What a long day. It wasn’t busy, so it seemed longer. And I’ve been frigging around on the interwebs for hours and I REALLY should be writing but I DIDN’T WANNA. I’m filled with laziness. Dumbcat’s all curled up sleeping next to me and I want to be curled up sleeping next to a human, too. Where’s MY human? Sometimes I think about how nice it would be to have a human to curl up next to and I think, I WANT THAT NOW PLEASE. Then someone tells me a bad thing about relationships like how sometimes their boyfriend eats all the cereal or flirts with their friends or something and then I think, eh, this’ll do me fine, I have low tolerance for nonsense. Also other people in my bed sometimes touch me when I’m trying to sleep, and then that wakes me up, and I can’t EVER fall back to sleep. Plus I wake up with one of those gaspy startly sounds like half an underwater scream and you know no one would ever let me live that down.

Aw, look, even Grover gets startled awake. I don’t feel so bad. Thanks, Grover!

This is a big week coming up! Many things going on. Running auditions for our next show; a couple of appointments here and there; working the box office for our current show; and of course more and more and more work. Can’t forget the work! Lots and lots of work. And laundry and grocery shopping and job-applying and blogging and all the day-to-day things that a person does. Oh, some sleeping. Let’s also do some sleeping. Which I should be doing now because it is PAST MIDNIGHT and if my mom was here, she would say “you are going to turn into a pumpkin.” That’s a thing my mom says. “You’re going to turn into a pumpkin,” if you stay up past midnight. I think because she hasn’t stayed up past midnight in…um…ever? She goes to bed at 9pm every night. So she can get up at 5am. And she wakes up SMILING. She is very grimly cheerful, that woman. SHE DOES NOT HAVE TIME FOR BAD MOODS.

I found this and the fact that it exists is a little worrisome, internet.

Oh! Hey, Lucy’s Football has won an award! Or two awards all rolled into one! But you know how I am about awards. Bad. Shitty and bad. So, let’s just talk about the awards for a moment but not do any of the things that mean I’ve accepted the awards. Like an asshole. Like an award-refusing asshole.

So Unconfirmed Bachelorette has given me the “Inspiring Blog Award” and the “One Lovely Blog Award” and she said that we (and of course by we I mean I because it’s classy as shit to talk about oneself in the plural like a weirdo) inspire and amuse over here which is very nice. I don’t think this post does either, mostly because I’m super-exhausted, but it’s a nice thing to say and much appreciated. In order to claim the award you have to say seven things about yourself and you have to nominate fifteen more bloggers and I’m not going to do that, because you know the drill – I don’t think there are seven things about myself you don’t already know, and I don’t want to a., choose fifteen people and make them hate me for choosing them because sometimes people hate getting awards, and b., I don’t want to choose fifteen people and have someone I left out be all WHY NOT ME and then I’d be unable to sleep for a week and it’d be high school all over again and I’m too old for that, I really am. SO! Even though I cannot accept the award, like I cannot accept any awards because I have an inner set of rules and regulations that, like the Princess Bride’s heart, are a secret garden and the walls are very high (that is from the BOOK, don’t get all THAT’S NOT IN THE MOVIE!!! with me, I’ll poke you in the nose) I do (and always do!) appreciate the gesture. Thank you, Unconfirmed Bachelorette!

OK. Time to get off to whatever’s next in the land of Amy. Happy day to you all! Well, except you, Ding Dong Joe. Not you.