Monthly Archives: October 2012

I don’t understand it. I went trick-or-treating and all I got was a bag full of rocks.

Well! It’s Halloween! I’m writing this in advance so Halloween might be cancelled. See, we’re getting this Hurricane Sandy thing up here, it’s supposed to hit tomorrow. All the rain, all the winds, no power. It’s going to be cuckoo-bananas, apparently. I mocked Hurricane Irene before it came, and then so many people around here lost their homes and power and stuff and then I felt terrible so I’m not going to mock this one. I should be fine, though. I don’t know that I’ll lose power. And if I do, it should come back pretty quickly. My place is pretty good about power. I didn’t lose any power the last time we had a storm. (Wait, is this a Hurricane or a Tropical Storm? I don’t even know. I haven’t been paying attention. It’s been a long busy week.) So, anyway, last time I was all “HA HA HA WHERE WILL I LOOT” but this time I’m going to not mock because it ended up not-funny after all. But I’ll be fine, I’m sure. (But if I don’t have power, I want blogs to be READY. I am a PLANNER, you see.)

It’s a hurricane, I guess. Look at it, all red and menacing. RAWR.

Although, listen, people are FREAKING OUT. At the answering service, Saturday was INSANE. So many calls. “Will I lose my oxygen machine if the power goes out?” “Where can I buy a generator?” “Can I legally butcher and eat my children if I lose power for more than 2 days?” (One of these is not a true call. You can decide which one.) We all had PTSD at the end of our shifts. The call volume was off the charts. I’ve never seen anything like it. Apparently it was like that during Irene, too, but I was employed then so I didn’t see that. People are SO SCARED. It made me sad for them. I wanted to pat their heads and give them cookies.

Oh, well, now I want cookies. I WANT THESE COOKIES. These are delicious.

Anyway, so! It is Halloween. So let’s talk about HALLOWEENS PAST.

When I was a wee Amy, my parents weren’t all that into Halloween. This is because Dad considers Halloween begging. Dad is not into Halloween. “We have MORE THAN ENOUGH MONEY,” he would say to my mother. “We can BUY our children candy. They don’t need to GO TO PEOPLE’S HOMES and BEG them for it as if we are POVERTY-STRICKEN.” “Sigh sigh,” my mom would say. “That’s not the point of Halloween, dear.”

How my dad saw my brother and me (and all the other trick or treaters) on Halloween, apparently.

It was always very cold up north at Halloween, so we’d get costumes and then have to wear thermal underwear under them and winter jackets over them, and then unzip and show the people our costumes and shiveringly zip back up and run back to the car. We lived in the sticks. There weren’t many places you could trick or treat. You had to go one place, get back in the car, go to another, it took like HOURS. There was very little walking. You didn’t get much candy.

I was (why? I have no idea) a hobo for like three years running. I think because the costume was warm. Mom just put schmutz on my face and I wore Dad’s old clothes and we put a handkerchief on a stick and there. I AM A HOBO. No princesses for THIS little Amy, no no not me. I was BADASS things. Hobos. Hippies. Those cheap costumes you got that were all plastic at the Kmart. CLASSY BITCHES I WAS CLASSY.

We had a lot of these type of things. Your face always got all hot inside the mask and you smelled like plastic for like EVER after.

I don’t remember what Amy’s Brother was. I just remember he doesn’t like candy so mostly he would trade me for all the Tootsie Rolls. He used to like Tootsie Rolls. I hate those cussing things. They’re not chocolate. They PRETEND to be chocolate but they taste like dirt and paste and false taffy. Now he doesn’t even eat those. He hates sweets. I know, what’s wrong with this kid? (He’s not a kid. He’s in his mid-thirties. However, he’ll always be 5 to me. ALWAYS. Which is why it perplexes me that he’s a dad now. My baby brother has a baby! Huh. When did THAT happen? Oh, over three years ago now? Carry on, then.)


Mom would vet all of our candy. Homemade stuff? IN THE TRASH. (Unless it came from my grandmother. Hers were safe. Which was good, she always gave us homemade doughnuts. YUM. She makes excellent doughnuts.) Fruit? TRASH. (Because, razorblades. I was cool with that. I hate fruit. Give me fruit at Halloween, I will look at you sideways ALL YEAR LONG.) Some candy that wasn’t wrapped securely? TRASH TRASH TRASH. Then we could have the rest, but only a LITTLE, and only in TINY AMOUNTS, over the next few MONTHS. Sigh. Thanks for looking out for our health and teeth, Mom. I GUESS.


When I was in high school, my friends and I decided to go trick or treating because we wanted candy. So we did. We could drive. I think when you’re old enough to drive, you probably shouldn’t go begging for candy. People were NOT AMUSED. “You are too old for this!” they said. “GRUMBLE GRUMBLE WE WANT CANDY” we replied. (Also, one guy was on his porch pretending to be a scarecrow, and then he would come to life and attack you, and he TOTALLY GROPED US. That is NOT ALLOWED, sir. You can’t use Halloween as a cover to GROPE JAILBAIT-AGE GIRLS. Gah.)

Then in college, friend D. and I were so, so poor, and we wanted candy SO BADLY, so we went trick-or-treating in the WORST HOMEMADE COSTUMES EVER and people would NOT give us candy and were the MEANEST. “NO NO,” they said. “YOU DAMN COLLEGE KIDS. Candy is for CHILDREN. You are NOT ALLOWED.” Friend D. and I were very sad because we really wanted some candy. WE JUST WANTED SOME FREE CANDY YOU PEOPLE. You are SO MEAN.

Now I kind of ignore Halloween. I like the IDEA of Halloween, because I like scary, but no kids ever come to my house for candy so I’m not even buying any this year (and if we get the rain they say we’re going to, no kids are going to be able to trick or treat at ALL or they will get washed/blown away) and I’ll probably be working, anyway. And NO, I will NOT be dressing up. I haven’t dressed up since 1993. A lot of people wanted that night off from work so they could be with their kids or go to parties, and I’m ok with that. I don’t have family/kids. I’ll take one for the team. (I’d love to see The Nephew trick or treat, though. I bet that would make me the happiest. That kid’s got more joy in his little finger than I have in my whole body. He’s utterly amazing. I adore him so.)

Dad likes Halloween now because he tells Mom, “This year, you should buy a lot of candy with peanut butter in it. Kids like candy with peanut butter and chocolate.” And she does, then he turns off all the lights and says, “Oh! No kids came. I utterly CANNOT imagine WHY. I WILL EAT ALL THIS CANDY. Don’t you EVEN worry. It will NOT go to waste. How fortuitous it’s my favorite kind, PEANUT BUTTER AND CHOCOLATE!” And every year, Mom pretends she’s not aware he’s playing this trick and every year he pretends it’s a new trick he just came up with and every year it makes me laugh. (Chocolate and peanut butter is my favorite, too. Of course it is, did you have any doubt? It is DELICIOUS.) This year, Dad will miss the chocolate and peanut butter holiday. Because of MOOSE. Sigh, Dad. PRIORITIES.

These are Dad’s favorites. He could eat a billion of these things.

So. Halloween! If you go out, be careful and safe and have all the fun; if you stay in, watch something scary. That’s what Halloween’s for, as far as I’m concerned. And if you’re in the way of the Hurricane/Tropical Storm/Whatever It Is, you be careful. Don’t get washed away or blown away or electrocuted or drowned or whatever-the-hell, I worry about you. Also, shh, don’t tell anyone, but I LIKE CRAZY WEATHER. Well, as long as I’m not driving in it, or something. I love watching it. It makes me feel all electric. I think I was a storm-chaser in a previous life or something. I used to love monsoon season in Arizona so much. I used to go outside and just twirl in the purple-orange air. It was my favorite time of year.

Oh, love love love. I miss this so much.

And if you happen to see a teeny-tiny Buzz Lightyear, ask him to say his catchphrase. You’ll be filled with such hope for humanity you won’t need anything else for MONTHS. Sincerely. He’s just the best thing. The absolute best. No question. Love you, kiddo. Miss you like crazy. Happy Halloween.


I am illustrious and also notable. And Dad is New Found Landing.

I have TWO very exciting things to talk about today. One Dad-related, and one ME-related. Because it’s all about me, jellybeans. ALL ABOUT ME. Well, and Dad. Also Dad.

First: you know how we weren’t counting chickens? Well, let’s see. One, two, THREE chickens. Some chickens have come home to roost.

Uno, dos, TRES POLLOS!

A few weeks ago, my most lovely theater friend C. sent me an email. “Amy, do you want to do this?” she said. “They invited me, but I’m unavailable.”

It was an opportunity to be part of a panel being held at one of our local theaters (one of our BEST local theaters) – a panel of local critics, talking about the critieria for critiquing new works of theater. The other panelists are other local critics. BIG DEAL CRITICS. Friend C. said, “email these people back and tell them you’re taking my place” and I said, “um…I think I should be a little more humble than that, C.” and she said, “I never got anything I wanted in life by being humble, Amy.” C.’s a spitfire. I want to be her when I grow up.

So I sent off the email and the guy said they’d get back to me and I waited and I waited and I thought, “well, they don’t know who I am. So that’s ok. Even though I want this. I want this very badly.” But as I’ve mentioned, me and good things are not on the best terms, always. So I’ve learned not to hope much. Well, I still hope. That sounded depressing as hell. Of course I still hope. I just play it close to the vest. Because if you blab about your hopes and they don’t come through, then you are sad and people think you’re a loser and blah blah blah counting chickens you know the drill. Plus your poor little heart gets all crushed-like.

Stupid feathery hope.

But on Friday at work, I got an email saying, “Amy. YES. We would VERY MUCH like you to be part of our panel. Send us a bio, we’ll start sending out publicity.”

I AM PART OF A PANEL. An “illustrious” panel, no less!

Wait, wait, I’ll show you. Just a minute.

Capital Region Media Notables Selected 



Jeffrey Borak, Amy Durant, Michael Eck, Bob Goepfert, Byron Nilsson, James Yeara & Benita Zahn Join the New Play Discussion 

Two Plays and Musical Dominate More Than 120 Submissions;

Grammy-Award Winning Composer Tops Musical Selection

Albany, NY – October 29, 2012 – In the first joint artistic venture for both organizations, Albany-based Capital Repertory Theatre and Proctors of Schenectady have called on the expertise and experience of six Capital Region notables in the field of theatre and entertainment for a professional dialogue on new plays received as a result of a statewide invitation for new work as part of an inaugural NEXT ACT! NEW PLAY SUMMIT.

Special Events include CRITICS CIRCLE 

The NEXT ACT! NEW PLAY SUMMIT includes special daytime events designed to shed light on new play development including discussions with the featured artists. Complimentary refreshments will be available at all events.

The highly anticipated CRITICS CIRCLE panel discussion will take place on Sun. Nov 4 at 1 – 2:30 PM at Capital Rep. Capital Region subject-matter experts in theatre will comprise the Circle: 

WNYT news anchor BENITA ZAHN will moderate the Critics Circle, which will include JEFFREY BORAK (Berkshire Eagle), MICHAEL ECK (critic and frequest contributor to the Times Union, BOB GOEPFERT (The Saratogian), AMY DURANT (Daily Gazette), JAMES YEARA (Metroland)and BYRON NILSSON, (Words and Music blog and Metroland contributor). 

According to Capital Rep’s Artistic Director Maggie Mancinelli-Cahill, the contributions of the Critics Circle will be an invaluable asset to the festival.  “Being able to bring insight to patrons, artists and playwrights about the process of reviewing a new play is a part of the “circle of life” for new work.  We have an illustrious panel of critics, who all care about the arts in the Capital Region and take their work very seriously.  This is a wonderful opportunity to get behind the scenes for an insider view of issues facing art critics today.”

About the CRITICS CIRCLE Contributors

Broadcaster BENITA ZAHN will serve as moderator for the New Act! New Play Summit ‘s Critics Circle.  Ms. Zahn co-anchors News Channel 13 Live at 5 and 6 with Jim Kambrich. Her outstanding work has garnered numerous awards, including being named one of the 100 Women of the Century by the Albany-Colonie Chamber of Commerce; the Arthur Kapner Spirit of the Chamber Award, a three-time Emmy nominee, NYS Broadcasters award recipient, Gold Medal and Bronze Medal – New York Festival’s International Television, and the Distinguished Communicator Award from American Women in Radio and Television. An avid runner, Benita also is active in regional theatre. Her theater credits include performances at the Fort Salem Theater, Albany Civic Theater, Schenectady Civic Theater, Schenectady Light Opera and Park Playhouse. She also is a member of the Singer Anchors – with WRGB (CBS 6) anchor Jerry Gretzinger and WNYT  (News Channel 13) and Jessica Layton. The trio originally joined melodic forces with Jay Kerr at the Fort Salem Theater to produce a fantastic evening of song and banter.   Since their debut at the Cabaret at Fort Salem Theater in November, 2009 they have been successfully touring the area.  Their holiday show is booked at Vapor and The Century House. Benita is on the boards of Kelly’s Cause, Building on Love, which supports Ronald McDonald House and Park Playhouse.

JEFFREY BORAK has been the Berkshire Eagle’s entertainment editor and theater critic since April 1986.  Before coming to the Berkshires in April 1986, he covered city hall in Beacon and then Poughkeepsie, N.Y, for the Poughkeepsie Journal, before becoming that newspaper’s entertainment editor and theater critic. Mr. Borak has acted and directed with community theaters in Wappingers Falls, N.Y. and Poughkeepsie, and acted with Ghent Playhouse and Albany Civic Theater. He lives in Pittsfield, MA, with his wife, Judaic mixed media artist Wendy Rabinowitz.

MICHAEL ECK has been commenting on art and culture in the Capital Region for nearly 30 years. A freelancer, he has been the Times Union’s chief theater critic since 1992. (He also has contributed music reviews and general features to the paper since 1986). Nationally, Eck has written for Backstage, Billboard, AOL,, The Austin Chronicle, Fretboard Journal, Southwest Airlines Spirit, Los Angeles Times Syndicate, No Depression and many other publications and websites.

AMY DURANT has a B.A. in Theatre from Binghamton University and has been working in theater, both onstage and off, for over 25 years. She has been the Artistic Director at Albany Civic Theater for two years and has worked on a number of their productions over the last eight years. She is also a theater reviewer for The Daily Gazette. She has worked at a number of theaters in her career and is proud to call the Capital District, with its rich arts culture, her home. 

BOB GOEPFERT  A local arts critic for more than 30 years, Goepfert is a former executive director of the Palace Theater in Albany.  His reviews can be found in the Troy Record, the Saratogian and on air at WAMC.   

BYRON NILSSON  has been reviewing theater, music, dance, movies, restaurants, and more since 1984 for such area publications as Metroland, the Schenectady Gazette, the Albany Times-Union and writes a blog Words and Music. He is a professional actor and member of Actors Equity SAG-AFTRA and the Dramatists Guild. His plays have been performed at Ensemble Studio Theatre and the NY Fringe Festival.

JAMES YEARA has an MA in Theatre Education and has been writing about, producing and directing theatre for 25 years.  He is a mainstay critic at METROLAND and founder and producer of Wit and Will improv troupe. He teaches theatre and dramatic literature at Bethlehem High School.

Are you so excited/impressed right now? I AM PART OF AN ILLUSTRIOUS PANEL. Look at these PEOPLE! And our moderator is a NEWSLADY! I have always wanted to meet the fancy theatery newslady. Everyone says she’s very nice. (She also acts. That’s why she’s also theatery.)

So I have to talk in front of a PAYING AUDIENCE OF PEOPLE. Not JUST people. FANCY PEOPLE. The people that attend this theater are the fanciest. It’s a very nice theater. Luckily, I’m talking about a thing I know something about – I’m in charge of choosing the new work for my theater every year, plus I review plays, and you all KNOW I’m very judgmental, so I’m not going to have to either make things up, or just sit there quietly and nod. But still. SCARY.

I’m Willow with the stage fright. Not when I’m ACTING. When I’m PUBLIC SPEAKING.

Yes. Yes, I know. I used to act. I used to get up in front of LARGE ROOMS FULL OF STRANGERS and TALK. At LENGTH. I also blog daily and talk to STRANGERS. I know this. However, acting/talking in character (even if blog character is pretty close to Amy) is nothing like getting up in front of people and being YOURSELF. I sometimes have to get up and do the curtain speech in front of my theater, and the curtain speech is like two minutes long, and I have to PEP TALK myself before that damn thing, and I almost HYPERVENTILATE. Here’s a secret: I’m a total introvert. I’m PETRIFIED of this.

However! My four years of theater training (that I will be paying for for…well…the rest of my life, let’s be honest) and my…let’s see…yep, 25 years of FREE theater training (I did my first show when I was 13. THIRTEEN! Can you even imagine? Little 13-year-old me. Aw, me) have taught me a lot of things, but one thing that is very important and I have used it in a million billion places.

I’m very good at pretending I’m not scared of things.

Inside, I’m hiding in the pots-and-pans cupboard with my cat, but on the outside, I’m loud and I’m brassy and I’m all smiles and I’m happy and wide-eyed and confident as hell. I realize in telling you this, I’m totally blowing my cover, but there it is. I’m really, really good at playing a character when I need to, and that character is Confident Amy. (And when I’m comfortable with someone, I don’t need to play Confident Amy; Confident Amy is naturally there, and THAT’S nice, because it’s a lot easier to not have to ACT like I’m confident and just BE confident. Acting is EXHAUSTING. You know how people are all “actors are LAZY!” Nope. Acting is EXHAUSTING. You have no idea. It’s a lot of work, wearing someone else’s face and mannerisms for an extended period of time.)

Anyway, there’s the scoop. Next weekend, I’m not working Assassins for THREE OF THE FOUR DAYS. I know! I will miss it. Thank you, friend K., for being my fill-in light person. I love you so much. Also, you are very good at talks and advice and making me giggle, and you are one of my favorite people in the whole world, and I am so glad I know you. So, anyway, next weekend, one day I’m reviewing a show; one day, I’m ushering at my theater; and one day, I’m talking in front of a large room filled with people about theater in some REALLY FANCY COMPANY. Which I think makes ME fancy company, right? HOLY HELL WHEN DID I BECOME FANCY. Even if it’s only for the one day. BRIEFLY fancy.

I promise I will not forget you when I am a fancy person. Well, except Ken. I’ve already told Ken I’ve begun to forget him. Who’s Ken, again? Bon vivant what? Friend in Germany who?

(I totally ganked this from the interwebs, Ken. Because your face makes me laugh like a moron. Wait, that came out wrong. KEN I LOVE YOUR FACE. Just, THIS EXPRESSION is very funny. There. That’s better. Kind of.)

OK, now DAD news. Dad is in NEW FOUND LAND! I’ve been missing him all week. I have to write a blog about where Dad is, because he sent me a website to his hunting tour place, and it’s…well, it’s filled with accidental hilarity, I can’t lie. But I can’t access that from here. I’m at the theater, you see. No internetting here. We’re getting ready to open the matinee. The house should be opening any…minute…now and the show starts in 20 minutes and then I have to run to Staples before it closes and print some things because my home printer is not working. You can put all the ink in it, but then it says “NO INK NO INK.” Well, you are a liar, printer, and I hate your face. I will talk about the printing of things at a later date, maybe. They are chickens. Uncounted chickens. I have to print some uncounted chickens. At Staples. Won’t they be surprised when THOSE pop out of the printer all uncounted-like and buck-buck-bucking around.

So Dad’s been calling me every day and I have missed EVERY SINGLE CALL and that’s been so sad but last night I went to bed at 3am (don’t ask, you wanted a blog Sunday, didn’t you? Then I had to stay up until 3am) and was SUPPOSED to sleep IN but then Dumbcat decided he wanted to snuggle at 8:30ish so he was all “mreeeow? Purr. Meee? Mooo? Purrr. Meee! Meee! MEEEEEoooooo!” and headbutting and he was SO CUTE even though SO ANNOYING so I woke up to pet him and then I was awake. So then the minute I got up he immediately occupied my warm spot so I SEE YOUR NEFARIOUS PLAN, MY BOY. VERY evil. SO evil. So later I woke HIM up to cuddle with HIM. See how HE likes it. (He liked it very much. He was so happy he DROOLED.) So I wandered around the house like a zombie-person and then the phone rang all “PRIVATE NAME PRIVATE NUMBER” at 9:15am and I was like, “WHAT THE HELL NO” but I answered it because if it was a telemarketer, I wanted to shout at them. But it was DAD! From NEW FOUND LAND!

He was all, “Well, I GUESS YOU HATE ME” and then I had to explain that I was working on a play and he was all, “NO PLAYS YOU ARE UNEMPLOYED” and I said “Dad. DAD. IT IS ASSASSINS” and he was like “I didn’t know there was a play about that assassin friend of yours” and I said, “NO. It is my favorite musical of ALL TIME and I have wanted to work on it for TWENTY YEARS and sometimes you have to DO things even if the TIMING is not the BEST” and he thought about it for a minute and then agreed. This is why I have the best dad. (Also, I want a play about Ken. How much fun would a bon vivanty assassiny musical be? Someone write a musical about Ken. The lead character has to play a ukulele, though. That is non-negotiable.)

Let’s just look at this photo of John Lennon playing a ukulele for a few minutes, ok? Because it makes me happy.

Anyway, Dad will lose cell phone reception soon, as he is going into the WILDS looking for MOOSE so I won’t talk to him for a couple of weeks or something. I caught him up briefly on all the fanciness going on in Amy-land – he was duly impressed – and he told me he rode a very big ferry and didn’t even fall off one time – and I was duly impressed. (Right before he left, someone drove their van off a ferry, which I think is kind of hilarious. Not on PURPOSE. By ACCIDENT. I know. It’s all very sad. But also kind of funny. I don’t think anyone DIED or anything. THAT wouldn’t be funny. I mean, I have a dark sense of humor, but it only goes so FAR.)

Here’s a van being rescued after falling off a ferry. Aw, van.

Dad and I talked for about 10 minutes and it was very nice and I miss him like crazy because Dad gets me more than anyone else because, other than the insane political divide we’ve got going on, we are (shh, don’t tell) VERY SIMILAR. All of my weird personality quirks, like the chicken-counting and the insane crazy crippling loyalty to our very very few chosen loved ones and even the we’re totally introverted but VERY good at pretending we’re not when we need to be so no one knows we’re not? All Dad-things. I might look like my mom, but this personality is almost 100% Amy’s Dad. (Which makes Mom INSANE. “Why didn’t you get even a SINGLE ONE OF MY TRAITS?” she will ask. I have no answer for this. Not a one. It’s not like she wasn’t AROUND for my childhood. If anything, she was around MORE, as Dad worked and Mom was a stay-at-home-mom until I was 12. Genetics and nature-vs.-nurture, they’re funny things, right? Right. Also, Amy’s Brother is just like Amy’s Dad, too. So…sorry, Mom. You lost the genetic lottery. I don’t know what to tell you.)

This is a very long blog post. I’m at the theater, what the hell else am I going to do? I’m typing inbetween looking up and watching the show. I’ve watched it 6 times in a row now and I’m not even a little bored, by the way. This is a very, very good show. Sondheim’s on my list of people I want to meet someday. It’s a short list. The Clintons, Stephen King, Joss Whedon, Sondheim. Kevin Smith was on the list but I met him so I got to cross him off. Although I WOULD like to meet him someday where I didn’t act like an asshole weirdo stalker-person. I WAS SO STAR-STRUCK MY WORD. (I’d like to meet a lot of other people – a LOT – but those are the IMPORTANT ones. Oh, well, of course, this list does not count my real-life far-flung loved ones, who I would give my left arm to meet. That’s understood, right? Right. I don’t need that left arm anyway, it just gets in the way and I’m a righty.)

Ooh, you know what Sondheim’s beard means, right? That’s right. Bon vivant.

OK. This needs to come to an end. So there’s Dad-news. More Dad-news to come soon. Later in the week, maybe? And AMY-news. Such exciting Amy-news. This week’s been great. Assassins and being on a panel and then this uncounted chicken thing that I can’t talk about yet and other various awesome things. Just a great week. Love you, week. Thank you, week. I needed you, week.

Kind-of-Sort-of Ask Lucy a.k.a. I CAN ANSWER THAT! (Volume 9)

Well! Here we are, my most beloved of all my beloveds! Have we got questions? Oh, have WE got QUESTIONS. I can’t even. SO MANY QUESTIONS. Like eleventy-billion questions. No, no, maybe less than that. Like eleventy-million. I don’t like to exaggerate, that’s just déclassé.

Except when a kitten does it. Then it’s ok.

So, in case you don’t remember, here’s a quick rundown of what’s going on here. I don’t know, you might need to know. Like, if the FBI questioned you or something, you’d have to tell them SOMETHING. ANYWAY, because the search terms posts tend to be was insanely long, I break them up into two posts: an open letter to people who find my blog accidentally (that’s yesterday’s post, in case you have goldfish-memory) and a post with just the QUESTIONS that drive people to my blog. And I give advice, and I answer your questions, and it’s really kind of stellar. What? It IS. Isn’t it? Don’t tell me if you don’t think it is. I don’t even want to know. BE NICE.

So, yet again!

Welcome to…

Kind-of-sort-of Ask Lucy.


These are all ACTUAL SEARCH TERMS that brought people to my blog. So these people totally need my help, obviously, because they came to Google SEARCHING FOR HELP. And I can answer these questions! Well, some of them. Maybe not all of them. But I can sure as hell try. I’m really good at trying things, even if I fail spectacularly.

what to do if someone is putting trash in my mail box?
kids keep leaving trash in my mailbox, how do i get them back? I got a lot of searches for this this month. I don’t know what’s up in the world. Why so much mailbox-litter? Weird. The first person here just wants to know what to do, and the second wants REVENGE, which makes me laugh. Reveeeenge! Hello, my name is Person Who Randomly Searches Google, you put trash in my mailbox, prepare to die. Listen, I don’t know what to tell you, babe. They’ll stop eventually, is my guess. Kids get bored of such shit. Kids have short attention spans. I wouldn’t put a bomb in your mailbox or anything. You’ll get arrested. Plus you could hurt your mail carrier. I know a mail carrier and I like him very much. I’d feel terrible if you hurt a mail carrier. You’re welcome, I’m sorry someone’s letterbombing you, pun most definitely intended.

which country has lots of sluts Hee! I have no idea. By “sluts,” do you mean legalized prostitution, or do you mean whorey girls that’ll put out? I’d think any country has those. Some more than others. Smaller, more religious countries maybe less? I don’t know. Anyone have any advice for this guy? Is the country you live in slut-laden? Also, sir (or, ma’am, I suppose, don’t mean to be sexist) “slut” is a rude term, and if you use it, women are less likely to sleep with you. Just a tip. We prefer “shady lady.” You are welcome, wear a condom.

why do i always obsess last guy i made out with Well, I would hope it’s because you had feelings for that person, because why are you making out with random people? From experience, I can tell you making out with people you have no feelings for doesn’t even rev your engine a little, while making out with someone you like is TOTALLY engine-revvy. I mean, well, not that I ever made out with RANDOM PEOPLE. Ahem. Cough. Cough. Misspent youth. I always knew who they WERE, for the most part. That guy who was the other guy’s friend who had nice hair. Friend S. from the theater. The pretty boy with glasses I met at happy hour. It’s not like I picked them up on the BUS, come on now. So, the answer to your question is: YOU HAVE EMOTIONS. You’re a human, not a robot. Welcome to the human race, it’s nice. We have cake, sometimes. You’re welcome, wear Chapstick.

Emotions are part of the package. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

is lucy football grownup This made me laugh so hard I snorted. Yes. Yes, I am, my friend. I am almost 40. I know. It’s surprising, considering I talk like a sixteen-year-old. But, yep. I’m an adult. I can vote and drive a car and get a tattoo or a piercing and I have grey hair and everything. And I’ve done/have ALL of those things. I’m about to hit my midlife crisis head-on, baby. It’s gonna be GLORIOUS. You’re welcome, I’m glad I could tell you personal information about myself that you seem to need for some strange reason.

what is the meaning of molasses The…meaning? It’s thick, dark brown uncrystallized juice obtained from raw sugar during the refining process. I got that from Google, it’s not like I knew or anything. I like molasses cookies alright. They’re fine. Sometimes I get a craving for them. But I don’t know that there’s a MEANING. It’s not like it’s a EUPHEMISM. Well, I don’t think it is. Ken? Is molasses a euphemism? You’re welcome, stop trying to find the meaning in everything. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, you know?

Sweet sassy molassy!

can I change my gender with a spell or potion Oh. No. No, you…no. Please tell me you were kidding. I know I blogged about this once, but I was KIDDING. As was the eBay seller of the potion. Well, they weren’t KIDDING as much as they were looking to rip you off, but still. Sentiment’s the same. No. If you want to change your gender, there’s no Polyjuice Potion, my love. You need to get surgery and therapy and take lots of hormones and it’s a tough go but it’s worth it to become the person you need to be. I’m sorry. I wish I had a better answer for you. You’re welcome. I hope you’re ok.

Only in the movies, babydoll. Only in the movies. And books, first, of course.

what are some charlie brown relationship patterns Aw, well, I love this. Let’s see. Charlie Brown loves The Little Red Haired Girl from afar, but never gets up the courage to talk to her. Sally loves Linus but he doesn’t give a shit. Lucy loves Schroeder but HE doesn’t give a shit. Everyone bullies Charlie Brown except for Linus. Lucy treats Charlie Brown like dogshit. Utter dogshit. Snoopy’s just the best and so full of life. As dogs are, you know? Especially beagles. My favorite TYPE of dogs! Patty and Marcie seem solid and everyone always said they were lesbians, I don’t know. Patty’s pretty bossy but Marcie seems down with it. So…the relationship patterns in Charlie Brown’s world are…well, really pretty shitty, to tell you the truth. Lots of longing, no one ever gets who they want, everyone’s pretty miserable when you think about it. And did I name my blog after this cartoon? Yes. Yes, I did. You’re welcome, write a term paper about this and let me read it, ok?

did glee ever do a lana del rey song I’ve missed the past couple weeks of Glee so I can’t answer this with any sort of authority. The internet seems to think they did “Video Games” back in May. Am I forgetting this? Glee’s gotten pretty effing forgettable lately and I kind of hate it, to tell you the truth. You’re welcome, watch American Horror Story, it’s better. (Oh, research tells me that, yes, they did, but it didn’t make the episode. Here, you can listen. Puck covered it, so it’s pretty and dark and kind of twisted and now I’ve been listening to it over and over for like twenty minutes. I miss Puck, by the way. Sigh, Puck.)

do men get erections just from seeing someone? “are you happy to see me?” Ha! I don’t know. I think in high school that happens. But I think when they grow up they get better control over such things. This is a very funny question. Men, you can chime in here if you want, I don’t have a trouser snake, I’m not any sort of authority here. You’re welcome, please keep that in your pants. And, yes. I’m ALWAYS happy to see you. Just not…like that.


do you have to wear a turtleneck with something else Well, I hope with SOMETHING else. Not JUST the turtleneck. With your bottom half all naked? That’s not even REMOTELY sexy. Even someone SO sexy couldn’t make that work, I wouldn’t think. But, yeah, I have a couple of turtleneck sweaters I wear just on their own, well, with pants and shoes and all. Sometimes a skirt. I don’t wear them UNDER anything. Is that your question? This is weird. You’re welcome, coming to me for clothing advice is like going to the ocean to ask it about the desert, honestly.

This made me laugh SO HARD. Look at his little monogram on his sleeve! SO FANCY! So he doesn’t forget who he is, I guess!

from what were animals made out of? This sounds like a Biblical question. Like, Eve was made from Adam’s rib (coughbullshitcough) so the animals were made from…what? The answer is MAGIC FAIRY DUST. And RAINBOWS. You are WELCOME, please feel free to quote me at your next Bible study. I’m sure it’ll be a hit.

I’m sorry. This made me laugh SO HARD. Well, married readers? Is it? Is it just like this? With wild animals and foliage and such?

how do kakopo feel if you touch it Like…a bird? With feathers? I find that birds feel a lot less substantial than you’d think when you touch them. Like, they look all big, but underneath their feathers they’re just spindly. But kakopos are magical and hump your head like it’s a sex-hat, so…yeah, probably don’t touch ‘em unless you want ‘em to be humpin’ up on you. You’re welcome, don’t be screwing a bird.

Aw, kakopo. Poor little horny kakopo.

how to make a paper mache whale I’d think…um…build a whale out of balloons and masking tape, then cover that in paper mache and then wait for it to dry? That’s how I build shit out of paper mache, if I have to do it. Once I built a whole set out of paper mache. It was the messiest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I ruined a billion sets of clothing and shoes and it was in my hair for WEEKS. Set was kickass, though. You’re welcome, best of all things with your craft project.

HOW CUTE IS THIS. Someone make me one.

how to wear skinny jeans or jeggings without cameltoe Ha! I love you guys, most sincerely. Well, I’d say, don’t wear ‘em, they look silly, but if you have to…I don’t know. Just don’t wear ‘em so tight, maybe? Or, wear extra paddy underwear? I have no advice, here. I don’t wear these types of pant-items. I wear boot-cut jeans and khakis. End statement. Oh, in my house I wear pajama pants that fall down all the time because they were purchased when I was substantially larger. Speaking of which, do you think if you lost a lot of weight without trying, you’re dying? OK, just wondering. For a friend. You’re welcome, dress appropriately.

What’s the male equivalent of cameltoe? Because I’m going to assume, on front-view, this guy’s got that going on.

is being called a fucking bitch normal? “Normal?” I don’t know. Were you acting like a fucking bitch? Does it happen, like, every DAY, or just once and a while? I don’t think calling people names like this is NORMAL. I mean, I call people things like this, but not to their FACES. Like, there’s this person I know. I won’t say where, or when, but a person. I know. And every time I interact with her, she is SO NEGATIVE. So as I walk away from her, I say, under my breath, “I think you might be the biggest bitch I have ever met” or “You make me want to stab baby kittens” or something along those lines, you know? But not TO her. To her face, I am VERY POLITE. It takes a lot to make me shout, actually. I have to be pushed pretty far or be really really tired. I know. You’re probably surprised, I seem all volatile. So, “normal?” No. I don’t think it is. And I think if you’re in an environment where that’s happening, you need to get out, because that is a poison environment. You’re welcome, I don’t think you’re a bitch. I think you’re a lovely special snowflake.

is it normal when kids had the flu after to be so crenky Hee, “crenky.” Yes. That’s normal. The flu is the WORST. It makes you feel like DEATH DEATH DEATH. And little kiddos are less able to deal with such things than grownup people. So, sure it is. Be nice to your little convalescing babies, you. Oh, I spoke to The Nephew today, he told me he was going to be Buzz Lightyear for Halloween and that Buzz Lightyear says “To infinity! And BEYOND!” and I told him, “You are the BEST Buzz Lightyear!” and he giggled and said, “YES!” so I think I win Halloween. You’re welcome, be nice to your little ones, I wish I had some around to spoil rotten.

My little Buzz is better than this. Sorry, real Buzz Lightyear. My little guy’s more excited than you are about…well…everything.

are there social anxiety pills I hear there are. My friend offered me some once, to get me to go to a party with her. I did not take them. I learned in an Afterschool Special you don’t take other people’s prescription medication. So, yes. I think so. Xanax, or something. Ask your doctor. Don’t ask the internet. You’re welcome, isn’t social anxiety the best?

Oh, well, you don’t need pills. You can use PSYCHOLOGICAL TRICKS. This is good news.

is tiger tiger burning bright ee cummings Nope. It’s William Blake. I don’t think (not that I can FIND, anyway) that cummings even referenced the Blake poem.    It’s a nice poem. I like it. I like cummings better, though. I’m a cummings fangirl, what can I say. You’re welcome, I like your curiosity about poetry. Keep it up, sweetpea.

how to see theyr underware with your phone WHAT THE HELL? Your phone is not XRAY SPECS. You are NUTS. And kind of GROSS. And a PEEPER. Cut this out right now. Also, your spelling and grammar are atrocious. STOP IT YOU. You’re welcome, NO NO NO.

Well! There we go, jellybeans! All the questions! All the answering! All for YOU! I hope that was helpful. I love your faces. Until next month, may your questions be answered and your searches bring you to someone who is helpful. Or, lacking that: may they bring you to me, because I try REALLY HARD to help. I totally do.

An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 16)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

It is October. It is my absolute favorite month. It is my birthday month; it is the month that (well, usually) fall finally tips over into winter, with that last dying gasp; it’s Halloween month so there are Halloween specials and such on the television and you know I love scary; and I’ve had all the happy news this month. Well, there’s been some sad, too, of course. But the happy feels even better with the sad mixed in. If it’s all happy all the time, you can’t appreciate it as much. Right? Right.

I’m a big fan of leaves. Pretty, pretty crunchy leaves.

We had a lot of perplexing things to talk about this month. A lot of lost little wanderers. That makes me both happy and sad. Happy, because, well, this post wouldn’t be awesome without you. Sad because, aw, you’re so lost. SO SO LOST. Poor things. I want to give you a cookie and a glass of milk and pat your little heads. But not the ones who were pervy. I’m not even touching you. NOT EVEN. I don’t know where you’ve been.

In case you’re new, let me catch you up on this recurring post.  I’m obsessed with my stats; I like to check what search terms drive people to my blog; then I feel REALLY BAD this isn’t what they were looking for. So I write them a letter of apology (this is the sixteenth one. As you can tell from the title. Sixteenth! Aw, we should give these posts a Sweet Sixteen party or something, they’re ALMOST A WOMAN! Search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? Cause I’m so literally stuffed with awesome it’s just falling out my various cracks, I suppose. All my cracks.

So I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups. Don’t get all sweaty. It’s not like gym class. I’m dedicated to not letting anything be like gym class ever again, my sweetest skylarks.

Category the First: Strangely precise things in quotes

“are probably totally all disappointed in me because i haven’t been discussing the end of the world and”
“devonshire tea”
“freebie five” rules
“grew back” mustache kiss
“i like being worshipped”
“let’s get married now” craigslist
“sniveling sycophant” computer game
“there’s some one out there who’s sick of her shit”
“well, do you want to come in?” 

These are all very quotey. This makes me laugh. And also a little sad.

The first thing is totally a quote from my blog, so I’m not 100% sure why someone put it into Google and searched it and it brought them right BACK to my blog. People perplex me.

“Devonshire tea” is apparently tea taken with scones, clotted cream, and jam. I had this once when I was in England. I was a big fan of the scones. I didn’t drink the tea, though. How it brought people HERE and not to KEN’S blog is confusing, but hi, person who somehow came here and not to Ken’s blog where he actually TALKS about tea because it is his THING. Go click on Ken’s tea blog, it is the wonderfulness.

YUM, scones.

I don’t know that there are rules for “freebie five” except that it always causes hard feelings on the sitcoms. So unless you have a very good relationship I would say the rules are to not play it? It’s kind of funny in the abstract but kind of hurtful in practice, to be honest. I mean, you’re telling your loved one, “yeah, you’re great, I only want to be with you…unless one of these people come along. Then I want to be with them. OK? Cool, cool.”

I have no idea what a grew back mustache kiss might be. Scratchy? I’m guessing scratchy.

Oh, who DOESN’T like being worshipped? I am like unto A GODDESS. And that’s the way I LIKE it, baby. I mean. Um. Humble humble humble.

If you read something on Craigslist that says “let’s get married now” – DO NOT. That’s a murderer-killer.

The sniveling sycophant game is Sleuth which I talked about here. It is fun and I need to find it again and install it on my laptop so my friends can kill each other off again.

I think the “sick of her shit” quote is something like “no matter how hot she is, there’s someone out there’s who’s sick of her shit.” Which is kind of the worst, let’s not talk about that anymore.

Yes. Yes, I want to come in. Sure. Do you have baked goods? I do so like baked goods.

Category the Second: No. What? No.

beastiality boar stories

Here’s a story. Ready? I’m good at stories. Once upon a time a weirdo who liked to fuck animals tried to have sex with a wildschweine and it GORED HIM TO DEATH WITH ITS TUSKS. The end. Turn you on? Yeah, it probably did. You worry me to death, you really do. (Also, it’s spelled “bestiality” not “beastiality.” You can remember that because it has “best” in it and OBVIOUSLY, YOU think it’s the best, you effing weirdo.)

STOP SEXUALIZING ME! says the wildschweine. (Also, someday I will go to Germany and the only words I will know are the words for “wild boar” and “shit.” I’m prepared, yo.)

Category the Third: Curiouser and Curiouser

apron on fire
barbie boo poop (Three people wanted this. Three!)
big bird stalker
letter to a fat girl
rac tube sexe pipe maggie simpson 

A lot of people searched for “apron on fire” this month and I am confused. Don’t set your apron on fire because then you’ll have to stop, drop and roll.

Three people wanted “Barbie boo poop” and I don’t know what that means. What the hell? No, shush, I don’t really want to know.

Does Big Bird have a stalker, or is Big Bird a stalker? Either way, weird.

Look how sad being stalked makes Big Bird. Don’t stalk Big Bird, seriously. SO MEAN.

I would assume a letter to a fat girl would be written like a letter to a thin girl, or a medium-sized girl. As they are ALL GIRLS. Size has nothing to do with the reading or writing of letters.

I don’t want to think too hard about the last one. It’s…um…yeah. No.

Category the Fourth: A thing for Andreas!

finnish islands

Aw, hi to my Andreas!

Andreas LIVES on Finnish islands! This question is MADE for him! Aw, I love that. This is like a collaborative blog. That makes me happy. I totally told someone today that, depending on the outcome of the elections here next month, I might be moving to Finland. I’m moving in with you, Andreas. That’s cool, right? I’ll be free child care and stuff. I can teach the kiddos the best English. They would LOVE me. What? That ISN’T cool? SHEESH ANDREAS FINE.

Category the Fifth: Things that made me snort-laugh.

too many people in a van
this little piggy went to the bowels of hell
stop putting rubbish in my letterbox
big bird in the crucible
human sex act, accurate diagram
scorchy the movie feather shirt

How many, exactly, is too many people for a van, I wonder? Oh, off-topic, but a clown started following me on Twitter tonight. I couldn’t be more horrified. He/she/it signs all his/her/its tweets “Le Clown.” NO NO NO NO STOP NO. sj, you follow this person. WHY DO YOU FOLLOW A CLOWN PERSON.

Hee! That’s a very pessimistic statement about a little piggy, my friend. I hope you’re ok.

“Stop putting rubbish in my letterbox” is so very proper and so very British and I love it a lot, except I don’t like that you’re getting garbage put in your mailbox. Sorry about that, dude. One time, Ken blogged about poo being put in German mailboxes. I think it was one of his first posts I read. I realized then: this guy, he’s got some whimsy in him. Keep an eye on this guy. He might be good people. (I like when I’m right. I was SO SO RIGHT.)

What is this Big Bird thing this month? Is it because Romney said he was going to cut PBS funding?  I don’t know that Sesame Street ever did The Crucible. It’s pretty heavy stuff for puppets. What with the devil worship and the sex and the killing and the possession and all.

Aw, I’m not posting an accurate diagram of the sex act for you, puppy. It makes me sad you can’t figure that out on your own. You could look at porn. The internet’s for porn, you know. I learned that in a musical. And musicals always tell us the truth. One time I watched this Learning Channel special that showed sex from the INSIDE. It was FASCINATING. They put a camera in some woman’s cooch and you totally got to watch what happened. It was less “pervy” and more “sciency.” I was totally entranced. (Also, you know what makes me laugh? The idea of an INACCURATE sex diagram. What, are they putting it in the lady’s ear, or something?)

When I did an image search for “human sex act”…ZOMG MY EYES MY EYES YOU GUYS but also there was randomly this bowl of spaghetti. Please look at this delicious bowl of spaghetti instead. Thanks.

KINKYSEXPEOPLE is the name of my next band. I say my next band because Elaine and I are making a band called Sex Scarves soon, so it’ll have to be after that one breaks up. Who wants to be in KINKYSEXPEOPLE with me? (BTW, guess who’s hanging out in really real life as we SPEAK? KEN AND ELAINE ARE. I’m not jealous. NO NOT ME. Fine. I’m totally the most jealous of ALL THE PEOPLE IN ALL THE LAND YOU GUYS.)

There’s a movie? Called Scorchy? There’s a feather shirt? What’s happening?

Category the Sixth: Things I am happy to help you with

haunted planet book
sneaky fucker strategy       5
when you’re sad or under a curse

Someone else was searching for that terrible Haunted Planet book! I think that might have warped a whole generation of us.


The actual lyric is “When you feel sad…or under a curse…your life is bad…your prospects are worse…your wife is sighing, crying, and your olive tree is dying…” and it is from “All for the Best” from Godspell. Which is a very good musical. I also love “By My Side” and it makes me cry. But “All for the Best” makes me happy when I am all “MY LIFE IS SUCK!” and makes me think things aren’t so bad, after all. It’s a very joyous song. (Just for the record: Jesus Christ Superstar is better than Godspell. And Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat falls somewhere between the two. I strangely love religious musicals.)

Category the Seventh: Very long things that confuse me

i think someone is just jelly of the karma i got from my first post after you spend hours of your life thinking up crap to post on reddit. you are the karma whore here not me 

prince darko appears to be offline and will receive your messages after signing in. roland adu: cxbfsdwf yrg vdreroland adu: gdvdf drivers gg no one answered the call. buzz!!!roland adu: geril i love you roland adu: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha roland adu: you fool.

The first one seems like someone is yelling at me. I don’t think you’re in the right place. I don’t use Reddit. And also, “jelly” is a stupid thing to say unless you’re talking about the stuff that goes on bread with peanut butter, homeboy. Or girl. Or whatever you are. Hee, “karma whore.”

The second thing…I don’t know. A transcript from an RPG, maybe? It looks like someone named Roland Adu is in love with someone named Prince Darko or maybe someone named Geril? It is quite perplexing. And also Roland Adu seems to be talking to himself. And laughing to himself. I think Roland Adu might be insane. Is Prince Darko Donnie Darko all grown up? And who pasted this into the Google search box, anyway?

Category the Eighth: This didn’t…come out like you wanted, I don’t think. 

fist radio created   

This radio doesn’t look at all fisty.

I know you WANTED to say “first radio” but “fist radio” brings this to a very dark place. A VERY dark place. And also made me laugh. Sorry. I have a very juvenile sense of humor. Also, the internet tells me it’s around the late 1800’s, ish. It’s debatable, everyone wants to say they were the first one to make/use radio, I guess, much like television.

Category the Ninth: Famous people

anastasiya shpagina 104
arnett mcmillan
ben wyatt as batman          4
zak bagans 56
girl gets plastic surgery to look like anime character  28

So. 104 people – ONE HUNDRED FOUR PEOPLE – found this blog by searching for that Barbie girl. Only 28 for the anime girl, which is kind of sad. Sorry, anime girl, if my blog is any indication, you’re just not as cool. Coming in second: the ghost douche. then Ben Wyatt. Then someone wanting to know about “Arnett McMillan” and when I did research that’s some anime character I’ve never mentioned here? That’s strange.

Category the Tenth: A thing that will make Ken stabby

celebs drinking bubble tea

I find this utterly repulsive. Also a choking hazard.

I don’t think Ken approves of bubble tea. I know I don’t, I think it would make you choke, sucking projectiles up a straw into your blowhole. Here, wait, I’m going to guess what Ken would say about this. He can tell us if I’m right or not. “There’s very little TEA in bubble tea. It shouldn’t actually be CALLED tea.” How’d I do, Ken?

Category the Eleventh: Awesome things

ee cummings tattoos
famous bearded men in history
monroe meme silas weir mitchell
ninja pills
sherlock season 3    

I’ve been doing a lot of research into word-tattoos because that’s what I want my next tattoo to be. e.e. cummings tattoos are honestly leading the pack. How did you know that, searcher? Did I mention that? OR ARE YOU STALKING ME?

I love this. I don’t want THIS poem – this one’s too done, although I love it – but I think this is beautiful.

“Famous bearded men in history.” Are you writing a paper? Can I read it when you’re done? Is Ken in the paper? Can he be? He’s bearded AND he’s famous. Therefore, he’s a perfect fit, yo. You can totally use the Bon Vivant stories as source material if you want.

There’s a Monroe MEME? I am so far behind on my Grimm that I am sadface. But I sure do love my Monroe. Sigh.

I can’t find a Monroe meme, but this made me laugh. Monroe is wonderful.

NINJA PILLS! They increase your stealth-factor by like a billion.

SHERLOCK SEASON THREE! This cannot come soon enough, seriously. My friends are so tired of me talking about this with them that they probably want to stab me in my mouthplace.

Category the Twelfth: Aw, babe. AW, BABE. 

the future is bleak we shouldn’t have children
fuck you for infecting my body
hang myself when sleepy
i cut my finger off working under the table i can’t pay the bills
i don’t know what to believe anymore
i miss you phil
please picked me I was thinking 

OK. Listen. I don’t have children. I will probably never have children. Because of REASONS. Which I do not SHARE here. But is one of those reasons because I think the future is too bleak to bring children into it? No. Don’t be silly. I think children are lovely and wonderful, and The Nephew is, without a doubt or a bit of sarcasm, my absolute favorite human in all the world and he makes my heart explode out of my chest with happiness. There are a billion reasons not to have children – become one of my nearest and dearest and I’ll enumerate them for you, although as I get older, there’s this TICKING, what is this TICKING, oh, my biological clock, you say? Well, THAT’S inconvenient, shush, you – but the state of the world is not one of them. Children are wonderful and they make me smile, and my heart is cold and dead, so you KNOW they’re magical if they can make ME smile.

This. This is the reason to have children. Do I have the most wonderful nephew in the world? Yes. Yes, I do.

I don’t know what would lead someone to type “fuck you for infecting my body” into Google. Maybe it’s a song lyric. Is it a song lyric? Oh, please. Please let it be a song lyric. If not…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say other than that.

Maybe if you’re sleepy, don’t try autoerotic asphyxiation? OR DON’T TRY IT EVER. Sheesh.

Get out from under that table. It’s dark under there. Of course you cut off your finger! No, seriously, this is very sad and I feel terrible for you. I hear crap like this all day long at work because we answer for a bunch of lawyers. The world’s a sad place, my little blueberry tartlets.

I don’t know what to believe anymore, either, but I find something new every day and I cling to that for about 24 hours. It keeps me going. Sometimes it’s penguins, sometimes it’s a new science fact, sometimes it’s something The Nephew has said, sometimes it’s an unexpected kindness. On bad days, I recommend that. It can’t hurt, anyway.

Phil from The Amazing Race, or just any Phil? I’m sorry you miss Phil. I hope he misses you back. Have you tried calling Phil to see if he feels the same way?

Those are some weird tense issues in that last sentence, but we all want to be picked. I get it. I do. I hope you were picked, eventually, my friend. I think you will be. I truly do. Sometimes you have to be really, really patient. Like, almost 40 years patient. I know. That seems interminable. And it kind of is. But it’s worth it, in the end. I promise.

Category the Thirteenth: A very broad category. 

hot men in the world                     

There are…a lot of them. A LOT. I see them EVERY DAMN DAY. I get a new crush like EVERY TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. Some fade. Some last forEVER. Men are PRETTY, yo. I like their hands and their eyes and their smiles and their laughter and the way they smell and the way they lean. I am very pro-men. They make me all annoying giggly girl if they do their thing right. Yes. I know. ME. They make practical ol’ ME all annoying giggly girl. It’s VERY WORRISOME. What’s “right,” you ask? Depends on what I want that day. I’m easily amused. So, I don’t know what to tell you, poor lost searcher, other than, yes. Yes, there are a LOT of hot men in the world. Have fun enjoying them. Have SO much fun. Every last bit of it. (And, top secret tip from me to you? Sometimes the hottest men are the ones who aren’t traditionally hot. It is TRUE. I promise. That’s years of experience from me to you. Just sharing.)

Category the Fourteenth: Is this an icky sex fetish thing? What is wrong with you people?

pantyhose 7

Seven different people found my blog this month searching for pantyhose, and this worries the bejeebers out of me. STOP IT. Pantyhose aren’t sexy. They’re bindy, constricty, and terrible. No one likes these. Just stop. I’m less icked out by your wildschweine thing than I am about your pantyhose thing. THEY ARE THE WORST.

Category the Fifteenth: Yes. It is. It is very sad. This is a weird search.

river phoenix died, it is really sad. 

It IS very sad. It was sad when it happened, and it’s STILL sad. And this search phrase, as grammatically correct with the punctuation and all as it is (although I’d have used a semicolon) is just bizarre. (SIDE NOTE! We get a lot of calls from people who’ve named their children weird things at work like His’tore. I’m not kidding. That’s pronounced History, in case you’re wondering. Anyway, the other day, one of them told me, “That’s spelled H-I-S-comma-on-the-top-T-O-R-E.” COMMA ON THE TOP YOU GUYS. As opposed to comma on the bottom, which would be His,tore I guess. I like that the apostrophe is now called the “comma on the top.” Then one of my coworkers said a good punctuation mark for a child’s name would be a semicolon, and BAM, now I KNOW what I will name my first child: Tur;tle. Or perhaps Pen;guin. Which combines my love of ANIMALS and my love of PUNCTUATION. And my love of…um…well, my child needing therapy in 5-7 years, I suppose.)    

And there you have it! October’s most rousing search terms! I wrote all of this while I was supposed to be doing the lights for my show. I know. I KNOW. I really have no one to blame but myself if someone’s in a blackout, now do I? I should really pay more attention. Lights went up 5 minutes ago. I’m working on Assassins. I AM WORKING ON ASSASSINS. Deep breaths, Amy. Deep old breaths.

Until next month, my poor lost lambikins. May Google be kind in your searches.

Love, Me.

(As always, thank you to Mer for the inspiration for these posts!)

If I don’t get enough sleep, I get giggly over nonsense. TRUE STORY!

Now here we are on Saturday. Listen, here is why my brain is broken. Remember how I was going out with work-people tonight to say goodbye to friend R.? WHY DIDN’T YOU PEOPLE REMIND ME OF THAT WHEN I STARTED TALKING ABOUT THE SHOW. Because I can’t do BOTH. I was supposed to meet everyone tonight at 9, and the show starts at 8. AAAHHH! I totally FORGOT! Listen, sj, I blame you for this. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MY DAYPLANNER! (I’m kidding, I’m kidding, sj is not my dayplanner. I am a grown woman and I have to be my OWN dayplanner. But my brain is broken and exhausted and I am having trouble keeping things in it. Like work and theater and parties and such. Dammit. I feel terrible and I made friend R. so sad. I’m an awful person. Argh.)

The choreographer just yelled “PIVOT!!!” at the actors and all I could think of was Ross in Friends when he was telling Rachel and Chandler to pivot and I almost choked on my water but she wasn’t even being sarcastic. Pivot is apparently a choreography term. Huh. Who knew. It still made me giggle like a moron. The only thing I remember from my short-lived days in a musical (ONE musical, ONE TIME, NEVER AGAIN) was “kick ball change.” Which I could never do. I couldn’t kick, ball, OR change. Or was it chase?  Was it kick ball chase? See, this is why I was very bad at musicals. So that’s the time the director told me to stand behind the plywood tree and not to sing. Good call, director. MEAN, but good call, nonetheless.

A very pretty man has been wandering around all up in here and I was like, dude, who is THAT, he’s not even on STAGE, who’s this random Pretty McPrettyson and of COURSE he’s one of the band members. OF COURSE HE IS. Me and my random musician radar. It’s something you can count on, like gravity. Or all the colors of the wind. SO PRETTY MY WORD. Very pretty hair. All floppy. Sigh, random musician I will be watching now like a crazy stalker for the rest of the show who is making my ovaries do calisthenics.

I was trying to find someone with similar hair and the only person I could find was this guy from “Heroes” who I don’t think is pretty at all. My musician-guy = much prettier. Also, he has SALT AND PEPPER HAIR which wins more than this boy who is all nondescript.

Yeah, the show’s started and I’m still blogging. SO WHAT SO WHAT. I have time between cues. I’m paying attention. I’m multi-tasky. Well, we’ll see if I am. Maybe I’ll eff up tonight. I’ve gotten pretty good at doing about fifteen things in a light booth. (Well, this isn’t a light booth. It’s a table at the back of the theater. Where I have set up a billion things like a laptop and a cell phone and a script and water and a pencil and also all the lighting computers and boards and such. I am FANCY. Same thing as a light booth, only you don’t have to go up any stairs.)

Here’s my fancy screen. Look at my light cues! When I saw these for the first time I totally squealed, and I knew where most of them WENT, because I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS SHOW.

Oh, so Halloween’s coming up. I’m protesting by not even buying any candy this year. I think that I’ll be working, anyway. Most people want that night off so I told them I could work. What do I care, it’s not like I’m DOING anything. Plus, no children ever come to my house, even when I have EXCELLENT candy. Too bad, kiddos, no candy from me this year. Maybe Dumbcat’ll give out cat treats while I’m gone, who knows. He’s tricky like that. I mean, he’s got THUMBS. He should be USING them for something. Come on, cat. Sheesh.

My favorite assassin in this show is Charles Guiteau. He had ALL the panache. Well, all the craziness, too. But SO MUCH PANACHE. My word! Guiteau killed a president because he thought he deserved to be ambassador to France, you know. And when Garfield was all, “Um…yeah, that’s not…ha ha…no,” he killed him dead dead dead. That’s pretty bon vivanty, in a mentally-ill way. Thinking you deserve to be ambassador to France. (Also, in real life, he joined a free love commune, but no one would sleep with him. Yes, poor Guiteau was too weird for even free-love practitioners to sleep with. TRUE TALES!) Also, I love his song. It is ROUSING. I wish you all could see this, sincerely. You would love it so much.

Here’s Guiteau. You know he’s bon vivanty. Who can tell me why? Anyone? Anyone? Fine. It’s the beard. You can TELL because of the BEARD.

Oh, in further stories of I’m losing my mind because I have too much going on, I thought I had to get  up at 8 today, so I got up at 8 (after not getting to bed until 1:30 because…of…um…things I WAS DOING THINGS. Fine, I was on the internet, I had someone I had to talk to) and was all, “MAN, time’s FLYING this morning” until I realized I really was supposed to get up at 7:30 and I’m an asshole. SIGH ME. I’ll be better tomorrow. I promise. My tomorrow. Not yours. Your tomorrow is Sunday, and your tomorrow…well, I’m going to be sleeping in that day. SO MUCH SLEEPING IN.

A random sound-effect gunshot just went off and with the timing, it made it look like someone was just murdered offstage. It was probably not funny to anyone but me. Did I mention I’m very tired? And inappropriately giggly? Because I AM.

I am very very tired and thinking lustful thoughts about sleeping. I want to sleep like no one has ever slept before. For a VERY LONG TIME. I’m used to many hours of sleep now. So getting less is not the best thing for me anymore. I am getting OLD. When did that happen? Huh. (Oh, in news of getting old, I am getting all the proper gray hairs now. They are the BEST. I even have one spot where I have about TWENTY of them in all one SPOT so it’s like a little TUFT of gray hair. I am very dignified and proper and coming up on elderly.)

We are about halfway done now. We’ve been running for about 45 minutes. This taking-the-laptop along-idea was pretty damn brilliant, if I do say so myself. It has kept me much more entertained and much less stabby with the downtime. And also I’m probably annoying people less with my singing along because I’m too preoccupied to sing along right now.

Oh, I ate some delicious Finnish chocolate. The analysis: IT IS VERY GOOD. THANK YOU ANDREAS! You are fantastic and I adore you. Also, I listened to some of my first CD Andreas made me and I laughed and I cried and I loved it. I’m almost done the first one. I’m trying to make them last but I don’t know that I can. I’m not so good at being patient. What, you don’t know that about me? OF COURSE YOU DO. You’re just being nice. I appreciate that. So sweet. Just so sweet, you guys.

This was my favorite song from the first CD so far. HOW MUCH DID I LOVE THIS? So SO much, is how much.

OK. Both blog posts – WRITTEN. Whether or not I will get pictures in them, I don’t know? But the TEXT is here. I’m pleased with this. So pleased. Happy days! Happy happy days!

Happy Saturday to you all. I think I have the day off tomorrow. Well, except for theater. So I’m going to SLEEP IN. Like a CRAZY PERSON. Huzzah!

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