Category Archives: cell phones

My phone is psychic but pretending it’s not and it’s worrying me, yo.

I’m fairly sure my phone is psychic. Or perhaps haunted.

No, no, wait, hear me out.

OK, so one of the reasons I got the iPhone is that I could put a ton of music on it. My master musicologist, sj, has been the most helpful with this, even when I was freaking out and all “ZOMG SJ I CANNOT DOOOO THISSSS” and she made a video for me and everything. She’s the best.

So I managed to put music on my phone. Which was VERY exciting. I was able to have Google Music on my last phone for about 5 minutes before it was all “NO INTERNAL MEMORY!” and made me delete it. *glares at old phone*

So I currently have about 850 songs on my phone. I could have more, but I gave up on turning all of my CDs to digital files halfway through the project because there were just too many of them. I am a master at giving up when something is too hard. Don’t even think I’m not.

I spent about three hours going through all the music in my iTunes (which sj showed me how to get out of my Google Music) and selecting the ones I wanted and putting it all on the phone. It was a huge endeavor that took up a large chunk of one of my Sundays off.

HOWEVER! Since sj is the smartest, she knew the following:

  • if I had music and Pandora on my phone, I could listen to music ANYWHERE I WAS
  • I just had to buy a little adapter-thingy and I could listen to music in my CAR (I don’t have a fancy car – it only has a tape player. But for like $10, you can get a tape player adapter thingy and listen to your phone in your car. Which I didn’t even know existed.
See? This is how those of us with old-ass cars make things work, yo.

See? This is how those of us with old-ass cars make things work, yo.

So I have been merrily listening to my own music for the past week or so. Even better, if we’re quiet about it, we can listen to music at work! I know, I work at the best place, right? Friend A. showed me how to make the phone play through the computer speakers (which I thought would be a big huge deal but come to find out I just had to plug the phone into the speaker wire. I never said I was technologically savvy) so I can now listen to music at my desk while I’m toiling. (A lot of my work involves doing things that I can listen to music while I do, so that’s nice. It’s a nice thing to have playing. It makes me happy.)

ANYWAY, so my phone is psychic.

Here is an actual email exchange with the magical sj the other day. I am italics. sj is bold. In case that wasn’t obvious.

How is it possible that the shuffle function on the phone has just played three Beatles songs in a row? There are like 850 songs on here. Yes, quite a few of them are Beatles songs…but the sheer odds of that are kind of miniscule. I think the phone has become sentient and is screwing with me. If I don’t email you tomorrow, it’s because the phone has killed me in my sleep.

Wait, let’s see what the 4th song in a row is. This is like a little test.

Hmm. Hole’s “Asking for It.” IS THE PHONE TRYING TO SAY I’M ASKING FOR IT? Oh, crap, I think I’m in trouble.

The next song was “Hero.” I’m pretty sure the phone is trying to tell me not to be a hero, here.

HAHAHAHAHA!  This is the best email ever!

The next song was “Skip the Charades.” THE PHONE KNOWS I’M ONTO IT.

Gulp.

You need to do one of those “iPod on shuffle” posts!

I was just thinking I probably should. But the haunted phone might not like that. IT MIGHT KILL ME.

See? My phone is psychic and/or haunted. It might be trying to tell me something.

The other day, it played a song that I love. Love love LOVE. So I played it over and over and over and OVER. When I finally moved onto something else, the first song the phone played was Denis Leary’s “Asshole,” so I’m pretty sure it was making a judgment about me and my obsessive need to listen to sad songs over and over. I think the phone was all, “THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M ON SHUFFLE FOR, AMY.” And therefore I think it might hate me.

HOWEVER, I also think the phone loves me, because sometimes it seems to know exactly what I need to hear right when I need to hear it. This morning, I needed Brandi Carlile’s “The Story.” I really, really did. Yes. I know I could have just manually made it happen, but that doesn’t seem fair. What was like the third song that popped up today? Yep. “The Story.” THANK YOU PSYCHIC PHONE!

Anyway, in honor of sj, let’s see what an iPod on shuffle meme looks like. Then mock it, probably. My guess would be that we will mock this meme. But who knows what will happen, the world really is our oyster, here.

Whole world, baby.

Whole world, baby.

OK, here, I found one, let’s see what happens. Apparently you put your iPod (or phone, or whatever) on shuffle and see what happens and then answer the questions. I like questions.

1. What do people assume when they first look at me?
“Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon and Garfunkel. (Well, that’s distressing. Unless that’s a compliment. Do we think that’s a compliment?)

2. What will be a big challenge in life for me?
“Burning Down the House” by The Used. (Hmm. Am I burning down the house? Am I burning down someone else’s house because I’ve been scorned or something? Will I have a house fire? I don’t like the tone of this meme.)

This makes me nervous, this little cartoon. Someone thought this was a good idea? Yikes.

This makes me nervous, this little cartoon. Someone thought this was a good idea? Yikes.

3. Am I a good boyfriend/girlfriend?
“Brown-Eyed Handsome Man” by Chuck Berry. (This doesn’t answer the question at ALL. Also the question is stupid.)

4. Do I have a Secret Admirer?
“We Are Young” by Fun. (Um. This meme is ridiculous and not working, and also strangely capitalized.)

5. Will I ever become manically depressed in my life?
“If I Had a Hammer” by Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger. (A. Who asks questions like this? B., Apparently I’m going to be depressed and maybe kill someone with a hammer. Sigh.)

7. Is someone trying to kill me?
“Somebody That I Used to Know” by Gotye. (Oh, see, this one totally answered the question, someone from my past is attempting to murder me, I knew it.)

8. What is my sexual preference?
“I’m Looking Through You” by The Beatles. (Again, this is a very bad question, and the answer doesn’t have anything to do with this. SIGH SIGH MEME.)

9. What am I afraid of?
“Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison. (I’m afraid of the person who introduced me to this song. He was a total jerk and also I think a crazyperson. But I love the song. This is making me tired.)

10. What will I be doing in a few years?
“I Know Him So Well” from the Chess Original Cast Recording (I’m going to be…euphemizing in a few years? So well? Rock on, future-me.)

11. What is some good advice for me?
“18 Wheeler” by Pink (OK, I’m down with this, since one of the lyrics is “You can push me out the window/I’ll just get back up/You can run over me with your 18 wheeler truck/And I won’t give a fuck” so that’s good advice, then. Thanks, Pink.)

12. What should I do instead of this quiz?
“Fake Plastic Trees” by by Radiohead (I think this means ANYTHING is better than this quiz. ANYTHING EVEN FAKE PLASTIC TREES.)

13. Will you get married?
“Hit So Hard” by Hole. (I’m…gonna take that as a no, then.)

14. What is the story of your life?
“Magical Mystery Tour” by The Beatles. (Yep. That works. That works just fine for me.)

15. How can you get ahead in life?
“Fire and Rain” by James Taylor. (Um. I’m pretty sure there’s a fire in my future. This is…well, worrisome, to be honest.)

16. What is the best thing about your friends?
“Girlfriend” by Julia Price. (What about my guy friends? This meme or quiz or whatever is very long, and making me exhausted.)

17. What song describes you?
“Once” by Pearl Jam. (OK, now I think the phone is just screwing with me. NONE OF THESE MATCH UP AT ALL.)

18. How does the world see you?
“The Chain” by Ingrid Michaelson. (“So glide away on soapy heels and promise not to promise anymore and I will take the chain from off the door.” WHAT THE HELL DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH THE QUESTION. The answer is nothing. It has nothing to do with the question.)

19. Will you have a happy life?
“Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival. (Apparently that’s a yes? Although I think the song was ironic? So maybe a no? SIGH.)

20. How can I make myself happy?
“At the End of the Day” from the Les Mis original cast recording. (Well, this clearly means I need to go see “Les Mis” in the theaters, then. In order to be happy. That’s alright.)

21. What should you do with your life?
“Ode to Billy Jo” by Bobbi Gentry. (I should…hide the fact I’m gay and jump off a bridge? Yes. Yes, that makes sense, phone. Thank you. SO much.)

22. Will you ever have children?
“I Speak Six Languages” from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee original cast recording. (This is about kids. Kids that can SPELL. So it’s tangentially related. Hmm.)

Alright, so I think it’s fairly clear that the phone, which up until now was all psychic, wanted nothing to do with this stupid meme and decided to play dumb, and therefore screwed with me during this so I looked like an idiot. WELL-PLAYED, PHONE.

Also, and this has NOTHING to do with ANYTHING, so SIDE NOTE, but why didn’t you people warn me that Despicable Me was SAD? Urgh. I’m all snotty and tearfaced right now. I can’t watch a cartoon movie without weeping, I swear. It’s very distressing. Stupid cartoons being all emotional.

*sniff*

*sniff*

Off to bed for me. Long day of longness. I need to get more sleep, sometimes.

If the phone kills me in my sleep, I’m totally blaming all of you for not believing me it’s psychic or perhaps demon-possessed.


Shopping for fruit with Shareena

Confession: I have never owned an Apple product.

I KNOW! It is kind of a sin in this day and age. I mean, I just got the laptop last April. Before that, I had an ancient Dell. Before THAT, I had a typewriter. No. I’m not kidding. I still have the typewriter. It’s in my closet in case of emergency. (I’m not even kidding, once there WAS an emergency. My printer shit the bed and I had to write a resume all at the last minute and I had to type it. The correction tape wasn’t working. So THAT was fun and I didn’t cuss up a storm or anything. Ahem.)

I am QUITE the typist. As long as I have a million years. And a correction tape.

I am QUITE the typist. As long as I have a million years. And a correction tape.

I’ve only used an Apple product once. I used to dogsit for the loveliest couple when I was in grad school. Well, dog and cat-sit. They loved me because I worked at the shelter so they thought I had the inside scoop on how to take care of animals. (I didn’t – I don’t – but I love animals and know how to cuddle and walk and feed them, so that’s ok, then.) They had two hyper dogs and two laid-back cats. And the best house. And I lived in a crappy apartment even smaller than the one I have now, so whenever they went bon vivanting – which was fairly often, they were pretty travelly – they’d have me come stay at their place and watch the menagerie. I got to pretend I was a fancy lady for a week or so and ALSO that I was a fancy lady that had PETS so it was all very awesome. (I would check in on my own cat – I only had one then – twice a day when I went into town for work.) One time, my car was in the shop, and the husband even let me use his CAR. These people were the best, no joke. ANYWAY, they had an Apple laptop (those have a name, don’t they? Like Macbooks or something?) and they were all, “Go ahead and get online if you want!” (This was a long time ago when getting online wasn’t a big deal and there wasn’t a lot to DO online) so I was all, “Um, I don’t know” and one night I was the most bored so I decided to try it and it was the EASIEST THING EVER. So in the back of my mind I always thought, “Maybe Apple’s ok with me. I don’t mind Apple so much.”

When I got a cell phone a couple of years ago, I didn’t have the option of an iPhone. I got my cell through Virgin Mobile, so your options were limited. I got the fanciest Droid available at the time, but couldn’t have gotten an iPhone if I’d wanted to. (And couldn’t have afforded a plan anywhere but Virgin Mobile anyway – for all the issues with it, you really can’t beat $27 a month.)

Not a BAD phone...if Virgin hadn't loaded it with all the crap in the land.

Not a BAD phone…if Virgin hadn’t loaded it with all the crap in the land.

Most of my friends have iPhones. They LOVE them. I was all, “NO NO I LOVE MY DROID.” And I did. For quite some time.

Well, it was kind of a pain in the ass it didn’t have service upstate where my parents live. Otherwise, though, really a kickass phone.

Over the past few months, the phone has decided to go insane.

First, the apps that came loaded on it seem to be taking up ALL the internal memory. Like, every last bit of it. Even if you went into the app store and asked them to stop updating. So every couple of days, the phone would say, “NO INTERNAL MEMORY!” and would do nothing at all until you deleted one of YOUR apps. Which you put on the phone. Because you needed them. If you didn’t do this, none of your texts would come through to you, you wouldn’t get any of your notifications, and you couldn’t open anything without getting a “YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MEMORY FOR THAT!” notification.

(SIDE NOTE! I feel like I’ve told you this before but I’m telling you anyway. So years and years ago, my roommate C. had a Playstation. On the Playstation she had a Jeopardy game. It was much fun and we liked it a lot. One weekend, her boyfriend (also C.) came to visit so we all played Playstation Jeopardy. During final Jeopardy, we all closed our eyes respectively so the other person could type in the answer. When C. (roommate) and I had our eyes closed so C. (boyfriend) could type in his answer and bet, the Playstation kept saying, in a VERY offended tone, “YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY FOR THAT!” and C. would go, “Dammit” and then type furiously and then the Playstation would say, “YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY FOR THAT!” and C. would go, “Dammit” and C. and I, with our eyes closed, were in HYSTERICS. “C.!” roommate C. said. “YOU OBVIOUSLY ARE BETTING MORE THAN YOU HAVE! You can’t DO that!” and then we giggled and giggled and C. was all, “Dammit.” Whenever I see anything that says “You don’t have enough _____ for that,” I totally get the giggles all over again. Every damn time.)

Oooh, Playstation "Jeopardy." YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY FOR THAT!!!

Oooh, Playstation “Jeopardy.” YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY FOR THAT!!!

Anyway, today (your yesterday, I suppose) my phone, which has done a decent job for two years, decided it had had enough. “NOT ENOUGH MEMORY!!!” screamed the phone. And made me delete every app but the ones it came with (the only apps it came with that were any good were Gmail and Google) and Twitter and Facebook. That’s it. I was down to two apps.

I’d been thinking about getting a new phone for a while, but wasn’t going to do it until next week. Well, that was it.

Off to the Verizon store for me. I can afford a plan now; my office has a deal with Verizon where we get a certain percentage off our bill as well. Best of all, Verizon has service up where my parents live (and throughout most of the country, actually.) I did research into phones. I talked to people. I did research into plans and carriers and this and that and blah blah blah.

And I walked into the Verizon store and the very nice lady said, “How can I help you today?” and I said, “I want a phone and a plan, please.”

Seriously, this is like CRACK to a phone salesman. I’m pretty sure they get commissions from sales.

She started her spiel about phones and plans and this and that and the other and I said “I want the iPhone 4s, if you have it in stock, please.”

(I got the black one. I'm not a white-phone person.)

(I got the black one. I’m not a white-phone person.)

Oh, she liked that. She asked if I knew about the iPhone 5. “Yes, but it’s $100 more, and for the added features, I don’t know that it’s worth it for me at the moment,” I said. “Oh, people don’t usually come in having done any research,” she said. Well, lady, I’m anal and I like to Google shit, what can I tell you.

So yes! We decided on the iPhone 4s. She started to discuss plans. “Unlimited calling and texting, 2G data a month should be enough, I think, since I can hook up to my wireless at home,” I said. She laughed. “You might be the perfect customer. I could use about ten more of you a day.” I WIN SALESPEOPLE! (Well, sj does. She told me about this. I sure as hell didn’t know.)

I also totally let her talk me into a pretty case, even though friend A. told me he’d let me have one of his old ones. Because I needed a car charger and apparently some sort of screen protector thingy (which yes, I’m sure I could have gotten a LOT cheaper online) and if I got a THIRD accessory I got a certain percentage OFF and I like deals. It has birds on it. It’s a dusty purple with birds on it. I kind of love it the most.

I couldn't find a photo of my case but here's a super-ugly one with a weird warped duck on it so that's nice.

I couldn’t find a photo of my case but here’s a super-ugly one with a weird warped duck on it so that’s nice.

So I got in and out of Verizon in about 45 minutes with a new phone and all the fancy accessories and I’m only a LITTLE freaked out about having a contract which I’ve never had before. That makes me feel a little locked into something. But I suppose everyone in the land has one so it’s not the WORST thing in the world, and also probably they’re not going to drag me down an alley and beat me with belts or something. I should probably get over the “I need to be able to escape quickly” state of mind I’ve always had as if I’m in the witness protection program or something.

(Also, I got the last one in the store. Saleslady was all, “We don’t have any more, they have them at the mall…” and then said, “Wait a minute” and found the last one. She seemed honestly surprised by this discovery so it wasn’t even a sales trick of some sort. I win phones today.)

Here are things I have learned about the iPhone in the past few hours:

  • for something that’s supposed to be very easy to use, it’s very confusing to me because it’s not at all like a Droid
  • it totally lets me put all the apps on it without even complaining
  • sj is the most helpful with setting up iPhones (get ready for a billion more questions, my sj!)
  • it’s super-pretty
  • Siri didn’t at all understand what I was asking her and seemed a lot more helpful in the Samuel L. Jackson commercial
  • it’s both bigger and heavier than my old phone, but also faster and makes me feel more fancy
  • I’m kind of already a little in love with it and I barely know what it does yet

Also, when I called Virgin Mobile to cancel my service, the lady called me “Shareena” even though she knew my name was Amy, and that doesn’t even SOUND like Amy, and said I had to call back in two hours because all of their systems were down. Um. That doesn’t bode well, Virgin, and also sounds like a lie to me. So when I was all “So when I call back in two hours, I can totally cancel my service?” she said, “Yessssss?” but in a curiously unsure way. Hmm. Shareena does not approve.

So, tentatively, I am back on a cell, and will be emailing those of you that need the number with the new number soon, and dude, it is PRETTY. And I can’t wait to finish this so I can start playing with it again.

Also, last night I read my first Kindle book (ok, it was a short-ish story) and it went SO WELL. I love the Kindle, it works beautifully. Very pleased.

Off to try to convince Siri my name really is Amy, and not that I want to CALL Amy. How come on that commercial that kid can get Siri to call him Rock God without a problem? That’s annoying.


This is not the Wild Kingdom Marlin Perkins had in mind at ALL.

You all love the sex posts, don’t you even deny it. FINE, I love your faces, today’s sex-news day. Are you all so excited right now? Thought so.

These people are not paying enough attention. PAY MORE ATTENTION PLEASE.

Did you know if you do a search for “sex news” almost every single article is about sex offenders and then if you do a search for “weird sex news” you want to bleach your eyeballs? Just looking out for you all. As I do.

OK, so today, we have penguins, using Craig’s List inappropriately, things that are better than sex, and porn-headaches. I know! We’re really quite busy, we’d better dive right in. Wear your floaties, though, I don’t think you want to get your face in this water. Gack.

Aw, shark floaties. I love these. I would totally use these now, and I’m a grownup person who can’t swim.

OK, first: things that are better than sex. Whoa, nelly, calm down, I can hear you all now. NOTHING IS BETTER THAN SEX NOTHING. Well, apparently you’ve never had gelato while actually IN Rome, or really, really bad sex, but I digress.

…sigh. WANT.

According to this article, the new it thing is to put out a survey saying that things are better than sex. Cell phones. Bacon. A night of good sleep.

…and again. WANT.

However, what’s tricky is that the people putting out the surveys WORK for the bacon, cell phone, and mattress companies. OOH! That is a total misuse of science. AND sex. BAD studies. BAD.

However, I just have to say, sometimes? I’d rather have some delicious bacon than sex. Bacon is DELICIOUS, you guys. There’s very little in the world I love more than a perfectly crisp piece of bacon, except for maybe MULTIPLE pieces of perfectly crisp bacon.

As for my cell phone, well, if it was a one-time thing, sure, I’ll take the sex. But if I was told, hey, you can have EITHER all this sex, OR your cell phone, one or the other, FOR EVER AND FOR ALWAYS, I would choose my cell phone. What would I do without my cell phone? I can live without the sex. I am CURRENTLY living without the sex. It’s totally doable. It’s not like you shrivel up and die. I mean, it’s not OPTIMAL, but it’s doable. However, living without a cell phone would be bad bad news. How would I repeatedly check all my social networks? How would I get my email in a timely fashion? It’s not like I can carry around my laptop everywhere I go. There’s not wifi in all the places. There’s cellphone service almost everywhere. Except where my parents live. And listen, when I go to visit them for more than a couple of days, that is VERY DIFFICULT. There’s no internet except for dialup. There’s no cellphone service. It’s like someone shut off my brain. I have to do things like TALK TO PEOPLE and READ BOOKS and THINK QUIET THOUGHTS. It’s kind of like living in an abyss. It’s worrisome.

ARGH! I’m getting twitchy just thinking about it.

And a good night’s sleep? I can’t think of too many things I wouldn’t give up for a good night’s sleep. Oh, how I want one of those. I haven’t had one of those since I was probably 13. I’ve had some nights that were better than others, but a good night’s sleep? I don’t even know if I know what one of those is anymore, it’s been so long. Oh, how I want one of those.

So, even if the science and the sex are all nefarious, I think there’s something to it. You might THINK there’s nothing better than good sex, but if you think about it rationally, there are a lot of things that are more important. A lot of them. However, if the good sex wants to come over and visit sometime, I wouldn’t send it packing.

Next: this is not what Craig’s List is for. Or maybe it is. But, either way, ew.

In Mesa, Arizona (Mesa is next to Phoenix. Guess who lives in Phoenix? No, guess. NO GUESS. BFF does! BFF, did you know about this ickiness?) three people were arrested for – ready for this? – “conspiracy to commit bestiality.” CONSPIRACY! A CONSPIRACY!

Mesa! Next to BFF! And filled with CONSPIRACY!

There was a couple, and their “friend,” and they put an ad on Craig’s List that said “Wife looking for K9.” Apparently, the woman wanted to have sex with a dog, while her husband and lover watched. Well! That’s…um…disgusting.

An undercover cop answered their ad and was all tricky and said, “I HAVE A GOLDEN RETRIEVER” and they were like “AWESOME” and set up a meeting in a super-classy hotel and then instead of Fido the Love Puppy showing up, it was the po-po. Uh-oh.

Oh, my, no. Just, no.

Here are some awesome quotes from this article. Whoever wrote this had WAY too much fun.

What a bunch of animals.

The wild kingdom sex-session never went down.

Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio called the three “a different breed, that’s for certain.”

Sickos trolling Craiglist to find animals to bed has been a problem in Maricopa.

Dear BFF who also happens to live in Maricopa County: please make sure your dog is safely locked inside your house at night. I don’t like the sound of this at all, and I like your dog a great deal. Ew, not LIKE like. Like, like a NORMAL person likes a dog. Gross. I live in ALBANY County. We don’t screw the pooch here. That I’m aware of.

Next: a hidden danger of porn. HIDDEN DANGERRRRR!

In India, a man was watching porn (as you do) and started getting SEVERE HEADACHES. This has been going on for two years. But, instead of – well, doing the one thing that would stop the headaches – NOT WATCHING PORN – he’s been bouncing from doctor to doctor trying to figure out how to make the ouchy stop. Because, well, porn, yo.

Ouch ouch my head is pounding so much I can’t even hear the thrusting and moaning.

But we’re jumping ahead. Our Bachelor #1 “experiences ‘severe, exploding’ headaches that develop gradually and peak about 10 minutes into a sex scene.” Heh. Exploding. Develop gradually. Peak.

The headaches were so bad the patient actually debated stopping watching porn. I know. I KNOW. Such sadface.

To avoid forgoing porn altogether, the man was advised by neurologists to take the equivalent of about 30 painkillers a half hour before turning on a video, the study says.

Researchers found that oddly, sex or masturbation didn’t trigger the headaches – just the porn.

I think maybe in India, way too much time is being spent on Lonely Boy Porn Headache McGee, don’t you?

So, what’s going on with our sad little friend who just wants to watch some moneyshots? Any guesses?

Nah, don’t worry, the doctors in India are pretty lost, too.

They suggested it could be from changes in the pain-sensing nerves in the face and jaw, which become more sensitive in a heightened emotional state, MyHealthNewsDaily reported.

Huh. So if we’re aroused, our facial nerves get all sensitive? I guess. That seems suspect. My guess? It’s GOD. God JUDGING him. For watching EVIL EVIL PORN.

Or maybe he’s making it up so he can talk to strangers about porn, masturbation, and sex, who knows.

Finally: shocking penguin sex that is SHOCKING.

In 1910, George Murray Levick went to the South Pole on an expedition. While there, he got to study Adélie Penguins.

Ha! This one is starting a wild rumpus, I think.

Some of the activities of the penguins totally shocked the good doctor. He was SO SHOCKED at how TOTALLY DEPRAVED the little penguins are, he took notes on those activities in Greek, and then when he got home, he tried to publish it, but the people of the time were all SHOCK FACE SHOCK FACE NO NO NO and only printed up 100 copies and handed them out all on-the-sly-like to a specific group of scientists. Recently, one of the scandalous publications came to light. Ready? Ready for it?

The happy little Adélie Penguins are TOTALLY NECROPHILIACS.

Say WHAT?

See, dead frozen penguins would be lying on the ground, and they’d be in a similar position to live penguins waiting for some hubba-hubba lovin’, and so the boy-penguins would have sex with either live or dead penguins. They were not choosy. Because apparently they couldn’t tell the difference. My guess is, all the penguins are so cold up there! How would you even KNOW, am I right?

There were other things, too. Totally MORE scandalous things.

“It’s just full of accounts of sexual coercion, sexual and physical abuse of chicks, non-procreative sex, and finishes with an account of what he considers homosexual behaviour, and it was fascinating.”

Whoa, penguins! You were TOO SHOCKING FOR THE TIMES, what with your necrophilia and sneaky fuckery and child abuse and sex FOR FUN!!! and – AND! – ZOMG, gay penguin sex!

This penguin is STYLISH. Look at his little afro! That’s pretty scandalous.

I like to imagine all the serious science-types being all “oh NO! What’s this? My stars!” with their monocles and whatnot. Heh. Good job, penguins.

There you go, tigerlilies. All the sex for you. Is there anything better for you on a Monday than all the sex? I mean, Mondays are the suck, but with all the sex, they’re a little better, right? Totally are.

Happy all-the-sex Monday to you all! And if you can’t have all the sex, have some bacon or take a nap. Those are good, too.


Listen, if the children are our future, we really need to live for today, because the future is BLEAK.

Today, let’s talk about bad decisions. Heh. That always always makes me think of that Bad Idea Jeans Saturday Night Live commercial. I bet I can’t find it on You Tube. Stupid fascist Saturday Night Live. Yep, I’m right. It’s only on Hulu. Anyway, here, watch, it’ll make you laugh. Unless you’re a soulless waste. Then it probably won’t. Also, check out all of that acid wash. Remember acid wash? Talk about bad decisions. We sure thought that was pretty, didn’t we? If you’re too young to remember acid wash, consider yourself lucky.

So I’ve come across some things online lately, and also in life, and I think we need to discuss them. And how bad decisions should be not made. How about not made? Great, good, stop that, thanks.

I don’t have kids. So, listen. I know. I’m not overly qualified to be giving them advice. HOWEVER! I was ONCE a kid. Who made SPECTACULARLY bad decisions. No, no. Not all bad decisions. But some? Yes. Yes, most definitely.

Today, we’re going to discuss five important things you need to stop doing, please. Things that might SEEM like really fun, cool ideas, but I assure you, you’re going to regret them. I am HAPPY to share my experience with you! Well, where I have experience. There are some of these I have no experience in but I KNOW THEY ARE BAD NEWS YO. So! Kiddos! And people that love kiddos! And people who read my blog no matter what I write about! Here, for you! A list of FIVE THINGS YOU SHOULD NOT DO WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG AND THINK YOU ARE INVINCIBLE. (Or even when you are old. Or, ever.)

Sexting/Posting Porn Online

This is SRS BSNS, you guys. There is a NATIONAL CAMPAIGN. (Which cracked me up a little.)

Let’s make up a little scenario, shall we? OK. You’re sixteen. You’re in a relationship with another sixteen year old. You’re all smushy-smushy in love. Aw, you guys. With the PDA and the smooching and the putting your hands in each other’s back pockets when you walk down the hall. (Wait, does that still happen? If that doesn’t happen, replace it with what you kiddos do nowadays, I don’t know.) You’re most likely having sex. That’s what the kids today seem to do. I’d like to tell you to wait to do that, too, but listen, that’s a losing battle. Kids in my day were having all the sex in high school, kids in my PARENTS’ day were doing it, and from what my totally scandalous-tale-telling grandmother tells me, when SHE was in school kids were doing it (and she calls them “SHAMELESS HUSSIES!” and their children “BASTARD CHILDREN!”) so there’s no way I’m going to stop the children from having sex in high school. Your hormones are running high, you’re surrounded by pretty people whose hormones are ALSO running high, and although I don’t think it’s a good IDEA, I can’t STOP you. (Use protection, tater tots. USE PROTECTION. You really don’t want an STD at age 35 that you contacted at age 16. You’re going to be SO MAD at 16-year-old-you.)

Whoo, anyway. So. You’re sixteen, you’re getting it on with your main squeeze. He’s all, “send me a picture of your boobs, Sally!” or “Talk dirty to me, Betty Sue!” and you have a moment of, “Hmm. Should I do that?”

NO. NO YOU SHOULD NOT.

There are many reasons. At the moment it’s happening? You trust that person implicitly. You think they’re forever and ever. How many old people do you know that are married to their high-school sweethearts? Very few. Because THAT SHIT DON’T LAST YO. So, once you’ve broken up, someone’s going to have hurt feelings. And if it’s him with the hurt feelings? You can bet he’s still got that nekkid picture of you. And now EVERYONE YOU KNOW HAS IT. Hope you like everyone seeing your tatas! Including maybe your parents, your siblings, your grandparents, and potential employers!

Your mom’s reaction to getting forwarded your sexts. Don’t you feel proud?

Also, I was pointed in the direction to a site with quite a bit of amateur porn on it recently. I’m kind of the most naive about things, so I alternated shocked-facing and laughing like a moron. YES, I know about PORN. Porn wasn’t what was shocking. That everyday normal people were recording themselves and then posting it online like it was a good idea was the surprising part. These people seemed to be of-age, so that was going for them. But WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING. Listen, the whole internet doesn’t need to see you plowing your girlfriend on a lawnchair with your socks on while your dog licks the camera.

Rule of thumb: the internet lasts forever. Phones count as the internet. Before you send/write anything online? Assume it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass someday. Are you ok with that? Or would you be mortified? If it’s the latter, DON’T DO IT. (Spoiler alert: it’s always the latter.)

Having Babies in High School on Purpose

I assume this isn’t just a movie-of-the-week thing and it’s really real. And research backs me up. Apparently, high-school girls think that it is cool and it is a status symbol to have a baby in high school, so they PURPOSELY get pregnant in high school, to the point of MAKING A PACT TO DO SO. This seems to be a way to create a little person who will unconditionally love them, and also they think it will make all the people look up to them like they are the coolest.

There was a Lifetime Movie and everything. It isn’t even a joke.

OK. Want another scenario? Cool. So, you get pregnant on purpose at age 16. Everyone pays attention to you! You and your glowy pregnant self and your cute pregnant belly! And you get showers, and presents, and you get to put together a crib, and WHOO! What an ADVENTURE! Then you have a BABY! And aw, little FINGERS and little TOES!

That baby cries a lot. And you’re expected to get up with it. Like, at 3am. No one else does it. This puts a little crimp in your lifestyle, but listen, people come over and see you, and the baby, and lavish all the attention on you, and you are SO POPULAR ZOMG.

Then it’s time for college. All your friends, they are going to college. Are you going to college? Nope. You are not. You have a baby, you see. They are full of plans and schemes and such. They don’t have a lot of time to come over and hang with you and your baby, who’s actually not as cute and baby-like anymore, and more little-human-like. Huh. You’re not getting a lot of attention. And the baby’s not giving you any attention, other than crying all the time. As babies do.

So you’re kind of trapped. Everyone’s moving on, and the little person you created to give you unconditional love isn’t even able to vocalize yet. Well, other than the screaming. The constant screaming.

“Oh, you’re all going off to a concert? Great, I’ll just…um…stay here, with the baby. That’s fine! Have fun! Ha! Ha ha! I WISH I WAS DEAD.”

Maybe, just maybe? It wasn’t a good idea to have a baby yet. Just a thought.

Listen, I don’t have anything against babies. I think I’d be very, very bad at being a mom. I’m an excellent aunt, but I think part of that is because I can give The Nephew back at the end of the day. I’m not patient and I’m don’t have enough free time and a kajillion other reasons, blah blah blah. I can’t even imagine that having one in high school ON PURPOSE is a good idea. I couldn’t even handle one now and I’m well on my way to middle age. I knew a girl in high school who was pregnant and hid it until she just about gave birth; I knew a bunch of us who sang the entire damn Hallelujah chorus in the high school bathrooms when we got our periods and didn’t get pregnant from making stupid choices like not using enough or correct birth control.

Don’t create a little person whose sole purpose in life is to love you and to make people love you. That’s a lot of pressure on that little baby’s shoulders. That little baby shouldn’t have that kind of pressure. Cut that right out.

If You Do Have That Ill-Advised Baby, Don’t Name it Something Ridiculous

You’re going to name me Chystyph’yr? WHY DO YOU HATE ME MOM?

I found this article yesterday and I almost spit-took.

This person let her toddler name her child. Her toddler named her child after its favorite thing, and therefore she ended up with a second child named Spongebob.

I AM TOTALLY SERIOUS.

Well, at least one person’s happy. Or, thing. One thing’s happy.

I also work at that answering service, and we answer for a lot of pediatric offices. So I talk to a lot of moms who need medical advice for their children. And people name their children VERY STUPID THINGS.

I feel terrible telling you what those things are, because what if those kids do a search someday, and they find their name? Because it’s not their fault their parents were asshats.

Yes, sure, these kids could change their names when they become old enough. That doesn’t change the fact that they have to go through 18 years of teachers pronouncing their names wrong in front of classrooms, kids picking on them for it, explaining their parents’ choices, etcetera ad infinitum.

Do not name your child something that is a brand name. Do not name your child something with a lot of apostrophes in it. Do not name  your child something that rhymes with something gynecological or scatological. THINK OF YOUR CHILD’S WELL-BEING. Here’s a quick rule: would you want that name? Yes? Great, legally change your name to that. Don’t do it to your kid.

Also, putting a shit-ton of “y”s into a name to make it different so that it stands out from all the other same names – for example, there are a million Camerons, but there’s only one Cymyryn! STOP IT. It looks like a stripper name. Do you want your daughter (hell, or son) to strip? Do you really? Because if you do, keep naming them things like Mydysyn and Cymyryn and Shynnyn. THESE HAVE NO VOWELS.

Doing the STUPIDEST DRUGS EVER

Listen, were there drugs when I was a kid? Of course there were. Did I do them? Well, not when I was in high school. I was not cool enough, come on.

When I was a kid, the drugs of choice were really bad pot and alcohol. That’s it. I don’t know if we even knew anything else existed. When I got to college, sometimes people would find things like hash. Oh, and the pot was of better quality. I don’t know that I knew anyone who did much of anything else. We couldn’t afford it, basically. We were pretty practical.

As I got older, I became acquainted with people who thought it was a good idea to try other things. Cocaine. Acid. (Oh, the hour-long conversation with the guy who wanted to describe his recent acid trip to me. NO ONE CARES THAT THE POSTERS ON THE WALL WERE TALKING TO YOU, GOOBER.)

I’m not telling you I never, ever did any drugs. I AM telling you I no LONGER do any drugs, because I don’t like chemically inducing myself to be stupid. And I am ALSO telling you that I was always way too much of a chickenshit to do much of anything, because I watched too many afterschool specials and very special episodes of primetime television as a child. I’M SO EXCITED I’M SO SCARED.

WHAT IS GOING ON WITH PEOPLE TODAY.

So apparently kids are drinking hand sanitizer? Soaking tampons with vodka and inserting them? And doing…what…something?…to Robitussin so it becomes a drug? And calling it “robotripping” because AREN’T YOU CLEVER?

Really? Cough medicine and hand sanitizer? REALLY?

And now there’s this “bath salts” nonsense that makes you “experience a mix of physical and psychological symptoms…can cause excited delirium and severe hallucinations…can become violent and suicidal…super-human strength, and long-lasting euphoria or paranoia.”

I get it. Kids are creative. That’s good! That means they’re thinking. With their thinkers. Nice. HOWEVER. I don’t know that you need to be using your thinkers for coming up with new and creative ways to get high, especially when those highs are making you INSANE.

I get it. It’s like sex. Kids want to try this, and there’s no way we’re going to stop them. I GET IT. But seriously, kiddos. Much like the 35-year-old-you is going to be pissed at the 16-year-old-you for getting that disgusting STD, the 35-year-old-you is going to be pretty pissed at good-times-you for thinking killing the part of your brain that remembers math problems because you just had to drink the Purell, you know? STOP BEING IDIOTIC. I know your impulse control is in the negative numbers right now, but come on. No one can think that putting a tampon soaked in vodka up your hooha is a good idea. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOUR COOCH IS FOR. Come right on. Be nicer to your cooch. You’re going to want that someday for fun-times.

Texting While Driving

OK. Again, I’m not going to stop any of you from doing this. EVERYONE does this. Top-secret news? I’ve totally done this myself. Thing is, I only do it at stoplights. I’m too scared to do otherwise. I am easily distractable and just know I’ll die if I do it and attempt to operate a moving vehicle.

Kids aren’t very good drivers to begin with. Add them not even having their eyes on the road because they’re WRITING A LITTLE MESSAGE on a TEENY TINY KEYBOARD, and, well, listen, you’re going to kill someone I care about.

STOP DOING THIS.

I promise whatever it is can wait. I promise. Listen, like I said. I don’t like being separated from my phone that long, either. I’m obsessed with it. But if I can do it, you can, too. Also, there’s this voice-to-text option now. Maybe that? Maybe you can use that. Because if you kill someone I care about because you’re texting while driving, I’m going to get totally stabby.

OK, kiddos, and others, what have we learned today?

Well, to boil it all down into one sentence:

IF IT SEEMS LIKE IT MIGHT BE A BAD IDEA IN THE LONG RUN, DON’T DO IT.

Easy, right? I know. I totally give the best advice. If you have questions about whether or not you should do something? Ask. I’ll let you know. I’m happy to help. I actually kind of like teens, even though most people think they’re annoying. They mean well, even though they wear inappropriately-low tops and their jeans are too big.

Oh! AND, to continue our week of Bloggiversary celebrations!

Your sixth-most-popular blog post of the WHOLE ENTIRE YEAR!

Nothing Good Has Ever Come from Use of a Ouija Board, Dummy

I am perplexed about this one. It’s not overly…well, funny. Or even good. I have no idea why this is the sixth-most-popular post of the entire year. None. (Again, sorry about the formatting. Stupid Blogger import. I’m not allowed to fix them, apparently.) It’s about horror movies. And what’s scary/funny/stupid. It’s fine, it’s not garbage. It’s just a perplexing choice for one of the top posts of the YEAR, you know? Huh. I don’t know, who am I to fight with the VOICE OF THE PEOPLE?I can’t even tell you what we’ve learned from this one because I’m perplexed. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Remember! Comment on yesterday’s post in order to be entered to win a totally awesome gift box of…um…stuff! That will be awesome!

Happy Monday, people! Tomorrow at this time, I’ll be with Susie. WITH SUSIE. In my favorite city in all the land! I’m so excited I could just about die. Oh, and PEE ESS, thank you powers that be for keeping planes up when appropriate and landing them when appropriate so both Susie and Ken got to their places in one piece. I freak out a little when my people are traveling. I like when I get the “all clear I AM OK AMY” messages. I know. I’m a little nuts. YOU STILL LOVE ME THOUGH.


Who wants to win a major award? Or, barring that, a box of awesome crap?

Happy Sunday, people of the football! 

It is a very special Sunday. What? Why is that, Amy? You ask.

Is it because it is Ken’s homecoming day, and he is safe-and-sound back at home in Germany? No. I mean, that is awesome (although I will miss having him only one hour time-zone-wise away.) Merka has been happy to have Ken here for the past few weeks, and now Ken gets to go home to Mrs. Ken and his happy dogs. And someday, maybe soon, there will be a new bon vivant post, who knows. But, no. Although those are all wonderful things, and WELCOME HOME, KEN!, that is not why this is a very special Sunday.

The answer is, because today kicks off LUCY’S FOOTBALL BLOGGIVERSARY WEEK!!!!

Whaaa? It’s been a YEAR? A year since this nonsense started? That’s crazysauce. That can’t be true? 

Oh, I assure you it is. 

A year ago next Sunday, on June 10, 2011, I published my very first post. Which was not very good at all and kind of not even all that funny or informative or interesting or worthwhile. I’m not even linking to it. It’s not like you can’t find it if you try. But I assure you it’s not worth your time. But! ANYWAY! I still published it. 

What? You want the origin story of the blog? Sheesh, it’s like you think this is a superhero comic or something, what the hell. OK. I love your faces, I’ll give it to you. I think I’ve told you a little, here and there and all around the square over the year, but I’ll put it all in one place. 

I was afraid of the internet for a very long time. No, no, not the internet, so much as social media. Because of the killers. And the strangers. But in 2010, I joined Facebook. Which you all hate with the fire of a thousand suns. I know. I know you do, my little marshmallow peeps. But everyone was always TALKING about it. I wanted to be in the know for once in my life! 

And once I was in the know, it was like a snowball of want. I wanted MORE of being in the know. MORE MORE MORE. 

So I got a smartphone. Then I could text! And check Facebook on my phone! And play Angry Birds, which I totally got rid of not long afterward because it was a., sucking up all my free time and my phone battery and b., making Angry Amy because THOSE EFFING SMUG PIGS! (I don’t have very good hand-eye coordination.Please try to control your shock and awe.) 

Stupid smug mocking pigs that just won’t die. Argh.

Then I realized I was not using my phone to its full potential. So I thought, huh. I will try out this Twitter thing that everyone’s always going on about. I asked on Facebook, “Hey, what do you all think about Twitter?” and, as always, most people ignored me. But a few were all, “TWITTER IS LE SUCK” and to them, I say, “YOU WERE DOING IT WRONG.” 

So I joined Twitter. And for a little while, it was like talking into a hole, because, no followers. But then, a few followers! People to talk to! Lovely people, some of which I still talk to, a year later, that’s like a record for me! And then, one of the famous people I follow (Joe Hill, sigh) tweeted about a book club. For geeks! I’m a geek. And I like books! So I joined. And I met so many amazing men and women. And things snowballed. Again. 

My people. Love, love, love.

Now, I’ve read a lot of blogs on and off over the years. But the three that I never missed (well, once I found them, of course – I mean, I didn’t know about them before I knew about them, don’t be absurd) were The Bloggess, Blogography, and Kevin Marshall’s America. I liked all three for different reasons, but all three were (are) well-written, funny, and intelligent. Even when I took internet breaks (I did that, back in the day – I’d forget it existed, because I didn’t have internet access at home) I’d make sure, when I did have access, to catch up on their blogs. 

One day I realized, huh. You know, I know I couldn’t write like they do? But I could write like I do. And my friends, who were often subjected to insanely-long rambling emails from me, were always telling me I should blog. And I had a small captive audience of Twitter followers who I thought might enjoy what I had to say. And if they didn’t – well, hell, I could always stop. Or I could just write for me, I suppose. I’d started a blog years before, but it was private. So kind of just a journal. (SIDE NOTE, I totally looked in on that the other day. There were about 10 entries – 5 or 6 were total baby-Lucy’s-Football entries, so that’s proof I was this before I was this, and the rest were kind of just sad? I apparently had a sad period I’ve forgotten about. Then I completely forgot I had it.) 

I also had no plan. None. Not even the germ of a plan. Not even a plan-lette. I know most people go into blogging with an idea in mind. Like, I think I will review books! I like to cook, let’s talk about my adventures in the kitchen! I LIKE TO CAPTION ANIMAL PHOTOS WITH FUNNY ALL-CAPS! Nope. I thought, let’s talk about shit. And see what happens. I guess that was kind of a plan. An ill-thought-out plan, but sort of a plan.  So it’s sorta social, demented and sad, but social. Right? Oh, crap, The Breakfast Club slipped in again. That keeps HAPPENING. Dammit.

Oh, swoon. Also, Judd Nelson was such a baby here! Look how young!

(And, side note, I totally did not go into this planning on blogging every day. But I realized, early on, if I didn’t, it would die a quick, forgotten death, like many of my other hobbies. Crochet. Beading. Scrapbooking. All of which I got TOTALLY JAZZED ABOUT ZOMG, bought all the paraphernalia for, then abandoned about three months in because I got bored as shit. Well, except crochet. I still pick that up now and then. And probably will again, someday. I’m really, really good at it. Like, if there were crochet Olympics? I’d win those. ALL THE GOLD FOR ME. I also did not plan the all-caps. Ooh, later in the week, I’ll tell you the story of the all-caps. Did I tell you this yet? I wonder if I did. I don’t think I did. I’ll tell you again anyway, my memory’s for shit.) 

Yeah, I could make these. I can make afghans. I CAN MAKE CLOTHES. I’m really the best at this. I’m not even kidding.

My Twitter people started to read it. Then a few more people started to read it. And then a few more. And then commenting started. Then I got more followers. People whose blogs I admired because they are WAY funnier than I am started reading and commenting. I switched from a shitty blogging platform to a better one where people could comment without wanting to beat their brains out against a metal partition. And dammit, was I having the best time? Just the best. I was looking forward to blogging every day. It was (and remains) the favorite part of my day. It hasn’t started to feel like work. I suppose, when it does, I’ll stop. But no end in sight yet. 

I made friends. Through Twitter and through blogging. Fellow bloggers, non-bloggers, all the people. Wonderful, funny, creative, supportive, fantastic people that I would never have known otherwise. 

And I seem to have made people laugh. This, to me, is the ultimate win, only because it’s what I like to do more than anything in the world. I mean, sure, I like to eat delicious food items and I like to snuggle Dumbcat and I like to sleep, but I really, really like to make people laugh. You know that high that runners say they get? Or I suppose people who regularly have sex get, not that I would know about that at all dammit? I get that from making people laugh. My endorphins are probably broken in that they don’t work how they’re supposed to, but that sure does make them kick up their little endorphin-feet. 

Endorphins aren’t as much fun as the name implies. I thought they’d look more like a dolphin.

(Not that a person can make people laugh every day. If I could do that, I suppose this would be a better blog. Or at least a more focused one. Sometimes I serious it up because I don’t feel laughy. And you seem to like those posts, too. Huh. You’re all very understanding. I like you a lot.) 

Somehow, through no fault of my own, I have built an amazing network of readers. I don’t know how this happened. I feel like the Pied Piper of Hamelin some days, but instead of leading you all to your watery death, I just don’t know what to DO with all of you. You’re all so wonderful! And I don’t deserve you! Not a single one of you! And look at you all with your little happy expectant faces and smiles and supportive comments and awesome ways! I’m a hell of a lucky woman. 

I promise I will not drown you. I don’t know how to play a pipe anyway.

SO, as it is BLOGGIVERSARY WEEK, I want to do SOMETHING to commemorate the one-year anniversary of awesomeness. I thought and thought and thought. If I were more prepared or more creative, I would come up with some sort of Easter Egg hunt or trivia game or a Where’s Waldo of my blog or SOMETHING that would not only be fun but it would get me more pageviews and potentially more readers, but listen, that seems like a hell of a lot of work and who has the time for something like that? I’ve got world domination to plan. Oh, wait, not world domination? Just a trip to New York? Shit, shit, you’re absolutely right, not world domination. 

So instead of something creative and awesome, I’m going to do this all easy and simple-like. 

Comment on this post and you can totally win a package, packaged up and mailed by me me and no one else but me, of anniversary goodies, as a thank you for helping me make this one of the absolute most joyous years of my entire life.

What’s in the package? I have no idea. I told you I’m not prepared. I’ve got a lot on my mind, yo. 

It’s my first anniversary and the traditional gift for such, according to some dumbass site I found online, is paper. So I’ll put something paper in there. Susie and I are going to The Strand when we’re in the City, so I’ll probably put in a book. The modern gift is supposed to be clocks. I don’t know that I’ll put a clock in there. A clock seems like a very stupid gift. Maybe I’ll draw you a damn clock, I don’t know what the hell. 

Here’s a clock. Now I don’t have to put one in there.

What else will be in there? YOU DON’T KNOW. (And neither do I because I haven’t purchased a single thing yet nor made a single solid plan.) Candy, probably. Some sort of goodies I’m picking up in New York with Susie. Something local to reflect where I live, maybe? A little stuffed Dumbcat? Something Lucy related? Something football related? A CD of wonderful music? A very special mini-post I write JUST FOR YOU? I DO NOT KNOW. It might even vary depending on who wins, to tell you the truth. So, it’s like a mystery box of wonder, really. Who doesn’t want a mystery box of wonder? Listen, ask BFF. He’ll tell you. I totally make the best surprise gift boxes. Ever. 

So. Let’s make some rules.

  1. Comment on this post. It only counts if you comment on this post, not any of the other posts this week. It has to be THIS POST. Or you’re not included in the prize drawing. And even if you comment 47 kabillion times, you only get one entry. We have to be fair about this. Also, I know I have a lot of lurkers, because I see my stats, but only a handful of you comment. Un-lurk, even if it’s just this one time. You could win a prize! And, who knows, you might like commenting so much that you come back and play with us regularly, wouldn’t that be great? Yes it would!
  2. Oh, as to what to comment on the post? Whatever. Say SOMETHING, or it’s kind of asshatty. I hate those people that you know just comment to win something. They’re all “hi gud blogg” and you’re like WHATEVER SLAPPY. Those people are like the starfuckers of blog giveaways. Although, yeah, I suppose those people probably will be entered into the drawing. But I won’t be all that gleeful if one of them win. I’m not asking you to write a damn comedic monologue, but the more fun it is to read, the more gleeful I’m going to be if you win, you know? Don’t you want to see me gleeful? Of course you do! IT’S MY BLOGGIVERSARY!
  3. Let’s see. You have until…um…Friday the 8th at midnight E.S.T. to comment. That’ll give me time to do the drawing and write you a pretty actual-anniversary-post for Sunday.
  4. Because I live alone and have no one to oversee the drawing except Dumbcat and he’s totally biased and therefore, if one of my favorite people/usual suspects wins and you’re all VOTER FRAUD! VOTER FRAUD! and that would make me sadface and totally ruin my anniversary and why do you have to be an asshole, anyway?, I will BREAK IN MY WEBCAM (ok, kind of again, I already used it a couple times to make sure I could) and videotape the entire drawing for you and put it in the post so you can see it all go down. I think the drawing will entail something really, really hi-tech like me assigning you all numbers based on the order in which you commented, cutting the numbers out, putting them in a colander, and then picking one, but YOU will get to SEE IT HAPPEN. Also, you’ll get to see my crazy eyes and unruly hair and messy kitchen table. Won’t that be fun? It’s like a little added anniversary bonus.
  5. No limits on where you live. It’s not going to be a huge package and I’ll mail it wherever. YES EVEN THE MOON. However, if you’re freaked out about me having your address, either enter and be prepared with an alternate address where I can’t come and chop you into little bits, or don’t enter at all. (SIDE NOTE: I won’t come and chop you into little bits. I don’t even have gas money to get to work half the time, and I’m really lazy. Axe-murder would EXHAUST me.)
  6. Wheaton’s Law applies. Don’t be a dick. I reserve the right, if you’re a dick, to assign you a number, then rip that number into little pieces and throw them in the river. What river? The Hudson, duh. Where the radioactive fish live.

    I’m not saying we have those three-eyed “Simpsons” fish, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility.

  7. I will announce the winner on Sunday the 10th. A week from today. On my actual bloggiversary. With a video! And much rejoicing! And beseech you to send me your contact info. (If you don’t send it in a timely fashion, I will have to re-draw, it’ll be a huge mess, so make sure you check back if you enter! Or I will start stalking you via the contact info you left to comment! IT WILL NOT BE PRETTY!) I may take a week or two to mail it out, because, well, I haven’t bought the stuff for it all yet and I want it to be awesome. But IT WILL BE MAILED OUT. And you’re not even allowed to complain, it’s a free box of awesomeness. 

I think that’s it. What am I missing? Comment, drawing, win something as-yet-undetermined but undeniably awesome. If I’m missing something or you have questions, ask. Email’s at the bottom of the blog, or in the comments, or on Twitter, or on Facebook. I’m all over, yo. I’ll be sending plenty of reminders over the next week for people to enter this, so it’s not like you will forget. ENTER! This is exciting and will be total fun times. 

Now, I also want to do a little spotlight dealio on my top 7 posts over the year. I thought that would be fun, and also an enlightening look into the minds of my readers, right? Totally. So, based on my stats (unfortunately, this is just based on the posts that have been clicked on – I can’t tell when someone clicks on the main blog itself, obviously, what post they’re reading), here is the year’s seventh most popular post.

This is likely the only back-to-school fashion article you’re going to read with unicorn sweaters in it 

So, what have we learned about what you like, based on this post? Other than the formatting’s all wonky because it was imported from Blogger and no matter what I do, I can’t fix it, and listen, I’m exhausted from trying, so I’m just going to stop? You can still read it. It’s just a little smooshed. 

Really awful back-to school fashion? Me making fun of children? How old I am that I don’t get what the kids are wearing these days? I don’t know. I like this post, though. Mostly because these clothes are TERRIBLE, yo. Those are some tight pants. Also, UNICORN SWEATERRRRR. 

Oh, shit, that totally reminds me, I promised Jim I would find junior-high photos of myself and post them here. Will do. Might take a while – I think they might be in the ALBUM OF SHAME at my parents’ house and I don’t go home again until August. But they’ll be here eventually. I was a very…um…interesting-looking child. Let’s just say that. Let’s leave it there. Also, BOWL CUT. 

So, anyway. It’s my bloggiversary week! Whoo-hoo! Don’t worry, the posts this week will not be all this obnoxious, they’ll be somewhat normal, I promise. Let the fun begin! Comment away!


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