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Category Archives: Followup

An Open Letter to People Who Find my Blog Accidentally (Volume 10)

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally:

Howdy! It’s April! And I made it through tax season in one piece, whoo-hoo! And here we are again, and your search terms continue to befuddle me. Or entertain me. Or sometimes make me a little bit squicked out. But they just keep a’comin’!

I’ve been in a tax-season fog for the past month. Seriously, it’s amazing to me how many things I missed. A friend of mine was in the hospital and I didn’t even KNOW. I’m distressed by that. I’m so hoping to get back into the swing of things now that my life is my own again. But the past month has been extreme tunnel vision: work, home, blog, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat. I do, however, seem to keep getting new readers. That just totally rings my bell, let me just tell you. So, 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 tenth one. As you can tell from the title. Search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? Oh, for many a reason. But probably for love. Probably, just like Nancy Wilson, I did it all for love. I mean, what other reason could there be? Oh, billions of other reasons? Oh, ok then. Carry on.

The search terms this month were actually more humorous and confusing than icky. I’m pleased with that development. HOWEVER, I think that means I’m not writing about en0ugh sex-related topics anymore. Am I totally disappointing you all? I’ll try to talk about sex before May’s over. Maybe. If you’re all really, really good. Or naughty. Your choice.

So ANYWAY, instead of addressing you all individually, which would take a TON of time and I WOULD like to do some other things tonight, like maybe the dishes, or water my one plant that I haven’t yet killed, I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups.  What? It’s GOOD. It’s a GOOD thing. Don’t be so weird. Everyone likes groups. They’re FUN. You can work as a TEAM and maybe make a team CHEER or something, I don’t know. IT WILL BE AWESOME.

Category the First: Sometimes search terms made me a sad panda

an open letter to my husband who watch gay porn  Well, in good news: it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s gay. I’ve watched lesbian porn, and yet, still want men rather than women in my bed. It could just be curiosity. It could just be that he was bored and there was nothing else on. It could just be that watching sex in any form turns him on, even if he, at the end of the day, wants you. In not as good news: writing him an OPEN letter is just about the worst way to confront it you can choose. Talk to your husband. For the love of Pete, you married the guy. Discuss the porn. Discuss what it means. And if he’s gay? Well, shit happens, babe. The first guy I seriously fell for in college? Walked in on him having sex with my then-BFF. Another guy. IT HAPPENS. Move the hell on. Sexuality’s kind of fluid. It’s nothing personal. It doesn’t mean you’re broken and it doesn’t mean he’s rejecting you. It means you two weren’t meant to be, that’s all. Also? Maybe watch the gay porn. Those guys are purty.

either dying or pregnant Cripes, are those your only options? Probably neither, honey. Probably neither. But make a doctor’s appointment and get that shit checked out. Sheesh.

happy birthday dad even though we don’t know each other Aw, jeez. Why are you doing a Google search for this? That’s so sad! On so many levels! (Also, on a related note, I got SO MANY SEARCHES this month for “what to say to your father on his birthday.” So many people don’t know what to say, so they had to read my letter to my dad for ideas? I mean, I’m happy to help, but it makes me sad you needed my words. Use your OWN words. Aw, kiddos. Parent/child relationships never get much easier, do they? I’m sorry.

solving the mystery of my mom  Again, aw! The mystery of your mom! That’s – well, kind of poetic, actually. My mom’s a mystery, too. I will never be able to solve why she still thinks watching The Waltons is the best use of her time, in 2012. Or why she always feels the need to criticize me in a weird passive-aggressive way. But, she’s my mom. You know? Moms are kind of weird. So are dads. It’s the way of the world. Don’t fret too much.

Category the Second: Pervy Search Terms (danger Will Robinson, because, ew)

abnormal self sucker  Is there any other kind of self-sucker? One of my college friends told me this was every man’s dream, to be able to do this, because then he could be self-sufficient. I’m not going to pass judgment on that. Ooh, look. I totally talked about sex right there. Aren’t you so impressed, Ding Dong Joe?

Then I had a weird, very long  paragraph about how the Dutch have no morals, so that’s why they like bestiality. I don’t know, either. I don’t understand how I keep getting these paragraph-long search terms. Also, just because they have all the weed, I don’t think the Dutch have no morals. I spent a very nice few days in Amsterdam in my early 20s, and the people there were lovely. And they seemed no less morally than anyone else. Even the ladies in the red light district were so friendly and nice. I loved Amsterdam.

beastiality pig boar stories erotic  Ew ew ew what? Also, you spelled bestiality wrong.

Category the Third: Curiouser and Curiouser

“girl with the dragon tattoo” sex scene “but i’m old”
“you’re a great girl” finland
don’t ever call me april fool jokes
don’t worry about people they will die
hair did what does did mean?
sugar glider that’s dead on the side of the road

These are all very confusing. Are you too old to watch or read the sex scene in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo? Yeah, it’s horrible and it’s intense but it’s important for the plot, in my opinion. I know others disagree with me. I both laughed and was confused by “You’re a great girl” Finland. Are you breaking up with a Finnish lady? Because that’s totally the phrase one uses before a breakup. Or are you LOOKING for a great girl in Finland? Ask Andreas, maybe he can help. He’s moving soon. Don’t ever call me is a bad April Fools joke. Because that person may never call you again. April Fools is the suck. Hair what does did mean. I…I can’t even parse this sentence, to be frank. There’s no song in the musical Hair called “did.” Are you trying to say “what does IT mean?” And are you referring to the hair on your head, or the musical? I’d love to help you out if this is musical-related but I’m just bewildered. Don’t worry about people, they will die. Again, vague. Are you not worrying, because you think, in some strange cause-and-effect way, your worry CAUSES their death? Or are you all, “meh, why both worrying, they’re going to die anyway?” Either way, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Also, you shouldn’t be seeing dead sugar gliders on the side of the road. They’re not wild animals here. If you did, something’s afoot.

Category the Fourth: You sure do love the celebs

This month, the most popular searches, celebrity-wise, were:

Spencer Reid (5) – nice, but as always, HE IS MINE

Samantha Brick (5) – ugh, you can have her, she’s so weird. Did you all see she wrote a REBUTTAL to her article about how she was a pretty pretty princess saying that she’s a pretty pretty princess because her Daddy always told her she was beautiful and when everyone was SO MEAN after her article came out, Daddy told her they were just jealous haters and she’s the most beautiful girl in the world? Yeah, I’m all for daddies instilling positive body image in their daughters…but not completely inflated and incorrect body image. Don’t be absurd.

Benedict Cumberbatch (3) – again, well done, but MINE MINE MINE.

Ben Wyatt (2) – SIGH. Why are you trying to steal all my internet boyfriends, people? I’m totally disappointed in your stealing ways.

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

“lucy’s football” why so judgy?  “Random searcher” why so nosy? Also, I’m not overly judgy. Unless you’re an asshole.

airbrush unicorn van YES GET ONE PLEASE THANK YOU

april fools day pranks stupid  They TOTALLY are. Good call, broheim.

call someone a messerschmitt  I looked this up because I love all the German and apparently messerschmitt is just a last name, and a plane company, but if you want to break it down, it means knifesmith. So if you call someone a messerschmitt, you’re calling them either a German last name, a plane, or a knifesmith. None of these is a good thing to call someone. I learned a naughty German cuss from Ken the other day but I won’t say it because naughty (but also the MOST fun) but if you knew THAT you could call them THAT. I know, totally unhelpful.

dwight shrute byronic hero Ha! Kind of, actually. Not a bad call. Also, what is WITH me, I’m totally finding Dwight more and more attractive lately. I AM BROKEN HELP.

everyone i know is an assassin Me too, random searcher. Me, too. Or a spy. Or a psychokiller.

i can sleep you’re not touch me Grammar aside, this is totally something I would say to someone, were they to spend the night. “No, it’s ok. I can sleep. As long as you don’t touch me.”

i’m sorry baby i hate you  Are you sorry? Probably not really. This is the worst apology ever. Also, people calling other people “baby” all the time makes me SO EFFING STABBY. They do this all the time on The Amazing Race and I want to punch them through the television screen.

liebchen + cake This is another one I totally Google translated for you. Are you so happy? And it’s ADORABLE. You’re going to throw up in your mouth a little. Ready? “Little love.” AW. And also YAK. This would be cute for, like, a grandpa to call his granddaughter, but not as cute for the pervy dude on the bus to call you when he was all rubbing up against you for no reason. I have no idea what’s up with the cake part of this search so don’t ask. I was hoping you’d forget that part.

lucy no good woman  Yep. Sounds about right.

mules i have known stories  I WANT TO HEAR SOME OF THESE STORIES. So do my readers, based on the response from the Helper Mule saga. WHAT ARE THE STORIES.

my mama told me son please be beare there this thing called love and its every where Please be “beare?” Is that to make this rhyme with “everywhere?” Are you writing bad verse in my searches? This doesn’t even make SENSE. I am CONFUSED. And also giggling a little. “There this thing called love!” Hee.

no one pays me in gum sad owl I think someone wanted a meme smooshing up the sad owl and the “no one pays me in gum” guy but it’s not a thing. I could make it a thing. But I don’t want to. It’s dumb. But I will give you this. It’s my favorite sad meme. Ready?

I love this so much that I have it hanging on my fridge. NO PONY. NOT YOURS.

oh randy randy randy, thank you randy Um. That’s effusive! And an odd thing to search, honestly.

staged readings are useless theatre Ha! Well, they’re not USELESS. They’re not my FAVORITE form of theater, but calling them useless is kind of harsh. Would I rather see a fully staged production? Sure. But staged readings have their place. I’m just glad you have strong feelings about theater, my searchy friend. Come back again, will you?

we have to be careful when talking in secret YES WE DO. Why, are we talking in secret? Do we have a secret? That’s sexy-fun-good-times, no? Was I being too loud? I often am. I’m so sorry. Please don’t break up our secret whatever-it-is-we-have-here.

yoda riding a unicorn I WANT A PHOTO OF THIS RIGHT NOW.

Here’s the best I could do. I found a Yoda riding a cat, too, but that’s not what was asked for.

Category the Sixth: No no no. STERN FACE.

darius rucker promised you dad not to do the things you do  the first time I saw this I was SO MAD. I was all, “That’s the COWARD of the COUNTY. That’s not a Darius Rucker song. That’s a KENNY ROGERS song. What planet are you from? Hootie probably wasn’t even BORN when that came out.” Then I researched it. And for the love of all that’s holy, Darius Rucker recently covered “The Coward of the County.” UGH NO NO NO. No need. It’s PERFECT the way it is. NO NEED NO NEED.

Category the Seventh: Way to go, Rude McRuderson.

frigid bitch Um, ok, yeah, I can totally be a bitch. But I’m not really all that frigid? And I don’t know what empirical testing you used to come up with this conclusion? Thanks, jackhole.

Category the Eighth: Thanks? I think?

i love lucys football  That’s nice! Unless you’re a killer. Then, that’s creepy, cut that out.

Category the Ninth: Stop asking me to do your homework for you. I WILL NOT.

imaginary what does loyalty look like, smell like, taste like, feel like and sound like  Now, come on. This question’s so subjective you could answer just about anything and any teacher worth his or her salt would give you full marks. STOP ASKING THE INTERNET TO ANSWER YOUR HOMEWORK QUESTIONS. Use your brainpan. If you don’t use it, it will die. Do you want your brainpan to die? Well, DO YOU?

think about something you would like to buy write a paragraph to tell about ways you can be thrifty so you can save enough money to buy it use key words and spelling words OK, now, this is just sad. How would the interwebs know what your key words and spelling words even ARE? Again, this is NOT HARD. You need to use your brains, people. USE THEM. Or they’re going to ATROPHY and one day you will SNEEZE and they will run right out of your nose. Do you think that’s true? Well, you’d know if it was or not if you USED YOUR BRAIN ONCE AND A WHILE.

Category the Tenth: Still sneaky and still going strong!

Seven sneaky fucker searches this month, and five for feline fatal attraction. I want this on my tombstone. It is my CLAIM to FAME. SO PROUUUUD.

Yikes. I’m glad I’m going on vacation next week. This week’s blogging is EXHAUSTING me. Whoo!

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!)

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I’m sorry I had a fight in the middle of your Black Panther party.

I have a lot of things in my head today. RANDOM CRAP SATURDAY!

It’s nice here on the dark side. There’s cake.

So…new laptop. SO SHINY. Listen, I can’t even explain how much this thing is blowing my mind. I know. I KNOW. You probably all have laptops and iPads and whatnot and are all, meh, Amy, this is not that exciting. But the evil other computer? I can’t even explain how slow it was. And the freezing up. And the not allowing me to do things. And the erasing things I’d written so I had to re-do hours of work. And did I mention the freezing? Right before I wanted to go to bed? SO MUCH FREEZING. I would have a weeping breakdown over that thing weekly. Which is why it’s good I live alone. Having a roommate who had to deal with such things = a good way to lose a friend. Dumbcat doesn’t care if I have a weeping meltdown, as long as I feed him, and once and a while give him some cuddles.

But new laptop! I haven’t been this much in love with an inanimate object since I got my cell last year (around this time, actually. Tax season = Amy has the money to buy new technology!) I am sitting on my couch writing while I can watch television and Dumbcat is all cuddled up to me and I have fruit punch. ALL IS WELL IN THE WORLD.

Well, I did something today I SWORE I would never do. Are you ready? You’re going to be shocked. SHOCKED. I couldn’t do it with the old computer, and my cell doesn’t have enough memory.

I…downloaded the Kindle App.

I KNOW.

Wait! Let me plead my case!

I love paper books. I love them. So much. I’m not going to stop reading paper books. I am currently reading A Feast for Crows, and it’s paper. And although I am a little befuddled about who all these new characters are and it’s making my head a little swimmy, I love it more than a lot of things in the world.

But you know my gig over at Insatiable Booksluts, which I love a bushel and a peck?

We get galleys and such to read, sometimes. Which are available only by e-reader. I want to be able to read them, and review them.

Also, my library has started putting some new releases out via e-reader. NEW releases. Which I could get quicker than I could if I waited for the paper copy, which sometimes has a very long wait, and although patience is totally a virtue, it’s not one I possess.

AND, sometimes books go on crazy sale for e-reader. Like, a couple of dollars. I could read a book for a couple of dollars!

Also – YES, I KNOW, I PUT A LOT OF THOUGHT INTO SOMETHING SO SIMPLE – I decided it was asshatty of me to be so mistrusting of this new technology. I love technology. Love it. How much do I love my phone, my laptop, social networking, this very blog you’re reading? Yes, true, none of those worry me that they’ll be the end of publishing as I know it – and listen, no one loves paper books as much as I do, NO ONE – but it’s a douche move of me to completely disregard an entire new form of technology because I’m being a Luddite about it. And probably there will always be books, right? Just say there will, I don’t want to live in a world where things are otherwise, I’ll just die.

So, yes. I downloaded the Kindle app. Me! The person who, just a few months ago, TURNED DOWN A GIFT KINDLE. (If it matters, I’ve felt like an asshole about that ever since.)

I now have a new shiny book to read on it and EVERYTHING. And the free books that came with it.

I KNOW ZOMG. This is kind of a small step for man moment, right? Right.

And? The logo of Kindle could not even be cheerier and more evocative if it TRIED.

I think this might be trouble with a capital T for a booklover with a credit card, right?

Right.

Inter…um, no, wait…similar…cousin-y…whatever the hell they are. FRIENDS! FRIENDS!

OK, I kind of buried the lead, here. But guess what I have for you all today?

HELPER MULE UPDATE! And it is a weird and wild DOOZY of an update (although, brief!)

Talked to Dad the other night. Oh, wait, backtrack, first, we had THIS conversation:

Dad: Listen, I don’t think we can go to the zoo when we go to Florida.
Me: What? Why?
Dad: Because of the black panthers.

Why can't we see the black panthers? I'd like to see the black panthers.

Me: There are black panthers? I didn’t see them on the website. Just caracals. It’s a little zoo.

ZOMG look at this jaunty caracal! He has a total 'tude. I adore him.

Dad: No. The BLACK PANTHERS. The GROUP. Not the ANIMAL.

Ah. That makes more sense. Still don't know what they're doing at the zoo, though.

Me: Why are the Black Panthers at my zoo?
Dad: Because the zoo’s in the same town where Trayvon Martin was shot.
Me: Oh, crap. I didn’t even realize it was the same town. The Black Panthers are there?
Dad: They might be there.
Me: Oh, so they’re NOT there.
Dad: They said they might be there.
Me: At the zoo? Did they specifically say they’d be at the zoo? With the kookaburras and the caracals?
Dad: I think it’s a bad idea.
Me: I think you just don’t want to go to the zoo. Also, I’m pretty sure that even if the Black Panthers HAPPEN to be at the zoo, we’ll be ok. I don’t think they’re mad at us, specifically.
Dad: Maybe we could go somewhere else instead.
Me: NO. ZOO.
Dad: There’s a NASCAR museum.
Me: Are there caracals and kookaburras in the cars?
Dad: I’d think that’s unlikely.
Me: I’ll take my chances with the Black Panthers.

OK, so after this, which I’m fairly sure was just a vague plot to get him out of having to take me to the zoo, which is the ONE THING I AM SO SO EXCITED ABOUT,  because he does not share my joy in zoos, Dad continued with this, which I can not BELIEVE he did not tell me sooner!

Dad: So I drove past Helper Mule today.
Me: Aw! How’s he doing? I hope you honked at him, to tell him hi.
Dad: No. I did not do that. He has a friend.
Me: What? A friend? What do you mean?
Dad: There were two mule-like animals in the corral.
Me: TWO HELPER MULES?
Dad: I’m not sure. One was a little bigger, so it might have been a horse.
Me: Or a wildebeest?
Dad: Probably not a wildebeest. It didn’t look like a wild cow creature.
Me: Hee, wild cow creature, awesome. Do more research into this situation. You can’t leave me hanging like this. The whole internet is counting on you, you know.
Dad: That’s a lot of pressure.

So I waited like a FULL TWENTY-FOUR HOURS and I was on PINS AND NEEDLES, seriously. What was in the paddock with Helper Mule? What was happening? Did he have a friend? SO MANY QUESTIONS!

Then, finally, it was Helper Mule update time. And it was so worth the wait.

Dad: So, I called my buddy up, and asked him what was going on with Helper Mule’s friend.
Me: AND AND AND?!?!?!
Dad: Do you need a time-out? Take a breath.
Me: When this happens on the internet I tell them I’m going to breathe into a bag. Pretend I’m breathing into a bag.
Dad: You tell the internet people that? You shouldn’t tell them that. It’s just more information for them to use to stalk and kill you with.
Me: I don’t think there’s much they could do with that. WHAT’S GOING ON WITH THE MULE, DAD.
Dad:  That is a mare. She is pregnant. And he bought her to be friends with Helper Mule.
Me: A lady-friend? A lady-friend who’s KNOCKED UP? Ooh, this is totally a tangled web, Dad.

She got abandoned by her baby-daddy. But Helper Mule is a total gentleman, so he'll step in and save the day. AND WIN HER HEART.

Dad: I guess.
Me: You don’t seem to be overly excited about this turn of events at all. This is like a MULE SOAP OPERA.
Dad: You have a weird brain that comes up with weird things, you know?
Me: Yep. HEREDITY!
Dad: Don’t even blame me for that brain. I think that’s all your mother’s doing.
Me: Wait, so how’s it going? Is Helper Mule coming out of his shell? Does he love his new friend?
Dad: I don’t know. All I know is, the mule won’t come anywhere near anyone but my buddy’s wife.
Me: Hey! Soon, there will be THREE friends. Helper Mule, his lady-friend, and her bastard child.
Dad: Yeah, it’s quite the little menagerie over there.
Me: You should go and check it out.
Dad: I don’t want to. It’s starting to make me nervous. It’s like a zoo.
Me: I LOVE ZOOS. We’re so going over there this summer.
Dad: Yes. Yes, of course we are.
Me: And by then there will be THREE FRIENDS! Also, I will bring Helper Mule carrots, and Helper Mule whisper him, and it will be the best.
Dad: He’ll bite your hand and steal those carrots.
Me: You underestimate my skills, yo.
Dad: Are you from the street right now?
Me: Yes.
Dad: I’m so proud.

So are we all the most excited about this weird turn of events? Now there is unhelpful Helper Mule, and his lady-friend, who’s pregnant for some reason, and her soon-to-be-born bastard child. I think Helper Mule will fall in love with her, and adopt that child. This is going to be great. Unless her baby-daddy comes back. LOOK OUT HELPER MULE. Baby-daddies can be TROUBLE. Oh, wait, this is going to be on Maury or some such shit, isn’t it? What will I WEAR. I think my best tubetop is at the CLEANERS.

ZOMG how did I miss this episode? THIRTY-FOUR MEN? What?!?!?

I’m hoping Dad’s friend will send photos, because I so want to see Helper Mule’s lady-friend in real life and not just imagine her from pregnant mare photos I found on the interwebs.

OK, so there’s your random crap for the day! Enjoy your Saturday. I hope you’re all out frolicking and whatnot. I’m toiling away answering all the phones. But as soon as that’s done – WHOO! No plans and schemes this weekend, lots of work, but it’s all fun work that I’ll love doing, so it won’t SEEM like work. That’s the best kind of work, right?

Happy day, all, happy day!


Oh, I’d like to see a mule as good as Sal.

So, I had a very important updatey conversation with my dad last night about everyone’s favorite blog topic.

NO, not the missing balloon. He won’t talk about that anymore. He thinks the government took it. We’re not allowed to talk about that.

HELPER MULE!

So, as you’ll all remember, a little over a month ago, my dad’s friend was waiting for the delivery of his helper mule. If you don’t remember, I’ve totally included the link above. You can click! There are animal photos, it’s really the best.

Since then, Helper Mule really has gotten quite a following. People want to know what’s going ON with Helper Mule! People want to know if he’s arrived! What he LOOKS like! If he’s…well…HELPFUL!

Luckily, we have my dad to answer all our burning questions.

I’ve been asking all month, on and off. Helper Mule was delayed for reasons unknown to anyone. Something about shipping? And difficulty getting a horse trailer? I assume because there’s no such thing as a Helper Mule trailer, that’s just way too specific of an item. sj was sure that the whole thing was a scam, perpetrated by the Russians. (She would, however, like you all to know she has nothing against Russians. It’s just that, in her head, the people who are scamming my dad’s friend HAPPEN to be Russian, not that ALL Russians are scammy.) I was kind of in agreement. I floated this theory past my dad, who ALSO thought maybe the Helper Mule thing was a scam. However, he thinks everyone’s in cahoots with everyone, so this really wasn’t much of a coup for me. I could tell him I saw an article that said the Mounties were working with the CIA on a spaceship to kill all the rhinoceroses and he’d be all, “Yep, sounds like them, the bastards.”

Also, Dad’s friend hired some guy to come over and build a Helper Mule barn and paddock but the guy never showed. I feel kind of bad for Dad’s friend. He’s getting screwed six ways to Sunday, here.

SO, a couple of days ago, Dad told me: HELPER MULE IS HERE!

Me: Any news on Helper Mule?
Dad: It’s here.
Me: WHAT? You didn’t START the conversation with that? I can’t believe you. It’s like I don’t even know you. Or YOU don’t even know ME.
Dad: Yeah, I’ll drive by sometime this week and check it out for you.
Me: Will you take PICTURES?
Dad: I’m not taking pictures of a mule.
Me: A HELPER mule. He’d probably help you focus it and everything. Pose for you. Helpfully. In his best light.
Dad: I’ll tell you what it looks like. That’s it.
Me: What if you ask your FRIEND to send you photos of the mule? Tell him the mule is famous on the internet. Tell him it has a twitter hashtag sometimes, and a whole blog post was written about it. I can’t imagine he wouldn’t send the photos THEN.
Dad: Um. I’m not telling him that. What the hell is a hashtag.
Me: It’s…this is not easy to explain. On Twitter, when you are talking about something, sometimes you put a pound sign in front of the topic? And then if people want, they can click that, and see who else is talking about it. And if ENOUGH people are talking about it, it’s one of the Trending Topics. So then you’re totally the most famous.
Dad: Um.
Me: I told you it’s really hard to explain.
Dad: I’m not telling him that.

So the next day…

Me: DID YOU SEE IT DID YOU SEE IT?
Dad: You know I’m watching basketball, right?
Me: HELPER MUUUUULE!
Dad: (sigh) Yes. It’s red. It’s supposedly red and white, but I didn’t see any white.
Me: Is its name Sal?
Dad: What the hell is wrong with you. Why would its name be Sal?
Me: Because of the Erie Canal Song, of course. If you have a mule and its name ISN’T Sal, you’re really missing an opportunity to sing it an awesome song.
Dad: I didn’t talk to him. I just drove by. There’s a red mule standing in a corral.
Me: See, also Sal rhymes with corral. Maybe it had white feet. Did you see its feet?
Dad: NO. I just DROVE BY. Its feet were in the mud.
Me: There’s already mud? That mule’s only been there one day. Sheesh. Is it the size of a horse or a donkey?
Dad: Between those two sizes.
Me: Did it look helpful?
Dad: It looked like a red mule, standing in a muddy corral.
Me: This isn’t a lot to go on. Go see it tomorrow. Take photos. THE INTERNET NEEDS TO KNOW.
Dad: I’m sending your uncle over to take photos. I told him about the hash browns.
Me: I…what? What hashbrowns? Are you going to buy him hashbrowns if he takes photos? That’s nice of you, everyone likes hashbrowns.
Dad: The internet hashbrowns so you can be famous about Helper Mules.
Me: ZOMG HASHTAGS.
Dad: That’s what I said.
Me: If the internet has hashbrowns, they’ve been holding back. I totally want some internet hashbrowns right now.

TODAY!

Me: So, what’s the scoop, old man?
Dad: I told you if you call me that, I’m hanging up. That’s very disrespectful of your loving father.
Me: FINE. What’s the mule news, youngish fella?
Dad: Not much better and it sounded forced. I saw the mule today.
Me: WHAT? You DID? Tell me ALL ABOUT IT.
Dad: Its name is Chief.
Me: What? “Got me a mule and its name is Chief?” THAT SUCKS. It doesn’t rhyme with ANYTHING in the song.
Dad: Well, don’t tell the mule that. It would hurt the mule’s feelings.
Me: Fine, I’ll keep that on the down low from the mule. I understand, I hate my name, too. Was it SO SO HELPFUL?
Dad: Wait, you hate your NAME? We GAVE you that name.
Me: That’s not the point. WAS THE MULE HELPFUL?
Dad: Um.
Me: What, um.
Dad: It won’t let anyone near it.
Me: WHAT?
Dad: It’s like it’s not a tame mule. It’s like a wild mule. It’s scared of people.
Me: So, what, he goes out there to have the mule kneel down to let him ride it and…
Dad: It runs away.
Me: LIKE DUMBCAT!
Dad: Yeah. It’s about as helpful as Dumbcat, I think.
Me: Wait. Do you think it’s just being stubborn? Because aren’t mules supposed to be stubborn?
Dad: No. It’s scared. And not tamed. Or trained to be at all helpful.
Me: OH THIS IS THE WORST. He totally got scammed! I know we’ve been saying that but I was so hoping it wasn’t true. Then the mule showed up and I thought for sure it was all going to be alright!
Dad: Nope. It’s not even a LITTLE helpful. Also, its ears don’t point in the same direction, so it looks foolish. I mean, from what I could see. Mostly all I saw was it running away, and peeking out from behind the barn.
Me: ZOMG it is TOTALLY the Dumbcat of mules. So what now?
Dad: I don’t know. Maybe it’ll calm down. If not, he’s got to get rid of it. But he can’t.
Me: What? Why? He could call the Russians and demand a refund or something.
Dad: In a strange turn of events, his wife has fallen in love with the mule.
Me: WHAT?
Dad: She said she wanted nothing to do with the mule, but now that it’s here, she gets up every morning early and tries to make friends with it and talks to it over the fence.
Me: OF COURSE SHE DOES. Anyone would! That’s what you DO with a scared animal. Much respect for his classy wife. OOH LISTEN.
Dad: Not much good ever came from you using that tone of voice.
Me: I am VERY GOOD with animals. They LOVE me. At the shelter, I was the BEST with the scared animals.
Dad: Yeah…
Me: So this SUMMER, I can totally Helper Mule Whisper that mule.
Dad: I don’t think that’s a thing.
Me: It will be once I do it. They might make a movie about me.
Dad: The Helper Mule Whisperer?
Me: YES. It will be a runaway smash hit and I will become SO SO FAMOUS. Also, smaller-picture-wise, I’ll get to see that mule.
Dad: You might be a little obsessed with this mule right now.
Me: IT IS RED AND I LIKE THINGS THAT ARE POTENTIALLY HELPFUL AND ALSO ANIMALS. You know that.
Dad: Yes, yes, I do. Oh, when I was there, I told him how famous his mule was.
Me: You DID? What did you say?
Dad: I told him you had a blog where you tell the internet all your personal business and someday it will get you murdered by a crazy, and also you’re on that Tweeter all the time, and that there are hashbrown tags.
Me: Getting better on the hashtags. I appreciate the effort. What did he say?
Dad: Not much. I think he was confused.
Me: It’s a little confusing. I’ll agree with that.
Dad: I also told him you said its name should be Sally, but he said that’s stupid since it’s a boy.
Me: SAL. Not Sally. “I got me a mule and its name is Sally, fifteen miles on the Erie Canally?” That doesn’t even make SENSE.
Dad: I also think he thought I was making most of how famous Helper Mule is on the internet up.
Me: Yeah. I sometimes think I am, too. It’s pretty far-fetched and too awesome to be real, most days. So, wait, did you take photos?
Dad:  No. He said he was going to send me some. So I guess he’s ok that Helper Mule is famous on the internet. But I think his wife would be really mad if some crazy stalker killed Helper Mule because of your blog, so don’t tell anyone where Helper Mule lives.
Me: He wouldn’t get in a kidnapper’s van, anyway. TOO SCARED.
Dad: Good point. Smart move, Helper Mule.
Me: See? He’s already helpful. He’s helping internet stalkers not get their hands on an awesome thing. I KNEW HELPER MULE HAD A PURPOSE.

SO! Hopefully, if all goes well, we MIGHT have Helper Mule photos before the week is out. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Also, I’m kind of hoping Helper Mule calms down. For two reasons: a., poor Dad’s friend, with his high hopes for being helped even though I’m not sure why he needs a mule, and now he got scammed! and b., if Helper Mule doesn’t shape up, I might not get to see him over the summer, and how sad would that be? The MOST sad, is how sad!

UPDATE UPDATE UPDAAAATE!

So late in the day today I got an email from Dad. No text, just THIS attached. He’s a man of few words when it comes to typing, my dad.

Ladies, gentlemen, and whatever YOU are, Ding Dong Joe, I bring you:

CHIEF THE HELPER MULE WHO EITHER HATES OR IS TOO SCARED TO HELP.

I think he looks worried. And sad. Doesn’t he have totally sad eyes? Also, he’s kind of knock-kneed. I don’t think his ears look so weird, though, DAD. I think you made that part up to be funny.

Let’s end on happier note: here is a painting of a mule being helpful and carrying a pooper scooper that I totally found on the interwebs for you because I LOVE YOU.

According to her website, you can buy her mule paintings on Etsy. I know what Dad's getting his FRIEND for Christmas!


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

Dear People Who Find My Blog Accidentally: 

Well! Here we are in March, can you even imagine? I’m in tax season of business, you’re all…doing…whatever it is YOU’RE doing, and all’s well in the land, right? Right. Good. Great. Grand. Wonderful. Once again, I’ve taken my fine-tooth comb of awesome to your search terms that brought you here, and, ONCE AGAIN, they’ve left me, in turns, perplexed, in stitches, and skeeved out, or a combination of the above.   

This has been an exciting month: I made a fancy Facebook page for my blog, which you can all pop on over and like, because won’t that be good times? Sure it will! And then when you’re posting emo statuses I’ll pop up in your feed and you’ll be all, “OH THAT AMY WHAT A CARD” and that’ll make your day just a little brighter, and I like that. I also had a couple of big-reader days, mostly due to a post that I was petrified to post and gave me total acid reflux, but you were all completely amazing and I love you for your collective supportiveness and awesomeness. So I might have new readers. HI NEW READERS! Welcome to crazytown! It’s kind of like the mad tea party in Alice in Wonderland, only less dormice. I wish there were dormice. I’d like to see a dormouse. 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 ninth one. As you can tell from the title. Search for the others; they’re stellar.) Why do I do this? Eh, same reason I do most things. Makes me laugh. Keeps me entertained. Really the main reason I do everything that’s not work or sleep, really. And also, I LOVE to help people. I mean, poor lost searchers. Wait until you see some of these terms. THEY NEED HELP. 

The search terms this month were OVERALL less porny, but the ones that WERE porny were SO porny. Like, so porny I can’t post them. Come on, ew, you guys. Stop that right now. I don’t want to Silkwood shower my gray matter every time I look at my search terms. Why so icky? Stop. 

So ANYWAY, instead of addressing you all individually, which would take more time than I have and at some point I should try to get more than the 4 hours of sleep a night I’ve been running on lately, I’m going to break you down into categories and address you in groups.  NO, it’s not demeaning. It’s NICE. You’re in good COMPANY. SHEESH. Come on now. These are all people that are in the same lost boat as you. It’s like college orientation, only you’re less likely to get an STD. Well, SOME of you are. Some of you, based on your search terms, are CRAWLING with the clap. 

Category the First: NO YOU DO NOT 

i want somebody to love me like heathcliff 

Oh, BABE. NO. No you DON’T. I know, it SEEMS like a good idea? But you have read the book, right? He and Catherine were DYSFUNCTIONAL. They drove each other INSANE. He did things to purposely HURT her. I know. She was all he could think about. Sometimes, doesn’t that seem like just the best thing? IT ISN’T. I’m telling you, I had a Heathcliff. After you get over fifty calls in one day, most of them accusing you of being a whore, then every fourth or fifth call him sobbing, apologizing, and threatening suicide, the bloom’s off the damn ROSE, babe. I PROMISE. 

Category the Second: You’ll never find these things here 

“invitation to tickle”
blogs like sexyfawkes 

Tickling’s torture. I know, some people like this shit. SOME people also have FOOT fetishes. I can’t explain away all the weirdness in the world. There are no tickling invitations here. Go elsewhere, Tickly Tom, unless you want me to break your fingers like fireplace kindling. 

Ugh, you want MORE blogs like Sexyfawkes? I would think Sexyfawkes is more than enough. MORE than enough. Ugh. 

Category the Third: GO MERKA 

american sausage in my english mcmuffin 

I like to imagine this searcher SO MAD at getting FOREIGN SAUSAGE MEATS in his English McMuffin. Like, one day, there might be CHORIZO in there! And one day, CURRYWURST! And he’s all, finally, “ENOUGH!!!!!1!!” and sits down to Google to find out where, WHERE, he can find AMERICAN sausage for his English McMuffin. WHERE CAN HE FIND THIS. 

(I’m going to suggest McDonalds, my good man. Or woman, women can like sausage meats, too, I mean, look at me, they make up 3/4 of the protein in my diet. That sausage is totally Merkan. It’s as Merkan as apple pie and fireworks on the fourth of July and a growing sense of nagging ongoing worry at the direction the country is taking!) 

Category the Fourth: Sometimes search terms made me a sad panda 

breakfast at tiffany’s confused me  It did? Aw, babe. I’m sorry. Don’t think too hard about it. It’s not worth it, really it’s not. Here, I’ll sum it up for you. Two whorey humans fall in love and there’s a cat that they treat poorly. Also, there’s an Asian stereotype and a lot of really nice fashion. I’m sorry you’re confused. It’s ok. I feel that way when I watch Wipeout

games were u get to play games and talk to people  This seriously is the saddest. I hope you found your game, honey. I really do. 

marrying because your lonely  DON’T DO THAT. Ugh. Get a vibrator or something. This is a VERY bad idea. 

my mama told me that she would buy me a rubber dolly  And? Did she? Did you have the best time with it? I don’t really know what to say right now. 

Category the Fifth: Please phrase your answer in the form of a question. 

artistic directors theaters if they like your play they will get back to you  They WILL? OK, cool. That’s a cool thing to know. I like that you went on Google and just stated that shit. Nice. (Heads-up: yeah, they probably will. But the odds they will like your play are minimal, at best. They read a LOT of garbage.) 

apparently i’m hot  I AM SO GLAD FOR YOU! 

bearcat do smell like popcorn  YES THEY DO! 

i keep smelling bananas  SO DO I! But that’s because I have bananas in the kitchen. 

i like kookaburras because  Did you want Google to finish your own opinion for you? This might be the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Is this a homework assignment, or are you just unaware of WHY you love kookaburras? I can tell you why I love them, but that’s not why YOU might love them. This makes me sad in my heart. No one should have to angst out over why they love an animal. 

Category the Sixth: Pervy Search Terms (danger Will Robinson, because, ew) 

back seat makeout pics
fucker skills
home porny
rectal thermometer porn sir john sir 

Like I said, I had more, but they were HARD CORE ICK this month. This is all that’s fit for publication. 

My favorite is the last one, because it’s so damn POLITE in the midst of the ick. “Sir yes sir porn SIR!” 

Also, I have to give a +1 for using the term “porny,” as it’s one of my favorite terms, just about ever. 

Category the Eighth: Curiouser and Curiouser 

simple person skydiving
black nailpolish skydiving  Simple as in everything amuses them or simple as in the village idiot or simple as in east-peasy-puddin’-and-pie? Also, did you want advice on what nailpolish color to wear while hurtling through the air to your doom? Whatever the case, skydiving scares the beejeebers out of me. 

accounts receiveable humor gun  This one’s boring until the gun part. Then it’s confusing and a little scary. 

an imaginary meeting with a person
invisible pink unicorn decal  Both of these are worrisome. An imaginary meeting with a person – did it only occur in your mind, or is the person imaginary, or what’s the haps? And if the decal’s invisible, how do you know the unicorn is pink? (UPDATE. Invisible Pink Unicorn is something from another site? I’m confused by you tonight, interwebs.)

blood thicker than water but its my wife  I…is this the beginning of something? I feel like I’m missing some important information. Did your wife kill your brother and you’re wondering where to place your loyalty? This is just weird. 

don’t tear the mask off the old London I think you got the lyric way wrong. 

football suckers and fuckers WHAT THE HELL? 

genius, it’s genius like genes in my dress  This made me laugh AND confused. DUAL PERFECTION! 

girl scout cookies crack without side effects  Oh, there are side effects. You’ll get the diabeetus. 

google search gayest person ever did you mean justin bieber  I don’t know whether or not to be offended by this. It’s too stupid to be offended by, right? 

i had sex susan hargous  OK, now look, I was all, “who’s that?” and I Googled it and it’s no one famous so either someone NAMED Susan Hargous had sex and then searched it or someone had sex WITH someone named Susan Hargous and then searched it but either way, Susan Hargous, I’m sorry. 

i saw big bird with the devil the crucible  OMG MUPPET THE CRUCIBLE. Who’s with me? 

When I Googled "Big Bird Devil," this came up. I rest my case.

ken yep stalker  Does Ken Yep HAVE a stalker? Or is Ken Yep (again, not a famous person) a stalker? Ugh, you people need to start being more specific, I’m so serious about this. Oh, shit, it just hit me that “Yep” may not be a last NAME, but an agreement: “Ken? Yep. Stalker” even though I did look it up and there ARE people NAMED Ken Yep. And, DOUBLE OH SHIT,  it MAY be telling me that I blog about poor Ken too much. KEN! DO I OWE YOU AN APOLOGY? Or there’s someone named Ken Yep who’s a stalker or stalkee. Either way. This has given me a lot to think about. I’m not GOING to, but I COULD. I have that option. I’m super-tired, though. Too much thinking isn’t good for my brain-area at the moment.

langoliers tattoo  I hope you’re planning on getting a tattoo of one of the images from the book, or maybe one of the lines, because that TV movie was a TOTAL STINKER. Unless you’re going to get Bronson Pinchot tattooed on your ass. That’s ok. 

Tattoo this on your ass. What? It's SEXY. YOU'RE WELCOME.

Category the Ninth: You sure do love the celebs 

Ben Wyatt (x4)
benedict cumberbatch (x8)
bill clinton don’t touch my cat
channing tatum neck
jason dohring gay
Spencer Reid (x10)
Zak Bagans (x17)

So you’re obsessed this month with Ben Wyatt (good call, but he’s mine), Benedict Cumberbatch (nice choice), Spencer Reid (can’t complain, but again, mine, and also Amanda’s) and Zak Bagans (he’s all yours, you big weird weirdos full of weirdsauce.) 

“Bill Clinton, don’t touch my cat” is the FUNNIEST THING EVER. When this popped up in my results a couple of weeks ago, I went around the house just saying it, like it was a new quote. I’d see Dumbcat and be all, “Bill Clinton, DON’T TOUCH MY CAT,” like I was sassy. Then I’d say it sad, and mad, and shocked. It’s just about my favorite. Mostly it just made Dumbcat confused. 

Is it ok if Bill touches his OWN cat? And, aw, look at young Bill Clinton. MAN it amazes me how quickly the presidency ages someone.

If Jason Dohring is gay, he’s doing an excellent job of hiding it from his wife and child. 

Channing Tatum’s neck is HUGE. I mean, you just can’t look away. It’s the train-wreck of neck-areas. 

Category the Tenth: That spelling post needs to be written, doesn’t it? 

alan rickman frases and my family
no but she totally what’s to 

At first I was all, “Alan Rickman!” and then I was all, “what’s frases?” and then I realized it was “phrases” and was sadface. How it is conncted to your family, I do not know. 

Alan Rickman is disappointed in your lack of spelling ability.

“No but she totally what’s to” was after one of the pornier porn searches (you can guess the context) and I assume she doesn’t “what” to unless you can spell the word “want,” WHICH HAS FOUR LETTERS AND IS OFTEN A CHILD’S THIRD OR FOURTH WORD, correctly. 

Category the Eleventh: You told me little stories! And jokes! 

girl 1: so i followed him home. girl 2: what? you’re now a stalker? girl 1: hey, that’s just where i walk.. it’s not my fault i was simultanously following him.

lucy is asked four different questions about her “homeland.” she reacts differently to each question. explain how she reacts differently to each question and why she seems to react that way.

when it comes to us meeting you don’t have to worry about me being gropey or inappropriate like i said i have never had a one night stand i have anxiety to and i could not sleep with someone who i was not 100% comfortable with. i wouldn’t even sleep with you on a first date if you came on to me. i even have a friend who recently told me we could sleep together no strings attached and she is cute but i can’t even do that because i worry about where she is and if it would be the right thing to do for her regardless of what she says. i have a huge conscience and try to avoid hurting people at all cost even if it means doing the right thing for them when they are willing to do the wrong thing. i can honestly say i am sure i am like no one you have ever met. i am nothing like the average guy and it actually makes me feel special when i am around them i here the gropey

OK, the first one is SUPPOSED to be a joke, but I think someone’s stalking someone and is trying to be funny about it. Also, you spelled “simultaneously” wrong.

The second one is obviously someone trying to get the interwebs to do their homework for them. But doesn’t it read like one of those psychopath riddles we talked about earlier in the week? If the answer is “the kid didn’t have legs” then YOU ARE A PSYCHOPATH.

The last one…ok, I am always completely confused when things like this pop up. YOU TYPED ALL OF THIS INTO THE TEENSY SEARCH BOX ON GOOGLE? And my blog came up? Because I just did it and my blog did NOT come up. I don’t know what the hell. “here the gropey” WHAT? Buddy, you have left my entire audience HANGING, here. And I don’t want to be mean, but this reads EXACTLY like what a Sneaky Fucker would say. I trust this paragraph about as far as I could throw Dumbcat. The answer being, NOT FAR. Cat’s a fatty. 

Category the Twelfth: Thank you for the laugh, because today has sucked a bag of dicks. 

80’s skanks  This is oddly specific. And probably a perv wrote it. But an oddly SPECIFIC perv. Awesome.

bitch stole my fish  This tied “Bill Clinton, don’t touch my cat” as awesome quote of search terms this month. I totally also went around the house saying, “Bitch stole my fish!” over and over. I LOVE THIS. (UPDATE: when I went to look for a funny picture for this, it’s apparently a meme, which makes it kind of less funny. You can look it up if you want. It’s lost its flava for me. SORRY FISH. I don’t know how it got a searcher HERE, though, as I literally learned about it as I was writing this.)

dinosaurs in cubicle  I hope you mean dinosaur toys, because real dinosaurs would be just the worst to work with. They would totally knock over the water cooler, and eat Peggy from Accounting.

don’t give a shit pie chart  I want this pie chart to happen. I’m too tired to make it right now, though. Someone should make me this pie chart.

glad that shit didn’t happen to me  I like to think that someone read my blog, wanted to find it again the next day, couldn’t remember anything about it, and typed this into Google, and my blog popped right up. I think a LOT of people are glad my shit doesn’t happen to them. Some days, I wish my shit wasn’t happening to me. Good search, sir or madam. Well played.

licking to gain personal space  If I wasn’t afraid of hoof and mouth disease I’d totally start licking to gain personal space. “Oh, so you’re all up in my face while telling me a story, huh? LICK. THAT made you back off quick, didn’t it, Close Talkin’ Sam!”

prank call youre gay  I’m sorry. Are you RECEIVING these calls, or MAKING them? I can’t even imagine what kind of call this would be. “Hello?” “Yes, is this Frank Thompson?” “It is, who’s this?” “This is…your doctor’s office…(muffled laughter)…and I’m calling to give you your test results. YOU ARE GAY!” (hangup.) This is not a funny prank call. I used to be friends with someone who was the KING of prank calls. He could keep people on the line for HOURS. They had no idea it was a prank. He really ruled at prank calling. I could never do that. I got the giggles even THINKING of prank calling.

this isn’t twitter you jackass  Is this aimed at ME? I know this isn’t Twitter. Twitter has a BLUE background. This one’s cream. My favorite people are in both places, though, so you can see how I might get confused. Thanks for helping, though. I like helpfulness!

todo o site chartdating mens  Aw, are you making a little chart? That’s so cute! You might want to run a spell-check on it, first. Or else “Richard” is going to look like “Rchiadrd.”

you know you ramble a lot  WHAT? SHIT. NO. HELP ME MOMMA.

Category the Thirteenth: Yep, that’s me

blog woman yelling at cell phone

I am a blog woman. And I’ve been known to yell at my cell phone. You’re in the right place. Nice to meet you.

Category the Fourteenth: Ack, I’m sleeping with a light on tonight, thanks

blackout eye contact so you can’t see
doom bunny head spiked

What the hell is going on HERE? No, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. GAH.

Category the Fifteenth: I WIN INTERNETS

Nine people got here this month searching for the term (or terms related to) “sneaky fucker.” NINE. This a most auspicious day, seriously. I couldn’t be more proud.

ZOMG. These posts are the MOST INTENSE THINGS EVER. I should get paid by the word, I could buy myself an ice cream sandwich.

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!)


My place smells like ghost bananas. Related: I might be overtired.

I totally feel like ick. I can’t decide if this is because I’m exhausted from all the theater hullabaloo or if it’s the medical situation or possibly a government conspiracy like my dad’s always telling me about. Maybe ALL THREE.

But anyway, it’s Sunday, and it’s closing day of my show. Which is nice, because I can go back to my hermit existence in my hermitage and be hermity, but also a little sad because I really did enjoy working on this one, and the cast was lovely. That doesn’t always happen. Usually you have one or two people in the cast who are juuuust a bit of a handful, to be frank. And it’s fine, you can work around them, or avoid them by hiding in a closet (NOT THAT I EVER EVER HAVE DONE THAT HA HA HA) or something. But this cast is lovely. There’s not a bad banana in the bunch. Just a whole bunch of lovely bananas. (Also, here is a story about bananas.  The other morning, I started smelling bananas in my place. And I was all, “what the hell with the bananas” and then I thought that a., I was probably showing signs of a seizure disorder even though the LAST time I thought I was having a seizure because I smelled bread baking Twitter informed me that it’s only when you smell burning toast, not just bread, so probably also bananas weren’t a sign of epilepsy; and b., I was losing my mind and/or craving bananas. Or maybe GOING bananas and that’s why they called it that. And then I was in my kitchen that night and I was looking for a bag of cat treats because Dumbcat was out of them and I knew I’d stashed another bag of them on top of the fridge and he was all “MEEEOOOWWW” because it was CAT TREAT TIME and he WILL NOT BE DENIED when it is time for treats – also, he totally knows how to beg for them, no joke, my old roommate taught him, he’ll sit up and pat your hand for them with his paw, so we’re totally going to hit the circus circuit like, any day now, the only thing that’s been holding me back is the preponderance of clowns on said circuit – and I thought, what is this bag up here? And the answer was, bananas that I’d purchased JUST A FEW DAYS AGO. Yep. I bought two delicious bananas as a treat for myself because I never buy bananas but I caved and bought bananas and then FORGOT I BOUGHT THEM and they were sitting on top of the fridge getting brown for days smelling banana-y. I KNOW. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost it. Side note of my side note: I had one on my cereal and it was HEAVENLY.)

Anyway. So the play is done, and I’ve planned out my theater-going for the month (FOUR PLAYS! I know, I’m totally stoked. Three straight shows and a musical. It’s a banner month for awesomeness in Amy-land) and I’m totally going to (eep) clean my place after the show’s over, because it kind of looks like the “before” shot of a Hoarders episode at the moment. And return people’s email that I’ve been remiss about. And write for my other two blogs that I’ve been unable to find the time to write for. And catch up on my programs that I’m weeks behind in watching. I’m so behind it’s like I live in a time warp right now and the past-me is hanging around the current-me wearing slouch socks and jelly bracelets and complaining about not having a date for the prom.

OH! Also, I’m behind on giving you THE MOST EXCITING NEWS. Remember my secret boyfriend Dr. Ruffalo? Yep. That’s totally progressing in a stellar fashion. The latest report? HE HAS READ THE BLOG. And? WAS NOT SCARED AWAY. Even MORE exciting, his FAMILY loves me (well, via my blog, anyway), and apparently want to come and spirit me away to Dr. Ruffalo-land so we can, well, court, I guess, I don’t know, whatever, it’s very exciting.  Honestly, family has always been a stumbling block. I tend to scare families away. I say the MOST INAPPROPRIATE THINGS. Like, ever. One time I made a joke about suicide in front of someone whose son had committed suicide. (That sounds awful. It wasn’t a JOKE. It was a flip remark, more than a joke. Even I don’t go around making “putting-your-head-in-the-oven” quips, come on.) It’s been two years and I have not yet finished beating myself up over this. Thing is, I KNEW HE HAD KILLED HIMSELF. I totally had forgotten, but it was in my memory bank somewhere. Probably wherever I keep my “I bought bananas” knowledge. My mouth was just being my mouth and not THINKING before it was TALKING. I am death to families, seriously. I can only imagine the conversations that are had once I leave my “meeting the family for the first time” dinners. “Um, beloved son, she’s NICE, and all, but…maybe…play the field a little more! Here. Here’s $100! Go find a nice prostitute! Daddy and I will pay for STD testing when you’re done. Shoo! Shoo!” “WHEW Myrtle that was a CLOSE ONE can you imagine having THAT WOMAN as a daughter-in-law? YIKESAROONIE.”

So, anyway. DR. RUFFALO! Are you STILL reading? Because that would be the true test of our complete and total undying love, right? I feel like I should say something scintillating and flirty but listen, you will learn this about me once we’re totally and completely in love, Dr. Ruffalo, I mean, assuming we aren’t already, I am just the crappiest at flirting. Like, you know how there are movies about people who are horrible at flirting and they try to wink at someone and the person they’re trying to wink at says, “Do you have something in your eye?” I wouldn’t even WINK, I’m so bad at flirting. I would quietly continue to read my book in the corner, and if you approached me, I would most likely say something blunt and insulting, like, “Did you really think it was a good idea to wear that shirt out of the house today? Did your mom advise you so? Because she was wrong.” Then I would be befuddled why you didn’t ask me out. I’m like an Amish person, or maybe an alien, when it comes to interpersonal relations. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR WAYS AND MEANS. I’ve tried. If it’s not be insulting you or ignoring you, it’s me crazy-eyeing you. Sorry. I get really excited and then it’s just scary for everyone.

(Here is an “Amy tried to flirt one time” story. I had a crush on a guy. Who I KNEW was bad news. I COULD NOT HELP IT. He was TALL and FUNNY and SMELLED GOOD. So I was all, “I will MAKE him MINE.” So I proceeded to crazy-eyes him to DEATH. Well, that wasn’t my intention. That’s just how my flirting came across. And I’m completely serious. We’re not even friends anymore. He sees me and he totally books it the other direction. I scared him. I think when he has fever dreams they’re me coming after him with knives and EYES EYES CRAZY EYES WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME CRAZY EYES. And then this other guy I had a crush on got married, I think to escape me. I mean, I have no proof that’s WHY he got married, I SUPPOSE it might have been because he fell in LOVE with the other woman, but that’s my take on the situation. Don’t tell his wife that. It might hurt her feelings. I CAN NOT HELP HOW CRAZY MY EYES ARE I WAS BORN THAT WAY.)

So, Dr. Ruffalo, if you are still reading, probably you will have to handle the courting portion of our courting. Sorry to put that burden on you. If it helps, I’m ridiculously easy to please as long as you use good grammar and punctuation and aren’t like a crazy racist hillbilly. I also have a love of your home country, so we’ve got that going for us. And today I totally stuck up for you on Twitter when you were VICIOUSLY ATTACKED by a HATER who I will NOT NAME who IMPLIED that you were NOT a REAL DOCTOR. I know, right? So there was a complete warning that I would bust out the fisticuffs and then he dropped the subject. Or maybe he just had something else to do and wandered off. Twitter can be kind of transitory like that. See, Dr. Ruffalo? I am really an excellent choice, because I will BUST OUT FISTICUFFS. Well, virtual fisticuffs, let’s not get crazy, here.  I don’t want to end up in the police blotter for fighting. How embarrassing would that be? Wait, does one end up “in” the police blotter or “on” the police blotter? They both sound equally likely, don’t they? I don’t want to find out. Hence the VIRTUAL fisticuffs.

Anyway. Enough Dr. Ruffalo. FOR NOW. You just wait, though, when we’re living happily in our home with pets and a million books and laughing about grammatical mistakes in literary journals and making meals together that include ALL THE FOOD GROUPS and not just me eating leftover pork chops while watching Desperate Housewives THEN you’ll all be sorry you were scoffy.

Oh, AND, it’s Oscar day, right? I haven’t seen a single movie that’s nominated, I’m useless. I don’t know if I’ll even watch. I know. It’s like the world’s coming to an END, here. DOGS AND CATS LIVING TOGETHER.

Happy Sunday, everyone! Enjoy the day!


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