Category Archives: movies

State of the state, with added insani-lunacy.

Howdy! Here we are at Thursday. Quick checking-in-with-Amy post, how about that? Good, good. It’s like the state of the union address, only much less interesting and much less likely to be torn apart and mocked on Fox News.

So this week is not total lunacy. This week had a couple of things in it, but it’s not too bad. Three days I get to go home after work and put my feet up. (That’s a total exaggeration. I don’t put my feet up. I don’t have anything to put them on. They stay on the floor.) Monday I had a very long day. Here, I will make it into a bulleted list for you. We all like bulleted lists, right?

  • Went to work. Worked for a while. Realized it was snowing all the snow. Hadn’t watched the weather forecast all weekend; was not prepared for all the snow. No winter weather gear; highly inappropriate footwear.
  • Left early for lunch, but did not go to lunch. Instead, brought the car to the garage. The car decided to go from “I am being mildly annoying” to “I AM BROKEN HELP ME I AM BROKEN!” *flailing arms* on Sunday and started bucking wildly whenever I accelerated or braked and the check engine light came on, so THAT’S fun. Especially when it’s slippery out.
  • Went to the garage. I have a total crush on my garage guy. He’s not hot or anything. He’s just nice. And good with cars. And practical. Therefore, I randomly find him attractive. I feel as if he would be the kind of person who would be good at solving all of life’s problems as easily as he solves my car’s problems. He said, “Hey! What’s going on?” when he saw me because he likes me. I like that.
  • He took the car for a test drive after I explained what was up. “It’s bucking? Like a horse? And also the warning lights are coming on for things that aren’t wrong, like the emergency brake? And the check engine light is on? And I think it’s not accelerating correctly, like maybe it’s not shifting, but I don’t know that, because it’s an automatic and not a standard? Is any of this helping at all?” He laughed kindly and said, “I’m going to take it for a drive. Be right back.” I like him. A lot.
  • He came back and said, “It didn’t do any of those things for me. But when I hooked it up to the computer, it says you need a new catalytic converter. That’s $700. Instead, buy good gas and put this gunk in the gas tank for a few weeks, then come back in for your inspection and we’ll talk options.” (No, he didn’t say “gunk.”) “Am I ok to drive it?” I asked, “Um, yes? I guess, it’s not doing anything for me,” he said. So back to the bucky car goes I. Which immediately bucked. Dammit. (Dad says “Yeah, that car’s about to shit the bed. SIGH SIGH daughter. You are hard on cars.” How am I hard on cars? I totally get oil changes in a timely fashion and sometimes get them washed and always get gas and only go above the speed limit MOST of the time, not ALL of the time. I think I am NORMAL with cars.)

    Apparently this is the culprit. And it seems like it has a waffle in it. Yum, waffles.

    Apparently this is the culprit. And it seems like it has a waffle in it. Yum, waffles.

  • Then I went back to work and worked the rest of the day. The roads were terrible, because all the snow and slush and garbage on them. Slippery and disgusting. And, again, not appropriate shoes. Or a hat.
  • THEN I had to go straight to the theater for a theater meeting. So off I went. The highway was so backed up. I don’t know why. I assume everyone was driving slowly, because of the weather? Blergh.
  • At the meeting, we decided not to decide anything. Mostly I repeated the following: “I don’t care, I just want this to be over.” This probably is not the most helpful thing to do at a meeting, but I am…exhausted. I feel like we’ve been talking about the same thing in circles forever. We really haven’t. It’s only been about a month or two. But I feel like it’s been years, and I’m SO TIRED.
  • Then we had the critique for our next show. At this point, I was on overload. I’d been going since 6am. It was now 7pm. SO SO BEYOND TIRED. The play was very good; it made me cry pretty much throughout. Which might have been a function of the play or might have been because when I’m tired, I start leaking tears and sometimes it doesn’t stop until I get some sleep. Or a little of both. Either way, the play is very good, and I’m pleased, because that means friend A. did a great job directing it, and I can tell everyone they should come and see it and not even be lying a little bit, and since I have to watch the show every time it’s performed starting Sunday, I won’t be wanting to throttle myself by Wednesday, which is nice.

    Aw, look, my play, you guys! Awesome, yeah?

    Aw, look, my play, you guys! Awesome, yeah?

  • Then we watched the play, which is kind of long (very good, but not a brief play), and then there was the critique, which was ALSO kind of long, and then after about half an hour of that, I said, “Friend A.! Can I give you my notes at work tomorrow?” and he said yes, so I skedaddled. (Friend A. is apparently much better at long days than I am, as he had the same length day as I did but he was still up and lively. He’s also 7 years younger than I am, so he’s like a BABY. With all that youthful energy. All that youthful early-thirties energy. Remember that? No, me either. Too long ago.)
  • Then I came home. I got home at 11. So, yes, my day was 15 hours long. That is too long. TOO LONG. Then I still had to get ready for bed, so all in all, I got a full 5.5 hours sleep, and I feel like a sticky-eyed zombie-person.

So there was my Monday. Loooong day.

Anyway, here’s the scoop for what’s upcoming:

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, normal days. Work, home, relax a little. One of those days I have to go grocery shopping. Probably Thursday. Keep my fingers crossed the car doesn’t stop working while I’m driving.

Friday night, friend C. comes to town, and we’re going to see Company of Thieves at a local bar (or club, I don’t even know, I just bought the tickets, I haven’t done the research yet) doing an acoustic show, which will be amazing and wonderful. I’m so excited. Then friend C. is spending the night, and I took the day off work on Saturday so I can sleep in and depending on how long she stays, we might even be able to go get some breakfast. I’m hoping waffles. It’s been much too long since waffles happened.

Company of Thieves here we come! So excited!

Company of Thieves here we come! So excited!

Then Saturday is for me, and I think I will spend it doing laundry. Because I am nothing if not a good time.

Sunday is tech day for my show. I get there at 10, I think we’re planning on about a 6-hour day (but they usually run long.) I’m running something in the booth. I’m not sure what. Lights or sound. (Update: friend A. says sound. That’s ok with me. He’s going to be in the booth with me, which I love. He makes me laugh.) I have to make brownies for tech Sunday at some point, too. Crap, I’m glad I remembered that. Um, maybe Saturday sometime? I’ll squeeze that in there?

Then Monday, tech right after work; Tuesday, I go to a theater and review a play; Wednesday, tech; Thursday, pay-what-you-will preview; Friday, opening night; shows Saturday and Sunday; auditions for the next show Monday and Tuesday. That is ten straight days at a theater, 9 at mine, 1 at another. It’s going to be a long haul and I don’t know that there will be blogging. Maybe? But maybe not. So if I go missing for 10 days, I am not dead. I’m just not getting enough sleep and hanging out in the light booth. I’ll check in with Twitter to reassure you of my living-ness, if I get a chance.

Most honestly, I am dealing with some personal issues that have me…kind of…not feeling the most communicative. So it’s not going to be the worst thing in the world to take a break from things, to be honest. I’ve found myself apologizing a lot for my mood to people over the past few days, and apparently cannot be trusted with it. So it might just be best if I shushed for a bit, for all involved. I’ve often said living in my brain is no cakewalk; this is the part of the cakewalk where it’s more of a house of horrors than a cakewalk, kiddos. With those funhouse mirrors that distort everything, and a lot of that looped screaming in the background that makes you all ultra on-edge.

It's one of those "you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave" situtations, unfortunately.

It’s one of those “you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave” situtations, unfortunately.

Sometimes these things happen, jellybeans, it’s the way of the world for those of us with wonky brain chemistry. As The Bloggess in all her wisdom tells us, the crocodiles are always there. Eventually it stops. It’s just not overly fun while it’s here. But you live your life. It’s what you do. Because what’s the alternative, curling up in a ball and crying for a few months? No. That seems wearying, you know? Who has time for that? I mean, you’d have to hydrate a LOT for that magnitude of crying, seriously. I don’t think I have that much fruit punch mix.

So if I’m not bloggy for the next week or ten days or so, I’m HERE, I’m just theatering. Theatrically. Shows don’t just stage-manage themselves, my darling dear ones. It’ll be fine. I have a beeeeeelion archives for you to work your way through. Surely you haven’t read ALL my past posts. (Speaking of which? This here post? #600. SIX! HUNDRED! I know, right? Whoa!) I might have time to write from the theater because there’s free wifi there, but there are also a LOT of cues in this show. So we’ll see what happens. Honestly, I’m going to be lucky to sleep and eat in a timely fashion.

Off I go. It is time to watch the rest of ParaNorman and eat some pudding. As one does. On a Wednesday night. Right? Right. Here I come, pudding. Here I come, the rest of ParaNorman. Wish me luck, interwebs.

It's actually really enjoyable. Zombies and kind of quirky. I like it a lot.

It’s actually really enjoyable. Zombies and kind of quirky. I like it a lot.

Using your common sense and ignoring your heart: a how-to guide

Now that I am an expert on both the movie and the television show Catfish – meaning, I’ve watched the movie and all three of the episodes available to me on my cable’s On-Demand – I think we need to have a chat, people of the internet.

It seems that some of you are being very, very foolish about your hearts.

Now, I know. I KNOW. I’m not really the best one to talk. I’m a walking conundrum. I’m very guarded and very wary of people – all people, not just internet people – but once you win me over, I’m yours. And I’m rabidly loyal and I wear my heart on my sleeve with those few people that I allow myself to trust. Now, usually this works out just fine. Sometimes, as happens to everyone, these relationships implode. Then I am crushed, because, well, your sleeve is not the best place to wear your heart. It makes SUCH a mess on your best blouses, seriously. Blood just NEVER comes out.

I give everything my all. It’s both a curse and a blessing, sometimes. I know no other way.

That’s neither here nor there, though. From watching all the Catfish, I have learned the following about people, and it is horrifying.


OK, listen. I can totally, totally understand the power of words. It is very easy to get swoony feelings over someone who gives good email. It absolutely is. I’m not even making fun of you for that.

I get it. You get something like this, you'd be all twitterpated. Totally understandable.

I get it. You get something like this, you’d be all twitterpated. Totally understandable.

However, if you find yourself falling in mutual crush for someone you only know through email/Facebook/Twitter/some other text-based service, you owe it to yourself to do the following two things:

  • ask to speak to them on the phone;
  • ask to Skype with them.

If they refuse to do these things repeatedly, and give you excuses like “I don’t have a cell phone” or “I don’t own a computer that has Skype capabilities” THERE IS SOMETHING HINKY GOING ON.

You have to be wise about these things. I am completely emotional, and again, I am not the right person, probably, to be giving you this advice. I understand being all, “BUT I LOVE HIM HE DOES NOT HAVE TO PROVE HIMSELF FOR ME!” and I understand when your heart tells you things, it screams louder than your head, sometimes. I get that.

But you have to listen to your head. YOU HAVE TO.

If the person you’re internet-dating and telling all your secrets to and falling in love with and such says they don’t have a cell phone – well, think about this. They’re online a lot, I assume? If someone lives their life online, odds are very good they have a cell phone. And therefore, they are lying to you for some reason. Now, if they tell you they have a cell phone but limited minutes or something, maybe. I had that plan up until recently. But if that’s the case, they probably have a land line, and could talk to you on that. People in this day and age have phones. I’m sorry to break this to you. If they say they don’t, they are lying to you. And if they’re lying to you, they’re hiding something. (My mom, when I mentioned this to her, said, “NO! I don’t have a cell phone!” and I said, “Yes, Mom, but you aren’t exactly catfishing people online, now, are you?” and she said, “Most of the words in your sentence there were gibberish to me”  so she’s not a good example of people who don’t have a cell phone. Dad has a cell phone but it isn’t a smart phone and sometimes people text him on it and he refuses to text them back because, per Dad, “I have old fat fingers and I don’t know how to use that tiny little keyboard.”)

See? Everyone has a cell phone. EVERYONE.

See? Everyone has a cell phone. EVERYONE.

And, piggybacking on this, if you ask them to Skype (and you should, because listen, pretty words are awesome, and yes, you can fall in love with someone’s words, you absolutely can, but you don’t know you’re in love until you see the person; you can say you’re not materialistic until the cows come home, my darling dearests, but it’s not materialistic, it’s common sense. We are attracted to some people and we are not attracted to others. It’s just the way of the world. It doesn’t mean you’re an asshole. It just means you are human) and they say they can’t because they don’t have a computer, or don’t know how, or various other reasons, blah blah – well, again, most likely, that person is a liar. Now, I didn’t have a webcam for the first year or so I was blogging. So I couldn’t have Skyped. I suppose there are SOME valid reasons for not being able to do so. But I GOT a webcam. (I still haven’t really Skyped. I tried once. It was disastrous and I think I broke Skype, seriously. It froze a LOT. Why does it always seem to work so seamlessly on television?)

See? Look how much fun they're having. That seems unfair.

See? Look how much fun they’re having. That seems unfair.

Also, the Catfish-guy taught me a very smart thing (BAM, Mom, who SAYS the television won’t teach me things?): if you are friends with someone on Facebook and they only have a few friends, that’s a red flag. Also, if you take their photos and put them into Google image search, you can see if they ganked them from someone else’s profile and used them as their own photo. (I might be naive, but had no idea people were doing this shit until I saw the movie Catfish. It just seems like the shadiest thing alive. But it seems a LOT of people are doing this. THIS IS YET ANOTHER REASON TO LOCK YOUR SHIT DOWN, YO. If you put your Facebook profile to public, PEOPLE WILL STEAL YOUR PHOTOS AND USE THEM TO NEFARIOUSLY WOO LADIES AND/OR MENFOLKS!!!)

Listen, I’m going to tell you a secret. Probably it’s something you’ve heard before, but you need to pay more attention this time.

If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

This cat is lying to you, yo. Also, it has crazy eyes.

This cat is lying to you, yo. Also, it has crazy eyes.

If you meet a super-hot person on the internet who says all the right things and seems super-into you, well, that’s awesome, sometimes things like this happen, I’m not telling you they never ever happen. But if they refuse to talk to you on the phone…and aren’t always where they say they’ll be…and won’t Skype with you because they have plenty of photos online, isn’t that enough for you?…well, listen.

There’s going to be a little voice inside your head telling you “something is wrong here, sunshine.”

And your stupid, stupid heart, which is probably a little lonely and broken like many of our hearts are, is going to shout back, “Shut up, head! He/she is perfect and wonderful! He/she loves me! He/she is perfect for me and the exact person I’ve been waiting for my entire life! Head, you are NOT going to screw this up for me, he/she has a perfectly good reason for not being able to do these perfectly normal things SHUT UP HEAD!!!”

I know. I KNOW. It’s not what you WANT to do? But you need to listen to your head.

Now, listen. If you’re just friends with the person, it doesn’t matter as much, really. I have internet friends I haven’t spoken to on the phone or Skyped with. I trust that they are who they say they are and not lying to me. But I’m also not in love with them. I *love* them, sure, but I’m not making plans to spend the rest of my life with them in a sexual way, you know? If I’m going to invite someone all up in my business I want to know they’re who they say they are. I’m kooky like that. I also have fairly good radar. Or, if not “good” radar, I’m very mistrusting. So since it takes me a super-long time to trust someone, and if they do even the SLIGHTEST thing that makes me think, “NO THIS SEEMS WEIRD” (even if really it probably isn’t) I don’t bother continuing on with the relationship, I’m usually not overly fooled by crazies and/or loonies. Hopefully. Maybe. Who knows, though, I could be getting catfished left and right and probably wouldn’t know it because according to this show THESE PEOPLE ARE VERY GOOD AT THIS. And there are SO MANY OF THEM ZOMG.

(Also, I object to the fact that the Catfish show makes it look like all of us who live on the internet are crazies who lie for a living. I’m only PARTIALLY crazy and I don’t get paid for lying, thank you, TV show, I do it for FREE. Dad said, “Of COURSE you’re all crazy. I love you, but I think you might be crazy.” But this post is already mondo-long so that’s a story for another day, now, isn’t it?)

I know. It all seems very exciting and very romantic to have a long-distance internet boyfriend or girlfriend. (I’m specifying long-distance here, because if they’re local? MEET UP WITH THEM, YO. It’s like Skype but BETTER. There can be HUGGING. And other things. That I will not go into. Ahem.) And I know quite a few people who have met their significant others through the interwebs and guess what? They weren’t even stabbed to death. I KNOW! SHOCKING REVELATIONS!

Just use your head. That’s what it’s there for. It’s amazing to me that you’re not doing this. Don’t sell yourself short just because you think it’s finally your turn to have a super-romantic time. That’s ridiculous and how you get either murdered or your identity stolen, or in the smaller-scale of things, you just feel like a total asshat when the person you fell in love with turns out to be a mentally-unstable teenage boy or a lonely gramma or something.

Also, people who are catfishing others, just stop it. I think you’re probably insane, so you don’t understand what you’re doing is wrong, but IT IS NOT FUNNY IT IS HORRIBLE. You don’t earn someone’s trust and piss all over it. You just don’t do this. Ever. If you do, you know what they say about karma, right? YOU ARE GOING TO BE EATEN BY KARMA’S SHARP SHARP TEETH YOU ASSHOLE.

Just be careful, ok, internettians? It’s wonderful to fall in love. It’s the best thing in the whole entire world, followed closely by really, really good chocolate. And also maybe delicious pudding. Shit, now I want some pudding. But if it seems weird…IT PROBABLY IS.

This is common sense. You all have it. Please use it. Thank you. I worry, you see.

I don’t have the breath for that

You know how I kind of sort of halfway resolved to take a breath and do more life-things? Well, today I did some life-things. OK, not *some*, I suppose, *a* life-thing, but it now leaves me with very little time before I have to hit the hay and get some sleep before work tomorrow. No, not actual hay. I don’t have any hay. Also, who’d want to sleep in hay? SCRATCHY.

So today was hang-out-with-The-Nephew day. His mom emailed me Monday and asked if I wanted to do something that day, but I was working. So she said, “how about the movies on Tuesday?” and I said YESIREE BOB. Well, no, I didn’t say Bob. I mean, she’d have been pretty confused about that since her name isn’t Bob. And also she’s not a man.

So today we met at the mall to see Monsters, Inc. It was not a mall I’d ever been to so I was kind of worried I’d be lost. Also, a billion people were at that mall today. I don’t know what they were doing. Seeing movies? Shopping? No idea. But the parking lot was super-full and I had to circle around a lot a lot and finally ended up all the miles away from the entry with the movie theater. SO MANY PEOPLE. And this is why I don’t go to the movies. HOWEVER, The Nephew was going to be there. I’d walk through fire to see The Nephew, you know.

The theater kind of looked like this, only more mall-like. And crowded. SO crowded.

The theater kind of looked like this, only more mall-like. And crowded. SO crowded.

So I went into the theater and waited and peered all around hoping I hadn’t missed them while circling for a spot for eleventy-kajillion years (which was really like five minutes) and then I saw them walking up from the opposite direction and K. said, “The Son! Do you see Aunt Amy?” and he DID! And his little face lit up and he ran toward me and gave me a big leg-hug and totally knew who I was like it hasn’t been five months since we’ve seen each other and I said, “Hello, The Nephew! How are you?” and he said, “Good!” in a very chipper tone and he’s much taller than the last time I saw him and his little winter hat had reindeer on it and my heart totally broke the Grinch measuring-meter. Seriously, I kind of would forgive this child anything. He’s my kryptonite. He makes me go all squishy. He’s my best thing.



So we got movie treats (per The Nephew, “we had to,” so how could we not, you know?) and The Nephew’s lemonade straw was MUCH too long, so he was MUY impressed that Aunt Amy had wee scissors on a Swiss Army knife in her purse so she could make it more manageable for a little three and a half year old. The lemonade was about the size of his head. He drank the ENTIRE THING. And didn’t have to pee. I think perhaps my nephew is a camel.

So The Nephew sat between me and his mom, and here are the things he did during the movie which most likely were naughty but I didn’t even care so I would be a terrible mother, probably:

  • talked in a normal voice, even when he was shushed
  • became entranced with the fact that his seat closed back up all on its OWN, so he popped it up and down a billion times
  • decided he didn’t like where we were sitting, so first asked if we could sit in the seats right near the screen (his mom headed that off at the pass by saying those were “closed,” nice quick thinking, K.! and then said he wanted to go sit up near the top of the theater and became OBSESSED with this so his mom said we could after the movie so he kept saying “is it over now? How about now. Is it over NOW?”
  • stuck out his tongue at me, so I stuck out my tongue at HIM (you know, like an adult does) and he said, really loudly, “WHY DO YOU HAVE CANDY IN YOUR MOUTH” and then I had to explain the ins and outs of a tongue ring with him in hushed tones while the movie played
  • Said, “WHY IS THIS SO LOUD RIGHT NOW?” at a particularly loud part of the movie. When his mom said, “so everyone can hear it, I guess,” he said, “Well, I don’t like that.” Hee!

When the credits started, he decided he wanted to race up the stairs and back down so first his mom raced him up the stairs, then he came back and crawled up on my lap and said it was MY turn and I said, “but I might fall, it’s dark up there” and he said, “no, it’s ok” and so then I had to race up the stairs with him.

(Please don’t think we ruined the movie for all the people. There were about six people in the theater and they weren’t sitting anywhere near us.)

Also, the movie made me cry. Like, actual tears happened. Stupid Pixar with your tear-jerking. You’ve seen this movie, right? It is SAD. Sully the monster falls in love with Boo the little human girl and risks his own life and limb to save her, and then has to send her back home with the understanding he’ll never see her again. Also at one point he accidentally scares her and realizes that’s what he’s been doing to children all these years and it’s a despicable thing and stupid brilliant Pixar makes that cross his monstery face and it’s HEARTBREAKING. It all ends well – it’s a children’s movie, for the most part, they aren’t going to make it end poorly – but I totally had tears twice. And I’ve seen it before. (Well, I rented it and watched the DVD years ago. I don’t remember it very well. It’s a whole different thing in a theater with a big screen.)



After the movie, K. said, “what restaurant do you want to go to, The Son?” and he said he wanted to eat at his HOUSE. So I said, because I am CRAFTY, “Well, The Nephew, do you know what I have in my car for you?” and he said, “Nooooo” and I said, “I have a late Christmas present, and I could give it to you at the restaurant!” and then THAT was ok with him, he was ok with going to a restaurant. I don’t know if this was an evil thing to do or not. Maybe. I think part of being a grownup around children is being TRICKY.

So then we went to Friendly’s. Friendly’s, for those of you who are not in an area with such things, has food like tuna melts and chicken fingers and soup and salads. And then, what they’re KNOWN for, ice cream. The Nephew wanted ice cream. So he was down with Friendly’s.

The Nephew was full of tomfoolery in the restaurant. For a lot of dinner, he pretended he had no bones and kept sliding out of his booth and saying “I need help getting up!” and probably that was annoying but mostly I thought it was intelligent and funny. (I think everything he does is pretty intelligent and funny, to be honest.) He had some soup; when his mom tried to get him to eat some more of it, he said – get this, it is the best, the utter best – “I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t have the breath for that.” I DON’T HAVE THE BREATH FOR THAT. Who even THINKS of such a thing? That is kind of the most brilliant. So then he had some little cheeseburgers that he decided he needed lots of ketchup and pepper on, but he really only wanted a couple of little bites of them. He eats like a little bird, this kid. And he ate a couple of bites of apple slices. And some of his mom’s french fries. And then he fed me his pickle slices one by one on the toothpick that came with his mom’s sandwich and giggled and giggled because THAT was the most funny.

He has my brother’s eyelashes. That made me a little teary. Is that weird? I mean, it’s not like my brother’s DEAD or anything. I just had never noticed that before. They’re beautiful. I have always envied my brother his eyelashes. And there they are on The Nephew. Genetics are a funny thing.

Also he got crayons and he LOVED the green crayon and told me very seriously that green was his favorite color. “Green is MY favorite color, too!” I said. He nodded very seriously. “Yes,” he said. It apparently didn’t surprise him at all. Green, after all, is the BEST color; why wouldn’t it be my favorite color?

Mine too, kiddo. Mine, too.

Mine too, kiddo. Mine, too.

He said he liked the movie. I told him it made me cry. “Why?” he said, very confused. I explained it was very said that Sully had to say goodbye to Boo. “Are you sad now?” he asked, curious. “No, because I am hanging out with you,” I said. “What about when I go home?” he said. “Well, I will be a little sad, then,” I said, “but then I will think about seeing you again and that will make me smile and smile.” He liked that. That made him grin a little Nephew-grin.

While we waited for ice cream (it was the only thing he was looking forward to throughout the meal) he opened the present I bought for him. He was VERY excited. I got him a Playdoh set with a truck so you could make Playdoh bricks and then SQUASH ‘EM with the truck tires and he sure does like to squash things. I showed him if you pushed a little button the truck talked so he merrily pushed that button. “I didn’t know that button was there!” he said. Aw, kiddo. I’ll always point things out to you. That’s what aunts are for, I think.

It was totally this one. Neat, right? I wanted to play with it, too. I used to love Playdoh.

It was totally this one. Neat, right? I wanted to play with it, too. I used to love Playdoh.

He wanted to open the truck right away but his mom told him he had to wait until he got home. He kept trying to all secretly open it anyway. “Not until we get home, The Son,” she said. “I’m just practicing for when we get home,” he said. SO SMART, this kid! VERY tricky!

The Nephew ate his sundae (which looked like a green monster with M&M eyes) with his face, not a spoon. Then he said, “IT IS SO COLD!” “Well, that’s why we usually eat ice cream with spoons,” his mom said, and laughed. He had a ring of ice cream and whipped cream and chocolate all around his mouth. It was adorableness. Sticky messy adorableness.

Rawr. I will eat you with my FACE.

Rawr. I will eat you with my FACE.

Then it was time to go home, and his mom said, “Tell Aunt Amy thank you! Give her a hug!” and he gave me a very hard, very abrupt knee-hug because he wanted to get back to looking at his truck. And K. said we could do it again sometime. OK I WOULD LOVE THAT THANK YOU YES PLEASE.

So far, my 2013 has been just wonderful, thank you. I got to spend part of the first day of it with my favorite little human. And despite not having seen him in 5 months, he remembered me. And was just utterly the most joyous best funniest little guy ever. Sorry, all the other people in the world.

Hope you all had the best new year’s day ever. Or, since I kind of did, maybe the second-best new year’s days ever. Back to work today, with a big old grin on my face. Here we go, 2013. Let’s do this.

Hey, I always notice that bored look in their eyes, alright?

I’m having a very lazy day. I probably should be doing a million billion things, but mostly what I decided was a good use of my time today was to watch Chasing Amy and blog. And play with the internet. I feel like a sloth. A super-slothful slothy sloth. I will have you know that I did change out of my pajamas about an hour ago. It was kind of the biggest thing I did today and utterly exhausted me.

Also, can I just say that I could watch this movie a billion times and never get tired of it? There are a lot of reasons for this, but let’s be honest. The main reason is young Jason Lee. Oh, young Jason Lee, before he got all puffy and weird and Scientology-obsessed and named his child Pilot Inspektor; so, so Amy’s perfect movie-boyfriend.

All damagey and potty-mouthed and insanely loyal and beardy and artsy and those EYES. Sigh. (I also love Mallrats Jason Lee, but the movie’s not as good. It’s fine, I like it just fine, but there aren’t enough serious bits. I like the serious bits the most, you see.)

ALSO, can I just say, I refuse to accept that Kevin Smith decided that Banky was gay all along in Chasing Amy and announced that to the world in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back? No, thanks. It was better when it was up for interpretation. I don’t think Banky in Chasing Amy was gay; I think at the end of the movie, when he agrees to the threesome, he’s doing it because he’s staying true to the character he spent the movie creating; he’s a loyal friend, he loves Holden, he’s been Holden’s best friend for twenty years, and he sees that his best friend is close to breaking. When someone you love that much is close to the edge, you’ll do pretty much anything to pull them back, even if it’s not in your own best interest, because your own best interests need to take a backseat right then. Especially if you’re one of my tribe: my loyal-to-a-fault tribe. So, sure, Kevin Smith, if you say Banky was gay and that was the impetus for his actions in the movie, I guess I have to believe you, but I don’t think that was the character that Jason Lee was playing, and I think it’s unfair to the fans to decide that for them.

Retcon it if you want, but I've seen this movie a billion times, and this is a friendship to me. Pure & simple.

Retcon it if you want, but I’ve seen this movie a billion times, and this is a friendship to me. Pure & simple.

I may have spent a bit of time thinking about this.

Oh, shush, I have other plans today. I’m going to actually leave the house at some point and head on over to the library to get some books and return some books; I actually read a whole play this morning (I have like 25 of them to read this month; we’re in the middle of play selection for next season at the theater, so when I’m not doing one of my million other things, I’m reading reading READING all the plays, some of which are more successful than others) and at some point I have to make some food, or order some food. That’s still up in the air. You know what’s nice? Having money so I can make this decision. It’s the nicest. This is a very nice day off of laziness.



The cat is still under the tree. This is ok as long as he doesn’t decide he needs to groom himself. When THAT happens, the whole tree starts bopping around like it’s possessed and I have to say “DUMBCAT STOP DUMBCAT STOP GET OUT FROM UNDER THE TREE TO LICK.” And he doesn’t. He doesn’t take direction well, my boy. So I have to shoo him when that happens.

Here is a Dumbcat story. Did I tell you this? Over the fridge there is a little cabinet. It’s where I keep things I don’t use often. I think there are some vases in there. And maybe the popcorn popper, and the mixer. So one day a couple weeks ago I came home from work and that little cabinet door was standing open. I never open that door, so either I have a ghost, or…DUMBCAT!

It's kind of like this cabinet, only a lot less fancy. I don't live in a nice place, you see.

It’s kind of like this cabinet, only a lot less fancy. I don’t live in a nice place, you see.

So in order to get there, he’d have had to jump up on the kitchen counter (that’s probably…4 feet up? maybe a little more? I’m terrible at estimating height, I assume all women are 5’5 and all men are 6′ tall, it just makes things easier. I also can’t guess weight. I guess I’d make a terrible carny) and then hop up on the fridge (another couple of feet) and then move things out of the way (there’s a bag of cat toys and treats on top of the fridge, plus a box of napkins and a bottle of this vanilla coffee flavoring stuff Mom bought me once I have never used) and open the cabinet (it’s not so easy to open – but he has his polydactyl thumbs, you see. He can get into all kinds of cupboards. How do you think he gets into the pots and pans cupboard? He levers it open with his little thumbs. I’m not even kidding. When I lived with roommate C., the other cats used to look to him to get them into things. He’s like the more evolved version of a cat. Well, thumbs-wise, anyway. Brain-wise, he’s on the low-end of the spectrum. BUT HE IS BELOVED DAMMIT.

You could open cabinets, too, if you had boss thumbs like this. (NO, this isn't Dumbcat. But he has thumbs much like this.)

You could open cabinets, too, if you had boss thumbs like this. (NO, this isn’t Dumbcat. But he has thumbs much like this.)

So the first time, I was all “Aw! Dumbcat! Did you jump up like 6 feet and for some reason get into the teeny cupboard over the fridge? That’s…weird. Adorable, but weird. You’re so fat, how did you even fit in there?”

Dumbcat wants you to all know he’s not fat, he’s big-boned, and he resents that implication.

Then the next day the door was open again. And again the next day. And again and again. And a few days later, he’d apparently fallen off the fridge, because everything was knocked off the top of the fridge and every single thing I have on the fridge – magnets, things I’ve hung up there, all my fridge-crap – was on the floor.

“DUMBCAT! This is ENOUGH!” I said. He looked at me with wide Dumbcat-eyes. So I blocked off his pathway to the cupboard of his obsession with more things and strategically-placed items and it seems to have worked because nothing’s been moved since.

This is a weird cat. Do you think he was this weird when I got him, or it was the living with the weird human that made him weird? What came first, the weird-chicken or the weird-egg?

Chasing Amy is still happening. Things like “If this is a crush, I don’t think I could take it if the real thing ever happened” kind of still get to me. Dammit, Kevin Smith, this movie makes me all squishy. Is this really only fifteen years old? Good grief. Everyone in this looks about 14 years old and everyone’s smoking in public. I feel like maybe I’m super-old. I was just barely legally able to buy LIQUOR when this movie came out, I mean, seriously.

I know it's sappy. Shush. I'm a fan of movie-sap, sometimes. It's a thing about me.

I know it’s sappy. Shush. I’m a fan of movie-sap, sometimes. It’s a thing about me.

(Also, I know it was became very trendy to hate Ben Affleck for a while, and then now we’re all tentatively liking him again now that he’s legitimate and directing excellent intelligent movies. However, I never hated Ben Affleck, even when he was embroiled in that Bennifer nonsense. The reason was his collaboration with Kevin Smith. I could never hate Ben Affleck because of his work in this movie and Dogma. He won me for life with those two movies. Apparently my weirdo loyalty extends to celebrities as well. Although I have to say, his hair looks RIDICULOUS in this movie. IT IS SO TALL! It’s a PUFF of man-hair. It’s ARCHITECTURAL, this hairdo!)

OK, this is short, and very random, but it’s library-time and also I’d like to do some other things today, like maybe write something else, and send email to some people I love, and call Dad and see what’s up in Dad-land, and do some food-related preparation, and think about work next week, and start working on my top-secret Christmas plan that I want to have done for a week from Monday (shh, SECRET PLANS AND SCHEMES! My favorite kind!) and also maybe at some point I might want to start thinking about doing Christmas cards, maybe. SO MANY THINGS.

So this is what lazy days are like, right? Huh. I could get used to this. Easily. EASILY. Maybe Ken is onto something with this idling-being-awesome thing. Hmm. I should probably heed him more often, right? Shh, don’t tell him, though, he’ll get all full of himself. We wouldn’t want THAT, now, would we?

What’s that? He’s probably going to read this?

Ooh, crap, whoops.

Here, put this bandit hat on.

I have VERY LITTLE TIME. I have to write two posts in ONE DAY because this week I have one day I can NOT write a post because I am SUPER FANCY BUSY. I have a DATE, you see.

Oh, don’t get excited. It’s not a romance-date. It’s a friend-date. But I’m super-excited nonetheless. Friend K. and I are going to dinner and a play, then when I get home I have to review the play quickly and then get to bed for work the next morning, and that night will be RUSHED. Super-fun and awesome, because I have not seen friend K. outside of the theater for a long period of time in like EVER, plus we’re going to a new restaurant OUT OF TOWN ZOMG I KNOW! for dinner, and the play is at a fancy theater in a whole THIRD town, so we’re totally bon vivanting that night, but still, that’s lots of traveling and such for a worknight, right? Right.

Also, next week at work is very busy because we have EVENTS. We have meetings and Secret-Santa-ing (although we’re calling it Secret Snowmanning, I assume because of political correctness) and I have bought two gifts for my person – who, by the way, I don’t know? It’s just some guy who sits somewhere on my floor. I don’t even know where he sits. Secret San…I mean SNOWMANNING is going to be difficult for me when I can’t figure out where to put his presents. I suppose I could just leave them in the men’s restroom or something. Someone’s bound to bring them to him, right? All, “Hey, Jeff, here is something I found with your name on it!” Or they might steal it. Not that they’d want his gifts. The things he wanted are pretty specific to him, I think. At some point I have to go buy him beer and lotto tickets. When I told Mom my weekend plans involved buying beer and lotto tickets she wanted to know when I’d become a gambling alcoholic and that made me giggle. Also she said, “You will get fired for bringing alcohol into work!” I said, “I think that’s only if I bring it in and DRINK it there, Mom. Almost everyone wanted alcohol for their gift. I think friend A. and I were the only ones who didn’t list alcohol.” She found this suspect.

So, Dad was VERY EXCITED to tell me all about a PSYCHOMURDERER the other day. I haven’t been paying a lot of attention to the news – lots going on here – but apparently there was a psychomurder and Dad is VERY EXCITED about it. And also scared that means I’m going to be psychomurdered.

So I think we mentioned this a while ago, but there was a serial killer named Israel Keyes who was arrested not-too-long ago who killed a young woman in Alaska and a couple in Vermont and then they caught him and the confessed to ALL THE MURDERING across the country.

It worries me he's handsome. I so would have been psychomurdered by this guy.

It worries me he’s handsome. I so would have been psychomurdered by this guy.

When they asked him why he did it, he totally said, “why not?” and that it gave him a rush. Um. That’s Criminal Minds talk right there, son.

Dr. Spencer Reid disapproves of your shenanigans.

Dr. Spencer Reid disapproves of your shenanigans.

Dad’s all interested in this because the killer totally had a house in a town right next to Dad’s. I’m a little sketchy on the details but Dad said something about Amish people were living in the house so now of course he thinks that the Amish, the killer, and also the government are all in on this killy plot. I asked him what they all had to do with each other and he said “I CAN’T TALK ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW” and I assume that means the government was listening in on our phone call. He always assumes they are. I don’t know what we’re saying that’s so interesting, but Dad lives his life assuming the government’s listening in.

In this article, it says Keyes had a “murder kit” in the house next to my Dad’s that had the following in it:

A murder kit found in upstate New York had weapon parts, a silencer, ligatures, ammunition and garbage bags.


Murderkits are a THING? Oh, no. Oh, this is bad. (There are WETNAPS included. That made me inappropriately laugh.)

Murderkits are a THING? Oh, no. Oh, this is bad. (There are WETNAPS included. That made me inappropriately laugh.)

Israel Keyes said something along the lines of “yeah, you don’t even know how many people I killed, I win murdering” and then killed himself in prison so we won’t ever know how many people he killed, but probably a lot. In news of weirdo overkill, he slit his wrists and ALSO strangled himself with his own bedsheets. So that’s a lot of killation.

So Dad’s take on this was “AMY! This is a KILLER! So now YOU COULD BE KILLED!”

“Um, Dad,” I said, “He’s dead. I think I’m safer than safe from him now, actually.”

“No, from OTHER killers. SO many killers.” Dad’s all freaked out by killers now. I don’t know why NOW. I’ve ALWAYS been freaked out by killers. “The news said most killers already know their victims and serial killers are very rare. Did you know that?”


“Yes, Dad. Of course I knew that.”

“You know all about the murders. I should probably be more worried about that, shouldn’t I?”

“Nah. I’m not KILLING anyone with this knowledge. If anything, it PROTECTS me. From the killers. I know their next MOVE.”

“Probably you don’t, Amy. They are killers, after all. Very unpredictable. And probably they’ve watched all the same shows you have.”

He has a point. They probably have. Dammit.

So hopefully I won’t be killed by a killer. Or at least a random killer. Wait, do I need to worry about all of YOU now? Sigh.

So that’s that. Oh, movie recap: I watched THREE MOVIES THIS WEEKEND. I know! Very impressive. Shush, I know this is random, I am in a time crunch, my darlings.

It was pretty. Just not very good.

It was pretty. Just not very good.

Sucker Punch – I know a lot of people loved this, but I couldn’t stand it. Visually impressive but the storyline was ridiculous and confusing. I had to read up on it to figure out what was going on halfway through because I was SO CONFUSED. And when I finished reading I was all, “really? That’s stupid.” I liked the music, though.



The Fantastic Mr. Fox – oh, I loved this. It was a visual treat, the vocal acting was amazing, and the story was wonderful. I laughed and got teary and clapped. This made me so happy. This won the weekend. Every time Mr. Fox said “here, put this bandit hat on” I cheered.

Also, two out of the three boys were super-pretty.

Also, two out of the three boys were super-pretty.

The Darjeeling Limited – eh, Wes Anderson, I don’t know about this one. It had all the Wes Anderson hallmarks I like – the cinematography was stellar, the acting was great – but the story seemed sparse and then streeeeetched. It wasn’t enough story for the length of the movie, and it wasn’t emotionally engaging. Usually a Wes Anderson movie sucks me right in and makes me part of it and makes me cry and laugh…this one made me laugh a few times, but there was no crying. I didn’t relate to anyone. (Also, as I get older, Owen Wilson has really started to annoy me. What happened there, I wonder?)

OK, this was random and all over the place and AMY STOP DOING THAT. I know. Sorry. Sometimes you just have to get a post out and you have random things in your brain-area and therefore THAT IS WHAT GETS BLOGGED.

Happy…um…Tuesday? Is it Tuesday? Yes. Yes, it is. HAPPY TUESDAY, CHICKADEES!

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