Category Archives: poll

Rude? RUDE? Call me rude again, I’ll punch you right in the neck.

I keep meaning to talk about this thing but then other things happen and I want to talk about THEM and I keep forgetting. I know. I’m the worst. How do you even STAND me.

So! Finally! Let’s talk about this totally illustrious thing!

A few weeks ago, some site called The Business Insider that I’ve never heard of, because I don’t care about business, I guess, did this survey where they polled Merkans about what they thought about other states. They asked them questions like “who has the weirdest accent” and such.

NEW YORK WON MANY OF THESE POLLS.

Ready? Want to know what New York is best at?

We have one of the weirdest accents! (Massachusetts won this one.)

We have the best food!

We are one of America’s favorite states! (California won this one.)

We are one of the craziest states! (California ALSO won this one.)

We are one of the drunkest states! (Louisiana won this one.)

We are the most arrogant state!

We are the rudest state!

We are one of the smartest states! (Massachusetts won this one.)

We have the best sports fans!

We apparently also have the WORST sports fans!

We are one of the most overrated states! (California won this one, too.)

So! What does this tell us about my most beloved state?

Yup, there we are! Right there!

Yup, there we are! Right there!

Honestly, I think this tells us more about the people taking the poll than the states, to be frank. The states that consistently got the most votes (people weren’t allowed to vote for their own states) were the biggest, most well-known states. California, New York, Texas, and Florida tended to factor in pretty heavily every time. I think if people didn’t know who to vote for, they were like “eh, I’ll vote for one of the big states that I’m familiar with.”

The weird accent one, I have to assume, is New York City and Long Island. I don’t know if the rest of the state qualifies as “weird.” People from Buffalo have a distinctive way of talking, as do people from upstate, where I’m from. (We have a distinctive Canadian accent. I had to break myself of it when I got to college to stop people from making fun of me.) I’m sure the other bigger cities have a “tell” as well, but I don’t know many people from those places. But I don’t know that people from all of Merka know about our smaller regional dialects. I think they think of New York, they think of either New Yawkas or Lon Guylanders. (I don’t know if they’re “weird,” though. I think they’re wonderful. I adore accents.)

THE BEST FOOD! Do we really? Well, that’s pleasing, right? THANK YOU, PEOPLE WHO WERE POLLED! (I don’t know about the best food. We have excellent food, but I’ve been to a lot of places in other states and have had excellent food…so it’s really subjective, right?)

Aw, we’re one of your favorites. As we SHOULD be. We’re really fantastic. We have Broadway and we have the Adirondack Park and we have Niagara Falls and we have ALBANY. I mean, seriously. We have all the things. (California also has many things. I’m cool with California being a winner here. I very much enjoyed my time in your fine state when I visited, California. Your ocean was lovely. And your people were very friendly.)

We’re apparently both crazy and drunk? This seems suspect. How are we more crazy and drunk than so many other states? By sheer population density? I mean, we didn’t WIN these categories (Dad’s always saying California’s crazy…he calls it “the land of fruits and nuts”…and I guess Louisiana won the drunk competition because of Mardi Gras?) but we were one of the top contenders. I don’t know about crazy. I mean, we HAVE crazies, but what state doesn’t? And as for drunk, again, I don’t know what state doesn’t. These are silly categories.

Well. We’re the most arrogant and most rude state. Again, I have to assume the people taking this poll are judging us on New York City (because let’s face it, people who don’t live here think the state’s one big New York City, sometimes. “Oh, you’re from New York? Did you go to Broadway a lot as a kid?” No. Since it was ALL THE WAY AT THE BOTTOM OF MY STATE, I did not attend a show on Broadway until I was 18, but thank you for assuming I lived on the Great White Way as a toddler.)

Here’s the thing. New Yorkers (I AM talking about the city now) aren’t much more arrogant or rude than any group of people living in a large city. They’re busy, and they’re very often in a hurry, and they don’t like stupidity or things that slow them down or dumb tourists, but they’re actually quite kind. I’ve had New Yorkers be very helpful when I’ve asked for directions; I’ve had people hold doors for me; I’ve seen many genuine smiles and small kindnesses in my trips to my favorite city in the world.

YES. It is things like this that make New Yorkers get rude. STOP BEING BAD TOURISTS WHILE IN THE CITY!!!

YES. It is things like this that make New Yorkers get rude. STOP BEING BAD TOURISTS WHILE IN THE CITY!!!

People seem to ASSUME New York City is rude, and the people arrogant. My mother was PETRIFIED to visit for the first time. She thought she’d get lost and people would laugh at her, possibly while spitting on her, and that she’d get psychomugged like a billion times. (When she got home, she said “Huh. It was nothing like I thought. Mostly just crowded. And the buildings were really tall.”)

This is what made me saddest about this poll. I wish everyone could visit New York City and see the place I do when I visit, and how wonderful it is. I also wish people would stop judging my entire state on New York City. WE ARE A VERY BIG STATE WITH A LOT OF OTHER PLACES IN IT.

See the City? Way down there? And ALL THE REST OF US UP HERE? Sigh.

See the City? Way down there? And ALL THE REST OF US UP HERE? Sigh.

Back to the poll. We are one of the smartest states! I assume Massachusetts won this because of all their colleges. That’s ok. We ARE very intelligent. She says humbly. The people I know here are very bright. I have such intelligent conversations with people. They genuinely love to learn. This makes me so happy. So YES. This one’s valid. We’re smarties, we are.

I don’t know anything about this best/worst sports fan thing. It seems like a stupid question to ask and answer and what makes a good/bad sports fan, really? Silly silly silly.

We are one of the most overrated states? Huh. I’d say there’s no WAY we are rated highly ENOUGH, yo. Because we are the BEST. THE! BEST! Fine, I might be a little biased, here. But I’m also RIGHT. (Why you hatin’ on my state, yo? I don’t say mean things about YOUR state!)

What have we learned today, bloggonians?

  • New York is apparently one of the states people think of when there are polls about things.
  • People seem to think we’re rude and arrogant but also have delicious noms and are super-smart so SUCK IT!
  • Polls are silly. And oddy biased. And sometimes ask weird questions that make no sense.
  • NEW YORK IS THE BEST STATE EVERRRRRRR. (What? We didn’t learn that? Fine, I’m cheating. But it’s with LOVE. I’m cheating with LOVE.)

Happy Monday, internet. I hope you had weekends of adventure and your weeks ahead are the best of the best. Here in Amy-land it is COUNTDOWN TO LAURA WEEK. Laura will be here on FRIDAY! I cleaned the house so she doesn’t arrive to a messy cat-fur wonderland! IT IS ALL VERY EXCITING!


Nobody likes you when you’re 23 and are still more amused by prank phone calls

Week’s over halfway done! I am pleased. This has been a hellacious week. Many people here are on vacation which means I’m doing their jobs, and we have that show opening tonight. Whew! Busy busy busy. 

Just a note: it is your last day to vote on the should I/should I not read the rest of the Fifty Shades of Grey books poll, if you haven’t already. Here here here! Go, go!

Quick update on the Bloggiversary package for Ken – NO, I didn’t forget about it, don’t be rude – all the shopping is done except for one little thing I have to run out for after work this week, and I have one thing to make, and then, DONE. So now just to wait for delivery on things and then it is ON THE WAY TO GERMANY. Are we all so excited? I am. It is a package of excitement. I can’t wait for him to get it. Don’t worry, you all get to share in the fun – I will make a video of all the goodies before I wrap them up and put them in the box, and Ken has also promised to let you all know what he thinks of everything (man, I hope he doesn’t hate it all, that’d be soul-crushing.) Once I know he has it, I’ll post the video. Because I want him to be surprised. I LOVE SURPRISES. Well, surprising others, anyway. I’m not so keen on surprises myself. I like to PLAN. I am a PLANNER. I’m not saying that getting a surprise in the mail now and then isn’t a happy occurrence (because it is) but, like, people dropping in to say hi without calling first? Or (ugh, SHUDDER) surprise parties where people pop out from behind shit and scream at you?

This would be my response, only with more scowling and stabbing.

NO NO NO. No thank you. Don’t even. I will be SO MAD AT YOU. I’ll PRETEND I’m pleased but inside I’m drowning you in a cistern. 

Anyway, Tangent McGee, I think I chose wisely and well and Ken will be pleased. I like surprise gift boxes. There is a certain satisfaction in picking out person-specific gifts and neatly placing them in a box and sending them off. I think in another life I might have been a personal shopper. 

WHAT WILL BE INSIDE?!?!??!

I am writing this days in advance because I am preparing myself for a week of busy. TONIGHT I am going on an ADVENTURE. I know! Another adventure! I’ve been totally Magellan with the adventuring lately. I am going to a BAR to hang out with TWITTER PEOPLE. I know it! I might get murdered. But probably not. They seem non-shady. I guess all killers must seem non-shady to their victims, otherwise, why would people go anywhere with them in order to get killed? But I have high hopes no murdering will occur.  

Thanks, Google Images, I’m totally going to have nightmares now.

Strangely, Dad is quite pleased I’m going on this adventure. The first time I mentioned I might go (way back in April – plans fell through two months in a row, but this month I am HELLBENT ON GOING!) he was all NO NO NO! That is where the MURDER HAPPENS! But now he’s all, “When are you going to that bar to hang out with your friends?” He’s very confusing. You can never tell what he’s going to approve of. Most days, whatever I say I’m doing, he says, “I wouldn’t do that.” Things Dad wouldn’t do if he were me: 

Currently have a cat
Get an additional cat
Drive anywhere but to work and back
Take public transportation
Visit big cities
Volunteer at the theater
Stop volunteering at the theater
Blog
Write anything, ever
Tell anyone anything about myself on the internet
Join or use any social media sites
Talk to strangers
Meet strangers
Stay home
Go out
Go to concerts, movies, or plays
Drink anything but orange soda
Do anything my boss tells me to
Argue with anything my boss tells me to do
Talk in front of large groups of people
Talk loudly, anywhere, anytime
Read books
Spend any money, ever

I asked him recently what were some things he was completely and totally down with and he and I agreed the only things he was always ok with was me sleeping more and exercising. “What an exciting life I will lead,” I said, “when I sleep 12 hours a day, and exercise the other 12.” He liked this plan very much. 

Half of my life now. HOW EXCITING. P.S. Why do people in photos/on television/in movies sleep with makeup on? You’ll break out, yo.

Yet somehow, he has decided that meeting two of my Twitter friends in real life will be a grand adventure and is a very good plan, and keeps asking, “When are you going to do that?” and last month when I couldn’t, he was all, “You ALWAYS have an excuse,” even though my excuse was I had rehearsal until 9 and the event started at 7:30 so by the time I got there it would have been just wrapping up and that wouldn’t have been worth the trip, now would it? No. That’s me, chock-full of excuses. He likes me to give him a rundown of my week every Sunday, so when I told him I was going to hang out at the bar on Monday, he was all, “DON’T YOU CANCEL OUT ON THOSE NICE GUYS AGAIN.” I’m not really sure why all of a sudden he likes them and thinks this is a good idea, but it’s a lot less annoying than hearing a twenty-minute “BRING A RAPE WHISTLE AND A STABBING KNIFE WITH YOU WHEN YOU GO” talk, because those get old fast. 

Oh! In your “strange-news-from-home”…well…news, I guess, I got the following story this weekend: 

My brother was eating lunch the other day. His cell phone rang. He answered it.  

Bro: Hello?
Caller: Hi. I’m calling about the mules.
Bro: Oh, yeah. The mules.
(Note: my brother thought it was a prank call. He has a tendency to assume the world is always screwing with him. ALWAYS.)
Caller: So, you’ve got those mules?
Bro: Sure. Sure I do.
Caller: How much do those mules go for?
Bro: They start at a nickel and go up from there.

The middle one’s the nickel mule. How can I tell? I just can. I have a way with such things.

Caller: When can I come and see the mules?
(Note the second: WTF? The caller didn’t even bat an eye at nickel mules.)
Bro: Oh, anytime. Anytime. The mules like visitors most at 2am, though. How about 2am?
Caller: I’m asleep at 2am.
Bro: That’s too bad. The mules are really friendly around 2am, and I do a middle-of-the-night two-for-one mule special then.
Caller: How about 11pm?
(Note the third: This guy really had no sense of being effed with, and also, really wanted some nickel mules.)
Bro: Dude, who do you think you’re calling?
Caller: The guy who’s selling the mules in The Free Trader.

It’s the “biggest little paper in the North Country” so don’t you even mock.

(Note the fourth: The Free Trader is a paper where people in the boonies sell things like tractors, mules, and four-wheelers. Also used clothing, and sometimes engagement rings they are no longer using. The Free Trader was an endless source of mirth for me as a child.)
Bro: You have the wrong number. I don’t have any mules.
Caller: This isn’t 123-4567?
(Note the fifth: duh, no, that’s not my brother’s number. If I gave you that, Ken would call him and talk to him about the Ghost of Noonie. Also, honestly? I don’t know my brother’s cell phone number. Because we don’t chat. Ever. EVER ever.)
Bro: No, it is. This number’s in The Free Trader? Selling mules?
Caller: Yeah. So, you don’t have mules? 

Now, before I say anything else, please quickly think…what could be the cause of my brother’s number being in The Free Trader under an ad saying mules for sale? (His name wasn’t there, just a basic ad and “call this number.”) 

What’d you come up with? 

My theory: The Free Trader (a total rinkydink publication) transposed a couple of the numbers a caller sent in, in error, and someone who IS selling mules is all, “Why isn’t my phone ringing? These mules need good homes, yo.” 

(This is also my mom’s theory.) 

My dad and brother’s theory: 

SOMEONE IS OUT TO GET MY BROTHER BY PUTTING THIS AD IN THE FREE TRADER AND DRIVING HIM CRAZY WITH PHONE CALLS IT IS HARRASSMENT HARRASSMENT I TELLS YA!  

No, I’m totally not kidding. When I told my dad my theory, he was all “no one up here sells MULES. This is a CRUEL JOKE. Designed to GET BACK AT YOUR BROTHER. Someone’s OUT TO GET HIM.” When I asked him who, he had no answers. When I said, “Don’t you think there’s a better way to get revenge for…I don’t know, something…than a mule-ad? Like, flattening his tires, or maybe TPing his house?” my dad had no answer except “You’re just like your mother HERE TALK TO HER NOW” and he handed the phone off to my mom. Sorry, Dad. I’m not all Mel Gibson about conspiracy theories. I’m sure there are a lot more conspiracies in the world than I’m aware of – I just tend to think most things are mistakes or coincidences rather than conspiracies. This might make me naive, I don’t know. 

I guess that makes Dad Mulder and me Scully? Damn, I always thought I was the Mulder. Oh, well. Scully had really good hair, at least.

Also, I like to think Helper Mule placed that ad, trying to be helpful in some way. Like, he can’t help Rooster, but he CAN help my brother somehow. How? Well, I don’t know. Maybe make friends! Friends that are looking for mules! But, because he’s Unhelpful Helper Mule, the plan didn’t go according to plan. Wah-WAH, Helper Mule. 

Off to gallivant. Wish me luck. (Well, you’re reading this days later, so I assume you already know if I crashed and burned or there was a murder or whatever.) Or at least that I don’t embarrass myself mightily around new people. Which is a total possibility. A very, very total possibility. Gulp.

(Oh! Also, I missed it yesterday, happy Summer Solstice! My least-favorite, only because, yech, hot and humid, but a solstice nonetheless! Hooray!)


“What’s he like?” “God? Lonely. But funny. He’s got a great sense of humor.”

I’m going to talk about football a little. Also God. How many people can I piss off today? ALL THE PEOPLE.

And, heads-up, this might have a lot of errors in it. Because I know NOTHING about sports. So if you want to be a total douchecanoe and be all “I AM A TIM TEBOW FACTOTUM AND CAN PUNCH A MILLION HOLES IN THIS,” you know what? Aren’t you stellar and fancy with way-too-much free time. I will admit I did about an hour’s research into this. Because more than that seemed like overkill, and it’s not like I’m getting paid for this? But you know what, if you want to send me links to articles disproving this or that or whatever, four for you, Glen Coco, you go, Glen Coco.

So because I avoid sports as if they were hatchet-wielding serial killers, I had no idea who this “Tebow” person was that everyone was yammering about. The only knowledge of him I had was a random skit I saw about him on Saturday Night Live a few weeks ago where Jesus showed up in the locker room and told him to tone it down so I assumed he was a Jesus freak of some sort but I didn’t research it because a., sports of all kinds, but especially football, give me a migraine, and b., pretty much anything religion-oriented guarantees I run the other way screaming.

But last night the internet BLEW UP with sports nonsense so I thought, I will research this because I am curious like that dead cat.

I’m not going to go into details, because I assume most of you already know who Tim Tebow is and what his deal is and such and I’m probably the last person who didn’t. Here, briefly, are my thoughts on the matter, if you care, and you probably don’t, but I’m going to tell you ANYWAY, I’m just that full of myself, so there.

  • He’s TWENTY-FOUR. He’s a BABY. Cut him a little slack. He’ll get kicked in the teeth by life a little eventually, as we all do, and then we’ll all forget about him. We were all optimistic 24-year-olds once, too. Well, I assume we all were. Some of you might be robots, I don’t know your lives.
  • If he wants to pray, well, I mean, I wouldn’t, and I think I’d do it privately, if I were to do it at all, but if that’s his thing, whatever. And I’m a total heathen. This seems to be pissing a lot of people off. Is it because he’s doing it in public? I’m not being snarky, I’m genuinely curious.
  • Dear Tim Tebow, I have nothing against you, but to choose to star in Focus on the Family ads is a HUGE EFFING MISTAKE. They are an organization with an agenda of hatred against women and homosexuals. I know your ad was not about specifically about hatred, but the subtext was pro-life, and you don’t get to make that choice for anyone, especially since you make such a huge deal about being a virgin and also you don’t have a vagina. That I know of. Please research things a little more before getting involved.
  • He seems to be very good at football. Good for him. And he seems to be, overall, Focus on the Family ads notwithstanding, mistakes are made when you’re 24, a decent kid. I have no major beef with Tebow. I may have missed something in my research. Did he say we’re all going to hell except his family, or something? I’m open to discussion on this matter.

Anyway, so that’s my Tim Tebow research in a nutshell. He’s a football player who likes God and doesn’t have sex and is very open about it and this makes people talk about him a lot because that’s unlike, oh, I don’t know, ALL the football players. OK. Fine.

HERE’S THE THING THAT I FOUND THAT IS INSANE. Ready?

So Fox Sports Florida did a poll  (yes, I know that link isn’t directly to Fox, I don’t approve of anything Fox-related, well, except real foxes, they rule, with their red fur and all, and also snow foxes, those are awesome, once I saw some at the zoo and they were totally frolicking, but I didn’t want to talk about something without any backup because that makes you look like you made it up, but I didn’t want to link directly to anything Fox related, either. This is a happy medium) and asked 1,076 people if they were aware of Tim Tebow and his success. Of people who responded yes to that, they asked, “Do you believe that any of Tim Tebow’s success can be attributed to Divine Intervention?” 756 people answered that question.

43% of respondents said that yes, they thought that God was responsible for Tebow’s success.

FORTY-THREE PERCENT OF THOSE POLLED.

I know that’s not the majority, I know that. But 43% of people think that GOD HIM OR HER OR ITSELF has a STAKE in AMERICAN FOOTBALL GAMES.

I don’t even know what to say about this.

Oh, wait. Yes. Yes, I do know what to say about this.

Now, listen. I’m not going to go too far into my personal belief system, because it is none of your business, and, unlike people who pray on the football field, what I do or do not believe does not have to be done in public (also, not to be mean, but I’m pretty sure there’s a whole effing Bible PASSAGE about praying privately being more Godly than praying publicly, right? Matthew 6:6? Again, not my intention to excoriate Tim Tebow. I have nothing against the kid.) I believe in something. I am not arrogant enough to know what it is; I am not arrogant enough to know what the master plan is. I think there are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. (That makes me look like I worship at the church of Shakespeare. I might, a little. I won’t deny that allegation.)

If it matters at all, here’s my favorite cinematic God:

But, even for my wishy-washy I-don’t-know’s, I do know this:

God, if he/she/it does, indeed, exist, DOES NOT DETERMINE THE OUTCOME OF SPORTING EVENTS BECAUSE ONE OF THE PLAYERS PRAYS OPENLY TO HIM/HER/IT.

Seriously, think about this. Think about all the people praying to God right now for things. Think of the moms praying over their children’s bedsides as their children are dying of cancer. Think of the devastation of war. Think of the devastation of natural disasters. The smaller things: children praying their fathers won’t hit them anymore, their mothers won’t drink anymore, their neighbors won’t abuse them when no one’s looking anymore.

THESE THINGS STILL HAPPEN WHETHER YOU PRAY TO GOD FOR THEM OR NOT.

But God, in his/her/its infinite wisdom, is IGNORING all these major prayers, and listening to Tim Tebow, and, what, taking a Roman holiday every time the kid has a football game in order to swing the game his way?

What the hell is wrong with the 43% of you who thought this was the right answer to this question?

It’s a sporting event. The outcome is determined by chance and skill and a million other factors. Could one of those factors be divine intervention? Sure. Sure it could. Again, I’m not arrogant enough to know the mind of the universe. But I’d like to think it’s not. I HAVE to think it’s not. Because if God (or who/whatever) is spending precious time making sure Tim Tebow’s team is winning games and ignoring the prayers of bullied, suicidal teens, or burn victims, or women who are getting raped just for daring to be female in other countries (and, sadly enough, sometimes even here)?

That’s a Divine Creator who is a complete and total asshole, and who has dropped the ball (sports metaphor apt, if not intended when written), and most likely lost his/her/its mind.

And is Tebow praying for a win? I didn’t research that part of it too hard. Or is he just saying a prayer both pre- and post-games? I mean, sure, he MIGHT be praying “please let me win” and “thank you for the win,” but if he was brought up in a Christian household, as I was, and all signs point to him being so, unless it’s all a massive government coverup, I don’t know, he would have been taught the same thing I was – God’s not a magic genie in a bottle, and you don’t get to ask him/her/it to grant wishes. I mean, you CAN. But it’s stupid, and it’s small of you to try.

Now, according to the interwebs, the Broncos lost last night, so they’re not going to the Superbowl this year. Does that mean God was MAD at Tebow last night? Does that mean that God is a Patriots fan? Does that mean that God likes Tom Brady more than Tim Tebow? PLEASE, 43%, tell me what God was THINKING.

My thoughts (much like Mary Katherine Gallagher’s) on God’s involvement in the mundane day-to-day of our lives can be summed up in this Saturday Night Live skit entitled “Don’t Pray So Much” which I would embed but either WordPress or Hulu’s being an asshole about it. I know you hate clicking, but it’s really worth it. It’s the best thing.

Seriously, “Prayers like, ‘please don’t let the rice get sticky,’ do you really need my help with things like that?” gets me EVERY DAMN TIME. I miss you, Phil Hartman.

Did I piss a bunch of you off? Sorry. OK, here’s my final thought on religion, then I’ll go:

OK. That’s heavy-enough shit for the day, right? I’m going to a play today about people being horrible to one another, then I’m going grocery shopping. Oh, also I’m going to buy some whipped-cream vodka so I can get drunk on Twitter with @lgalaviz and @whoremongers. IT IS ONE HOT DAY YOU GUYS. Metaphorically hot. Not actually hot. It’s actually like 7 degrees here today. SO EFFING COLD.

Maybe I should pray to God that it warms up. That should work, right? Right. GOD LOVES THAT.


Google search results for "rode hard, put away wet" make me need a Silkwood shower.

I love language. Irrationally, actually. There’s nothing that I like more than discovering new slang, or a new turn of phrase, or a word that I didn’t know existed, or making a word out of two other words. I find the English language a beautiful, beautiful thing.
I try to be precise with it. I mean, sure, I slang it up. Who doesn’t? You don’t want to sound like a robot-person, or a person who still calls the fridge the icebox. I also love to add “y” to the end of things where it doesn’t belong, like “cringey” and “stabby” because it entertains me, and you can do that, with English. It is a very generous and giving language, overall. I can see how it would be hard for non-English speakers to learn, though. People who grew up with the language still have problems with it, and they’ve never spoken anything else. We don’t make it easy on others. It’s our can-do pioneer attitude. We have the hardest language! We are a super-cool impenetrable club!
I read a lot, so a lot of words I only recognize on the page, and have no idea how to pronounce in real-life situations. (I love that the dictionary online pronounced words for you. I made it repeat the word “kudzu” over and over when I was reading a Poppy Z. Brite book a few years back because the word was like carbonation against your eardrum. So peppy and poppy and fizzy!) I also am old, and, despite how I come across, somewhat naive in the millions of ways people can be pervy, so often, double-entendres get lost on me. (Last week, I had no idea what I was implying when I said someone could “take me anywhere, because I would be the most fun to take anywhere.” I wasn’t thinking of the “take me, take me now” definition. I know. I need to get out of the petticoat generation, already.)
Last weekend, I was visiting family, and we were getting ready to go somewhere. I hadn’t yet prepared to leave the house – it wasn’t that long ago I had been awakened by the dulcet tones of The Nephew screaming to the top of his adorable little lungs at 6 a.m. – so I said, and I quote, “Give me a few minutes to get ready. I can’t go anywhere like this. I look like I’ve been rode hard and put away wet right now.”
Dead silence from the people (my brother, his girlfriend, my father) in the room.
The following conversation ensued:
Brother: Amy, you can’t say that.
Me: What? Why?
Brother: Because that’s about whores.
Me: What? No. HORSES.
GF: No. He’s right. Whores.
Father: Yes. Whores. How do you not know that? You always know these things.
Me: No, horses. And also if you look like you’re jacked up and need to get prettied.
Brother: No. Whores. You know, they were RODE HARD. Then PUT AWAY WET.
Me: Oh. Um. Um – I. No, I think horses? Because when people call the vet clinic when I’m working at the answering service, sometimes they talk about problems with their horses, and one of them I’m pretty sure has to do with not drying off your horse correctly.
GF: This is the best conversation ever. I love this.
Brother: Whores are RODE HARD. Then they are WET.
Me: Yeah, if you are perverted.
Father: Or normal.
Me: HORSES.
(Note – I am not sure how to take my father saying “I always know about these things.” I hope he meant idiomatic phrases and the joys of the English language and not whore lingo. WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THIS DADDY.)
After this, I was a little distressed. I mean, I don’t use this phrase on a regular basis – it’s not something I say as often as “Nice day, right?” or “Someone took all the goddamned letterhead out of the copier AGAIN? Are they building a FORT with that stuff? What the HELL?” but I’ve said it on a number of occasions. Did everyone I was ever saying this to think I was calling myself a whore? Did they laugh about this behind my back, that I wasn’t aware of the genesis of this idiom? Was this about whores? If so, why did people in cowboy novels use it to refer to their horses, and then why did crappy gossip blogs use it to talk about oh, I don’t know, Courtney Love? (Sorry, Courtney. I still adore you, Courtney.)
So, as I do, I did research, and then a very scientific poll. I know! I really should open up some sort of super-sexy serious research facility.
And this time, I made a PIE CHART. I come bearing PROFESSIONAL GRAPHICS. From a FREE WEBSITE THAT MAKES THESE THINGS. (I am fairly sure no one ever typed “whores” into the free site. It kept asking me if that was spelled right.)
Responses to “What’s the first thing you think of when you hear the phrase ‘rode hard, put away wet’?”
OK, so let’s analyze these responses. As you can see, the majority of people (not by much, but still) think horses. Not WHORES. Horses. This made me feel better.
Some interesting things I learned while doing this very scientific poll:
  • The “your mom” person made me laugh so hard I spit-took diet lemonade.
  • My book club was mostly horse people. My theater cast and crew was mostly whore people. Do what you will with that.
  • One person told me I should, in the interest of science, put an ad on Craig’s List for responses. I don’t think anything I put on Craig’s List about “riding” or “wet” would end well. I opted no on that one.
  • I was not comfortable asking this on my Facebook page. I think because my Facebook people would not respect my very scientific endeavors. Twitter people are more scientific; Facebook people are more “I used Status Shuffle because I can’t come up with a status on my own.” Also my theater people were a captive audience – I’m their assistant director, what are they going to do, tell me to shut it? I could make them run laps for that. OK, not laps. The theatrical equivalent of laps. I could make them play theater games for that, like improv or mirror exercises.

The best response I got was from a very educated man I work with at the theater. He’s one of those quiet and gruff people that nonetheless have complete and total authority when they speak. “It’s from cowboy slang,” he said. “It may have been recently bastardized to refer to something sexual, but originally, it referred to how it was unhealthy to ride a horse and then not cool it and dry it off before putting it in for the night.”

Suck it, haters! It is NOT ONLY ABOUT WHORES. I also did research using my BFF, Google, who agrees with me – yes, sure, it now is used (as I did) to refer to someone who looks like they had a tough night of it and needs some freshening-up time, but originally it was used to refer to HORSES. Not WHORES. Not EXCLUSIVELY WHORES.
What we learned from this is that I have a metric shit-ton of free time on my hands and don’t like my usage of the English language challenged.
Horses. HORSES. And Tara Reid that time her boob popped out and she didn’t realize it.

Albany Times Union Best-of: Take Deux

The Albany Times Union’s Annual Best-of Poll came out this week.  My extremely long-winded take on the things I care about:
Pleasing things:
1.       Habana is the best cigar shop, because once, when we needed herbal cigarettes for a play, I had to call a bunch of smoke shops for them. And the first three I called pretty much accused me of trying to buy weed (because the smart way to buy an illegal substance is to call places and hint you want it? I don’t know.) I’d say, “I’m doing props for a play, we need to smoke onstage, but tobacco onstage is illegal, so we need herbal cigarettes, do you carry those?” and they’d sputter and titter say something like “Um, NOOOOO, hey, Julie, get this, this chick wants ‘herbal cigarettes’” and they’d both bust a gut. Habana not only didn’t laugh at me, they had them in stock. So thank you, Habana. Also, it smells like a distinguished gentleman’s club in there and I felt like maybe some serious decisions were being made over fancy cigars.
2.       Colonie Center is better than Crossgates, yes. However, since they renovated, the parking sucks at Colonie Center, so now I avoid both as if they were infested with zombies. Why is the Colonie Center parking like a maze? You go down one way, oh, no! Blocked! Back up! Try again – BLOCKED! Wrong turn! Try again!
3.       Latham ‘76 Diner – yay. Delicious, inexpensive, and the placemats have funny facts on them about the states. Also, the ambience is pure ‘70’s roadtrip. Love.
4.       A couple of years ago, some people told me about the Kristi Gustafson hatred running rampant in the area. I was confused. I still am. I like her; I like her journalistic voice, I like how media-savvy she is, I like how personable she is, I love her blog posts and her commenters and how they make me laugh. I am all for the Kristi love in these results. She has worked hard to get where she is, and her personality helped, too, so congrats, Kristi.
5.       Very happy with the best local bloggers. There are other amazing local bloggers, too, and I wish there could have been more than three winners for this one. We do not lack in the blogger pool here.
6.       Best local tweeter – eh, ok, I guess, but again, there need to be more than 3 spots, because we have quite a few funny, intelligent people here.
Not-so-pleasing things:
1.       Benson’s and The Book House > PetSmart  and Barnes & Noble.
2.       Come ON, people. The Saratoga Racetrack is FAR superior to the Racino. There are LIVE HORSES at the Racetrack. You can bet on ponies. You feel like you’re in “Guys & Dolls”. It is awesome. Last year I won $170 in a DAY. Also, a couple of years ago, a horse threw his rider, then ran the race ALONE, and ran past us in the stands, then BACK past us, kind of winking, like “Hey! Hey, look at me! All on my own! I am the most awesome pony EVER!” And of course, I had a lot of money on that horse, which was then forfeit. But I didn’t care, because that horse had chutzpah.
3.       My vet clinic came in second, which is kind of impressive, and I know the first place clinic is good because I had a friend that exclusively went there, but listen. My clinic? Has the hottest vets in town. Well, male vets. I don’t know about the female vets. They’re probably lovely, too. But two years in a row, I’ve had two different vets who are male-model worthy doing my cats’ annual exams. This year? He was Scottish. Or maybe Irish. Could have been British. I am not the best at accents. Whatever it was, I thought I was being punk’d with the hotness. So sure, if you want the best for your PET, by all means, Shaker Vet. If you want EYE CANDY and also a good vet, Latham Animal Hospital.
4.      Gershon’s is the best thing ever and I don’t even like sandwiches that much.  Subway? Really? That’s embarrassing. Also, Pizza Hut (which, shh, I love, everyone does, but you DON’T ADMIT IT!) being third in the pizza question is also embarrassing.
5.       I hate the Dave Matthews Band. Also, that was over a year ago. Should have been knocked out of the running.
6.       The Lion King was a lovely and impressive spectacle – but I wish, like the other questions, it had been LOCAL shows. The Lion King didn’t have the budgetary constraints we did when putting on the community theater shows we did this season, so why judge ours alongside theirs? Also, two categories – musicals and straight shows – would be appreciated for those of us that know our theater. That being said, my top three LOCAL straight shows this season, in this order, were Proof at Albany Civic Theater, Dog Sees God at Confetti Stage, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde at Schenectady Civic Theater. Yes, I was affiliated with one of these; however, not closely enough that I can’t make a vote in a blog post that doesn’t matter to anyone but me, anyway.
7.       I do not understand albanyweatheronline.com being voted as anything. Seriously? What the hell? There are other local blogs that are awesome, informative, funny, and NOT JUST THE WEATHER. If I want the weather, I go to a weather site. There’s a site that’s just Albany weather? Wow. That must take…no work at all? Wouldn’t you just go to the weather channel online, take the Albany info, and re-post it?
8.       I’m putting this here because the outcome is not so pleasing – Kegs & Eggs Riot. Yes, that was the right answer on the poll – but ugh, the fact that we’re known for it is embarrassing.
Random Things:
1.       Am I the only person in the area who hasn’t eaten those teeny hot dogs at Gus’s yet? I want to try them but find the one-way streets in Watervliet daunting. And I live in Watervliet. I know. Leave me alone.
2.       Why can’t people follow directions? Is it that they can’t read, or don’t bother to? Why would the TU be asking for your favorite singer/songwriter OF ALL TIME in a LOCAL POLL? Of course they want to know your favorite LOCAL singer/songwriter. Good God.
3.       New category – best COMMUNITY theater in the area, please. There are excellent theater groups getting overlooked on a yearly basis.
4.       I was surprised to see YNN not included. Apparently, I am the only one obsessed with this channel. The woman on Capital Tonight makes me laugh and laugh. I don’t think she’s attempting to do so, but she’s very interrupty. It’s funny.

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