Category Archives: sad

What do you want to be?

“When you’re drowning you don’t think, ‘I would be incredibly pleased if someone would notice I’m drowning and come and rescue me.’ You just scream.” –John Lennon

I did this last year. I’m not going to do it again this year; I’m happy with how it turned out last year, and I honestly don’t have anything else to say that I didn’t say last year.

Every year, December 8 hits, and every year, I get a mean case of the blues. It’s not like I don’t know it’s coming and it’s not like I can avoid an entire day. Well, I suppose I COULD, but I have to go to work and live life and such. It’s generally frowned upon to drop off the map for 24 hours, I suppose.

I guess I would have the blue meanies, then. These things always freaked me right out.

I guess I would have the blue meanies, then. These things always freaked me right out.

So instead of me repeating myself, you can just read last year’s post (for the first time, some of you, and again, if you want, the rest of you, I suppose) and I’ll just give you three Beatles songs to listen to. I don’t know if they’re my favorites, but they’re the ones I’ve had in my head for the past couple of weeks. (A secret about me? I almost always have a Beatles song rolling around in my head. Even if I’m thinking or doing or singing something else. True story.)

And what’s funny is, every time one of these songs pops up, not just these, but the others, so many beautiful others, and starts rolling around in my head like a snowball getting bigger and bigger – it’s like a whole new song. But it’s not a whole new song. It’s me that’s changed. The song stayed exactly the same, waiting for me to get to the point in my life where I was ready for it to mean this exact thing for me. I love that. I don’t know that there are too many other bands, or even musicians, that do this for me. Which is probably a failing more in me than the music, but that’s really neither here nor there, now is it?

Then I will give you two things that will make you giggle. Because we all need a laugh now and then. I know I do, today.

“You know I can’t sleep, I can’t stop my brain
You know it’s three weeks, I’m going insane
You know I’d give you everything I’ve got for a little peace of mind”

This has been my song for months. It’s gotten better since new job started, but I still have “can’t stop my brain” nights. And I often would give everything in the whole world for a little peace of mind. It’s the curse of those of us who can’t turn our brains off. Brains don’t come with off-buttons.

“How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?
Now that you know who you are, what do you want to be?”

I listened to this one a lot in high school. A LOT. But I wasn’t this person then. And then just recently, I listened to it again and this line just knocked the air right out of me. Because I do know who I am now. And this is giving me permission to figure out what I want to do with that.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be one of the beautiful people. But knowing who I am is so much better than that for me, anyway. Suck it, beautiful people.

“I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me…”

This song, man. The melancholy in this song gets me every time. This one’s been in my head a lot lately. It does that. It goes away and comes back and I’ll get “this bird has flown” circling around my mind and it’s like the swallows coming back to Capistrano or something.

Aw, hi, little swallow.

Aw, hi, little swallow.

There. Those aren’t the happiest songs ever but I’m pretty sure you’re all internet-savvy enough that if you want something happier, you know how to YouTube it yourself. I have every faith in you. (I don’t have anything against happy songs. They’re just not in my head today. I’m sure I’ll get something more upbeat all up in there any day now.)

I promised you cheery, didn’t I? I don’t like to lie to you, my little tater tots. Here, I found these things for you. They should take some of the sting out of the terrible waste of the day that is today.

Apparently, someone (or multiple someones, I don’t know) have been taking Beatles pictures, captioning them with Mean Girls quotes, and things like this happen (which is going to only be funny for those of you who know/love Mean Girls, sorry, Ken, I think you’re out of this one…unless you’re going to surprise me with “Amy, I’ve SO seen Mean Girls” like the time you surprised me with your extensive knowledge of Pauly Shore’s tour de force, Son-in-Law):



Click the link up there for more. Again, I don’t know how many Mean Girls-slash-Beatles fans you’re going to find in the world – seven? I’ve made up that number and that number is seven – but they’re kind of oddly entertaining for the seven of us there are.

Then I found this one, and…um. HAND CROTCH SLACKS!

Apparently years ago Yoko Ono made a men’s wear line for men built like John Lennon, and now it’s being sold. These pants are only $335. And they come with a HAND. Right on the crotch-area! Which is handy (heh, handy) if you wanted to give someone some direction as to where to grab, I suppose. Or if you wanted to say, in an understated way, “I’m a huge douchecanoe.”

There are other things. You should click the link. Highlights are a thing you wear around your neck that looks like a sandwich board made of Plexiglass with bells on it and a pair of slacks with a mesh cutout in the ass-area. I don’t know, either.

It’s nice to know that good old Yoko is still kooky and thinks of things like hand crotch slacks.

I’m going to listen to some Beatles music now and be a little sad. It’s December 8. That’s what I do today. Love your faces. Thank you to my people who save me when I’m drowning. I wouldn’t even have to scream. Please be nice to each other, everyone, ok? Every day, but maybe just a little more today? Thanks.


Failing at time zones. And also mathing.

Howdy, Tuesday, how YOU doin’? Good? Good, then.

This week is another week of craziness in Amy-town. Many many hours at work. But that’s good, because listen, even though I’m working like a maniac, when I got paid this week, I was able to pay almost every single bill this month and – AND, are you ready for this? – HAVE MONEY LEFT OVER. I know! It’s strange and exciting territory. I’m not 100% sure what I’ll do with that money. I should probably save it for Christmas. I think Christmas has officially been cancelled, though. There’s no way I can do it to the extent that I want to, and I’m not good at Christmas-lite. Christmas-lite seems like a lie. I’d rather boycott it altogether. Mom was all “AMY! I need a Christmas list from you PRONTO!” (yes, my family still does Christmas lists) and I told her she had to wait until the end of the month because that’s when I would decide what was happening with Christmas in Amy-land. Two more weeks to decide. Sometimes I put off decision-making for a very long time. It’s never a good idea but I’m a total procrastinator when it’s a hard decision I don’t want to make.

But there’s a nephew, and he still needs a Christmas. He’s too little to understand boycotting Christmas. So there might be only a Christmas for my one and only beloved nephew. That’ll be ok. The kid loves presents. His eyes get all big and he says, “For ME?” and you can’t even process the cute. You absolutely can’t.

Anyway, we have some catchall things to discuss today because I’ve been putting some things off and then tomorrow we’ll have some uproarious hilarity. Today I have the day off because today is your yesterday because I LIVE IN THE PAST or maybe the future, I don’t even know.

Oh, SPEAKING of not even knowing, I’m terrible at time zones? Like, the MOST terrible. Which sucks, because I have people living in other time zones. For a while, it was only BFF. And that was bad enough. But NOW I have people living on other CONTINENTS and they don’t even live in the same TIME ZONES as each OTHER so I’m constantly having to do mind-math to figure out what time it is there and if they’re sleeping or at work or, hell, I don’t know, eating a cookie, whatever it is they’re doing. Last night on The Amazing Race there was this whole TASK where the contestants had to figure out Russian time zones and sj and I were watching together as we like to do and we like to pretend that we’re competing in the Race together? We’d lose the racing part, we’ve decided, but we’d love the traveling and the thinking-parts. And checking in with Phil and his eyebrow.

So I was all “SJ. I would LOSE this. I NEVER KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS ANYWHERE.” And she was all, “I am the BEST at this. I would do this Roadblock for us so we would win.” And I was like “No, seriously, I’m constantly all ‘what time is it in Finland +7 SO MUCH MATH'” and then she laughed and laughed at me and said, “You know there’s this site called World Clock, right? I will make you one.”


LOOK LOOK! It has all my people I love on it! BFF and my own time zone (also sj and Susie’s) and Elaine and Ken and Andreas! NOW I ALWAYS KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS IN PLACES!!!

OK, listen, I know probably you’re better at mathing than I am (everyone is, even elementary-school children), but I can never ever remember what time it is ANYWHERE. And then time zones change or whatever and I am flat-footed lost and thinking it’s 4 when it’s 6 or whatever. THIS DOES MY MATHING FOR ME!!! And sj says that when Daylight Savings Time happens, THIS WILL CHANGE TO REFLECT THAT FOR ME!

This is like those fancy clocks you see in banks where you always know what time it is in major cities only it’s RIGHT ON MY LAPTOP and I am SO EXCITED I CAN’T EVEN.

Shh, it’s the little things, jellybeans. THANK YOU SJ I ADORE YOUR FACE.

OK, don’t you worry, I have more things to talk about than clocks. No, I totally do. NO I DO.

Today (I think it’s today? I hope so, I’ve been waiting til today to post this) friend R. moves away, and I am both happy and sad about this.

Happy because she is moving to something wonderful, and a whole new opportunity and a whole new life and onto something she will love so much, and sad because I JUST MET HER AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH AND WILL MISS HER LIKE A CRAZYPERSON.

Friend R. and I worked together until recently at the answering service, and at first I thought, I cannot be friends with friend R., because she is SO NICE and SO CALM and she will never want to be friends with me because I am the opposite of those things. But Friend R. was very very patient and kind and also very funny and warm and she TOTALLY wanted to be friends with me! Which was nice and always surprises me when that happens. (And probably always will.) Friend R. makes me want to freak out and cuss less because she is so calm and nice and sweet. (That makes her sound boring. SHE IS NOT BORING. She is WONDERFUL. She is a GOOD INFLUENCE.) It was nice to have her at work, especially on Saturdays when everything’s always so crazy, because when I started getting all frantic and freaked out and most people would be like “STAY AWAY FROM MT. ST. AMY! She’s about to BLOW!” Friend R. would just look at me and say, “Deep breaths, Amy. It’s ok.” And that’s all it would take. She would make me laugh at myself and things would be better. How many people do you know like that? I wish there were more of them. She is a good listener and gives wonderful advice and makes me laugh a lot and she’s super-intelligent and very good at her job and one of the hardest workers I know. And it makes me sad that she’s moving now, because I just got to know her, and we just did our first solo hanging-out thing, and other than I was super-tired so kind of cranky and had a mini-meltdown in the middle of it (SORRY R.!) I think it was not at all a bad time and if she was still living here we could do it again and we would have a good time and also have adventures and wouldn’t that be awesome? Yes, it would. So I will miss her so much. (And I was so hoping the paper would have run the photo of us at Wicked by now so I could show you, but apparently we didn’t make the cut. DAMMIT PAPER! That would have been an awesome photo here. Instead, here is a photo of a sad panda. R. leaving makes me sad panda.)

But she is going to continue working for us from a distance by using a laptop, so I will get to see her virtually that way, and also through the magic of the interwebs and email and Twitter and Facebook and texting and such. And she is moving to a wonderful opportunity to live with people she loves doing something she loves, so I am so, so happy for her and so proud of her, because she’s worked so hard for the past umpteen years to get herself to where she is now.

I will miss you, R.! Best of luck to you, and I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures, and Saturdays at work will not be the same without you there rolling your eyes with me at people’s shenanigans! Have the safest safe drive south and have the BEST BEST TIME in your new life! You deserve every wonderful thing!

And finally, I just want to say a gigantic thank you for everyone who voted for me in the Goodreads thingamabobber. I did not make it through to the final round, but the sole fact that I made it through to the round BEFORE the final round still fills me with all the glee. I love you all to pieces and cannot thank you enough. That my little old book made it to the top twenty poetry books of the year on Goodreads…well, that’s flabbergasting. It’s really amazing to me. Thank you so, so much. I’m not even disappointed. I didn’t think I’d make it as far as I did, anyway, you know? So, thank you. Thank you for getting me as far as you did. I mean it. ALL THE AIR-KISSES TO ALL OF YOU. (And pop on over and vote for The Bloggess’ book while you’re over there, because we want her to win in a landslide! But I am TORN because there’s also a Kevin Smith book in the same category. Sorry, Kevin Smith, I read The Bloggess’ book and have not read yours, I have to vote for her. I STILL LOVE YOU KEVIN SMITH!!!)

This was meant to be a thank you kitteh but this one was funnier. Please forgive.

Happy Tuesday, you beautiful people! Enjoy your day. Listen, it’s November and I’m totally in a t-shirt and jeans today. This weather is GORGEOUS. I love fall so much I want to marry it and have its BABIES.

I’m only about a year behind on my pop culture. That’s good, right?

I have had a billion things to do tonight so now I left this until the last minute because I am an dummy so I won’t be going to bed until really late. I AM NOT THE SMARTEST.

Let’s see. What’s up in Amyville today. Well, I have actually watched TWO SOMEWHAT RECENT MOVIES this week. I know! It’s like I’m an actual functioning member of the human race. Well, they’re not RECENT recent. They’re within the last year or so, I think. More recent than things I usually watch. Or…well, let’s face it, I never watch movies, I don’t have the time. But randomly this week I had time for TWO WHOLE MOVIES ZOMG! I know! And have a third movie for later in the week if I don’t completely run out of time! I know, super-fancy!

FIRST, yesterday I watched Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Which I knew was going to kill me but I didn’t think was going to kill me as MUCH as it was going to kill me. I like to cry. I really, REALLY like to cry. Don’t even get me wrong. And I do it a LOT. I cry over EVERYTHING. Commercials. Stupid television shows. Thinking about things. Emailing people. Movies. Thing is, I don’t do it in front of people. Unless I’m watching something and someone else happens to be in the room or something. Then I try to be really quiet about it. (My dad does the same thing; his excuse is always “allergies ALLERGIES!” and then he’ll run out of the room and get a tissue and come back all “damn seasonal allergies, SO UNTIMELY” and I’ll pretend I believe him. It’s what daughters who love their dads who are also totally emotional do. I mean, it’s not like I got it from the neighbors. It’s a little bit of genetics and a little bit of a learned response. Also, I’m just a huge sap.) I don’t like to cry in front of people. It makes me feel like a weak lady. I AM NOT A WEAK LADY. Call me weak and see what happens when I get all ragey on you. I just…get emotional. About things. About ALL THE THINGS. That’s not TERRIBLE. It’s just Amy. It’s an Amy-thing. (If it makes you feel better, I also cry about HAPPY things. Sheesh.)

Oh, now this is disturbing. And, also me.

Anyway, this movie killed me. It was all the things. It was all the things that get me, rolled up into a movie. 9/11 and a child who loved his dad and a mystery and a quest and New York City and a man with a secret past and a mother who’d do anything for her child. It was a little sappy, maybe. But I wasn’t paying that much attention, because I WAS SOBBING LIKE A LUNATIC. Like, not just crying a little. Nope. No pretty lady-crying happened to me in this movie. Like, major ugly-cry. There were noises and everything. At one point, the cat decided he’d had enough and left. “Momm, you arr being crazey,” Dumbcat said disapprovingly.

(Please cast Tom Hanks as a 9/11 victim, movie, if you want to absolutely GUARANTEE I’m going to be crushed, by the way. Yikes. Also, the kid in this movie was fantastic. I hope he has a nice long career. He was great. Apparently the internet thought this movie was sappy and exploitative. Maybe. I liked it a lot, so I don’t really care what you think, internet.)

So when that was done I’d had a very good cry. A very good cry is EXTREMELY CATHARTIC and makes you feel all clean. I recommend everyone have a good cry every once and a while. It’s like an oil change or something. It’s a human oil-change. Then I slept very very well and woke up totally ready to face the new day, it was great.

Now I am watching (finally, I’ve been wanting to for a while) The Cabin in the Woods. I had no idea this was a whole THING. I thought it was just a stupid horror movie (but probably more awesome, because, well, Joss Whedon, let’s be clear, Joss Whedon makes everything amazing.) But you guys! It is not only a horror movie, it’s actually got a PLOT. And it’s smart and it’s funny and it’s got a lot of Whedonites in it and it’s also got a lot of gore (listen, I’m a sucker for the gore, I admit it) and it’s kept me guessing. And I watch a lot of horror movies, so it’s not easy to surprise me. I should have known Joss Whedon wouldn’t just do a normal horror movie. He’d do it like, well, Joss Whedon. Has Joss Whedon ever let me down? I think not.

Also, I have a weirdo crush on Fran Kranz. It’s his nose, I think. Don’t get me started, I have this weird Roman-nose thing. And this nerdy-boy thing. WE LIKE WHAT WE LIKE, PEOPLE. There’s no accounting for taste.

Tomorrow if I have time I am watching A WHOLE MOVIE ABOUT VIBRATORS. Yup. Which was, in news of ick, highly recommended by my dad. (More so because he likes Maggie Gyllenhaal than anything, I think. I’m going to pretend it’s not for the sex-parts. DAD DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT SEX BECAUSE HE IS DAD AND THEREFORE NO SEX UCK NO NO.) It is called Hysteria. I think it looks kind of awesome. (I like historical things, like how women were treated for lady-problems back in the day by men wielding vibrators, because OF COURSE that fixes everything. Well, kind of probably it made them feel better, but I don’t want some weird clinical doctor diddling around in my lady-business, thanks, ew, yuck.) So that’s tomorrow, if I don’t fall asleep when I get home. It’s a long week.

Oh, also Hugh Dancy? Well, that’s nice. I like that. OK, then.

And THEN, TODAY (it is Thursday, right?) I have a THING happening which is exciting, then the readthrough for The Laramie Project, then MORE WORK ARGH WHAT A WEEK, then Arlo Guthrie yay! Then who knows what the week ahead will hold, really. Life’s just utterly an adventure. SO MUCH HAPPENING. Well, if you consider “an adventure” being “working a whole damn lot, then sleeping so you can do it again.” However, this week’s got less work in it than last week, so every day’s a blessing, I suppose.

OK, this is brief, but I have to get to sleep. Well, I have like three more things to do. THEN I can get to sleep. I always have three more things to do. That’s why I never get enough sleep, to be honest. Those three things to do. DAMN YOU THOSE THREE THINGS TO DO.

Happy Thursday, people. Send those good thoughts, ok? I need ’em this afternoon. OVERWHELM me with them. Send me on my way with so many good thoughts that I can’t even have a single minute of awkwardness or self-doubt. That’d be the best. Thanks so much.

If I’m only charging a nickel, I think I need a new business model, seriously.

Before we start anything else, we need to have a moment of silence for one of my very best friends and a bastion of my sanity: my television. Which, when I turned it on this morning, has no picture. It has sound, but no picture. And there’s a weird electronic burning smell happening around it. And a line through the black screen. I think a line through a black screen with no picture, only sound, is the same as cartoon characters with Xs over their eyes.

I think my television set, which I got for free from friends when I moved, has died. However, I cannot swap it out with the bedroom television because it is too heavy and almost gave my dad a hernia when he moved it in here. He will be SO PLEASED he gets to move it again when he comes up on Sunday. SO SO PLEASED. And before you ask, yes, I already tried banging on the sides of it really hard with my hands. That’s how I fix a lot of things at work. And turning it on and off. And unplugging it and plugging it back in. None of these things worked. I then realized I had spent forty-five minutes that I don’t even have to spend because I have to leave for work soon banging on the stupid television and also I think I broke the dustbuster because it fell on the floor with a crunching sound, so I gave up. And now I am sitting in silence which is DEAFENING. I don’t care for this at all. I like my television to provide background noise for me. I think I’m going to have to go to the bedroom where there is actually television because this is making me itchy.

It wasn’t even as pretty as this. Just one thin line and some sound. And then when I turned it back on, NOTHING. Just a burning smell.

OK, so, because I am IMPRESSIVE, I remembered I have a television set the size of a teeny tiny computer monitor from college in the back of my closet so I SWAPPED THEM OUT. But it’s so old my universal remote doesn’t recognize it so I can’t control the volume, or turn it on or off, unless I get up to do so. So THINK of all the exercise I will be getting! ALL the exercise. Up and down and up and down. AND, yes, I totally picked up the heavy hernia-inducing television set that smelled like burning ALL BY MYSELF. I didn’t move it far. It’s just on the floor. But ALL BY MYSELF! I’m thinking in 14 years I’ll be able to afford a new television set so that’ll be nice. Something to look forward to. (Also, yes, no worries, I unplugged the electric burny-smell television, Andreas. I don’t want an electrical fire. I learned my lesson from your scary fire. I live on the second floor and don’t want to have to jump off the porch.)

NO, it’s not this small. (Dad totally had one of these when I was little!)

Let’s see, what’s up in Amyville. Well, it’s night-shift week. Yesterday, a racist called and said naughty racist words to one of our operators. No, I’m not even kidding. He called back later to apologize but I feel that was only because he realized he wasn’t going to get a call back because the on-call tech was all “nope, not calling THAT guy back, I think he’s unhinged.” We get things like that, once. Ooh, I totally have a story about that. Once, when I first started there and I didn’t realize you could hang up on people who were scary and harassing you (I mean, we don’t hang up on people often, but if they’re being terrible, you can say, “sir/ma’am, if you continue speaking to me in that fashion, I have no recourse but to hang up the phone,” or something) I was answering for some account where the owner was out, but you had to say he was on the other line. We have a few of those – they don’t want the callers to know they’re using an answering service, so you white-lie the callers. I hate that, but what can you do. So I told the caller, “he’s on the other line, let me take a message and he’ll call you back when he’s done.” And he was all, “I’ll hold.” And THEN what do you do? He can’t hold. You’re not in the office. So I was all “Um. No, I’m sorry, sir, I’m not able to have you hold, if I could just take a message…” and he was like, “I said I’d HOLD” and I was like “I’m sorry, sir, we’re really unable to do that here,” and then, THEN, he was all, “You are a dirty nickel whore. Do you like it dirty, you whore? How do you like it. Do you like it…” then he started DESCRIBING ALL THE WAYS A DIRTY NICKEL WHORE MIGHT LIKE IT.

“No, sir. I can’t go lower than a nickel. I’m sorry. I have to pay my rent somehow.”

And I’d only been there a month or two and wasn’t aware that there are ways to deal with such things, so I was all “…” and kind of making a fish-face while he RANTED and then I waved over a supervisor and muted him and was like, “this guy? He is describing all the things a nickel whore like me might like? What do I do?” and she was all SHOCK-FACED and said, “you can HANG UP. No no NO.” So I got off the phone and she was all, “I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” and I could think of nothing to say but “I…didn’t even know that there WERE whores who worked for a nickel. That seems like…not enough money, at all. For a whore. Even a dirty one.” Then I kind of laugh-cried. BUT! I have gotten much better at dealing with such people, and now I use SARCASTIC HUMOR. And I actually made one dirty whore-shouter cry because I asked him if he would call his mother or his sister those names, and he was all “weep weep YOU ARE SO MEAN!” (PS I don’t recommend anyone do this; it was a long day, and that particular caller had called approximately 50 times and had harassed a ton of my lower-level operators and now that I’m supervisor there is very little in the world I dislike more than a caller who harasses beginning-level employees. I don’t like bullies, and he was being a bully. He was also drunk and an asshole, but that’s neither here nor there. Don’t call my beginning operators and harass them. Don’t even. I am very mama-bear protective of them. They shouldn’t have to put up with that shit. They don’t get paid enough to get dirty-talked to. We’re not phone-sex operators, for the love of Pete. If we were, we’d probably be getting paid more. We would, right? How much do phone sex operators get paid, anyway? Not that I’m INTERESTED. I’m asking out of CURIOSITY. I would be TERRIBLE at that. I’d get the giggles. “Oh. What am I wearing? Um. A red…negligee…and…um…I’m sorry. I just can’t. Sweatpants with a spaghetti-sauce stain. I can’t do this. Please call your mom, you’re making me sad.”)

Oh. Um. This…wow. This is who’s answering the phone-sex lines, fellas. IT COULD BE YOUR MOM. In a CARDIGAN.

Oh, quick Dad-story and then I’m outta here like…shit, I don’t know. Something speedy-fast. Speedy Gonzalez, maybe. The roadrunner. The level of my bank account.

Called Dad today. Missed him yesterday. Night-shift and talking to Dad don’t always mix.

Me: I MISSED YOU YESTERDAY! Is it because you hate me?
Dad: Some might say that. Some would be wrong, but they might say that.
Me: Aw. That’s nice.
Dad: I wasn’t home yesterday because I was KILLING TURKEYS.
Me: Is that a euphemism?
Dad: No. There were turkeys, and I killed them.

Me: Were they charging you? Why the turkey-murder?
Dad: SO I CAN EAT THEM. No, they weren’t charging me. I wasn’t in a turkey-store. Ha! GET IT?
Me: Good one, Dad. OK, so that’s kind of awesome, but also sad, because I like turkeys. They make funny underwater gobbling noises.
Dad: You might be the weirdest daughter I have.
Me: Pretty sure I am.
Dad: I killed two turkeys with one bullet, so that’s efficient. They were lined right up.
Me: Imagine if four turkeys were lined up. That’d probably be a world record.
Dad: And illegal. You can only kill two turkeys in the fall and two in the spring.
Me: I like the strange rules that get put on the turkey-slaughter.
Dad: Oh, I killed that wall-mouse, too.
Me: I hope you didn’t shoot it. Mom doesn’t like guns going off in the house.
Dad: No. With a TRAP.
Me: Did you find the trap that the wall-bear stole?
Dad: No. That’s still missing. Probably that wall-bear-monster still has it.
Me: Jim says you have a pigfishbear in your walls.
Dad: I don’t think I do. What’s a pigfishbear.
Me: Something from a nuclear test site, I think.


Dad: Oh, like a mutant. Huh.
Me: You have to kill it with fire.
Dad: I don’t want to burn down my house to kill a pigfishbear. There’s no nuclears here.
Me: Ok, probably just a bear, then.
Dad: Wait, who’s Jim. Is Jim the one who shunned us in Florida?
Me: I told you he didn’t shun us.
Dad: HE IS DEAD TO ME. I don’t want to talk about him anymore.
Me: Man, you are a formidable enemy to have.
Dad: I really am. People should be more scared. Why aren’t people more scared?
Me: I don’t know. Maybe you should grow a big beard and wear a biker-jacket or something.
Dad: I’m not a HELL’S ANGEL. Those are all killers.

Dad*! (*Not really Dad.)

Me: I don’t think all. Just some.
Dad: All. I saw it on the news.

OK, off to work, my little Hostess cupcakes. Have a happy Friday! Almost the weekend, hooray!

When you feel sad, or under a curse; your life is bad, your prospects are worse

Things have been…um…weird lately. Not overly cheerful. I know, I know, no one promised anyone a rose garden. Which is fine. Roses are kind of sneezy anyway. Cliched. I’d rather have some nice tulips. Or daisies. I’m not a smelly-flower fan. Who cares, it’s not like I’m getting all the flowers delivered, why are we even talking about this. I’m firmly in the camp of “flowers just die and then you have to throw ’em away, give me a nice houseplant instead, at least that lasts a few months before its inevitable death from the teeth of Dumbcat.”

Aw, pretty! So cheerful.

So I asked the internet, “internet,” said I, “how can I cheer up? I am grumpy. And sometimes randomly weepy. Because of the worries. And the working a million hours at weird times at my part-time job so my sleep schedule’s all weird.”

The internet was PLEASED to tell me how to be more cheerful! SO CHEERFUL. Thanks, internet!

Look how cheerful Anne Hathaway is! Even though apparently she is standing in a wind tunnel!

This article told me how to “train your brain to be more positive.” Well, that’s going to be helpful. I have a brain! Perhaps my brain is like a recalcitrant puppy and it needs to be trained not to pee on the rug. That’ll be good. I also like that the article ADMITS it sounds corny. And it’s from the Wall Street Journal, too. So that’s reputable! Let’s see what happens.

The things this article says to do:

  • change all your online passwords to positive things like “iam1awesomelaydee” or “iamasuperstar***!”
  • treat yourself like your own best friend
  • focus on the positive, not the negative
  • make yourself pictures and posters and things that are cheerful and hang them up and look at them when you are sad
  • take small breaks during a bad day to improve your bad day (go out for ice cream! go for dinner with a friend!)
  • write down all the things you are grateful for at the end of each day
  • talk out loud to yourself about all the positive things about yourself
  • help your friends with their problems because that will make you forget your own
  • think about your problems rationally; maybe they aren’t real problems at all
  • make a list of things you love doing and do one of them every day
  • make a list of things you hate doing and see which you can stop doing
  • fake being happy; to do this, hold a pencil in your mouth which will make you look like you’re smiling

Um. Well. Some of these things are less stabby than others.

I’m not changing all my passwords again. I just had to change them all recently and I STILL don’t remember them all. I have to try like a million combinations before I can get into my sites. If I changed them to something positive like “iamthekingoftheworld1234!” and then forgot it, I think it would make me MORE depressed. Wouldn’t it? If I couldn’t even remember my positive affirmations? Yes.

LOCK IT DOWN! With positive cheerful words! That will make you SO HAPPY!

I’m all for treating myself like my own best friend. I’m a good friend. Well, I’m a better friend when I have more time to BE a friend, because right now I am one suck of a friend (sorry, friends) but when I have the time to invest and not just throw out a few emails all “I LOVE YOU I MISS YOU I’M SORRY I SUCK,” I do alright. I’d take me as a friend. And I’ve mentioned this before, I know – we’d never treat a friend the way we treat ourselves. We’re always saying to ourselves how stupid and ugly and useless we are (well, women do – do men do this? Or, do they do this as much as women do?) but we would NEVER say this to a friend. Or in some cases, even an enemy. So why are we saying it to ourselves? I’m down with this one, Wall Street Journal.

Ugh, EVERY SELF HELP THING EVER tells you to focus on the positive and not the negative. Here’s the scoop, guru. That’s easier said than done. It’s really easy to be all “isn’t the sun GORGEOUS today?” when you have enough food and money and rest. It is LESS easy to concentrate on the small happy things when you have the weight of the world. And also when you are prone to depression. So, sure, tell me to concentrate on the positive. Keep sayin’ it. And I will smile at you with a lot of teeth and keep doing my best and only hate your face a little bit. I feel the same way about writing down all the things I am grateful for at the end of each day. Yes, yes. I should probably DO it, but it feels a little too hippy-dippy goofy for me and also, as mentioned, I’m not feeling especially grateful at the moment.

I will do my best not to cram your bullhorn up your…ahem. I will do my best.

I’m not doing an arts-and-crafts project and hanging it on my wall. That would not end well. This is not kindergarten. This is my home. What would I even WRITE on the poster? “YOU ARE AWESOME YOU WILL GET A JOB.” And, what, glue macaroni and glitter to it? No. No, I don’t think I will do that. That’s messy and I don’t have time to vacuum. Also, it would throw off the DAY-CORE in here. The DAY-CORE in here is…um…well, I guess it’s not shabby chic. Just shabby, I guess. Shabby and dusty.

Macaroni HAMBURGER! All this would do is make me want a REAL hamburger.

I don’t have time for small breaks and I don’t have money for ice cream or dinner. I have twenty minutes for a sandwich in the breakroom at work and sometimes I have time for breakfast if I wake up in time. What, you think I’m FANCY, Wall Street Journal? Well, this is written for people who have stocks and bonds and shit, I suppose. I don’t have those things. Well, shit, I don’t know. I might. I still have money in my 401(k) and maybe some of that’s in stocks and bonds. I don’t know what that money’s doing. Sitting there waiting for me to get poor enough to pull it out, I suppose.

I’m going to walk around positive-affirmationing under my breath for the next week or so. “I love this weather…my friends are really the best people in the world…at least I don’t have to go back to THAT job again…” and you know what that will accomplish? Making people think I’m out of my mind. Well, at least that will keep people away from me. And I don’t like people, much. So I guess that’s a win, overall.

I am HAPPY to help my friends with their problems. HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT, FRIENDS. However, I don’t think it’s going to make me forget anything going on in my life. I mean, maybe while I’m helping but it’s not like helping gives you amnesia. I don’t think that’s how brains work.

Um…I guess if you’re a kook, you might be making your teeny molehill-problems into mountain-problems. I’m sure I’m guilty of this at one point or another in my life. But this isn’t pertaining at the moment. I’m going to ignore it. I’m going to exercise that right. Sorry, Wall Street Journal.

Make a list of things you love doing and do one every day; make a list of things you hate doing and maybe don’t do some of them. THIS LIST IS EXHAUSTING ME. OK, I have enough time to do EXACTLY what I’m doing every day and nothing else. End of story. And things I hate doing? Um. I don’t love doing the dishes, but I think it’d be slightly catastrophic, vermin-wise, if I stopped doing them. Also, I think eventually I’d run out of dishes. It’s not like I have an infinite amount of them.

Not my dishes. I do mine every day, actually. I’m weird about there being dirty dishes in my sink. It’s a fairly recent obsession.

BUT! Then we get to the LAST tip, and YES! there we go. I’ve been doing it ALL WRONG! I need to be walking around with a pencil in my mouth! Which will be hard to keep there while I’m talking to myself, but I WILL PERSEVERE. (Honestly, I don’t know if faking happy makes you happy, but it fools people into thinking you are, because people see what they want to see. So if you don’t want people to know you’re depressed, just put on a happy face, like the song says. Works about 99% of the time. The only people it doesn’t fool are your closest friends and your worst enemies because they know you the best. No, seriously! Your closest friends obviously know you the best, but your worst enemies keep an eye on you – it’s the nature of enemy-ship – so they notice. It’s a weird thing, I’m sure someone has an explanation for it.)

Well! What have we learned today, apple dumplings? Apparently being cheerful is mind over matter and you have to trick yourself. Which is probably easier said than done if you are a., unintelligent or b., not filled with genetically-transmitted depression. So now I’m going to make myself a posterboard with ALL THE GLITTER AND MACARONI WORDS that spells out “LIFE IS SO SO AWESOME ZOMG” and that’ll fix it.

The article also said not to fall back on chocolate to boost your mood. I think the best tip was the one it told you not to do and I’m going to eat some chocolate now.

(Title’s from Godspell. Talk about your hippy-crunchy-granola things. I loves me some Godspell, yo. Check this out. Who’s that playing Jesus? Yep. Victor effing Garber, is who.)

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