Category Archives: thank you

One step closer to world domination through poetry.

I got another one of the crazy-awesome escort-spams today and this time I remembered to save it. Ready?

Hi , men ! IT is a high time to tell important info you. We have discovered real paradise of lovely playmates . They won’t be equalize with others for the reason that they are ideal . Just see them on scotland escorts dot com.

Scotland escorts! I found Italian escorts easier to believe. Scotland escorts, however, I find easier to accept. They’d be more down-to-earth, and would have the best accents. I am a sucker for a Scottish burr, even more so than an Italian accent. Do you think these people have MALE Scottish escorts? WOULD HE LOOK LIKE JAMIE FRASER? I’m sure as hell not clicking on that link to find out, or anything. I even made it not clicky because I don’t want you to get spammed and also I don’t want them to get hits or anything.

Listen, this Scot can escort me anytime. ANY OLD TIME AT ALL.

I also like that they won’t “equalize with others.” I also often won’t equalize with others, much to my detriment.

It is MONDAY and I am writing this for tomorrow. I slept like a CHAMP last night. Seven and a half hours! I only woke up because I had to pee. Stupid bladder. I think I could have slept at least another hour. I did a project this morning while still in pajamas, I am currently doing laundry, once that’s done I will buy FOOD (Dumbcat says, “Mom, can you also buy ME some food, we’re down to CRUMBS here” and I say to him, “YES BABE”) and then I will finish this and watchboth last night’s The Amazing Race so I can talk about it with sj and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close before it’s due back at the library and I assume cry my face off because I’m not good at 9/11 movies but I do like Tom Hanks and also a good cry. Don’t you just feel so clean after a good cry? I think it’s the human equivalent of being hung on the line like wet laundry and then being brought in all clean and dry and smelling like the wind.

OK, before we start…whatever it is I’m going to write about today (haven’t the foggiest, to be honest) we have to discuss a VERY EXCITING THING.

So I woke up and the most amazing sj informed me that my book had made it to the next round of voting on the Goodreads reader choice awards thingy that we talked about a few weeks ago.


Here’s the thing. My book wasn’t one of the selected books for people to vote for. There were pictures of the covers of the selected books, and then there was a teeny box at the bottom where you could write in a book if you wanted. And it wasn’t EASY to write in a book. I know this because I totally voted for myself. DO NOT JUDGE it’s not like you wouldn’t have done the same thing for yourself, were you in the same position. I’d do it if I was running for president, too, if I thought I deserved the position. (I don’t know that I DESERVE the award, but I WANT it, dammit.)

This, to me, is the equivalent of Mickey Mouse winning for president. (You know how everyone always says, “I’m voting for MICKEY MOUSE!” when they don’t like any of the choices? I wonder how many people actually do this.) Because people like the easy way out. And the easy way out is always going to be the name written on the ballot, or the book whose cover is right there in front of them, not the extra step that’s needed to fill out a box (also, it seems like a moot point to write a name in a box, because you’re like, “Well, THIS doesn’t stand a chance of winning, should I really throw away my vote here?”)

You all got me into the second round of this thing. You did this. Every single one of you who voted. I am so humbled and blown away by this. Enough of you voted for me in the little write-in box that you got my book bumped up to the higher “there’s my cover, yo” status in the next round. Twenty people made it into this round; only ten make it into the finals.

I totally had tears over this today. I can’t even wrap my mind around it. How am I so lucky? How did this happen? This isn’t something that happens to me. This is something that happens to someone else. I don’t get things like this. I just don’t.

But now that I did…well, let’s see, just for fun, how far we can take this little engine that could. You can click here, or click on the fancy widget the nice people from Goodreads emailed me today in my sidebar on the right over there (I GOT OFFICIAL CONGRATS EMAIL FROM GOODREADS!!!) and you can vote to get me on to the…finals? I think the next step is the finals. Yep, it is. ONLY TEN MOVE ON. What do you think, can we get this to the finals? This is very exciting. I think the last time I was in the finals of anything was the junior-high spelling bee. DAMN YOU OPPOBRIUM!

LEAF CONEYBEAR! If you know who this is you win. What do you win? My love and affection, of course.

Just got my hours for the coming week. It…um…looks like last week. Lots of hours, some overtime. Lots of exhaustion, I assume, as well. But I don’t have as many nighttime things to do this week, so it won’t be AS exhaustive. Only two things to do in the evenings this week – first read-through for The Laramie Project and seeing ARLO GUTHRIE ON SATURDAY AAAHHH! I might be a little excited about that one. I have very good seats. And I have never seen one of his concerts where I didn’t leave with the biggest smile. I love him the most. He always puts on a great show and it’s always so joyous and he tells the best stories and the high-school Amy who still lives in my heart is so happy when grown-up Amy takes her to Arlo concerts, I can’t even tell you.

I will see you soon, Arlo! I’ll be the one grinning like a moron right front and center!

Anyway, ANYWAY, I will be quite busy and worky this week as I was last week but maybe not AS insane. But I will not have time for my loved ones again, and that makes me sad. I like when I have plenty of time for my people because as much as I need to be working because it helps my wallet my people help my SOUL and you really need both your wallet and your soul healthy, I think. Sorry, people. I am thinking of you all the time. Oh, also, Dumbcat? Dumbcat, I am also thinking of YOU all the time, and your little furry face.

I also have a potentially exciting top-secrety thing happening this week which we may or may not be discussing at some point in the future, so that’s exciting and also secret. Shh. No more on that. Just like a spy, I am. Just…keep your fingers crossed for me this week? For some as-yet unascertained reason? Thanks. You’re the best. If you can randomly get me into the next round of the Goodreads awards maybe your collective finger-crossing can give me what I need to make the magic happen. We can only hope.

OK. This isn’t so long, but I have one more post to write today before I finish my day, and I have lots to say in that one, too, so if I say too much HERE, I’m going to run short on WORDS. That could be CATASTROPHIC. An Amy without words? What would happen? It’d be like a bird without song! A Dumbcat without running into walls with his brain-area!

Happy Tuesday, everyone. I love your faces. Thank you for continuing to be the best people I know, and for being MY people. I have people. The best people. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Thank you.

There’s not a word yet for old friends who’ve just met.

I told my dad I was going to write this post and he was all, “I wouldn’t do that.”


(Dad thinks “I wouldn’t do that” is funny and says it a lot about many things. Pretty much the only things he would do that I do are work, sleep, eat, and watch television, but not the particular shows I watch.)

This is a very prestigious day in Amy-land, and in Lucy’s Football-land. Therefore, it gets a whole post ALL UNTO ITSELF.

I was thinking the other day, I’m pretty sure November’s an important month, but I can’t figure out what DAY, exactly, is the important DAY in November. But THEN I was talking to sj (it was sj’s bloggiversary the other day, HAPPY BLOGGIVERSARY MY SJ!!!) and realized that, by searching through old blog comments, you could figure out when exactly you started talking to someone, and therefore you could figure out WHAT DAY YOU FIRST MET THEM.

So therefore using this logic I figured out my sjversary is February 25. I told her I was expecting roses.

So, I did some investigative research, and it actually ended up that my timing could not have been better, because I did the search on the 12th, and the day I was looking for was the THIRTEENTH. If I had waited just ONE DAY TO DO THIS, I would have been too late.

I like anniversaries. I like to know when things happened and to celebrate accordingly. I like to look back on the time that has passed between THEN and NOW and think, huh, a whole year has passed, isn’t that something?

So. Here is a story. Ready?

Once upon a year ago today, in a kingdom nowhere near the sea, lived a blogger named Amy. Amy the blogger didn’t (doesn’t) have any idea what she was doing, but she had many lovely readers and wrote posts that seemed to be received well and she was having a hell of a time and people seemed to be laughing at what she wrote so that was nice.

One day, her Twitter friend Lisa, one of the funiest humans she knows virtuallyinspired her to write a post about how to not be an asshat on Twitter.

Now, this is a very funny post. The blogger named Amy just re-read it and laughed all over again. Someday the blogger named Amy hopes she will regain her mental stability enough to be that funny again, or at least the free time to THINK of things that are that funny again. She holds out hope that she will.

Anyway, the post is not the point. (Although if you haven’t read it, the blogger named Amy totally still stands by that advice. It’s still sound advice.)

One year ago today, from what the blogger named Amy can tell based on VERY scientific research, is the day that two people who have become two of her most nearest and dearest friends in the entire world first commented on her blog, which, in that magic way that sometimes happened, led to them talking more and more and the rest, as they say, is HISTORY.

Now, these two people (I think, it’s not like Twitter keeps track of such things) were her friends on Twitter before they started reading her blog and commenting therein. Thereon? There. Commenting THERE. Anyway. From what the blogger named Amy can remember, she became friends with these people around this time on Twitter, so the date might not be EXACT, but since this is an actual date she can pin down, and it just happens it seems to be the EXACT FIRST TIME that BOTH of them commented (what are the odds that the two of them would comment on the same day? Huh) then this is the day we’re celebrating.

One year ago today?

Andreas and Ken day.


Shut up, I’m totally sentimental, when I realized that it made me all KINDS of weepy.

Now you can tune out if you want to, but this is a VERY important day, so I’m totally going to sap it all up in this joint about the two of them, so if you don’t like to get the sappy all over you (YES that is probably a EUPHEMISM) then you can come back tomorrow, we’re talking about…um, wait, let me see…awards and cats and work, I think.

But right now, we’re sappin’ it up. So let’s sap it.

I’m starting with Andreas. He commented first.

Andreas is wonderful and one of the most intelligent people I know and funny and kind and caring and considerate and he SAYS he hates people but for someone that hates people he really is very good with them. (I don’t know if he so much hates people. He just, like me, has very little time or energy for stupidity. I can appreciate that.)

I liked Andreas from the beginning, which I think would surprise him, because, much like me, he doesn’t immediately assume people will dig him. I liked how he spoke very intelligently and I liked how he would think about things before replying and I liked that he always knew (KNOWS) the answers to things, but is never rude about telling them to you. He’s always very kind about telling you things, even when I’m sure he’s thinking “man, THAT’S a stupid question.”

Andreas is a scientist. How many scientists do you know? Probably not very many. He’s not currently PRACTICING science, but I don’t think you just STOP being a scientist. Also, randomly, I will find out amazing things about him, like he one time discovered a new species and then got to name it, or spent time in…now I’ve forgotten, Andreas, was it the Amazon or something? Bolivia? Something exciting like that. And he just throws it in there. “Oh, yes, that year I spent in Bolivia…”

Andreas has lived eleventy-billion lives and he’s only barely older than I am. I find that utterly fascinating.

Andreas, when I met him, was living on the Isle of Man, but somehow I got in my head that he lived in Finland (he probably said he was Finnish somewhere and so I used my Jumping to Conclusions mat, I do that a lot) and so for the longest time I told everyone I had this new friend in Finland, but then he said he lived on the Isle of Man so when I told Dad that, he decided Andreas he was a spy and he was lying about where he lived and WHAT ELSE MIGHT HE BE LYING ABOUT. (He has since started to grudgingly trust “the spy” which makes me happy.)

Then Andreas moved BACK to Finland so I could OFFICIALLY say I had a friend in Finland.

Andreas has a lovely fianceé and two beautiful children and he lives on an island and he has a fancy job where they give him ice cream on Fridays and sometimes they fly him to Helsinki and he promises to send me photos so I can see Helsinki because I love to vicariously bon vivant with my people. He also said I could come live on his couch if Romney won and I don’t even think he was kidding. And he wants me to move to Scandinavia, which I will never do, but is that the nicest thing you’ve ever heard? Someone who wants you to move across the world so you will live closer to them? Yes. And he sends me email that makes me smile and he used to have Klout in typos and he only minded a LITTLE bit if I picked on him about that and he writes one of the most intelligent blogs you’ve ever read in your life.

Also, he is very handsome and has a wonderful smile. Sorry, Andreas, I’m stealing this from you, people need to see your handsome mug.

And he is my Science Fellow. And he always answers my science questions and he comments on my blog and his comments make me smile every single time.

And before a year ago, I didn’t even know him, and that makes me both sad and happy; sad that I haven’t known him longer, and happy that I know him now and get to know him for the rest of my life. (Oh. Sorry, Andreas, you’re stuck with me now. Hope that’s peachy with you.)

Andreas is one of my most favorite people. Happy Andreasversary to you, Andreas! Thank you for commenting on my blog which led to me reading YOUR blog and then the magic of friendship happened. If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I would do. My life is meant to be lived with you in it.

Now let’s talk about Ken. It’s Ken’s day, too, you know. Who could forget about Ken? Certainly not me.

I’ve mentioned before, I didn’t WANT to be friends with Ken. Ken was the tea-guy and Ken was the jaunt-off-around-the-world guy and what the hell was I going to talk to THIS guy about, anyway? But, sometimes, people surprise you. That’s the best kind of surprise.

Ken is my secret sibling. I could probably end this post with this sentence and it really would totally sum up the past year of knowing Ken, but since when have I ever quit while I’m ahead? I have all these WORDS in my BRAIN and they have to get OUT.

However, for all the words I have in my brain, I don’t know that I have the words to talk about Ken. Well, not and do him any justice. There aren’t words that can describe Ken. Ken is…Ken. Ken is secret sibling. That’s all. Well, no. That’s not ALL. That’s…a lot. That’s more than a lot.

Luckily, I have permission to steal from Ken. This is EXCITED Ken. I assume he’s excited it’s his Kenniversary.

What can you say about someone like Ken? I don’t even know where to begin.

Ken is one of the greatest writers I know. Without the slightest bit of hyperbole or exaggeration or any of those fancy vocabulary words I like so much. Ken uses words like great artists use paint or musicians use instruments or actors use their voices and their bodies. And the best part is? HE HAS NO IDEA HE’S THIS GOOD. No, I’m very serious. He really doesn’t. Every time I tell him he’s just so pleased. And then he tells me it’s just because I’m biased. (And he’s always saying how he’s not so humble but that’s a total lie.)

Ken can, I’m quite sure, do absolutely anything, if he decides he wants to do it. He is a wonderful musician and photographer; I’m fairly sure, if he decided tomorrow he was going to start carving a life-size statue or something, it would be kind of the most brilliant thing. They have a name for that, right? Renaissance man. I think Ken might be one of the last remaining Renaissance men.

One time Ken went to the zoo and made a lion-face. HE MADE A LION-FACE. Is there much better than this? I don’t think there is.

Ken is the kind of person who, if you email him what you THINK is a completely off-the-wall scheme, will respond with, “ok. Yes. Absolutely. Let’s do that.” AND HE MEANS IT. He thinks about everything he does. This is what makes him the best bon vivant; everything is an adventure with him. He’s got the best sense of childlike wonder I’ve ever encountered in an adult. It makes you just utterly gleeful. It makes you proud to know him. It makes you proud that he chose you to know.

Ken has also lived a million lives before the one he’s living now. He’s like a puzzle box and he’s like an apothecary chest and there’s always something else opening and there’s always something more coming out. He’s like a book you’ve never read and more and more and more story keeps adding to the story you already know making the current story richer and better and what’s best is, I’m quite sure the story doesn’t end. And it’s the best book ever.

Ken and I are quite sure we’re secretly related; we find a million things all the time that are kind of spookily similar and it’s always one of those “oh, well, holy shit” moments, or, at least it WAS, for a while, but now it’s just become kind of one of those things. Like, “oh, well, of COURSE Ken’s always done this one thing and I have too. Because, well, secret siblings.” But it always gives me that happy chest-thrill. I’ve always wanted a secret sibling. And now I have the best one ever, so sometimes you DO get what you want, you know?

Ken makes me laugh until I cry and sometimes just cry until I cry and challenges me to think about things that I’ve never thought about before and listen to music that I didn’t know existed and shows me cities I never thought I’d get to see and he is THOUGHTFUL and he is KIND and he is GOOD and he is INTELLIGENT and he is one of the bravest people I know and he deserves every single happiness in the world and he is of the goats and he knows about euphemisms and he knows when I need things before I even know I need them and he understands that you can’t carry things alone and he got me through tax season last year by being the most supportive human being alive and he was the first person to email me after I got fired telling me everything was going to be alright and I am so, so blessed to have him in my life.

Haven’t we had a year, Ken? We so have.

And the winner of Amy’s favorite Ken-photo ever is: this one. And listen. LISTEN. There are a LOT of them. Like, I’m not even exaggerating when I say there might be thousands. This one makes me happier than happy.

And here’s the thing: I could have missed him. I could have just decided, no. No, I don’t think I’ll spend the time necessary to get to know this person; I have a lot going on in my life, and, as mentioned, what could I possibly have in common with this person? Nothing. Or, even MORE horrifying: he could have not liked me at ALL. There might not have been that click and we’d just have gone our separate ways. That happens, too, you know. It’s not like you’re best of friends with everyone you meet online. That’s not how online works.

And that makes me sad, and also makes me think that maybe, just maybe there is a plan at work in the world that we are not privy to, and why would we be, because we are small, and we are insignificant, because what are the odds, in all the world (no, most sincerely, Ken’s just about on the opposite side of things), that I would somehow find my secret sibling all that way away? Without a little push? Without a little bit of help?

A year ago, I didn’t know these two people; a year ago, if you had said either of these names to me, I would have just shaken my head with a blank look in my eyes, because they’d have been strangers to me.

Now: well, now. I have my Andreas, and I have my Ken. And I am a very lucky woman. And (shh, you thought that was squishy? Look away now, then) I just love these two men so much. They are so, so special to me. They make every single day better, just having them there, just knowing they’re there, and that they get me.

Here’s to many more November 13ths, guys. Here’s to a whole lifetime of them. Someday, how about we do this friendship-thing in person, yeah? I’d like that. I’d like that a lot. Let’s do some real-life bon vivantery one of these days before we become too old for it and we have to do it from Hoverounds or in walkers or something.

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I say often I have the best friends in the world. Here’s the proof.

I’m not ever letting either of you go now. Just prepare yourselves, ok? Good. Good, good.

(Title is from Jim Henson; I discovered it about six months ago, and ferreted it away like a shiny thing and saved it for today. True story.)

VOTER FRAUD! (Perhaps a slight exaggeration.)

Oh, the election? What’s that? What election?

Do I have a STORY about the election? Well, I do have a story about that. Sure I do. Since when do I not have a story about something?

I woke up early on Tuesday to vote. REALLY early. I already get up early this week and I got up earlier than early. I wanted to vote before work because after work I had to go to auditions. So I got up early, and I went on over to the polling place. Which is one of our local elementary schools. And I went in, and I went to my little table (and saw handsome friend R., who gave me a delicious hug and he always smells SO GOOD and we both agreed we were voting for the right person and he was all “we will celebrate tonight!” and I said, “Oh, R., I hope so, I so hope so”) and then I got my sheet (I was number 62, and I’m pretty sure that’s a very good number) and I went to my little cubby which was all tippy and cheap and one of the legs wasn’t long enough and I scribbled in my bubbles and I double and triple-checked that I filled in ALL the bubbles and then I went on over to the Scantron machine.

Pretty prestigious, right?

The woman in front of my was VERY BUSY and in a hurry. So she just popped her sheet in the machine and walked off all busy tappy feet. And after she left and before the lady waved me up to the machine, the busy lady’s ballot popped on out of the Scantron machine with a very annoying beeping noise.

The polling place lady was all “URGHHHHH” and went over and jammed it back into the machine. It popped out and beeped. Tried again. Popped out and beeped. Over and over. She was NOT amused. The line of people ready to scan their trons was getting pretty long.

Finally, she was all, “Ugh, THIS isn’t going to work. YOUR TURN,” to me, and walked away from the machine with the woman’s ballot.

Stupid ballot. Who cares about this ballot? NO ONE CARES.

“Um…that’s…that woman’s ballot isn’t going to work?” I said.

“Nope. Go,” she said.

“What…happens to her ballot?” I said.

She just rolled her eyes and waved in an annoyed fashion at the machine. I WAS HOLDING UP THE LINE.

So, with this undecided ballot-thing hanging over my head, I walked up to the faulty Scantron machine and put in my ballot.

“YOU’RE DONE NOW, BYE,” she said.

Now, I knew I wasn’t done. The machine, once it accepts your ballot, gives you a cheery “Your ballot has been counted, thank you” message. First, she was still standing there holding that woman’s PRESIDENTIAL EFFING BALLOT in her hand. Not even in its privacy folder. (Doesn’t “privacy folder” sound fancy? It’s a legal-sized manila folder, there’s nothing fancy about it.) Just hanging all out. Anyone could have seen that woman’s vote. AND SHE DIDN’T EVEN SEEM TO CARE. Then, THEN, she was trying to HURRY me, so MY ballot wasn’t going to count.

(I know this isn’t voter fraud, but there has to be some sort of name for what this is. Pollworker malaise? I don’t know. Whatever it is, IT IS WRONG AND I AM FURIOUS.)

Well, I think you can guess how well I took her pushing me around, right?

I never outgrew this stage of development. Sorry, childhood.

“I am not done,” I said.

“You’re done,” she said. She walked over, that woman’s ballot flapping in her hand.

At that moment, the machine came up with its “Your vote has been counted, thank you!” message. I looked at it. I looked at her in triumph.

“NOW I’m done,” I said, and I strolled out of the school.


Oh, wait, I’m not even done. I have more.

So, I was petrified on Tuesday. All day long. So, so scared. Of course I was. I know. I KNOW. People have good points, like “what really changes, once we get a new president?” and “both candidates were…well, pretty shitty, objectively” and one of my coworkers was all, “Amy. WE WORK AT AN ANSWERING SERVICE. How is who the president is going to affect us? Seriously? We’re the poor people that presidents hate, you know?” and he’s kind of right. But also, Romney and Ryan hated my uterus. And my gay friends. And I didn’t want to live in a country run by them. So, I was petrified. For all of his faults, Obama likes the ladies. And he’s got no beef with the gays.

Well, shit, if I had seen this, I wouldn’t have freaked out!

So before I went to bed (way too late, auditions went way overtime, but we cast the show, and MAN do I wish you all lived closer, our Laramie Project is going to be AMAZING, one audition piece made me CRY, and that was just the AUDITION) I emailed three of my nearest and dearest who I knew were going to be awake until the bitter end, because I couldn’t stay up any more. I had to get up at 5:30am, and staying up until who-knows-how-long to see who won was a very bad idea for me, sleeping-wise, considering I’d had very little sleep the night before. So I said, “dear people I love, you will be awake. I need to go to bed. I can’t handle going on Facebook or Twitter tomorrow morning until I know who wins. So please, if you love me, email me once you know who wins. If it’s the right person, just say, ‘you’re ok, Amy, all’s well, you can go on the internet again.’ And if not, please break the news kindly. I think I can take it if it comes from you. Love love love.”

(I didn’t say it this succinctly. I did it more rambly-like. They still love me. Hence the “nearest and dearest” monikers.)

Then I went to sleep. But I didn’t really go to sleep, because I tossed and I turned and the cat kept bothering me and I couldn’t sleep because of the MARES of NIGHT and I kept waking up and I should have just checked the damn phone but I was afraid if the results hadn’t come in I’d be in a worse situation, or what if the wrong person won? So I didn’t. Just kept tossing and turning. All night long.

Then I crawled out of bed when the alarm went off and looked at the phone all balefully. I was afraid to check it. So I started to get ready for work. WITHOUT CHECKING THE PHONE. I never start my day without checking the phone. It’s the first thing I do every morning. I was too scared.

So I got all ready for work.

Still too scared.

Then I made fed Dumbcat, who was blissfully ignorant of what was happening and just dorby-dorbing around.

Still too scared.

Then I finally sat on the couch and said, you check the phone, you dummy.

All the email.

Three of them I couldn’t see what they were about. One started with “Don’t worry, Amy” so that could have gone either way. One just had the subject line of “Okay” so again, could have gone either way. One said “YAY!” but MAYBE THAT WAS A TRICK. My people are sarcastic (and I love ’em for it), so who knows? (My phone only gives you a very brief preview of what’s happening in the email.)

And one said something I’m not going to say because, well, it’s my personal email and therefore NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, but it made it VERY CLEAR, based on the person who’d sent it, that I was going to be ok.

And I whooped.

Then I wept.

And I scared the cat.

And I wept some more.

And I read my email, every last bit of it, and all my tweets, while sniveling.

I love you guys. Thank you.

Listen, it wasn’t much of a victory. 2 million popular votes as of 2:30pm Wednesday. That’s better than the results I first heard – 50,000 popular votes. But still. 2 million. That’s not a huge margin. There are a lot of people out there who are not happy with who won. My dad’s one of them. He and I can’t even discuss this. He’s so upset, and I don’t rub salt in the wound, you know? (He would have, were the tables turned, but that’s neither here nor there. We’re different people.)

Do I think the best person won? Yes. But think about this – who the hell would WANT the position? Mom and I were talking about this tonight. It’s a TERRIBLE job. People HATE you. People want to KILL you. You age insane amounts, you have so much pressure on you, no one likes anything you do, you have to deal with so much shit all the time – what a horrible job. You couldn’t pay me enough money, seriously.

Anyway. Four more years until I have to go through this again. I don’t think my heart can take it.

Clinton/Gillibrand 2016, anyone?


Everybody’s got the right to some sunshine. (Not the sun, but maybe one of its beams.)

I have a lot of ground to cover in this post. It’s going to be ALL OVER THE PLACE. Then I have to try to write two more today. That’s…a lot of writing, kitty. (I randomly say “kitty” after things sometimes. I think I got it from South Park. I don’t know.) Also, there is one picture and one video in this post. I know. I just DID NOT HAVE THE TIME TO DO MORE. Please forgive.

OK, so anyway, I have to watch a movie because it’s due back at the library today, then I have to go to the library, then I have to come back and write MORE and also change the cat litter because poor Dumbcat, then I have to say my goodbyes to people, and then…oh, wait, the goodbyes? Don’t jump the gun, I’m getting there.

OK. So…in order for this to make sense, we have to go BACK IN TIME. (I can’t say “back in time” without thinking of Back to the Future. Probably will still be thinking that way when I’m 90. Do you think I’ll be alive when I’m 90? MAN, that’s a long time from now. Can you even IMAGINE how crabby I’ll be when I’m 90?)

Once upon a time, I was a young thing. (No, seriously, it’s totally true.) I went to a college where all my people were theater people. I loved my theater people. (I still love my theater people, that shouldn’t have been the past tense.) We did a lot of shows. A LOT of shows. I was working on probably 2 or 3 shows at a time for all 4 years. I didn’t sleep a lot. I didn’t care. I was having the best time ever. So many shows and so many wonderful people and so much love. Classes? Oh, shit, yeah, I guess I went to those too, sometimes. Whatever. I mean, I GRADUATED, with a very respectable GPA, I must have attended SOME classes.

A couple years after I arrived, my most theater-intelligent friend D. (no, seriously, I have never in my life known someone, and still don’t know anyone, who knows more about theater) decided to direct a musical I’d never heard of. (Well, wee-Amy had not heard of a LOT of musicals. She grew up in the boonies, remember.) “It’s about presidential assassins, Amy,” he said. “You’re going to love it.”

I thought, no. Probably I’m not. I mean, musicals shouldn’t be about KILLERS. What the hell? This is weird.

Then opening night happened and OH HOLY SHIT.

I’ve mentioned Assassins here like a billion times. It’s my favorite musical of all time. And at this point in my life, I’ve seen a lot of musicals. A LOT OF MUSICALS. Because I love them.

D.’s production of Assassins was fantastic. I’ve seen a lot of productions since, but this one stands out for me as the best one ever. Which, listen, it probably wasn’t. It was a college production with barely a budget and everyone was like 18-21 years old and I think everyone had more enthusiasm than talent (well, except for one guy, who seriously was, and remains, one of my favorite people to have ever seen on a stage, ever) but in my head? It’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen. Ever, ever. It ran over a couple weekends and I watched it a couple times, maybe even three, and I just fell crazy crazy in love with the show. I was heartbroken I hadn’t been able to work on it. It’s one of my big regrets.

I have since worn out my Assassins CD because it’s my road-trip music, and watched it every single time it’s come anywhere near me, wherever I live (some productions better than others) and oh, how much did I want to see it with Neil Patrick Harris when it was on Broadway? The most. Couldn’t afford it, of course, but oh, I wanted to.

It’s my favorite show ever. Out of all the shows. Ever, ever.

One of our local theater groups is doing the show. It opens Friday. One of the people who runs that group is one of my favorite humans. A. texted me last night and I of course didn’t see it until like 1 am because I don’t go to bed at a normal time on days I don’t have to get up in the morning. “Huge favor?” asked friend A.

Woke up this morning and had email from friend A., who had been sleeping when I FINALLY responded to his text. Like a normal person with a job does. “So…we need a light board op for Assassins. Please?”

I am underemployed and the only time I have to relax is the few hours when I get home and also that’s when I write HERE and talk to my PEOPLE and BREATHE a little and I looked at my calendar and thought, no. This is stupid. You can’t say yes to this. This is the absolute worst time ever to commit to a show.

And then I thought of friend A., who is genuinely one of the best people I know and also makes me laugh until I cry sometimes. And I thought of Assassins, and how twenty years ago, the only thing I ever wanted to do was work on Assassins. And I thought, you know, you can plan and plan and plan, but sometimes, the things that are the best in the world happen when you deviate from the plan. The unexpected things. The startlingly wonderful things.

So I emailed friend A. and said, “You can have me every day but November 1 and 3. Still want me?”

“Can you be here starting tonight?” friend A. responded immediately.

So this is why I will be saying goodbye to people for about a week or so, because I will be working all day (THANK YOU JOB, for working around my insane schedule this week! I love you so much!) and then running home quickly and eating and then running over to Troy (oh, this theater, you guys. This theater. It is BEAUTIFUL, I wish I could find a photo to show you) and working with some wonderful people on my most favorite show ever. So, 19-year-old-Amy, I’m doing something you wanted to do, all those years ago. That’s pretty awesome, right? Yes. You are WELCOME, 19-year-old Amy. Always looking out for you, babe.

Thank you, friend A. I know you were all “THANK YOU THANK YOU YOU SAVED OUR ASSES” but really, this is kind of a dream of mine. Will I be all stressy this week? Yes. But will I also be happy this week (and a little of next?) Yes. Yes, I will.

And I get to listen to people singing Assassins songs to me, live, over and over, for two weeks straight. I have the best seat in the house. For two weeks straight. Is there anything better than that? I don’t know if there is.

So. What does this mean for the old bloggy blog on over here? Don’t know, honestly. I’d like to say things’ll be fine, but I can’t see that they will. I think probably there are going to be days where there aren’t posts here. I KNOW! What WILL you do? I might have time to write a couple paragraphs just letting you know I’m alive, but I can’t imagine there will be more time than that. Not until…oh, let’s say next Sunday, anyway. Because today…well, today, here it’s Tuesday. In your world, it’s Thursday. I have tech rehearsal the next three days until late and work all day leading up to tech. Then the show opens Friday. Then work then show. So…well, I’m thinking you might not get a real post Friday and Saturday. Things should go back to normal after that.

Don’t worry. I’m fine and I’m dandy and I’m having the time of my life, no doubt. Just no time to write anything, and busy making the people onstage look pretty with all the lights.

Oh, ok, before I go, one more thing. I didn’t tell you about the end of the blog book tour, and then the couple things that happened after that ended. SO, let’s do that before I go.

Posts that I haven’t talked about yet:

Heather at Between the Covers had a guest post from me where I talk about a gorgeous Margaret Atwood poem;

Lori at TNBBC had a post where she said the nicest things ever about my book and then you get to listen to me talking about where my inspiration comes from and then read one of the poems from my book out loud with my mouth;

Serena at Savvy Verse and Wit reviewed my book

and then she had a post where you can see my smiling face as I read you two poems, one from the book and one brand-new and never-before-seen.

And then I thought the tour was done, and it was just the best week, and I was all weepy all week because that was a lot of concentrated love in all one week. And I thanked everyone profusely on Twitter (and SPECIAL thanks to my wonderful Susie, who orchestrated the whole love-fest) and she said something like, “Oh. Maybe it’s not done yet” and I said, “whaaa? No, I saw the schedule, it’s done, isn’t it? Did I forget to thank someone? I’m such an asshole, who’d I forget” and she was all cagey and I was like “Ooh, surprises!” and then I worked a million hours and promptly forgot that we’d even had that conversation because that’s what I do.

But then I was at work on Sunday and I went out for a break and had a tweet from her all SURPRISE and she and Ken had conspired on this secret post where Ken took the book bon vivanting and I totally broke down weeping in the parking lot. Unexpected kindnesses get me. I don’t get them a lot, and it was a long week, and Ken took my book PLACES and this was a whole THING that he and Susie had PLANNED and neither of them TOLD me and so I got all weepy because seriously? Seriously? How am I so lucky? How do I know these amazing people? I got this whole week just for my book, and then this? Shush, I’m getting weepy again.

Then, even though the week was technically over, the hits just kept coming! Because Elaine was inspired by one of my poems, the one that Heather posted, and painted a painting inspired by it. A painting! Inspired by one of my poems! Listen, THAT’S something, right? I’m not artsy – far from it – and artsy people just AWE me. This made me so happy, I can’t even explain.

And then, my wonderful Lisa (Lisa will always always ALWAYS be one of my favorite people in the whole world, because Lisa is the one who said, “Here, please meet these people, their names are Andreas and Ken, I think you’ll like them” and I DID. Well, Andreas I did. Ken I didn’t, right away. No. It’s not that I didn’t LIKE him. It’s that I didn’t give him a CHANCE. That’s a whole story. I told that once, on Ken’s tea blog. I totally didn’t follow Ken back for like ever, because I checked out his Twitter feed and I was all, “This is a guy who likes tea and is a billionaire who jets off to like FLORENCE and NICE whenever he feels like it. What the hell would this guy and I have in common? I won’t have anything to talk about with this guy. I’m not following this guy.” Luckily, Ken was persistent, as was Lisa, and I finally was all “FINE I will FOLLOW him he keeps TWEETING me and I’m being RUDE” and, as you know, the rest is bon-vivanty history and come to find out we’re secret siblings, after all, and isn’t life a funny thing, sometimes? Yes, yes it is) read my book and wrote this post and it is just gorgeous. That last full paragraph is just tear-inducingly beautiful. The woman can write, you guys. Well, you probably already knew that. But here’s further proof.

I will be (when I get two seconds to breathe) adding all these  links to my “I wrote a book!” tab up there so they’re there for ALL POSTERITY soon. Promise.

I will always and forever be the girl who doesn’t think she deserves nice things. That’s not going to change. So when they happen, they hit me in a way they don’t hit other people. Right in the heart-area. Thank you, one and all, for participating. You have no idea what it means to me. Not even a little bit. Thank you thank you thank you.

OK. Whoa, this is long, and I didn’t write THREE posts today, I wrote ONE. Huh. Dammit. I did finish my movie, though. It was Wanderlust with Paul Rudd and Jennifer Aniston and it was hilarious and I highly recommend it. OK, I have to eat and run errands and then off to the theater with me. To see MY Assassins for the first time. Tonight I’m just watching. I’m seriously tummy-butterfly-ey. It’s my favorite show, you guys. My favorite show ever.

(Oh, psst, Ken takes off for London today. I’m not 1o0% convinced if I don’t tell his plane to stay in the air and land at the appropriate times, it won’t crash. KEN’S PLANE! Don’t crash. Please and thank you. Also, Ken and Elaine and Ken’s mom, please have the best best best most bon-vivanty time; I can’t wait to hear all about it!)

Everybody’s got the right to be happy. Don’t be mad; life’s not as bad as it seems. If you keep your goal in sight, you can climb to any height. Everybody’s got the right to their dreams.

Most of them are little animals made out of glass, the tiniest little animals in the world.

Howdy, people. Here it is Monday! I think I have the day off. Since I’m writing this Sunday, that’s still up in the air. One of the things about working these weird hours at the part-time job is that I never know what the hours will be, or when they’ll be, until right before they happen. Some people might dig that. I’m kind of a weird planny planner. I like knowing what I’m doing today and tomorrow and a month from now. I’m kind of an old-person like that. When they give those tests to see how spontaneous you are, I always score a -14. I made that score up. (Ironically, when I do something spontaneous, I almost always have a very good time once I get over the “ZOMG PLANS CHANGED!!!” mindset. Don’t try to figure me out. You’ll fail. Miserably.) Anyway, I may or may not have the day off today, because for the past few weeks I’ve had Monday (or Tuesday, on the holiday weekend) off while the HR rep who makes the schedule over there figures out where she can use me for the week. That’s nice because it gives me the day to get things together for the week because once the work-week starts I’m pretty brain-dead. It’s not as nice because I really should be working seven days a week to make the money I’ll need at the next paycheck-time to pay the bills, but you take what you can get.

(Update update! No day off today for me. Working the night shift because the normal night-shift person has the day off. They were SO NICE about asking and called in the middle of my shift last night all “please please?” and whatever, it’s not like I’m breaking off some very important date for this or anything. All my romances will have to WAIT, I have to WORK. Heh.)

That being said, as long as the hours are and such, as always, I am very grateful to have the hours, and it’s nice over there because for the most part I know what I’m doing and I like the people I’m working with and I feel comfortable with it. I’ve been there about seven and a half years now, and they’ve been very good to me – working around my work hours, giving me time off when I need it, giving me extra hours when I need them. I’m totally capable of saying thank you when it’s warranted.

Thank you, part-time job which has become my full-time job for the time being. Without you, I would be probably living in my car, or under an overpass, or (ZOMG SHUDDER) with my parents again. Also, last week, even though I made some mistakes (I make some boneheaded mistakes – we answer a LOT of calls, and with call volume like that, it’d be completely impossible not to make at least a FEW mistakes every once and a while) I got to learn two new high-level skillzzzz and that made me feel like a fancy-person. I told one of my favorite co-workers that it was exciting and scary, like being at the CARNIVAL, and she just laughed and said, “Um, okkkkkkk” because I’m pretty sure they think I’m nuts. But in a good way. Good-nuts. So, anyway. Thanks, part-time job. You’re a lifesaver. I appreciate you so much.

Exciting! Scary! CARNIVAL!

So, yeah, I know I’ve been MIA a lot lately. (No, not the SINGER. MIA like MISSING. Sheesh.) I miss you guys like crazy. But it can’t be helped. Have to work. No internet at work. And most likely, no internet (or unlimited usage of the internet) at whatever job I end up at in the future. Not if I want to stay there for any length of time. I guess I learned my lesson. Sigh. It’s hard to be a grownup. Also, according to the song, a pimp, apparently. Also, I’ve been majorly depressed. I don’t so much want to talk about that. It’s genetic and it comes and it goes. And when I’m depressed, I don’t talk much. Because there is nothing more annoying than someone who’s all “poor ME wah WAH.” So I just kind of retreat into my metaphoric pots-and-pans cupboard (as opposed to Dumbcat’s actual pots-and-pans cupboard, which I assure you is a real thing.) I’m not saying I’m not still depressed. It’s not like it just goes away. But – well, shit, unless you don’t deal with this you don’t know. It’s kind of like a cloudy day.

Cloudy cloudy cloudy.

Sometimes the clouds come in and just kind of linger, and sometimes you get a break with a little sun peeking in through the clouds, and sometimes there are whole weeks or even months of fully sunny days, but the clouds can always move back in. So today the clouds are at bay, but they’re still there. Shoo, clouds. Shoo it on off. (Yes yes yes. I am aware there’s medication. I’ve tried a billion different types/brands/dosages. Ok, a billion is an exaggeration. But lots. None of them have done anything other than give me weird side-effects like one made me so dizzy I knocked over an entire display of glass things in a store. They didn’t make me pay for them, thank goodness. But once the meds were out of my system, no more dizziness. Anyway, since all the “Amy is a antidepressant guinea-pig” phase of my life, I decided no more antidepressants for me. I’m sure there’s some brand out there that would work, but life’s too short to try every medication in the world. Also, all the glass things in the world need to be protected from me. There are only so many small precious glass things in the world! And they are at risk if I take more pills! BLUE ROSES!)

Waitin’ for the Gentleman Caller…

Whoo, that was long. Anyway, yeah, it’s been kind of dark in Amy’s head lately. It probably still is. I mean, I’m writing this a full 24-hours ahead of time. Who knows what I’ll be feeling tomorrow. But please do not worry. I’ve been through worse than this and came out the other side. I’ll come though this just fine. Because this time around, I have a support system that I can’t even say enough good things about. I’ve never had a support system like this before. If I made it through previous dark-times without people before, there’s no way I can’t do it this time. Love you guys. You and you and YOU. No, no, Ding Dong Joe. I don’t love you. Just as a friend. We’re just not compatible. You like a life lived without pants; I like pants a great deal. I hope you understand.

Oooh, look, a book for Ding Dong Joe! This book is most likely filled with euphemisms.

(Someone please tell me they totally got the “blue roses” reference up there or I’m going to cry all the tears.

You did, right? You all love Tennessee Williams as much as you should? Good, good.

SIDE NOTE! I actually had a DREAM last night. I know! I don’t ever have those. I had a dream I lived in a big house by the ocean with a woman from work, my friend Mer, and a guy. I don’t remember who the guy was. He might not have been a real person. And they were all actors, and I was a stage manager. And we were working on a new Neil LaBute play. And it was awesome and fun. Then I woke up so I don’t know what happened next. There were big set pieces that had to be carried across the beach. I remember that. It was nice. I like knowing that sometimes my brain still works in the night.)

OK. Off to work. Night shift today (well, my today is your yesterday, little cauliflower florets. And you know what they say about yesterday. All my troubles! So far away!)

so I have to steel myself up for that. Luckily, I work with some kickass people Sunday nights. A couple of weekends ago, we laughed so hard we had tears. It was about a typo. The typo was this: it was supposed to say “The Bridegroom Cometh” and it said “The Bridgegroom Cometh” and we were all, “Here I AM! Standing here on the BRIDGE! Waiting for you to MARRY me! Where ARE you? Why are you TAKING so long?” and it was late and we were sleepy and it made us SO LOOPY and FULL OF GIGGLES. We are, it bears mentioning, adults. Not goofy teens. I love my Sunday night ladies. And of course my one Sunday-night fella, who is one of my favorite co-workers. Listen, I work with some wonderful people over there. It cannot be denied.

Happy Monday, people of the interwebs. Enjoy your week! Also? Hey. I don’t say it enough. I love you guys, you know? Totally do. Don’t go telling people, I’ll lose my badass rep, yo.

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