Tag Archives: Freshly Pressed

I have not been kidnapped by pirates. I promise.

This is a brief check-in so you don’t think I’m dead.


Nope, not dead.

Maybe MOSTLY dead. But not all the way!

Maybe MOSTLY dead. But not all the way!

It’s a busy couple of weeks here, which just kicked off on Thursday. I might be running around like a crazyperson until mid-October, so I can’t plan anything (including blogging, sadly.) They’re all good things, and fun things, and things I’m very much looking forward to, but there are a LOT of things.

So, this past week, I reviewed a show (and had a very nice dinner with my friend K., in which we caught up and laughed and ate and solved all the world’s problems. YOU ARE WELCOME, WORLD. Expect my invoice in the mail in the next 2-4 weeks.) The paper I write for is still having technical difficulties, so you can read my review for free. I saw Les Mis. It wasn’t a flawless production (but it wasn’t the worst production I’ve ever seen, either…so not a complete waste of time. I do so enjoy “On My Own.” And hearing “to love another person is to see the face of God” always gives me chills.)

Then Friday, Cousin S. came to visit! We had a weekend of ADVENTURE and TALKING and MORE ADVENTURE. We ate all the food (sushi and popcorn and Cheesecake Factory and waffles!) and toured Albany and saw a movie (Don Jon, which was really very good, if you like naughtiness and Joseph Gordon Levitt, both of which we do) and I introduced her to Veronica Mars (which she loved, yay! Excellent taste, that woman. It must be hereditary.) And we talked and talked and talked. We had many years of talking to catch up with. I think we did that admirably. Then, after she left, I took a three-hour nap. WHO DOES SUCH A THING. It was not planned to be that long. I had a headache and I was like, let’s just curl up for a bit, see if we can get this to back off! and then the next thing I knew, it was dinnertime. What the hell?

I don't like cheesecake. I got this thing called Blackout Cake. One slice was the size of my damn head. I could not even finish it. True story.

I don’t like cheesecake. I got this thing called Blackout Cake. One slice was the size of my damn head. I could not even finish it. True story.

And ALSO, this weekend, I was Freshly Pressed for the second (I KNOW!) time! So the phone went off and off and OFF with comments and likes and reblogs and such and Cousin S. was like YOUR PHONE! IT IS BLOWING UP! and I was like, yes, blogging, it is a strange and demanding mistress. The WordPress people contacted me on Monday to tell me they were Freshly Pressing the blog I wrote last week about meeting up with Josh last weekend, and I could not have been more pleased. What a great post to choose, and what an honor for them to choose me again. So! Some of you are most likely new people. Hello, new people! I am so pleased you are here. Please always feel free to comment, and if you are confused and would like to know what the hell’s going on here (I don’t know what’s going on here a lot of the time, to be honest) you can check out my About page, or the Frequently Asked Questions page. And just a warning, usually I’m goofy. SOMETIMES I’m serious, but seriously, usually I’m very random and goofy. So if you hate such things, no harm, no foul, I suppose.



This week is INSANE. I’m seeing three plays (and reviewing two), going to dinner with friends, working 6 days, getting a haircut, bringing the car to the garage because I think it’s about to die, and Mom and Dad are coming to visit because I AM ALMOST A YEAR OLDER. Yes! It is true! With the advent of October, it is almost AMY-MONTH! Shush, I totally get a whole month, don’t you get a whole month when it’s YOUR birthday? Well, if you don’t, you should, sheesh. We are officially 8 days from my birthday. This year I sadly have to work on my birthday, because later in the week I’ll be taking six days off to take a trip to Virginia! IT IS ALMOST VIRGINIA-TIME!!!



Now it is bedtime, because I have a Stephen King book that is crying out “Amy! READ ME!” and you know, I kind of want to do that. This is the longest I’ve gone without having my nose stuck in a new Stephen King book in my whole LIFE. If I don’t hurry up, I just know some internet asshat is going to spoil it for me, and then I will have to go POSTAL on them and who wants THAT to happen? No one. I mean, sincerely.

Happy Monday, all. I hope your weekends were full of adventure and mystery and wonder and joy. If they weren’t, there’s always next weekend, right? Right.

Time to Rumpus Most Royally!

Well, here it is officially June 10, and two years ago, bored at work because everyone was off at a conference or something and I was left to man the phones, I started this foolish blog, knowing nothing about blogging whatsoever. I started originally on Blogger, but quickly got frustrated when the formatting would randomly go wonky, the photos would disappear with no warning, and when I’d schedule posts, they just wouldn’t post. WordPress beckoned and I answered the call and haven’t looked back.

Two years, you guys. That’s a long time. So much has happened over the last two years. Things that I could never have imagined when I was sitting at the reception desk of my office looking for something to do to make the hours go by more quickly and thought, “Well, you could start a blog.” I’ve met some of the world’s most amazing people. I have friends in my life I’d never have met without my blog; friends that I was meant to know, and without my blog? They wouldn’t be here. I’d have never met them. The thought of that breaks my heart, because my life would be such an emptier place without them in it.

Today’s advice to you? Well, I of course saved the best for last. Did you doubt I would?

The most important thing I’ve learned over the past two years of blogging?

Ignore all the advice. Write.

I know, right? Totally bait-and-switched you.

Hee, I love that the first thing to pop up in Image Seach for "bait and switch" is Lucy and her football. Fortuitous!

Hee, I love that the first thing to pop up in Image Seach for “bait and switch” is Lucy and her football. Fortuitous!

Listen. You can read a million how-to-blog articles. How long your posts should be. When you should post. How frequently you should post. How you should or shouldn’t market your blog or yourself. Your use of social media. What you should write about. What you SHOULDN’T write about. There are plenty of places that will give you advice – sometimes conflicting advice – until you’re so confused you’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off, all squawky and discombobulated. Also, it is very hard to count chickens with their heads cut off. All that blood makes for incorrect chicken headcounts.

But the way you’re going to learn all these things, the best way, the way it’s going to stick with you, is to just DO it. To sit at your computer and write out the words in your head, whatever those words might be. Are you going to fail? I’m not going to sugar-coat it. Yes. You are probably going to fail. Probably more than once. You’re going to make mistakes. You’re going to do things you’re not proud of, looking back on them; freshman mistakes, I suppose you could call them. These things happen. They’ll continue to happen. Even when you’re no longer a freshman. It’s life. Life’s one long learning experience, so take the lessons as they come.

Just like the Game of Life. With the little pegs and shit. Learn your lessons, chickadees.

Just like the Game of Life. With the little pegs and shit. Learn your lessons, chickadees.

You’ll know when it’s working. It’s something you feel inside; this click, this feeling of rightness. You’ll know because you’ll start building a community. Your words will resonate with others. You’ll start…I don’t know how best to explain this. Ripples. You’ll start creating ripples. And those ripples reach others. And on and on and on and you connect, and you have this whole network around you. All these points of life. All these people whose lives you’ve touched, whose lives you touch. It feels very good. It feels very safe. And you did this. You did this with your words and your work and putting yourself out there.

You can read all the advice; you can even follow some if you want. Yes, you’ll get less hits if you post on a weekend. Yes, it’s good to network with other bloggers. Yes, a presence on social media is a good thing.

But mostly? Just get out there and write. Take the words inside you and get them out of you. Share them with the world, where they can take root and grow and touch others and on and on and on it goes.

It’s the start of a grand adventure. It’s your own royal rumpus. The only thing I know for sure is that your life will never be the same for it.

Thank you to everyone who’s come along with me on my royal rumpus over the last two years. Everyone who’s read a post, who’s commented, who’s shared something I’ve written, who’s been here. Thank you to my friends, who I found along the way and who are so precious to me, so dear, I don’t even have the words.

Thank you. Just, thank you.

Now, finally, my top post for the past two years. Some of you might have already guessed this, I think, and if you haven’t, it’ll make sense once you see it.

Top post in the past two years!

With 3,490 hits – almost 3,500 hits, you guys, is that not insane? – in the past three months…

You’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time

Freshly Pressed did a lot of that, and you guys did the rest, with your comments and your shares and your reblogs. You’re a glorious group of people. A brave, strong group of people, who feel things deeply, who connect deeply with things, who want to make a change in things that are broken in the world.

I’m glad this post connected with people; I’m glad this post helped people connect. I’m glad Freshly Pressed decided to share it with a larger audience so more people could see it. I’m glad you were all here for it.

Thank you for the past two years, my most beloved little chickadees. I don’t know what the next year will bring; that’s the joy of the future. It’s as-yet unwritten. It’s a shiny new blank journal, waiting for you to start your chicken-scratching.

Off I go to start chicken-scratching all over my shiny new year.

I hope you come along. It wouldn’t be the same without you.

Royal Rumpus, Day Six: stopping (starting?) the presses and those pesky people you may or may not know

Happy Sunday, everyone! Whew, Saturday was BUSY. Well, I stayed up way too late into the wee hours of Saturday morning, which was my own damn fault, but when I can stay up late, I tend to overdo it. Then I slept in, which was very nice and very decadent of me. But THEN, when I got up in the morning, WHEW ALL THE RUSHING! Because Saturday was K.’s wedding shower, so I had to get all fancied-up! And go to a COUNTRY CLUB! I know, right? Me at a country club. It’s like the opposite of a diamond in the gutter. This place was NICE. We wedding showered and friend K. got many gifts and I did not win any of the prizes for the games because I was terrible at them, even bingo (WHO CANNOT WIN BINGO FOR THE LOVE OF PETE) and we had some delicious foodstuffs and then I went to the (shudder) mall.

Argh, mall. You are my nemesis.

Argh, mall. You are my nemesis.

I know. I hate the mall. With the stores and the people and the crowding and the escalators one could very likely get stuck on and then tumble to one’s death or get grinded to one’s death, take your pick. But I really, REALLY needed shoes. And was only halfway successful, because I wanted at least one pair of black shoes and one pair of brown shoes and only could find black shoes. WHY NO BROWN SHOES? Is there something you’re not telling me? Has there been a run on brown shoes? Also, there were a lot of patent leather – or at least fake leather – shoes. Shiny shoes? Really? Those get scuffed. Bad news. Who designs these things? And THEN, since I was in the mall anyway, I ran to the store for clothing and again had a little luck but not all the luck and what happened at the store is a story for another day.

WHEW! All the things. When I got home, Dumbcat was all “MOM WHEAR HAEV YOU BENE.” And I collapsed collapedly.

But! You are not here for True Tales of What Amy Did on Saturday. Well, I would assume. You are here for our daily dose of bloggiversary goodness, right? Right. Well! What will we talk about today? What have I learned that I will share with you, from the goodness of my kindly heart, hmm?

Getting Fresh

I know a lot of bloggers dream about getting Freshly Pressed. And it’s a very good dream, and, overall, it’s a very good thing. And (shockingly, still, months later) I can barely believe it happened.

So here’s what happens when you get Freshly Pressed. You write a post. Within a few days, you get an email from WordPress telling you it’s been selected to be Freshly Pressed. If you’re a normal person, you probably think, “Oh! Well! What a deserved honor that has been bestowed upon me! As I am a grand writer!” If you’re me, you start breathing funny, and you squeak like a mouse caught in a trap, then you wonder if you’re being tricked, and you think a mistake has been made.

Punk'd. Just like Justin Timberlake, baby.

Punk’d. Just like Justin Timberlake, baby.

Once your post goes up on Freshly Pressed, you have 24-48 hours where you pretty much need to turn off the notifications on your phone. Because it’s going to be going off ALL THE TIME. You’re going to get a ton of likes, and a ton of new followers, and probably a ton of comments, which, if you’re anal like me, you’re going to want to reply to. Your stats for the day or two are going to shoot through the roof. It’s exhausting, but it’s also exhilarating. Because, listen, I know it’s not nice to mention in polite society, but, well, we’re not polite society here, so I’m safe – I don’t think there are too many of us bloggers that don’t like being the center of attention. Otherwise, why are we here? I think, if given the option, even the blogger who says, “Oh, no, I’m glad I have a small readership, I’m glad no one pays that much attention to me” would immediately sell their soul for a celebrity-level readership. Because, when it all comes down to it, we’re attention whores. Some of us are just a little less shameless about it than others, is all.

You will probably get some trolls. I didn’t get too many, but I did get a few. I just deleted them. I didn’t even let them see the light of day. A lot of the people following you will not be real blogs. I checked out most of the blogs who followed me and a lot of them were placeholder blogs with nothing on them or spam blogs selling male-enhancement pills or, strangely, fake luggage and/or handbags, as if these people are selling things on the streetcorners of New York City. (Lately, this has been happening a lot – I would assume this is happening to most of you WordPress bloggers? Our followers counts are no longer reliable, because most of the followers aren’t real. WordPress knows about it, but says it’s not a problem. I find it shady, but I suppose it’s not really a problem, mostly just an annoyance. I do wish there was a way to make it stop, though. I like to know how many real people are reading my blog, not just weird fake handbag purveyors.) You will also get a lot of people who comment or like once and never come back. That’s the nature of the beast. It’s ok. Don’t beat yourself up too much. Or at all, actually. Bigger things to worry about in the world, you know?

In-between selling purses on the streetcorner, Antonio blogs most bloggily!

In-between selling purses on the streetcorner, Antonio blogs most bloggily!

After the furor of the few days dies down, things will be back to normal. You might keep some of the people you found (I still have some of those people – hi, people!) but for the most part, those people fade back into the woodwork. You were the flavor of the week. You get a sassy banner for your blog, if you put it up, and you can tell people you were Freshly Pressed, and there you have it.

Is it cool? Hell, yes. Does it change your WHOLE LIFE? Nope. It’s a couple days of awesomeness and then it’s business as usual. It’s nice to be validated. It’s nice that the people at WordPress noticed you. Is it something you should want? Yes. Is it something to be so upset you haven’t gotten? Well, no. And I’ll tell you why. WordPress is looking for something in particular, and very few blogs have it. Follow their Freshly Pressed page for a while in your reader. You’ll see the pattern. The posts are usually short, usually have some sort of pretty graphic or photo, usually are broadly relatable, usually are either something people will argue about or something people will squee over. If you are Freshly Pressed, it is probably not going to be for a post that represents what you usually write about or how you usually even write, which brings in a lot of readers who expect you to write like that all the time and are sorely disappointed. The same people do tend to get Freshly Pressed multiple times. It’s because they know what WordPress is looking for, and because they’re on WordPress’ radar. You can cry foul all you want, but it’s WordPress’ game to play as they wish.

So, yeah. It’s cool. I continue to be pleased it happened. I appreciate that it did. I am always pleased to see it happen to someone whose blog I read and whose work I love and who I care about, because I love that they got that validation. But I also see the flaws in the system, and I hate to see bloggers trying to hard to get Freshly Pressed and getting so depressed when it never seems to happen to them.

Keep writing. Keep doing your thing. If you get Freshly Pressed, awesome. If you don’t, please don’t think it’s a flaw in yourself. It most absolutely is not.

OK, let’s get down to it. So what’s the second-most read post on Lucy’s Football? What’s your guess? Ideas?

Oh, I’m not going to keep you hanging. It’s a beautiful Sunday, you probably want to go play in the sunshine or something.

Aw. Like these kids. You totally want to play like these kids.

Aw. Like these kids. You totally want to play like these kids.

My second-most popular post…in the past two years…

…with – ARE YOU READY FOR THIS INSANITY? – 1,922 hits in the past seven months, I don’t even, I DO NOT EVEN, that is TWICE AS MANY AS THE THIRD MOST POPULAR POST, is…

An Open Letter to Facebook’s “People You May Know” Feature.

This post isn’t that funny, or well-researched, or anything but me being peevish when I saw an ex pop up in my “people you may know.” There. That’s your daily glimpse at the man behind the curtain. I wrote this because I was peevish. I am often peevish. Most days I am able to tamp it down and go about my day. This day, I wasn’t.

The stats are so insane on this post because I get hundreds, literally, LIT-rally if you’re Chris Traeger, hundreds, of searches a month from people who want to know things like “how to turn off the people you may know feature” and “people you may know has disappeared” and “there are people I don’t know in the people I may know” and it is UTTER LUNACY.

Listen, I know the Facebook help section is useless. And if you ask stupid questions like this there, you’re not going to find answers. The thing is? I’m going to give you some tough love, here. YOUR QUESTIONS ARE ASININE. I will tell you ONE MORE TIME. People you may know on Facebook IS NOT GOING AWAY. It’s just THERE. IGNORE IT. I know you can do this. Put on your big-kid pants and IGNORE THAT SHIT.



Or, you know, just keep clicking on the post. I never said I wasn’t an attention whore.

Happy Sunday, people of the internet. One more day, and we reach the END OF BLOGGIVERSARY WEEK! Ok, well, maybe there will be a TEENY bit more the next day but I promise it won’t be as annoying. Have happy Sundays. Relax. Rest. Read. Enjoy life. *smooch*

GI Joe told me knowing was half the battle, so here, let me half-equip you for war.

Well! Things seem to have calmed down now. We all relaxed? Good, good. Take a seat. No, no. Not there. That’s where Dumbcat likes to sit. And also vomit. Also not there, as that’s where Newcat sits, and she’ll totally wolverine-attack you if you attempt to sit near her. She’s not overly polite, that cat. There are some refreshments around here somewhere. Mostly, refreshments are half a box of Ritz cheese crackers I got tired of before I finished and a pitcher of sugar-free fruit punch, but hey, no one’s allowed to complain about free snacks. Free’s free. If you’re starving and hate those things, you should have packed a granola bar or something. NO, you can’t have my Finnish chocolate or my Flake bars, those were gifts from some of my most beloved people and I’m saving them for a day I’m really sad. I am not remotely sad enough today to break into my gift-chocolate from foreign lands, therefore I cannot eat them. And neither can you. HANDS OFF, GRABBY MCGURK!

Don't even think about it, sunshine. MINE. ALL MINE.

Don’t even think about it, sunshine. MINE. ALL MINE.


Old people (wait, you’re not OLD. That sounded TERRIBLE. People who have been here all ALONG, I should say. Please forgive. I did not mean to malign your age), you are more than welcome to read along today. This is not exclusionary toward you in the least. I LOVE YOU ALL. Also, I KNOW you’re waiting for part two of the monthly stats posts. It’s coming! Tomorrow! As long as I have time to write it tonight! Promise, promise!

New people, you are most likely here for one of two reasons: a., you popped on over from reading my guest post on Black Box Warnings earlier in the week, or b., you’re here because I was Freshly Pressed on Wednesday. If it’s the former, you probably have an idea what you’re in for. You are most likely a fan of Le Clown and his most wonderful antics, and know that if I’m part of that gang (aw, am I part of that gang now? I like that so much. That’s a gang I totally want to be part of. Do I get nunchucks? Or, as they called them in my college “list of things you can’t bring with you” brochure, “chukka sticks?”) that I’m not going to be overly reverent or serious most of the time.

Ooh, these are the BEST chukka sticks because they are SUPREME.

Ooh, these are the BEST chukka sticks because they are SUPREME.

However, the people here from Freshly Pressed – well, first, hello. I’m so glad you’re here, I’m so glad you read the post and you connected with the post and are following and reading and commenting…but I have to pre-apologize.

I am very seldom as serious as I was in that post. I feel like you need to be informed as to what goes on here, for your own safety. And possibly also sanity.

It happens, sometimes. Sure it does. Sometimes things upset me and I rant for a bit. But mostly, we talk about the following things here:

  • My dad, who thinks everything is a government conspiracy and makes me laugh harder than anyone
  • Various members of the animal kingdom, heavily including my cats, Dumbcat and Newcat (whose real names cannot be revealed because they are in the Witness Relocation Program for cats because they saw a mob hit that one time, I can’t say any more for their own safety)
  • My friends, who are all perfect and amazing in various ways
  • Theater
  • Books
  • Television
  • Things that make me snort-laugh (this is a very broad category)
  • My nephew, who is the most brilliant and amazing human on the face of the earth
  • Current events that make me laugh and/or stabby
  • SCIENCE! (More on this in a bit)
  • Things I actually leave my house and do
  • Anything else that I feel like blabbering on about on any given day

As you can see, these are not very serious topics. So I feel terrible that you’ll be waiting and waiting for me to start talking about something all serious-like and keep getting posts about “ZOMG YOU GUYS ONE TIME I WAS WALKING TO MY CAR AND I HEARD SOMEONE PLAYING ‘DANNY BOY’ ON BAGPIPES IN THE PARKING LOT BUT I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT WAS COMING FROM.” (That’s a true story, by the way. It happened just the other day. It seemed to be coming from the Vo-Tech school behind our building? If that’s the case, bravo, Vo-Tech school, you seem to be teaching your students bagpipery! And it was also very sad and mournful, which is my favorite type of music to randomly hear in the parking lot.) (SIDE NOTE! Is it politically incorrect to say Vo-Tech school? I think it has a name now but I don’t know what it is. Here in New York we call it the BOCES but it’s not the BOCES, that’s just who runs it. It’s a vocational technology school where they learn things like hairdressing and car repair. Hence, vo-tech. Apologies if I’m offending anyone. Can you even imagine if I offended everyone like the first DAY and everyone left? I’d totally have lost Freshly Pressed, right?)

I found this on the internet. What is this? What does this mean? Is it a poster for a musical or something? I am perplexed.

I found this on the internet. What is this? What does this mean? Is it a poster for a musical or something? I am perplexed.

So, anyway. I decided there are some things you probably need to know about how things are around Lucy’s Football before you get confused and/or go running off into the night because that would be dangerous for you. Because I’m nothing if not helpful. NOTHING, I say. You can also get a lot of these from my Frequently Asked Questions page, if you want. But I’ll reiterate. Like a boss.


I use ZOMG and yo a lot. Also all-caps. And SIDE NOTES. I also make up words. I’m kind of…I guess you’d say stream-of-consciousy? This annoys some people and charms others. I get it. This is how I am in real life, too. And in real life it charms some people and annoys others as well, too. That’s nice, though. That way I can weed out the people that don’t find me charming. I mean, who wants to hang out with people that don’t find them charming, I ask you?

I write blog posts that are a lot longer than your daily RDA of blog-reading. Someone told me once that you’re supposed to publish no more than 1,000 words a day. At ABSOLUTE most. Or you’ll have no one reading. Well, I get that. I do. However, I have a billion things to say. And I’ve tried writing shorter posts? But it doesn’t work. All these words just NEED TO BE SAID. So, yeah. I’d probably have more readers if I wrote shorter posts? But then I wouldn’t be me. So where do I draw the line, really?

So many delicious words. SO MANY.

So many delicious words. SO MANY.

I am unabashedly geeky about a lot of things, and when I love something, I really, REALLY love it. I don’t understand living life in a middle gray area. I am all about going big or going home. If I love someone, I really love them. (The opposite is also true. If someone is my enemy they are DEAD. TO. ME.) I go all-out for things and people and ideas. And I’m very geeky about things I love. And I’m not at all embarrassed about this. Again, this is off-putting to some people. However, the people that aren’t put off by this – well, those are my people. And I love them more than I can even describe. And would jump in front of a herd of stampeding rhinoceroses for them, if the need arose. (Is that need going to arise? Let me know, so I can change out of my nice work clothes.)

Don't you trample my friends, rhinoceros!

Don’t you trample my friends, rhinoceros!

I have a SCIENCE FELLOW! Sometimes we like to talk about science here at Lucy’s Football. In those cases, we are very lucky; we have someone who can set us to rights. (This is good, because as much as I love it, I know very little about science.) Yes! It is true! This might be the only blog named after a Peanuts character that has its own Science Fellow. And our Andreas is not JUST a Science Fellow. He’s the BEST Science Fellow. Once in his scientific work he discovered and named his own SPECIES OF CREATURE and there is a BOOK about it. I’m not even kidding about this. Also, he’s in charge of making sure things are pretty around here (he did my beautiful blog redesign at the beginning of the year, isn’t it lovely?) and is one of my dearest friends and a wonderful blogger AND I met him in REALLY REAL LIFE earlier in the month. I know! And he is from FINLAND! And next year I am going to Finland to see HIM! And we met through TWITTER! I know, the internet is wonderful, right?

In real life, I tend to cuss like a sailor, but here, I don’t much at all. I know. It seems foolish. The interwebs are full of all the swears. You don’t know who’s going to read your blog. It could be a kid. IT COULD BE MY NEPHEW SOMEDAY. Kids can see the cussing elsewhere. Sometimes I can’t help myself, and I bust out with the swearing. But usually I try to behave myself. FOR THE CHILDREN. And for the world, because there are enough ugly things out there, and I don’t feel I need to be all cussy all the time, you know? Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

That being said, I have no problems with cussing, I do it all the time in real life, and I will never edit your comments for being cussy, unless they're offensive.

Hee, Waffle House!  (The above being said, I have no problems with cussing, I do it all the time in real life, and I will never edit your comments for being cussy, unless they’re offensive.)

Things make me stabby on a regular basis. Examples of things that make me stabby: racism, sexism, the war on women currently occurring, anyone who thinks gay marriage will put an end to the world as we know it, Fox News, people who are not kind to their (or others’) children, bullying in any form, Tom Cruise, garlic, when fruit is hidden sneakily in a dessert item and you don’t know it’s there until you bite down into it and you don’t have a napkin to spit it into, the term “fro-yo,” when people SAY “LOL” instead of actually LAUGHING OUT LOUD and it doesn’t save them any TIME and I don’t GET it, gay-bashing in any form, when anyone is cruel to any of my friends at all in any way, when people expect you to let them into traffic when they haven’t waited their turn like everyone else and then they flip you off if you don’t do it cheerily enough as if they weren’t the line-budger, terrible spelling and grammar, people who are shouty about religion, animal abuse, the scanner I have to use at work that jams every third page, and flip-flops.

*shudder* I don't like things between my toes, and I don't like feet, and I don't like the noise they make.

*shudder* I don’t like things between my toes, and I don’t like feet, and I don’t like the noise they make.

However, on a whole, I think the world is a beautiful and magical place, and it continues to amaze and surprise me daily. I think that one speaks for itself.

Oh, probably you want some background on me, yeah? I have three jobs; one’s in finance, one’s in customer service, one’s in journalism. I have two cats. I have zero romantic conquests. I live in a lovely little place in an amazing city in a wonderful area that I love very much. I have been working in community theater for most of my life but will be taking an extended hiatus starting in June. I wrote a book that was published last year. I write here, and for Insatiable Booksluts, and other places, when they’ll have me. I have Twitter and a Facebook fan page and all those good things; links to such are in the Frequently Asked Questions section. There’s an email address where you can reach me for things if you need to do that at the bottom of the blog. I live on the internet when I’m not sleeping or working, but not as much as I used to because of reasons. I have the best friends in the entire world and sometimes I cry because they are so wonderful and I never thought I’d have friends like this in a million years. (I was terribly bullied as a teenager, moving on.) I’ve been blogging for a year and nine months. I used to blog every day but had to cut back because I actually wanted to have a bit of a life, which I’ve been enjoying very much. I laugh a lot. I also cry a lot. Sometimes both at the same time. I have VERY BIG EMOTIONS. I feel huge happinesses and huge sadnesses. I love both terrible movies like Billy Madison and wonderful movies like Magnolia. I adore live theater and am REALLY into musicals. I really like girly things like soap, perfume and necklaces, but I hate girly things like skirts and high heels. I’m a gigantic glasses-wearing enigma.

"This happens. This is something that happens."

“This happens. This is something that happens.”

Mostly I am very silly here. If this disappoints you, many apologies. I try to write WELL, but it’s mostly silly with some moments of seriousness. If you like that, I’m glad. And welcome! If you don’t, I’m sorry, I did not mean to mislead you with the Freshly Pressed thing.

Still with me? Good, great, grand, awesome. So glad you’re here. Do you have questions? Your turn. Ask ‘em in the comments. (People who’ve been here all along, you can ask questions, too! If I don’t like them or don’t want to answer them publicly, I’ll just delete them. Or email you. Sound fair? Sure it does. If it doesn’t, don’t even tell me, I don’t want to know.)

Also, happiest of happy weekends to you all! May your Easter baskets contain only the best of treats. None of those awful eggs with a waxy candy shell and that terrible sort-of-marshmallow crap in the middle that taste like candy just gave up on being good in your mouth.

(As you can see, this is a typical Amy-length post. Welcome to the Thunderdome, my little lemon drops.)

Ceci n’est pas un blogpost.

I would love to write a real post here. And tomorrow (fingers crossed) I WILL write a real blog post. However, here is how the last 28 hours have gone:

  • Freshly Pressed puts my post up on the WordPress site.
  • I start getting a kabillion likes, reblogs, comments, and follows. And tweets. And Facebook comments. And emails. And my phone starts going cuh-raaaaay-zee.
  • I have to go out to dinner, because I planned a fantastic dinner with my theater ladies a few weeks ago. (Who might be reading right now because I actually – GULP! – told real-life people about my blog. If so, hi, J., A., and L.!) So I replied to comments right up until I had to run out the door. While grinning like a looney and saying “these things don’t happen to people like me NO THEY DO NOT.”
  • Eating dinner and having a wonderful time and not even checking my phone once in almost two hours even though I wanted to SO BADLY. Because I love my friends and they deserved my undivided attention. And we laughed and laughed so much. It was the best time.
  • Getting to my car and looking at my phone and saying “Oh. Oh, my” because I had a billion* (*possibly an exaggeration) comments to approve, and new followers, and tweets and on and on and blah blah could I BE any more into myself right now? I know, right?
  • Also, SIDE NOTE, I had an email from my brother waiting for me. He recently got an email account. My brother has never sent me an email in his life. It made me laugh SO HARD. It ended with “This short by normal standards wireless telegram took me approx. 22 mins. to generate.” As you can see, we have similar senses of humor.
  • Then I got home and I couldn’t go to bed until I beat my previous best day, stats-wise. Then I did. Then I finally went to bed.
  • When I woke up, I had a billion MORE comments and also I went to bed way too late and I was so so tired and then more and more comments coming in and I did not have time to reply to them so I said, I will reply tonight when I get home! (Oh, hey, new people, here at the Football, I reply to like 99% of comments. I’m weird like that. You took the time to comment; the least I can do is take the time to reply, is my thought.)
  • So all day long, there were more and more and MORE comments. Also I worked all day, as I do. I mean, you can’t just not go to work because you are a very famous blogger, you know.
  • Then I had to go grocery shopping. Look what I bought, sj!

    Starfruit! I have never tried one, but sj's kiddo said it tasted like stars. How could I not buy one?

    Starfruit! I have never tried one, but sj’s kiddo said it tasted like stars. How could I not buy one? I am MADE of stars!

  • THEN I finally got home and had to do things like call my parents (Dad’s response to “Dad, I have to GO, I have a BILLION COMMENTS TO REPLY TO” was “Are they paying you per comment? This is insane. NO ONE DOES THIS”) and eat food items and also pet the cats a little (not a euphemism) and write email to my most beloved ones (listen, one of the worst mistakes people make when they get famous is that they forget the little people. I WILL NOT FALL INTO THAT TRAP! What’s that? I’m not really famous and my people aren’t even little? Shush it, you) and then it was replying-to-comment-time. Oh, the comments. Oh, so many wonderful comments. I can’t even.

However, all that comment-replying means that it’s bedtime now. And with the lack of sleep the last few days, I really need to get to bed tonight. I have to get up somewhat early tomorrow and get an oil change. ALSO not a euphemism. Oh, also, did I mention my cable is out? It is. Out. My cable box is, according to the very technical lady on the phone, “fried.” I need a new one. She said they could come next week sometime. I might have freaked out a little and said, “No. See, Game of Thrones? Sunday? I can’t. I can’t even.” Then I explained if she couldn’t get someone there BEFORE Sunday, I wouldn’t be UPGRADING to HBO, so they would be losing MONEY, and suddenly, a tech was available tomorrow! Huh! Imagine that!

Oh, Jaime. And this is the season we'll get to hear "I dreamed of you," right? I cannot wait. Can. Not. Wait.

Oh, Jaime. And this is the season we’ll get to hear “I dreamed of you,” right? I cannot wait. Can. Not. Wait.

All of this to say: I promise a new blog with actual content soon. I have the next two days (maybe even three) planned out.

Also, hi, new people. I will talk to your faces soon. Tomorrow, even. I am so pleased you’re here. Don’t leave just yet. Things are about to get EXCITING*. (*possibly not true.)

Happy Friday, all. Hope you’re well. Have the best weekend. Oh, it’s Easter weekend, yeah? Find some eggs. Eat some chocolate bunnies. Celebrate all things springy. Love your faces. Be back with a real post soon. Promise.

(Oh, you all know where I got the title, right? If you don’t know from the painting, you know from The Fault in Our Stars. Here’s the painting, just in case. Smooches to you all.)

It's funny because it IS a pipe. But it's NOT a pipe. It's a PAINTING of a pipe. It's always tickled me. Nice job, Magritte!

It’s funny because it IS a pipe. But it’s NOT a pipe. It’s a PAINTING of a pipe. It’s always tickled me. Nice job, Magritte!

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