Ballons = Fun?

So it's that time in the box office where we have to blow up hundreds of balloons for our little New Year's Eve shindig.

Do you have any idea how much FUN it is to blow up hundreds of balloons?

Do you have any idea how much loaded sarcasm was in that last question?!?

The answer to both questions is:
A buttload.

Here's what happens when you blow up hundreds of balloons:
a)Your hands smell like latex for hours
b)Your hands dry out and hurt
c)Your fingers turn purple from tying them

I have crooked fingers. Really, I do. I think it's probably because I've been biting my nails so long. They're deformed mutants. And also, not very nimble...thus, balloon tying (along with opening cans of pop, peeling oranges, and picking pennies off the floor)is very difficult for me. Therefore balloon-blowing-up for me yielded much frustration and several popped balloons that literally exploded in my lap as I tried to tie them.

What were the good parts of balloon-blowing up?
You might think there weren't any, but I'm a positive person who tries to find the good in any situation. Here are the good parts:
a) I got a good workout because we had to use hand-pumps. Thus my Maxmius arms are now even more Maximus-like.
b) I don't care who you are, or how old you are...but any time you let the air out of a balloon and it flies around sputtering out fart noises-it's just damn funny. And it happened several times too, because we'd be in the middle of pumping and the phone would ring (did I mention we were blowing these up will still functioning as a normal box office?) we would try and keep the air in, but inevitably, at some point we would forget and let go. And you know what? It never got old. It was always funny. Because even though we were sitting there blowing up lots and lots of balloons it was always somewhat unexpected. And the fart noises. Those are always funny.
c) It allowed me to work on my "fear of things happening suddenly." I don't like it when things are out of control, I don't like being surprised in a bad way (ie: haunted houses, people jumping out at me, people cutting me off in traffic). So to have a balloon in my hand that like a ticking time bomb could at any point, explode was a healthy experience for me, I feel. I realized that hey, sometimes shit is just gonna pop and there's nothing you can really do about it. Except maybe not put so much air in next time.
d) The good part about blowing up so many balloons is that I get to help drop them on drunk people's heads at midnight. Nothing like seeing drunk adults stomp on balloons.

Pumping up balloons is also a good segue to a valuable lesson:

This is your brain:


This is your brain on drugs (or after blowing up assloads of balloons):

A New, DIGITAL Age For Confusing Ideas Since 1986

Um...Rich? I hate to be the one to tell you this...but...uh...your Britches are falling.


...you have no idea how LONG I've been waiting to make that joke. I've only driven past Rich's Britches for the past 4 months and Rich's Britches have probably been falling since late October. I am so glad I finally have a digital camera, so I could take a picture and make the lamest joke ever. Sorry I couldn't get a better angle, but I was in my car and...didn't want to look like more of a freak than I already did leaning out my window to take a picture of a falling sign. Do you see what I go through for you guys?

Oh and by the way...not to toot my own horn or anything...but how awesome am I that for two of the three video clips The Police's "So Lonely" is playing in the background?
I mean...beside making a statement on the state of my love life right now it also is just an amazing song.
IN FACT I think it might be on my list of Top Ten Rock'N'Roll songs of all time. I mean...where else are you going to find a song that couples being lonely with pure unadulterated ROCKING OUT??!
I'm just saying...
The Police are supre hardcore. "So Lonely" is one of my favorite rock out songs. It's the best in the summer, pumped loud in the car with the window rolled down. The bad thing about pumping music with your window rolled down and rocking out (and in my case trying (trying=key word) to sing along with Sting...is that people stare.
At which point I usually like to turn my ipod to Spring Awakening and the song, "Totally F*cked" or Jay-Z's "99 Problems" of which I know all the words. Don't believe me? Ask me to rap it for you.
I dare you.

QUOTES OF THE DAY
(David brought in a French Silk Pie to work today)
DAVID: Do you want a piece of this before I take it upstairs?
ME: Um...(I turn slowly and look at my computer)
DAVID: (Bursts out laughing) Do not look at the clock! It is 10'o'clock, have a piece for breakfast it's fine!!
(I am not convinced)
ME: ...ok...
(I take a piece and cut it)
ME: Do you want a slice?
DAVID: No. I don't eat pie at 10'o'clock in the morning!

AMY'S LOVE LETTERS
Dear New Digital Camera,
As long as you aid in the lame-joke making process you and me are going to get along just fine.
Love,
Amy

Seven Dead Birds And The Help Yourself Box

Ok, Seven Dead Birds is NOT the name of my new indie emo rock group.

...seven dead birds are in fact what I saw yesterday in the walkway between the theatre and the garage.
Yes.
Seven.
And it wasn't like seven dead birds spread throughout the walkway.
It was seven dead birds all lying dead in a little group as if they were a part of some birdie cult that decided to drink tainted Kool-Aid and commit group suicide.
Creepy, right?
Seeing that many dead birds in such a small area I thought to myself, "Is this a sign for something awful? I feel like I've seen this in a movie or read it in a book before...people start seeing large groupings of dead birds and then...like...the apocalypse is supposed to happen or something."
It was really kind of a disturbing sight to see. I walked by and happened to glance down the walkway, did a double take and went back and looked and probably spent a good three minutes standing there, mouth agape in horror.
I didn’t really want to begin to think about how those seven birds had arrived in their unfortunate state. It’s easy enough to rationalize why one bird would be belly up on the pavement:
“He fell out of his nest and forgot how to fly”
“He had bird flu”
“It was just his time”
"He's just sleeping!!"
But SEVEN?!?
So I went inside, severely disturbed and it might make me a little crazy (which I am, duh) but one of my first thoughts was seriously, “Do birds form cults and perform group suicide because they got sick of waiting for the alien-gods they believe in to come take them home?” Yes. I realize this is highly irrational. But so is thinking a pigeon is faking a broken wing so I’ll feel bad for him and feed him my cookie crumbs. My brain just operates in a slightly irrational manner when it comes to matters where my imagination can get involved.
Anyway. I go inside to work all bothered by the sight of seven dead birds and I tell Audra (aka Chicken) about what I saw.
ME: Chicken! There are seven dead birds outside in the walkway between the garage and the theatre. And they’re all in a little group!! It was the saddest thing ever!
CHICKEN: Again?
ME: It’s happened before??
CHICKEN: Not too long ago there were five dead birds out there. When it gets foggy out they can’t see well and if the lead bird smacks into the wall, they all smack into the wall.
ME: Chicken!??!
CHICKEN: Well, you asked.

…and it’s true. When I went out there on my way home I did indeed see that the seven birds were lying under a bridge that connects the garage to the apartments above the theatre. It was extremely foggy out the other day…they all probably just smacked into the wall of the bridge and didn’t even see it coming.
It still makes me sad. Poor little fellas.


So recently this box of crap has appeared in the box office with the sign, "Help Yourself." Inside is a collection of...well, crap...left over from fundraisers and stuff that we haven't gotten rid of yet. One of the places that donated some stuff to our fundraiser was this...I guess you would call it a sex shop. Well, I don't know if you could call it a sex shop exactly. I mean they sent some stuff that looked like it coulda been bought at Spencers and some of the other stuff was classier than stuff you'd find at Lover's Lane. (Not that I know) (Honestly, I've never been in Lover's Lane...but they just strike me as sort of skiivy).
Anyway.
So one of the special items in the box of crap was from this little...not-quite-sex-shop. It was a package of chocolate body pens. I guess the idea is...(or so I surmised from the illustration on the package) that one is to "draw" with said chocolate pen on the body of one's "lover" and then...lick it off? I guess. Or something.
Uh.
This is awkward.
...so. Chocolate body pens in this box, right? They're supposed to liven up your sex life I guess, what they probably do is make a mess of your bed sheets. I would bet you'd be feeling crusted chocolate in between your covers for days after doing it while licking chocolate off your "lover." Haha...it makes me think of that SNL skit with Will Ferrell and Rachel Dratch.
"I drew pictures of our love all over the nimble sweaty body of my lov-ah."
Haha...ew.
Anyway...so these "pens" are in this "Help Yourself Box" right? And there are a couple of people in the box and we're going through and laughing at the odd assortment of crap in there...and we get to the stuff from the not-quite-sex-shop and someone pulls out the pens.
Now, it's no secret that I am quite the chocolate connoisseur. Hm. That's the wrong word. Fiend it probably more accurate. It's no secret that I am quite the chocolate fiend. So someone pulls out the pens and goes, "Amy, you should take these. You like chocolate."
So, I scoffed for a sec saying I had no reason to take them and no use for them, but she insisted. So I took them. I'd like to paint the picture for you, if I may, as to how this pens will most likely be used:
It's a cold Thursday night.
I'm home alone.
I've just put in a movie for viewing pleasure.
It is probably Elf.
Or The Jerk.
Or Waiting for Guffman.
I've got a glass of Diet Pepsi next to me.
I'm wrapped up in my favorite warm blankie.
My giant stuffed dog-bear sits with me in the chair.
I unwrap a piece of chocolate candy bar.
I take up my chocolate pens and top off my chocolate bar cheez-whiz style.
Except with chocolate instead of cheez-whiz...
...and CHOCOLATE instead of crackers.
Ahh...the good life.


In other news I've noticed something about myself. And that is that all a girl has to do is smile at me and I'm toast. And by toast I mean to say that I blush horribly and send a stupid grin back and then usually have to push up my glasses. And then I usually can't stop smiling for about 5 minutes afterward. Even if the girl is just someone I passed by on the street. If she smiles at me, I continue walking all dorky like thinking, "Dur, she totally smiled at me. I'm such a dork. Look at me being all dorky like."
Yeah.
Wish I was debonair and suave.
So not.
A simple smile renders me powerless. POWERLESS!!!

QUOTE OF THE DAY
(I'm sitting in the box office, doing box office things. We are not open yet. We open at 1:00. It is 12:45. There is a knock at the box door. Normally, I don't answer because I'm a girl and until my co-worker arrives the only soul in the building on Sundays. But it was pretty clear there was someone in the box office because I was moving things around and typing and the like. I look through the peephole and see a woman. So I open the door. She stares at me for a sec.)
ME: Can I help you?
WOMAN: I was hoping you'd open a little early today.
ME: We won't be open early today. We open at one.
WOMAN: So you won't be opening any earlier?
ME: Well, we'll be open in a few minutes.
WOMAN: Oh you will?
ME: Well, yeah it's 12:45 now, so we'll be open in 15.
WOMAN: So no earlier then?
ME: No, sorry.

AUDRA: God willing and the creek don't rise.
(I giggle)
AUDRA: What?
ME: And the creek don't rise?
AUDRA: That's how the phrase goes. Haven't you ever heard it?
ME: No.
AUDRA: Well clearly you never grew up with a creek in your backyard.

So Much Trouble

So the date today is December 19th.
And I have yet to start my Christmas shopping.
Yikes.
It's not like I've been lazy.
Seriously, I don't think I've had a complete day off in around four weeks. As of late, 8:30am is considered "sleeping in" for me.
So don't think I haven't started because I've been too busy sitting around sipping drinks with tiny little umbrellas while being fanned by totally hot pool girls. While I certainly wish that was the case, alas...it is not.
I have not started Christmas shopping because I've just been to darn busy.
I had hopes of decorating my apartment for Christmas, of baking Christmas cookies, of hand making all my Christmas cards this year...and just Martha Stewarting it up in general this year.
But nay. I'm pretty much just home to sleep. Forget decorating, baking, and making Christmas cards. Sorry guys. But don't expect anything from the Martha Stewart handbook from me this year.
I never was good at doing things Martha Stewart style anyway.
My projects are always a little rough around the edges.
My cookies come out tasting a little funny and maybe a little burnt and misshapen.
But you know what?
I do everything with love (I'm going to beat the "doin' it with love" thing to a bloody pulp, just so you know).
Does Martha Stewart do things with love?
If you ask me...I don't think so.
She does things with Obsessive Compulsive Perfectionism.
And if you ask me...there's a difference between love and Obsessive Compulsive Perfectionism.
Love is a macaroni necklace. Obsessive Compulsive Perfectionism is...not.
I'll take the macaroni necklace thank you very much.
I think we may apply this concept of OCP vs. love to relationships as well. Some relationships might look perfect (Quarterback and Head Cheerleader 2gether4ever) on the surface, but deep down you may find they're missing something (Not unlike a bundt cake. It might look great but then you see it's got a hole right through the middle of it. And no amount of perfectly placed powdered sugar, or well drizzled chocolate could make you feel any better about eating a cake a missing center).
Now let us look at relationship with love. They might not look right together (Captain of Math Team and Head Cheerleader 2gether4ever)but they have a little something more because they're not missing their entire center. Captain of Math Team and Head Cheerleader 2gether4ever are awesome because:
They're less about looking right and more about just being right.
That's my little nugget of wisdom for today.
So I will always make and do things with love.
And not with Obsessive Compulsive Perfectionism.
AND I am not too worried about starting my Christmas shopping because there is always time to do things with love but not always time to do things with OCP.
So there.
And even though I've now spent an entire post justifying why I do things with love...I will still continue to beat the phrase to a bloody pulp in forthcoming posts. In FACT if I were to make blog t-shirts for friends and fans of my blog. They might just have to say:

"Confusing Ideas Since 1986
Blogging With Love Since 2006"

Oh my god.
It's lame enough that when people ask me, "What are your hobbies?"
I respond, "Blogging."
If that t-shirt ever were to be made and people asked, "Say, what's your t-shirt mean?"
I would say, "It's inside joke. Only people who read my blog would get it."
That would probably reach a new "lame" low.

Oh, and I don't mean to imply as I did earlier that ALL Quarterback/Head Cheerleader relationships are empty and meaningless. Who's to say that the Head Cheerleader isn't a dude? And Quarterback wants his teammates to accept he's dating a Head Cheerleader that happens to be a DUDE! But his teammates are homophobes so nobody on the team passes him the ball...or...wait...no...I said he was the Quarterback right? Um...so I guess nobody would pass him the ball because he's the one he throws it. Right. But when he throws it to people, his teammates purposely drop it or won't catch it to try and sabotage his career! AND THEN! In the stirring climax...THE COACH of the team comes out and tells his team he's dating CLARK the head of the DRAMA department. The team dissolves into uproar upon learning that their beloved coach is gay. THEN (did I mention they were on a bus going to the biggest game of the SEASON)because of the uproar, the bus driver is temporarily blinded and swerves into oncoming traffic, the COACH in his old age, gets so frightened he has a heart attack and DIES!!!! His last words are, "Win it for me boys." And then the team, inspired comes together and WINS the biggest game of the season. Because, in a show of acceptance of him as a Quarterback AND a gay man, the team CATCHES the Quarterbacks passes. Um. So that was kind of dirty? I think? This is either the movie script for the Logo-Lifetime movie of the year or the next big gay porn. And then the movie ends with a touching scene from Coach's funeral. Where all the players stand up and say something touching about him.
The End.
So...random...


QUOTES OF THE DAY
(Trying to get my pizza slice, cheese falls off...I try and pick it up and put in on my pizza. Apparently I missed some)
DAVID: Will you please take all of your goo?! (Picks it up and puts it on my pizza)
CARLY: Haha...Magoo's goo.

After sharing her story about how she inadvertently killed her fish when cleaning it's taken by putting it in cold water (from the fridge)
CARLY: What kind of fish was it?
MICHELLE: A beta.
CARLY: Betas need 80 degree water!
MICHELLE: You need 80 degree water! (Storms off)

(Clearbrook is a school for people with special needs)
DAVID:(In reference to something I did. I think it was insisting that I put away the ticket stock on the top shelf which is difficult for me because I am short instead of just letting David do it)...and this is what it's like to work at Clearbrook.
and later...
DAVID: (After I said something in relation to dating/relationships)...and this is what it's like to date Clearbrook.
Ouch, David. Ouch. Those are some pretty good zingers. Albeit un-PC zingers. But good zingers none-the-less.

AMY'S LOVE LETTERS
Dear 6am,
I guess you and me are BFF.
Love,
Amy

Post of Quotes and A Love Letter

QUOTES OF THE DAY
Get ready. There are a TON today.
TYLER: You know what? My tummy hurt earlier today. My tummy hurt. But then I pooped and it felt better. Sometimes your tummy hurts when you have to poop. Do you know what? When you eat food it turns into poop. You eat food and then you poop it out.
(Now, normally I might gently chastise for using "potty" language, but...Tyler did not say anything was was untrue. He was absolutely right. And I don't think he was saying "poop" for the sake of saying "poop." I think he just likes to share what he's learned lately, and yesterday that just so happened to be about the logistics of poopage.

MAX: You know what? I can burp and talk at the same time. (He does so)
AMY: Burping is not nice.
Later...
MEGAN: You know what? I can spell my last name! (Does so)
COURTNEY: I can spell cat. C-A-T!
MAX: I can spell burp. B-R-P!
AMY: Not quite there buddy. You forgot the "u". But that was really close. Burp is hard to spell when you're four.

(After a phone call conversation with "Santa")
MRS. YUEILL: So Santa said that we should leave him cookies on Christmas eve. Maybe we should leave the reindeer something to eat. What do you guys think reindeer eat?
RITA: (With the utmost authority) They eat sugar and happy thoughts!

AMY: I hope I don't screw up the mechandise. I get really nervous around math and money and lots of people around me. I hope I don't mess it up.
STEVE: You've got it under control.
AUDRA: Oh, I was going to say, "me too."
AMY: I should be fine. Sometimes you have to do things you're afraid of, right?
AUDRA: Right.
AMY: ...but I will never swim with sharks.
STEVE: Me either.
LORELEE: I don't like even going in the ocean at all. It's too scary. There's too many creepy things in the ocean
AUDRA: (With dead sincerity)Oh yeah. An octopus could wrap its tentacles around you and pull you under.
LORELEE: Or those tiny jelly fish you can't even see but if they sting you, you could die!

AMY: (Discovering chocolate I forgot about in my bag)Holy crap, chocolate! I forgot this was in here. My ride home just got a little sweeter!
AUDRA: Good pun!
AMY: I like puns.
AUDRA: I know you like puns.
AMY: The worse, the better.
*Guys I have a serious addiction.
It's called chocolate.
I almost always have some on me. In fact, I just went through my bag and you want to know what I found?
Half a Cadbury Milk Chococlate candy bar(from above discovery)
A uarter of a pack of M&Ms.
A quater of a bar of Godiva Dark Chocolate
And Two Hershey Kisses.

AMY'S LOVE LETTERS
Dear Cabbie I drove in back of last night with the back window decorated for Christmas with lights, fake snow, and ugly Santas,
You made my night.
Love,
Amy

Painfully Close

So I am done with school for the semester.
When I begin next semester, I will officially be a senior.
Scary, right? Two more semesters until I graduate.
Heck.
Yes.
Hahaha. Two more semesters until I enter the "real" world. Scary, and yet...I've dealt with scarier things (see below conversation I had in the box office today for an illustration of this point).
I went to speak with the Dean's Office the other day about possibly over loading classes next semester and they handed me a packet about the steps I need to take to apply for graduation.
Holy crap.
It seems a little unbelievable to me. I think when they finally hand me my degree, my legs will give out. Either that or I'll start bawling and embrace the poor soul who gives me my degree in a giant bear hug.
A stupid piece of damn paper. That means so much to me.

This semester was ok as far as academics go. I certainly did not perform at the level I usually do. There was an incredible lack of motivation on my part for getting through my gen eds, namely my philosophy and science course. I'm pretty sure my philosophy professor wins the award for "Worst Teacher I've Ever Had in My Life" (yeah, he even beats out Mrs. What-The-Heck-Beck my old second grade teacher who absolutely petrified me). He just has no idea how to teach. I'm sorry dude, clearly you're smart, clearly you know your shit, but standing in front of a class for two and a half hours and summing up the reading does NOT constitute teaching. Yes, I needed to take your class for a gen ed but I also took it because it was called "Social and Political Philosophy" and that sounded interesting to me. 'Cause, hey...I like politics and hey...I like society and hey...I like philosophy too. What I got was the most boring, uninteresting class I think I've ever taken. And that's saying something. Because at least with my science class I can say, "Well, the professor was really nice and genuinely cared about the students and wanted to impart his love and appreciation for science onto us. And he did his very best to make class interesting." Plus, the dude is working on his PhD doing cancer research, I gotta have respect for that. I also had a history gen ed with a pretty cool professor and that class was at least interesting. There was nothing redeemable about this philosophy class. Not only did the prof suck at teaching but he also was totally unapproachable and came off and condescending and mean. Jerk.
However, I did do very well in the classes that matter the most to me. My theatre classes, and really at this point it means the most to me to do well in those classes and to put in my effort there and get the most out of those classes. My acting professor told me my work was a "joy." haHA take that stupid philosophy professor. I AM smart. I just don't want to be smart for you. I know damn well what Locke says. I read the 200 pages you assigned. I don't need you to stand up in front of the class and tell me about what I read. What I would like to know is why it matters and how it's relevant and what the hell the philosophy of Locke has to do with Social and Political stuff. 'Cause I mean...I've taken a U.S. History course so I have some idea about what Locke has to do with social and political stuff, but I didn't get that from your class. I have a good idea about the things Locke says, 'cause I read his stuff but I didn't take this class just to read a bunch of philosophers' philosophies.
Anyway.
Rant on that over.
Ha. I'm actually worried I might get a C in that class. *GASP* Amy, get a C? I know. It makes me feel a little bad.
Whatever.
I got an A+ on my text analysis for my Shakespearean acting class.
That's all that matters to me.

So the other day I did that thing I do where I take my coins to a coinstar and get them changed into itunes money. I find this works well because:
a)If you change your change (haha) into gift certificates they don't charge you for the counting and
b)I can then buy music on itunes with little guilt because it's like I'm not spending "real" money.
ANYWAY.
I got my changed changed and went on itunes and bought a whole bunch of music.
And I've gotta say...Barenaked Ladies version of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"?...Slightly awesome. And by slightly awesome I of course mean awesomely awesome.
I also noticed how hard it is to find good versions of holiday songs. It took me like 20 minutes to find a decent version of "Baby It's Cold Outside". That song is really hard too because it's a duet. So, maybe I like the way the girl sings but then the man comes on and is like, "here, I'm going to get your drunk so I can do you" and I'm like...aw, you should shutup and not sing because you suck. I really like that song, but it's sort of a little wrong. When the woman asks, "Say, what's in this drink?" I want to say, "I think your boyfriend slipped you a rufie. You should leave. Now. Because he's either going to sleep with you against your will or steal your internal organs. It can only end badly. Run! Run! I don't care if it's cold outside. No, don't listen to him when he says he likes your hair! RUN! RUN!"


QUOTE OF THE DAY
AMY: Hi cheese, I'm going to eat you.
DAVID: Hi cheese, I'm going to turn you into poo.
(At which point I threw the cheese stick I was about to eat in the air and cracked up laughing)

(At the box office. Guy is at the window. At the window. AT THE WINDOW. P.S. This really happened)
AMY: I have seats here in the left section of the house in Row E (I point to the seats on the seating chart) or here in the left section of the house in Row B (I point).
MAN: Nothing in the center section?
AMY: The center section is full.
MAN: There's nothing in the center?
AMY: This show is very full, there is nothing available in the center.
MAN: Nothing?
AMY: No.
MAN: So where are these seats again?
AMY: I have these three in Row E here (I point). Or these three here in Row B (I point).
(He stares at me)
(He stares at me some more)
MAN: (Speaking slowly) And you have nothing in the center?
AMY: The center is sold and completely full.
MAN: Well do you have anything closer to the center in side sections?
AMY: No, these seats are the best available.
MAN: Nothing closer to center?
AMY: No. This show is very close to selling out. I've only got about 50 tickets left.
MAN: And nothing in the center?
AMY: No.
(He stares at me)
MAN: Where are these seats again?
AMY: I have these seats in Row B: 17, 15, and 13. Or I have these in Row E: 25, 23, and 21.
MAN: And there is nothing closer to center in the side sections?
AMY: No. This show is very full.
MAN: Well where are the other 50 seats?
AMY: In our general admission section and on the ends of the side sections. These are the best seats I have available. Our theatre is very small you're going to see from no matter where you're sitting.
MAN: And there is nothing in the center?
AMY: Completely full.
(He stares at me)
MAN: Where are these seats again?
AMY: I have these seats here in E or these here in B (I point).
MAN: Which are better?
AMY: If you like to be closer, I'd go with the ones in B. If you like to be further back I'd go with row E. It depends on how you like to see a show, it's at your discretion.
(He stares at me)
MAN: Where are they again?
AMY: Row E 25,23, and 21. Row B 17,15, and 3 (I point).
MAN: Which would you take?
AMY: Personally I like to be further back when I see a show so I would go with E.
MAN: Why?!
AMY: I find that being further back offers me a better, more complete view of the stage.
(He stares at me)
MAN: I'll take the ones in B.
(I take his payment print the tickets)
MAN: Is B ok? Will I be ok there?
AMY: Yes. (Hand him is tickets and carefully articulate our policies.)
(A few minutes go by. He comes back.)
MAN: Yeah, these tickets. You gave me 17, 15, and 13. Are those together?
AMY: (I stand up and point to the tickets on the seating chart again) Row B 17, 15, and 13. They're together, see?



AMY'S LOVE LETTERS
Dear Moleskine 2008 Daily Pocket Planner,
You and my OCD are going to be best friends.
Love,
Amy

Dear Diploma,
Watch your back, fool. I'm coming for ya.
Love,
Amy

I Am The Worst Girl Ever

So, as I stated in an earlier post...
I had to buy a skirt.

Now, I as you might imagine I don't have a pair of shoes that go well with this skirt. (I don't think my acting teacher would appreciate it I tried to do the scene in my "angry lesbian boots" as I've now decided to call them). So I went to payless today to try and find a simple pair of black ballet flats. After some searching and a mild freak out attack that I'd have to buy the pair with sparkle-y buckle. I found what I thought was a plain black pair of ballet flats.
I take 'em to the counter pausing only to grab a pair of thick black tights.

...I get home.

I open up the box of shoes and realize that I did in fact buy the pair with the sparkle-y buckle. The front of the shoes were wrapped in paper...hence why I didn't realize in the store.
I looked at the tights I bought. And realized I bought a pair for people size 5'7''-6'.
Um, I'm 5' on a GOOD day. So I've got about 7'' of extra tights.
...Whatever. I'm just going to have to suck it up and deal with it I guess.
I suck at being a girl.

I perform the scene as a finished piece tomorrow. I'm pretty excited about it. I really enjoyed this Shakespeare class. I'm really sad it will be over after tomorrow. I'm thinking about asking the prof where I can go to learn more, because I'm seriously considering taking on Shakespeaian acting as a more formal course of study. I just love it. {DISCLAIMER: Dork-out moment coming in 5...4...3...2...} Speaking Shakespeare's language is just so fun. It's fun. It's amazing stuff. Yes, I have to work at it. But I LOVE that about Shakespeare. I love that Shakespeare absolutely demands that you are not to throw away lines or language. I LOVE that it's difficult. I LOVE how expressive it is.
Anyway. This course has really opened up an avenue for me that I never really considered. I've always loved acting and performing. And not that I ever gave up on it, but I sort of made the decision that I should study directing or writing more closely because I know I don't look like a typical woman. I'm not sure how "castable" I am because of my looks. And yes, I know I can always play little boys. But if you look at and read plays like I do, you'd see how genderized the characters are. Obviously, this isn't the case totally across the board and I know there are roles out there I could be cast in but for the most part when I read or see a play I see a lot of roles I would never be cast in. I know I could play the roles. I know I could do it. But I know that I won't be cast.
Now, I would be lying if I said gender isn't important in Shakespeare's plays. Quite often conflict in the play actually centers are concepts of gender (as in Twelfth Night were Viola disguises herself as a man). But in Shakespeare there's this opportunity to turn gender upside down and inside out more so than in any other playwright I've enountered (except for maybe Charles Ludlam). This can probably be traced back to the Elizabethean period when Shakespeare's plays were contemporary and woman were not allowed on stage, so men played all the roles. I guess what I'm trying to say is I see more of a place for myself as an actor and performer in the world of Shakespeare than I do in contemporary theatre.


QUOTES OF THE DAY

(Kids at the Studio today...discussing the existence of Santa)
NICK: Someone once told me that the parents did it. But I don't think that's true.
LEXI: It's not.
NICK: I know. How could it be true? If it were the parents...that's like hundreds of dollars in gifts. So it can't be the parents. It's gotta be Santa.

TYLER: You know what?
ME: What?
TYLER: You know how you can figure out how old you are?
ME: How?
TYLER: How old you are is how many birthdays you've had.
ME: Really?
TYLER: Uh-Huh.
ME: How many birthdays have you had?
TYLER: I've only had four birthdays. So I'm four.
ME: Whoa. Four birthdays!
TYLER: Yeah. You know what? I've only had four birthdays.
ME: I've had 21 birthdays.
TYLER: Whoa.
ME: Yeah, I know.
TYLER: You know what? I've only had four birthdays. I've had four birthdays and I'm not in school yet. I don't even go to kindergarden yet. I'm not in school.
ME: You don't go to school huh?
TYLER: No. Even though I've had four birthdays.
ME: Well, that's ok. I think you could wait a little longer until you go to school.
TYLER: Yeah. I probably won't go to school until I'm an adult. Like...I probably won't go to school until I'm 10 or something.
ME: That sounds like a good plan.

LITTLE JOE: (After putting placing buttons on his Christmas tree pin) I think I need to rest.

LITTLE JOE: We have two Christmas trees.
ME: Two?!! No fair! I don't even have one!
LITTLE JOE: Wait, actually we have three! (He shows me three fingers)
ME: Three? You have got to be kidding me.
LITTLE JOE: We have one little one thats a night light, one medium one, and then one e-nor-mous one that's Mommy'r peacock tree and we're not allowed to touch.
*Little Joe is three. Yes. He really said enormous. Pretty sure that word is bigger than he is.

AMY'S LOVE LETTERS
Dear "Walking on the Moon" LP on vinyl that XRT played the other day,
You were amazing.
Love,
Amy

I think radio stations should play more vinyl. I wish artists still released stuff on vinyl and I wish I had a record player.

The Classic Bad Day

Today was a straight up bad day. Not a bad day like now I'm all depressed about it, but a bad day where shit just happens and I'm sitting there saying, "Really? Now this too?"
Ok, so maybe it's not so bad, but here's a brief outline of my day:
a) I wake up sometime this morning, it was still dark outside and I know my alarm is set to go off at 6:00am. I have this habit of looking at the clock when I wake up in the morning, which really sucks because if I wake up at 5:05 and know I have to get up at 6:00...I won't be able to fall back asleep. This annoys me. So I wake up at some point during the morning and go to check the clock, but then say to myself, "No, Amy. Don't. You will probably get 20 more minutes of sleep if you don't. You are OCD and will have to get out of bed if you have less than an hour to sleep. We need to work on your OCD. Now turn over and sleep for as long as you possibly can like a normal person.
So I do.
I wake up later. It is light outside.
I know something is not right. I look at the clock...7:30am. My alarm did not go off. I overslept. I NEVER oversleep. So I know I'm pretty much in for a shitty day. So I literally jump out of bed, throw on clothes, don't have time to shower, pause long enough to throw some cereal in a bag and I'm out the door.
Luckily, here is where being OCD had it's benefits...because I am OCD and have to always arrive everywhere I go, early...I sill got to work with 30 minutes to spare. (If I would have used that 30 minutes to take a shower and cut it close with getting to work on time, I seriously would have been convulsing in the car...that's how OCD I am about being on time. Hey, at least I recognize I have a problem.)
b) So I arrive at work bleary eyed, bed headed, and smelly. I don't even think I changed my socks. GROSS. Dirty socks are the nastiest thing ever. I get to work and there's this mass mailing for our development deparment we're supposed to work on. Which basically involves, as most mass mailings do...labeling envelopes with addresses, folding letters, stuffing, and sealing. Not fun stuff and usually they have to be done and out as quickly as possible. So I get to work and me and the dude I was working with start cranking these mo'fos out, right? We get a lot done. A lot.
Then...Someone points out to me as I continue to stuff and seal that the letters have names and addresses on them. Names and addresses that correspond with their proper envelope.
Oh.
Shit.
Mass mailings usually never have this stipulation. And I didn't look carefully and just started folding, labeling, stuffung, and sealing as quickly as possible.
So now, not only did I spend the rest of the day carefully going through and binder clipping appropriate letters and envelopes...I also had to go back and open up allllll the "done" ones and re-alphabatize the letter and envelope.
Yeah.
Awesome.
c) When it was time for me to go home, I pulled my drawer and realized that my checks and cash did not match and that at some point I hit "check" on the computer instead of hitting "cash" so that messed up my drawer. (Basically, I reported having taken in more checks than I actually did and less cash than I actually did)
Awesome.
d) When I went to clock out I realized that I had forgotten to clock in.

Hopefully...I will still have a job tomorrow.
Haha. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day because tomorrow I work from about 8:30 in the morning until 10:00 at night. I'm a little scared.

Carly...remember how I said I was saving those chocolate covered Milanos?
Yeah...I'm devouring them as we speak.
Carly picked up some Chocolate covered Milanos for me and I highly recommend you go out and track some down because they might just be more amazing than ice cream.
Apparently, they're limited edition cookies...
Which begs the question: "Would they have retained more value if I had kept them in their orginal packaging and not...in my stomach?"
Oh well.
Apparently all limited edition means in cookie world is that they charge you more for them and only give you seven.
Seven?
Really??
I can eat seven Milanos in one sitting Pepperidge Farm! What are you trying to do to me? Make me a freakin' addict?

I Want To Be The Next Samantha Brown, Except Less Annoying and Gay-er

You guys, I want to go to Europe.
So bad.
I did that thing I probably shouldn't do. I watched the Travel Channel. This channel is dangerous for me.
So I'm thinking if I win the lotto, I'll go after I graduate. I think next semester I'm going to take French as an elective and I've also signed up with the BBC to learn some basic stuff (they're going to email me lessons). I figure with the amount of Spanish I have under my belt I could definitely get by in Spain and probably stumble through Italy. So, if I learn some French I'll be golden. Because I'm not going to be that obnoxious American that shows up with a phrase book and:
a) Either butchers the language or
b) Walks up to everyone ans says, "Do you speak-a English?? EN-GLISH? I don't comp-ren-der your crazy foreign tongue. Can you point me in the direction of the nearest McDonalds? MAC-DONALDS. Like...burger? Like..yum, yum?"
If I'm going to Europe...I'm going to do it right.
Ha. If I go to Europe.
Well...one day. I think it's just easier to go when you're young and not so tied down to a job or other things. So after graduation would be the perfect time.
And can I just say, I am so jealous of Samantha Brown. I mean..I find her a little annoying, but here's this chick that gets to go all over the WORLD and gets PAID for it. I think if I were to get a Travel Show, where I could be myself...that would be the ultimate for me. It would be serious, but also crazy too. I wonder how you go about getting a Travel show. I would go so many places. I would go great places like Paris, and Sicily, and Venice, and Greece...but then I would have episodes where I would go to The World's Largest Pumpkin Farm or something. Or episodes where I would just go to a random person's house for dinner. Or episodes where I would just start wandering around to see what I could see. I would be a charming and good looking host. I bet I would be voted the hottest Travel show EVER. I think Globe Trekker is probably my favorite show on the Travel Channel. I could totally do that. I wonder if The Travel Channel accepts audition tapes...
That might be my dream job. A Travel Show that I could write, decide where to go and what to do. AND I would bring all my friends on my show with me. We would have adventures.
...at some point in my life I would also really like to ride on an elephant. I don't know why. Maybe that will happen in the trip to India episode.

AMY'S LOVE LETTERS
Dear Diet Pepsi,
In the words of the immortal Enrique Iglesias, "Maybe I'm addicted."
Love,
Amy

Forced to Be A Girl

So I forgot to talk about this earlier.
Guess what I had to do the other day?

...buy a skirt.

I don't think I've worn a dress or skirt in 3 years.

I know what you're thinking.

And the answer is, "No."

No, I haven't suddenly decided that I love skirts and want to make them a regular part of my wardrobe.
No, I haven't suddenly decided to be straight.
No, I haven't suddenly become a "lipstick lesbian."

I had to buy one for my acting class, because as I mentioned a while ago...I'm actually playing a "No Strings Attached Woman" as per the instruction of the professor in this last scene assignment. Not playing battle ready Joan La Pucelle (Joan of Arc), not playing Viola disguised as a man. I am playing a straight up, red-blooded, man-hungry woman.
Uh, well...not quite, actually...so I may be playing a nun...actually.
So, it's not so much a man-hungry woman as a "Want To Keep My V-Card Woman"
Still, none-the-less, I must wear a skirt.
The scene is from Measure for Measure, I will be playing the pure and chaste Isabella. Granted, she ain't an old-ass nun. She's young, and though certainly not hip like Whoopi Goldberg, she attractions the attentions of the men folk. So...she's sexy. A sexy nun. I am going to play a sexy nun that is grossed out by the idea of sex with man. I think I can handle this. Right?
Want to hear about my scene? Because it's pretty mucked up and pretty much a Maury Povich episode waiting to happen. Basically, my brother (Claudio) is in jail for knocking up his girlfriend, Juliet and putting a bun in her oven sans being betrothed. Which just so happens to be against the law in the play. The Duke for whatever reason decides to leave and puts this real charming fella named Angelo in charge (he's like George W. but not quite as dumb and maybe a little dirtier). So, this guy decides he's going to enforce the law unlike the actual Duke who was just sorta like, "Eh. Whatevs. If you wanna put in a bun in your girlfriend's oven, it's cool." So with Angelo in charge, Claudio gets put in jail. Claudio sends for me (his super sister) to plead to Angelo on his behalf. I beg Angelo to free Claudio and he says he will.
But there's a catch.
Ready for it?
I gotta get it on with him to free my brother. Thus, Angelo would be breaking the very law he's enforcing because he's a man and thinks with his...well...you know.

ANYWAY.

The scene I'm doing is this absolute heart wrencher (it really is, I was real depressed after rehearsing it) where I go tell my brother that he's going to die. Claudio asks me if anything can be done to save him and after "skirting the issue" (that one's especially for you David) for a while I finally get it out to him that in order to free him, I'd have to sleep with Angelo and lose my V-Card (something I am not keen on doing as I was just about to take my nunly vows and be a bride for Jesus). My brother is at first appalled and tells me that I will not "do it" (pun intended. Do you guys love that I point out my puns?). But, after thinking about how scary death is, he asks me to schtoop Angelo so he can live. Well, then I pretty much go ape-shit on him, calling him a "beast" a "dishonest wretch" and "faithless coward" and spend an entire speech berating the shit out of him. Going so far as to say that our mother must have cheated on our father because there's no way such a "warped slip of wilderness" came from my father's blood. Isn't Shakespeare awesome? And then I get to say the line that is my favorite line yet of this year because it is so mush fun to say, it just rattles off the tongue. Ready for it?

"Might but my bending down/Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed"

That's a good line, no? It's really a lot of fun to say. Say it outloud. Go ahead. You'll see what I mean. It's awesome.
Did you say it out loud? Awesome. Right?

Now say it with this:

"Take my defiance!
Die, Perish! Might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate it should proceed:
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
No word to save thee."

Even more awesome, right?
Shakespeare is so freaking cool. Yeah. Isabella is pretty damn pissed in this scene.
AND in the end, not to spoil anything for you...but the gone-on-leave Duke, who was actually just in disguise as a FRIAR the whole time and saw and heard everything asks Isabella to marry him. Aw. Whether or not she agrees is not clear in the script, so the choice is usually made my directors.

But, see what I mean? This play is a Maury episode waiting to happen. As is much of Shakespeare I suppose:
"My Brother is in Jail and The Only Way to Save Him Is To Sleep With A Hypocrite. Also, I'm A Nun. And My V-Card Is A No-No."
"I Split My Damn Kingdom Between My Evil Daughters And Now They've Just Left Me Outside. I Mean, Damn. At Least Put Me In An Old Folks Home."
"We're Teenagers and In Love But No Our Families Hate Each Other: We Should Probably Just Kill Ourselves"
"I Killed A Man To Usurp The Throne: Now I'm Worried About The Consequences. I Think The Woods Are Moving In On Me. Am I Crazy? My Wife Sure Is"
"My Mom Is Schtooping My Uncle Who Killed My Father to Usurp The Thorne And I'm Real Depressed About It"

Anyway. All this to say I had to buy a damn skirt. I don't like clothes shopping to begin with (pretty much one of my most hated activities ever) but having to shop for a damn skirt made it infinitly worse. After three stores filled with yule-tide shoppers and much frustration on my part I finally found one. Exactly what I was looking for: Something long, with and elastic band. This is what we theatre geeks call a "rehearsal skirt." Something we can move in during rehearsal so when we put in the actual costume skirt it's not a huge shock. It helps give a sense of character and such. Of course, said skirt is way too long for me, so it does need to be rolled. But hey, that's pretty much the story of my life. Jeans I get out of the little boy section gotta be rolled, and so do skirts out of the girls section. It's just what it is to be short.

I just want it to be known...I don't have anything against skirts. In fact, I can wear one just fine. Dresses too. And it may be shocking to know: I can walk in heels. And I have no problem wearing any of these things as long as I'm playing character, because for me to wear them as just plain old Amy, no joke guys...I feel like I'm in drag. Without the fabulous part. If I wear a skirt as Amy I'm like the sucky drag queen who can't quite pull it off, but bless her/his heart she/he just tries so hard! Seriously.

So, I found the skirt at Kohl's and I shop there because they're cheap, so I know what I'm getting into when I go there: having to deal with shopping around the geriatric community, but in case you don't shop at Kohl's and were planning a trip there I just have to issue a blanket warning:
Don't buy their slippers.
Want to know why? I saw an old lady, litereally sitting in the middle of an aisle, with her shoe off AND her sock off trying on slippers. Yup. She was sticking her bare, stinky old lady feet right in 'em. That is just gross. So don't buy slippers at Kohl's. Chances are some old lady you don't know has had her crinkly old aged spotted feet in there.
Yeah.
Gross.
Just looking out for you guys. So I thought I'd let you know. And based on what I saw, I'm a little worried for what goes in the dressing rooms so I wouldn't reccommend buying their underwear either unless it's in a sealed package. Otherwise...well, some old lady mighta had her naked butt in your skiivies. And if there is anything worse than an old lady's bare feet...it's an old lady's bare ass.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
DAVID: Can we open up a skirt store called "Skirting The Issue"? And we'll sell all kinds of skirts to wear and table skirts...but we'll skirt the issue with costumers? Like they'll say, "Um, how much is this skirt?" and we'll be like, "Oh, so the weather is so nice today."

CARLY: There's mini skirts, and maxi skirts....
DAVID: Like pads?

Everyone Loves a Ghost Story (They Freak Amy Out)

So, the other day I had this thing called scene rehearsal. It was on Sunday, after Thanksgiving break and supposed to be at 7:00. My partner and me decided to meet on the 14th floor of this building where our acting class meets. So, this building is super old, so much so it's pretty much a landmark. They recently renovated the top floors, and are currently working on the remaining floors.
SO! I come into this building on Sunday night and it's really quiet. Nobody is around because it's
a) A Sunday Night and
b) The Sunday night right after Thanksgiving break.
Being alone doesn’t freak me out, the bottom floor is sort of gray and dreary, but still...there were lights on so I wasn't scared. I sat on a bench and talked to David for a while on the phone because I was early. After a while I decided to head up to the 14th floor to wait for my partner.
So, obviously, you have to take the elevator to get to the 14th floor. Well, you don't have to and in fact sometimes I walk because the elevators in this building scare the shit out of me. They're new, but they go super fast and while you go up they sound like racecars and rattle mildly. They also like to stop sometimes and hang out between floors. I just get a bad feeling when I ride in them, so I try to avoid it if I can. BUT seeing as how I was alone, taking a short elevator ride seemed less scary then climbing 28 flights of stairs alone with no one else in the building.
So I get the 14th floor...and there really aren't classrooms up there...it's more or less two big rooms where acting classes are held. So I get up there and the entire floor is completely dark, save for the lights lighting the area directly in front of and adjacent to the elevators. This building is right on the lake, so while this offers a stunning view during the day, at night...looking out the windows to the east, it appears the building is sort of floating in blackness.
Now, as I said. This building is extremely old. It was a women's college before Loyola bought it and actually is a designated Chicago landmark.
Being so old, as one may imagine, there are...stories about this building.
Stories about the 14th floor in particular.
I'm sure you may surmise that I mean to say the place is said to be haunted.
It is said that a student studying to be a nurse was impregnated by a priest and then she either:
a) Hung herself or
b) Was pushed out the window by the priest who was not so keen on his vow of celibacy.
It is said these grisly occurrences happened on the 14th floor. So it is said the ghost of this nurse in particular haunts the 14th floor.
So they've been working on renovating this building for a while and it has only been since this semester that the 14th floor was open to students. There are stories of construction workers turning out the lights, leaving for the night and noticing after exiting the building that the lights on the 14th floor had come back on. There are stories of misplaced tools, ect. There are stories of brave students venturing up the forbidden 14th floor and seeing the very chair by which the nurse hung herself with the very rope still hanging from the closet where the tragedy took place.
Is any of this based in fact?
Or is it all college lore?
I do not know.
What I do know is that these stories were in my head and now here I was, on the 14th floor alone in the dark, with very few people even in the building at all. And it certainly didn't help that I had watched several episode of Most Haunted over Thanksgiving...a show that is both hilarious as it is clearly fake and frightening in a Blair Witch kinda way.
I called David right away and asked him to talk to me until my scene partner show up. Being the fabulous platonic gay boyfriend that he was, he of course, obliged.
So I'm talking with David and he mentions this building on his campus that used to be haunted and tells me he had an "experience" he said he wouldn't tell me now, but of course my interest was peeked and I said, "oh man, you gotta tell me" So he tells me that he was in this building on his campus after a rehearsal, alone. He was closing up or whatever in this building that's known to be haunted. David said he went to use the washroom, and this toilet near him just flushed out of nowhere. He said he wasn't freaked out yet, but noticed it. As he was walking down the hall, he walked by the water fountain and the motor in it suddenly started right as he walked by. He freaked out a little and continued walking. He walked by the Coke Machine and as he walked by that the motor in that started. So, he's kinda freaked now and says he went into the theatre to just pick up his crap and get the hell out, as he went to get his bag, one the blacks (for those of you who don't speak freaky-deaky theatre "blacks" are curtains that hang and mask the offstage area) fell halfway off it's pipe.
So, he told me that story that I asked to hear but really was wishing I hadn't asked because now every little noise on this huge dark floor is making me jump. I'm too scared to even move into the darkness to go turn on a light.
And I start to contemplate...
Ok, if some shit goes down, what the heck would I do? Would I run for the staircase and fly down 28 flights of stairs and through, no doubt dark corridors?? Would I press the button on the elevator, wait for the damn thing to come get me, then jump in the elevator that freaks me out to begin with and hope it delivers me to ground level safely??
So David and I continue to talk and it becomes apparent after about 20 minutes that my scene partner likely forgot about our rehearsal, and dumb me forgot to get her phone number. So, I jump up, fly into the elevator and breath a sigh of relief when I am on ground level once again, the whole way down telling David these elevators scare because they shake and go super fast and I can hear them speeding down the tube. I get really freaked out when I feel things are out of control, and to me...when I step in those elevators they feel very out of control. I know they're not. They're new, they're safe...but still...they unsettle me.
ANYWAY! So I get out of the building and I'm walking back to my car still talking to David, I finally tell him the story of why and how it's said that floor is haunted (I obviously did not want to say it out loud while I was on the floor lest I conjure up some spirit). As I am walking outside I realize that my head is cold. I discover that my hat I was wearing is not in my pockets. Nor is it in my bag. I remember that I took it off on the 14th floor and placed it next to me on the bench. I tell David...
AMY: Oh no, David! I don't have my hat; I think I forgot it up there!!
DAVID: Well, goodbye hat. You are just chancing it if you go back up there to get it.
AMY: I am NOT going back up there. That's like bad horror movie 101 right there.
DAVID: I know, right? You'd go up there and the hat wouldn't be where you left it...or it would be laid out really nicely.
AMY:...or there would be a ghost up there, wearing it.
DAVID: Yeah, you can go get that tomorrow.
AMY: Or I can just buy another one at Walgreen’s for a dollar.

Sorry. That story was really really boring and really anti-climatic.
Um...let me change it a bit...
So, after discovering that I no longer had my hat, I decided, "What the hell?" David's on the phone with me, I'll just go back up there and get it. I like that hat, and it will save me a dollar.
I tell David, "David, I'm going back up there to get it."
He says, "Oh no Magoo (Magoo is his nickname for me, short for "Lez-Magoo") please don't!! I don't have a good feeling about this!!"
I say, "Oh, stop! I'll be fine. You're on the phone with me, it's all good."
So, I continue to talk to David, he all the while is begging me not to go. I step into the elevator and scream.
"OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED, MAGOO???" David screams into the phone. I leave him hanging a few seconds. Then say, "Haha! Gotcha! Jeez, lighten up. I'm only going back upstairs to the supposedly haunted 14th floor and making every cliché scary movie mistake EVER."
David says, "So not funny Magoo."
So I get in the elevator and go up the 14th floor. Cue the dramatic, foreboding music and the camera angle focusing on the floor numbers as they rise.
The elevator arrives at the 14th floor.
With a. "ding" the elevator doors open onto the windows looking eastward into the endless black. I see my reflection in the windows, my phone suddenly cuts out. "David?" I say into the phone. I look down at my phone, while I am looking away an apparition flickering next my reflection in the window. I look up and it's gone. I call David back, as he answers I step out of the elevator, pausing for a moment at the window to look out at the lake. David answers, "Hey, sorry. Must have lost the call on the way up in the elevator. The camera angle (don't ask me why this has suddenly turned into a movie) reveals, unbeknownst to me staring at the lake, that a woman ghost is sitting on the bench where I was, staring at me, waiting for me to see her.
I turn.
I see her.
I drop my phone.
I can hear David on the other line, "Magoo? Magoo??? Is everything ok?? Magoo!!"
The ghost says, "Hi Amy. You forgot your hat."
She picks up my hat that was sitting in her lap and hands it to me.
I scream and punch the down button on the elevator frantically.
The ghost calmly walks toward me.
I scream some more and ball up onto the floor against the elevator door.
The ghost is now upon me!!
She bends down, looks me in the eye and pulls the hat onto my head.
"It's cold outside." She says.
The elevator doors open and I fall inside. I scramble up, she hands me my cell phone.
"Bye." She says and the doors close.

Muhahahahahaa how's THAT for a ghost story??


AMY'S LOVE LETTERS
Dear Giant Plastic Christmas Tree In The Student Center,
You make my heart happy.
Love,
Amy

Random Blonde Talks With Me on The Metra And Other Musings

So when I got on the Metra today this random blonde girl started talking to me and asking me all kinds of questions. I hadn't even made eye contact with her but as soon as I bought my ticket, she turns to me and says in an overly friendly way: "So are you from Chicago??" She then followed with question after question which I had trouble hearing because I was standing in the vestibule of the train and not in the car itself. I mean, hey, I am all for pleasant, friendly conversation. But I don't like to be attacked with questions. It was kind of weird.
HER: Where are you headed?
ME: I'm headed out the suburbs for work.
HER: What suburb?
HER: Where do you work?
HER: Are you in school?
HER: Are you studying medicine?
HER: Where do you want to work when you're done with school?
...blondes scare me. Plus she just got back from her vacation to Cancun. And there's only one reason you go to Cancun if you're a skinny blonde with lots of makeup: To get blasted and have lots of sex.
That was a gross generalization. I apologize. Maybe she was there to study bird flu or give out pinatas to all the homeless Mexican children...or maybe she was there to get blasted and have lots of sex.

...So, I've seen a lot of versions of A Christmas Carol, both onstage and onscreen. And do you want to know which version I think it the best?
The Muppet Christmas Carol
Seriously. Part of it is because Michael Caine plays Scrooge, and he's just amazing. I feel like the other actors I've seen play Scrooge, sort of half-ass it. Like that dude from Fraiser in that really horrible version I saw of A Christmas Carol last year.
Here. I will show you the difference and you can clearly see which is the better and more amazing...

Shitty Version (duh, Jennifer Love Hewitt is involved):

(And no that's not just crappy syncing and sound from youtube. Jennifer Love Hewitt is just THAT bad at lip syncing.)

AWESOME Version (duh, Muppets are involved):


Aw, and that song is so awesome.
Ok, I need to be serious here for second guys...and I know some of you (ahem, David) are going to roll you eyes at me right now, but I have to say this...
I Love Christmas.
I do.
I really think it's a magical time of year, no matter what you believe what you celebrate. I am not a religious person, I don't know what I believe about God or Jesus, but I love Christmas. There's just something special about it.
AND I love Christmas music. Now I know every year I profess my love for the Jingle Cats, that magical feline music group that sings all your favorite hits. But, in actuality, my top Christmas music songs might surprise you...
1) O Come O Come Emmanuel
2) Noel
3) O Holy Night
4) O Come All Ye Faithful
5) Still (So Beautiful if you haven't heard it)
6) There's this one I do not know the name of or the words to, but I can hum it for you.
7) Carol of the Bells.
I know. Shocking right? For a gay woman who is afraid of the Catholicism on which I was raised it may come as a surprise all my favorites are...CHURCH songs. You might expect my favorites to include:
1) I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas
2) Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer (A horrible horrible horrible song. If you don't believe me listen to the lyrics sometime. It's awful.)
or
3) Yellow Snow
Not so. Gay people do have class guys.
OK, and as long as we are talking Christmas music, I have to talk about that Christmas song I loathe. I speak about it every year but I cannot say enough bad things about it. If you ever want to see my get seriously bothered, all you have to do is play Christmas Shoes. I absolutely HATE that flipping that song. It makes my insides writhe in anger and pain and makes me contemplate throwing myself through a window. It's SO SO SO bad. And because I love sharing absolute shit with you all...here it is: (And you better watch it! I had to endure a fair amount of pain to find and make sure this clip was what I needed)

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! I HATE IT SO HARD!!!! Things like this should be thrown into the pits of hell. I think Newsong, or whatever the heck the name of this group is, should be forced to listen to this song over and over and over and over until they apologize to humanity for what they have unleashed.

ANYWAY!

Got this gem of a phone call today:
ME: Box office, this is Amy, how may I help you?
LADY: Yeah hi. I'm confused. I just called the box office in this number listed in the brochure (555) 555-5555, and I got a message telling me to call the box at (555)555-5555 for more information, that doesn't make any sense.
ME: Well, that is our phone number and-
LADY: Well, I know that! But I don't know why when I call I would get a message telling me to call the box office for more information. It doesn't make ANY sense!
ME: Well, when the box office is closed, or if we are experiencing a high volume of calls we have a message that plays and gives information-
LADY: But I don't understand why it would tell me call the box office when I'm already calling the box office. Do you understand what I mean?
ME: Yes, it's not a mistake that the message-
LADY: But I don't know why it would tell me to call the box office, when I'm already calling the box office! Do you get it?
ME: Sure. I'll have it looked into.
LADY: Now, this Second City show you have coming there...the...uh...what's it called...Dysfunctional...I'm sure you know what-
ME: Holiday Revue?
LADY: Yeah that. That used to be a really famous Second City show, I think...in the city. Didn't it?
ME: Well, I know it's been here every year for a number of years.
LADY: That's not what I mean! Didn't it start at the Second City in the city?? It used to be really famous. Very very popular. Didn't it?
ME: I am not familiar enough with the production history of Second City to know, but I know this particular show has been here a number of years and is always well received.
LADY: But this show started in the city, right?
ME: I'm not familiar with the production history of Second City-
LADY: Are you from Chicago??!!!?
ME: Yes.
LADY: Well it was a very popular Second City show. It used be very good. It probably isn't anymore.
ME: It's actually a very funny show.
LADY: It is tasteful?
ME: That depends on your definition of tasteful. It is rated R for language and content.
LADY: So what is this show about anyway?
ME: Well, it's a Second City show, so it's improv and sketch comedy based around the Holiday Season, they poke fun at this time of year and the various holidays. It's like an episode of Saturday Night Live without the censorship.
LADY: It's probably not very good...what are the dates and times it plays?
ME: (I give her dates and times)
LADY: OK, and what are your hours?
ME: (Tell her our hours)
LADY: Can you buy tickets online?
ME: Yes.
LADY: And that's always on?
ME:...yes.
LADY: Ok, I'll talk to my friend and call back.
OK, Lady...you seem to know a hell of a lot for what you're asking me. If you know that The Second City show originated in Chicago, then why the crap are you giving me such a hard time about it? If you know so much why don't you come work in the box office? Then you could work to change the message that "confuses" you and tell our patrons all about The Second City show that originated in the city and was very popular (if that even is true). Until that time however, I am here to sell you tickets and do my best to answer any questions NOT to take your crap.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL: It's true where ever you find love it feels Christmas.
(And that's as cheesey as this blog will EVER get). But it's Christmas time, and I turn into a huge softee at Christmas time. Well, I guess a case could be made I'm a huge softee to begin with...just more so during Christmas.

Old Lady Admirer

So I think someone is love with me.
Remember that old lady I talked to the other day who told me how nice I was?
...she called the box office the other day looking for me. I wasn't working that day and she asked when I would be working so she could call and talk to me. She went on and on about how nice I was and what great friends we were.
...yikes. I hope it doesn't break her heart, but I'm really not interested.
I mean, don't get me wrong...I like older woman. But by older woman I mean mid to late 20s. Not...uh...80.

So now it looks like the list of "people who want to be Amy's significant other" can now be listed as:
a)homeless men
b)random old lady

So I have to say, not to brag, or be all egotistical...but I'm loving my new haircut. It makes me feel cute! And not...like Harry Potter. I've been told I look like Natalie Portman, Sinead O'Connor, and GI Jane. And I am more than ok with all of those comparisons.

So my horoscope for today (according to yahoo)said the following:
"Let your eyes and body language do your talking today. A lot can be communicated."
Um. Ok, horoscope...I think you may be leading me down a path of embarrassment and shame on this one. Look, I'm awkward enough when I open my mouth...but trying to communicate with body language? Pretty sure I'd send people running from me.

So the Soobs is very very sad and I don't quite know why. But basically, I dropped it back off at my house and took the sexy Buick again. I told my Dad I couldn't drive it and didn't feel comfortable driving it. So my Dad said he thought it was fine, but that I could leave it. So he drove it again the other day and told me...
DAD: Yeah, there's definitely something wrong with your car.
Well, I'm glad I'm not crazy. But I was pretty sure not going when I pressed the gas, lurching, sputtering, and shaking are not on the list of normal behaviors for a car.
I just wish I knew why the Soobs has turned so decidedly against me. The mechanic called me just now and told me he thought it was fine, he was driving it with no problems at all. Look, Mechanic...I don't need your sass. I am not crazy. My car is sad, you should make it happy. I don't care if you aren't experiencing problems when YOU drive it. I'M experiencing SEVERE problems when I drive it and I have drive home late at night through Roger's Park. Don't exactly want to break down there, so please please please fix my car. Thanks.

QUOTES OF THE DAY

ARIANA: Hey pot? it's kettle...it turns out, you're black. just letting you know.

DAVID: Phone books are so 1973.

AMY: Do you want to go ice skating Millennium park?
DAVID: No.

Sugar-less NeqQuik Powder??! Oh, Fie!!

So I think my Shakespeare class is really getting to me. Fie is my new favorite word.
So I went grocery shopping on my way home from work last night, traffic was bad, it was slick out and I missed my turn for the Jewel, so I ended up just saying, "Screw, I just need the basics, I'll just go to the obscenely large Target by my house."
So I did.
It was packed.
I'm not a big fan of "shopping" when I'm not buying books. When it comes to purchasing "not books" I like to get in and out as quickly as possible.
But the Target was jammed. Jammed with tons of people. Jammed with tons of people plus their 6 kids.
It was madness.
So, I'm trying to grab what I need...
Bread
Milk (I decided to switch back to 2%...Skim freaks me out when I pour it because it just looks watered down. And I used a little to make pasta sauce the other day...diasterous.)
Frozen Burritos (Don't judge)
Fixings to make basic Nachos.
And of course...Nesquik powder because I was out.
Here I made a fatal error. I just grabbed the yellow carton with the bunny off the shelf, stopping only to make sure it was "chocolate" and then high tailed it to the check-out. Later that night when I fixed myself a glass of chocolate milk, I realized my mistake.

I bought sugar-less NesQuik.
Um.
Ew.
Want to know what made it worse?
I had to finish off that gallon of skim milk I had.
So I had a glass of chocolate milk made with sugar-less NesQuik and skim milk. Life seemed so sense-less at that moment.
Want to know what's gross?
When I put the powder in the milk, it just sat on top, it didn't sink to the bottom like it usually does, and it didn't stir in right away either.
That's really gross.
Fie on you sugar-less NeqQuik. Fie! You shouldn't exist because girls with a chocolate addiction can mistakenly put you in their cart while trying to shop and get out of the congested Target.


So, speaking of Shakespeare...I have to find a scene to do. I actually have to play a woman this time (nuts). To be fair, thus far, I have played women...I did Joan of Arc and she's a chick who kicked ass, and this past scene I played Viola cross-dressed as man, but this time I have to be a woman not in battle or cross-dressed. The Ophelia-Hamlet, "get thee to a nunnery" scene is a possibility.
Sweet.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
AUDRA (Said in the "chicken-ghetto" voice): They don't know it yet but I'm triple threat mo'fo'.

Awesome.

The Long and Short...uh Very Very Short of It...

There it is.
Don't ask about the faces I'm making. I don't get it either.

Quote of The Day Addition

News story from yahoo news:
"Troupes of monkeys are out of control in India's northeast, stealing mobile phones and breaking into homes to steal soft drinks from refrigerators, lawmakers in the region have complained. "Monkeys are wreaking havoc in my constituency by taking away mobile phones, toothpastes, sipping coke after opening the refrigerators," Hiren Das told Assam state's assembly."

Awesome.
I love that the monkeys break into homes and steal soft drinks. I mean...of all the things you can break into a house to steal. I think it would be awesome if the monkeys broke into homes and stole babies. I mean...for too long people have been saying, "A dingo took my baby!" I think it's time we updated to, "A monkey broke into my home, stole a 12 pack of Coke, and took my baby!...And then he threw his own poop at me!"
...I imagine this monkey-soft-drink-stealing-rampage could be pretty disconcerting. Because the only worse than a monkey breaking into your house to steal your crap is a monkey breaking into your house jonesing for his sugar/caffeine fix. And then you're only in more trouble when he breaks into your house, steals your soft drinks and is hopped up on a sugar/caffeine high. I'm pretty sure your walls would be covered in monkey poo.

Want to read the whole story about Monkey Mayhem?
Find it here:
MONKEY MAYHEM!!

(OMG you guys. I am so excited I figured out how to put links in my posts!! I am such a bad blogger. It takes me a while)

Oy...so I got my favorite "box office" phone call today. The old man on the phone, asking for dates and times and what was available...and the old lady wife in the background yelling at him about what to get and them relaying what I'm saying back and forth and the wife getting mad at what I'm offering and them asking me when certain seats are available but not knowing what day they want to come and then acting indignant at the dates I give them but then being unwilling to give me a date they want to come and the old lady yelling some more in the background.
...it fries my nerves.

Rolling Low and Driving Sexy

So I woke up this morning and wasn't sure who was the person in the mirror. That might sound deep and philosophical. It's not. It's pretty literal. When I looked in the mirror I was like, "What the crap?!...Oh wait, that's right...I cut my hair."
The hair cut is kinda "growing" on me (No pun intended. Oh wait, that's right...I always intend my puns. Pun intended. I am so bad at puns). I wasn't so sure about it last night, but I'm starting to like it more and more. My goal in getting this haircut was two-fold:
a) To not look like Harry Potter anymore and
b) To look a little more my age and not so much like a 13 year-old-skater-boy.
I'm not sure if I accomplished these things. Part of me should just resign myself to the fact I'll probably always look like a pre-pubescent teenage boy.
Well, Audra saw my hair and said I could pull it off just like Natalie Portman (best compliment ever).

So I drive a Subaru Forester. I know. So lesbian of me. Lately, the "Soobs" as I like to call it, has been acting up. And by acting up I mean shaking violently when I drive it and taking obscene amounts of time to accelerate. So we had it looked at and fixed, and though the problems were certainly not as dramatic...I was still having some issues. SO I dropped it off with my Dad to let him drive it for a few days to see if he could, in his ultimate Dad and manly wisdom figure out why the heck Soobs had decided to hate me.
While my Dad drove my car...I took to traveling the world in my brother's ('92-ish?)Buick Skylark.
This is the sexist car in the universe.
Size-wise, it's a half step away from being a yacht and one step away from being a Cadillac.
Maroon interior, maroon exterior, and two very large doors. Seriously, they are like the biggest doors ever...and because they're maroon-reddish they might as well be barn doors. Now, I'm little but I'm pretty strong for my size and it pretty much takes my whole body to open, close, or control these doors.
[DIVERSION OF BLOG POST: I'm at work, and this guy on the phone just called me "hon." Don't freakin' call me "hon." Nobody calls Amy "hon" and nobody puts Baby in a corner. And yes, I just quoted a movie that I loathe. What are you gonna do about it? It was necessary. Anyway. On with the blog post...]
Needless to say, it took me some time to get used to driving the Buick. Well, you don't so much drive a Buick as "pilot" it. I'm used to driving a Forester, which puts me a little higher off the road (great, because I'm so little) but with this car I had to get used to rolling low. Literally.
What a sexy sexy ride.
And you know what?
I was damn sexy driving it. I had to beat away the girls with sticks I was so sexy driving it. All the girls were like, "OMG, Amy...you are 10 kinds of sexy driving a car thats 20 kinds of sexy. Can we hop in your ride and roll low with you??"
OK, so maybe I actually looked like a little old lady would driving a Buick...hunched over the steering wheel, leaning forward, squinting at the road, driving with over-zealous caution. (Over-zealous caution...best word combo ever, or most oxymoronic word combo ever?)
Anyway. My Dad told me he thinks Soobs is fine so I went home today and switched back my beloved steed. The Soobs, honestly is not much sexier than the Buick. It's pretty much old-lady gold. But at least it's easy to drive. Hopefully, Soobs won't hate me anymore and will drive smoothly from now on.
That's my story.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
(An addition to the list "people Amy makes friends with"):
DAVID: d)the homeless.

Very true, David. Homeless, bearded men can also go on the list "people who want to be Amy's significant other" Here is that list in full:
a)Homeless, bearded men

No More Hair

...I just cut off all my hair.
I went in, sat down, the stylist asked me what I wanted...I said "Cut it all off." I told her to leave a little on the top for me to style and that's what she did.
I told her everyone tells me I look like Harry Potter and I was sick of it.
She said, "Well now you gonna look like Harry Potter with a hair cut!"
And it's true.
I'm not quite sure how I feel about my hair yet.
Even though my hair was short to begin with...now it's...REALLY short. It's really different.
It's going to take time to get used to.

MY HAIR IS GONE!!!!!!!

Well, I've been wanting to do it for a long time. Now I've done it. I wasn't going to be happy until I did it. Now it's done. Whether or not I will keep it this way remains to be seen.

Oh man.
My hair is gone.
...and my ears stick out a little.
On the immediate good side- it's really fun to touch.

Oh well...at the very least I'm an Italian with thick dark hair...give it a month and it will be right back to where it was-Shaggy meets Harry Potter.

So the other day I was walking to the el and it wasn't freezing but it was as cold as it's been. So, I see this mom and daughter walking towards me and the daughter is 10 kinds of bundled up. So much so, that about all I can see is her big brown eyes. So, I smile at her and she puts in the effort to lift her arm with the massive weight of layers and wave at me. It pretty much made my day.

Today this old lady called inquiring about tickets for A Christmas Carol. I was probably on the phone with her for 15 minutes. No joke. Not because she was confused, not because she was bitching at me...but just because she wanted to talk to me. She went on and on about the multiple restraunts they could eat at, she told me again and again about the friends she was taking to see the show from the retirement home...and at one point she goes..."You know Amy, I've talked to you before and I gotta say you're just so nice and have a very nice and easy manner of speaking." Then she went on to talk to me for another 10 minutes. I explained things to her over and over again. I don't think she didn't understand, I think she just wanted something to do. She wasn't ready to order tickets yet, she said she still had to speak to her friends. She said she'd call next week and asked what days I was working so she could talk to me again. She told me again how nice I was. At the end of this conversation, I felt like I should bring cake and coffee over to her house.
So...in case you're keeping track. Here are the top three types of "people" Amy makes friends with:
a) Kids.
b) The very old
c) Pigeons
...I am awesome.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
(On whether or not she should answer the question: "What is your sexual orientation?" on a survey she was filling out)
CARLY: Why not?...I like the penis.

Hey...I Don't Want To Do Philosophy

So, I have this homework I have to do for philosophy and decided it would much better if I blogged for a while instead. Also, I am eating a tuna sandwich. And I never heard of anyone having great philosophical moments while consuming a tuna sandwich. But I'm pretty sure it means y'all are in for a good blog.
So today when I left the box office after closing I was encountered by a sobbing child in the lobby. She was probably three or four and standing next to her was her two year old-ish brother who looked quite nonchalant about the situation. She was crying for her mother. Her mother was nowhere in site. (The kids were standing near an elevator.) So, I go up to the girl, well, I get on my knees and say...
ME: What's wrong?
GIRL: I can't find my Mommy!!!! (Tears are streaming out of her eyes)
ME: Do you know where she went?
GIRL: NooooooOOOooooOOOoooooo
ME: Did she go in the elevator?
(Girl shakes her head "yes")
ME: Oh, then I'm sure she'll be right back down. Do you want me to stay here with you until she comes?
(Girl shakes her head "yes")
ME: I'm Amy. I work over there in the box office. What's your name?
GIRL: I'm Kaylee. And that's Jaydee (She points to her brother who seems totally unconcerned that his mother is missing and has instead taken to looking at his reflection in the elevator doors. I probably would too at that age...they're shiny.)
ME: Hi Kaylee. Hi Jaydee. So do you take classes here?
GIRL: No. My brother does.
ME: What kind of classes?
GIRL: Piano.
ME: Piano? That's pretty cool. Does he play the piano well?
(Ok...so this goes on for a little while, I'm talking to the girl, she's talking to me...and all the sudden the elevator door opens and this mom comes storming out of the elevator, pushing a stroller, and looks straight at the kids and says...)
MOM: I AM NOT HAPPY WITH EITHER OF YOU RIGHT NOW!!!! (I don't know what exactly happened, but I'm thinking the mom must have gone up in the elevator, or the kids must have come down unbeknownst to either where the other went. Still though, I was talking to the kids a good three minutes before the mom finally came down. At any rate, I took it as my cue to leave. So I get up to go and without looking at me she goes...)
MOM: Thanks. (To kids) I AM SO NOT HAPPY WITH YOU NOW!!! (Yes, she really used the word "so" in that sentence)
(Jaydee points to himself)
MOM: No! I'm not happy with you either! I am not happy with you right now!!!!
(I didn't hear the rest, I left)
Ok...you know...I'm not even sure I can comment on this. But...I'm pretty sure yelling at your kids, "I'm not happy with you right now!!" isn't all that effective. I am mean...damn. Your littler girl was just in tears, worried out of her mind. Granted for only three minutes, but how about giving her a damn hug, or saying you're glad they're ok first?? THEN you whip out the "I was so worried about you, don't ever do that again."
What do I know, though? I'm not a parent. But I do know if my kid was lost...even for three minutes, and when I found him/her and it was apparent they'd been sobbing...The first thing I'd do, would be to pick up that kid and squeeze 'em tight. Then I would guilt the shit out of them. "I was so so worried. I'm so glad you're ok. Don't ever scare Mommy like that again, ok?"
Stupid mom.

Anyway...
I'm done with my tuna sandwich. Don't worry. I want to put philosophy off a little longer so I'm not done blogging yet. So I started drinking skim milk instead of 2%.
I just thought you all should know.
I'm sad because I ran out of NesQuik. I think milk is lonely without chocolate. But it is true that if things were left up to me, I'd add chocolate to everything. Instead of mayo...I would use chocolate syrup for my tuna sandwiches.
...That's the nastiest thing I've ever heard of. It might be worth it just to try so one day when I'm real old I could tell children, "I was a crazy hooligan back in the day. One time I ate a tuna sandwich with chocolate syrup instead of mayo!!"
I'm going to best and craziest old person ever.

...So I have class tomorrow. Here's what I don't like about school....they set the thermostat in all the buildings to "Zimbabwe" and you know that's true, because I get cold so easily and usually like to be toasty warm. I like to be warm...but I don't like to be sweating while learning about photosynthesis. It's bad enough you're making me learn about photosynthesis. Now you're going to make me sweat through it? You guys are jerks.

...So I didn't have any Doritos to eat with my sandwich. This makes me sad. It's probably for the best because chips, especially ones full of preservatives and chemical agents (what a fun word combination) are bad for you. I mean, what good does drinking skim milk do if you're going to eat a handful of chips with artificial powdered "cheese" on them?

Damn.
I really need to go do this philosophy. If anyone is an expert on Mill, Locke, or Marx and wants to write an essay for me by tomorrow...I would reward you handsomely. *


*Reward will probably be a tuna sandwich made with chocolate syrup.

Kids + Art = The Makings of an Fabulous Day

So I worked for the Park District yesterday. Which means I was workin' with kids, doin' art. I really like working there. Especially after I haven't been there for a while. The kids are just hilarious, and say the funniest things, and that they don't bat an eye at the crazy things I say and are willing to go along with me as I tell them the most hair-brained things I can pull out of my head. Most of the kids in the class yesterday I just met. There were only a couple that I knew from previous classes. But by the end of the day I got three hugs, from three separate kids that I did not know. It made me feel pretty good. At one point, this girl just came up beside me and put her hand in mine and walked with me from the sink back to the class area. She didn't say anything, she didn't ask me anything...she just held my hand and walked with me. So cute.
I love that kids will tell you the most random shit in the world just because they can and just because you'll listen. I think it's so funny. It's especially great, when you get a number of them telling you random things at once. Like, for example...yesterday...
I was telling some crazy story about how I was raised by penguins. The kids are all laughing and they're start raising their hands to ask me all sorts of penguin questions. Like...
RITA: If you lived in Antarctica how did you get HERE?
and
MEGAN: What did you EAT?
and
ANNIE: Weren't you COLD in Antarctica?
and
MEL: I think you were raised by LIONS!!!
...But after a while, they started to raise their hands just to tell me whatever was on their minds. Like...I'd get a question about being a penguin and then...
JOE: You know what? I went to Minnesota last weekend!
and...
ANNA: I'm going to dogsit for my neighbor!!
and...
MEL: Lions!!!!

So this girl (the one who held my hand) came up to me at one point and said this:
MEGAN: (showing me her necklace) Look! I have a necklace. Do you like it?
ME: Wow. That is so pretty.
MEGAN: I made it.
ME: Did you really?
MEGAN: Uh-Huh.
ME: That is so cool. I don't know how to make cool necklaces like that.
MEGAN: Well, actually it's a choker.
ME: Well, it's very nice.
MEGAN: It's pink.
ME: I see. And I like that it's sparkle-y. I like the sparkles a lot.
MEGAN: Me too. The sparkles are my favorite part.
(She's starting to go back to her seat to do the next project)
MEGAN: I'm going to make one of these (holds out her necklace...uh...I mean...choker) for you!
ME: For me?
MEGAN: Uh-Huh.
ME: Nobody's ever made me anything like that before.
MEGAN: Well I'm going to make on for you.

So also throughout the course of the class, Mel kept looking at me and saying things I couldn't completely understand save for the word, "Lions!!!" So I just made "lion" faces at him and roared. He seemed to find it amusing, but maybe he was just making fun of in his head. Also, we made gingerbread men and he named his, "Pizza." How fabulous is that? Other fabulous names for painted gingerbread men included, "Scinchy" "Gingy Head" "Gingy Eyeball" "Boo-Bah" and "Sean"

This girl Rita, drew a picture of me. I should see if I can scan it and put it up here because the likeness is truly incredible. It was within the first ten minutes of class too, I don't think I'd even spoken to her yet and she just walked up to me, handed me this picture and said, "Here. I drew this picture of you." Let me tell you, it is a truly flattering piece of artwork.


Oh! So I found this today. Finally! It's so great to know that I am not alone...
I Am Afraid Of Automatic Toilets And I Am Not Alone


QUOTES OF THE DAY
(Overheard on a campus tour passing through the building I was in)
TOUR GUIDE: This is our center for the fine and performing arts and blah blah blah. (And, yes...She really said "and blah blah blah.")


AMY: You know what I realized the other day?
DAVID: What?
AMY: In less than two months, I'm going to be 22. Isn't that crazy?
DAVID: You're getting old. 22...that's half of 44.