Ok. This is Amy, bloggin' LIVE at the lesbian coffee house in the suburbs. Well, it's actually not a lesbian coffee house for real. It's just a place I saw another lesbian once and a place I've been told the lesbos frequent. Now that I've gathered the info I need about this coffee shop (ie that there was another lesbian here one night besides me)...now enters phase duex of the operation.
Now right now, you might be asking yourself: "Amy, what is phase duex of the operation?"
...or maybe you're asking yourself: "Amy, what is 'the operation'?"
Ok, well "the operation" is to find and meet a lesbian (other than myself) in the suburbs. Until this time I've been convinced I was the only one. HOWEVER, during a stake out of a coffee shop where alleged lesbians hang out-
OH MY GOD THEY JUST WALKED IN THE DOOR.
TWO OF THEM.
THE ONE I SAW THE LAST TIME I WAS HERE.
THE OTHER IS...NOT AS CUTE.
BUT OH MY GOD....TWO LESBIANS!!!
Mother of Mercy this place is a hotbed of lesbian activity. (Three whole lesbians in one coffee shop in the suburbs at ONE TIME. I think the world has to blow up now or something). I didn't even get a chance to finish my lame intro to this post before waiting for the lesbos to show up...
Ok.
Ok.
Be cool, Amy.
Be cool.
You didn't wear your cute black t-shirt that makes you look a little bit like Danny Zuko for nothing....
Ok...
Hopefully she will look this way and you can woo her with your dashing good smile.
Ok, she's still talking to the barista so I'm going to continue with what I was saying as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on...
HOLY CRAP! LESBIANS!
...regaining my composure and...
Ok, so clearly lesbians like this coffee shop. ANYWAY. Phase duex of the operation is to actually somehow...talk...to one of the lesbians that hang out here.
This is the tricky part.
This is tricky because, shocking as it may be...I am lame. This may be shocking to you because this blog is so awesome and you might think a blog so awesome has an equally awesome blogger. But alas. Sometimes enigmas exist. Here is one such case...
Awesome blog.
Lame blogger.
OK!
SO!
UPDATE.
I just heard cute Lez Magoo (the one I saw last time) say to the barista that she got her belly button pierced when she was 20. Which must mean she is over 20, which is good. Because last time I thought she could be 21+ or 12.
She's not 12.
Score.
Fuck.
They left.
And I didn't even get a chance to smile at them.
God dammit.
Next time the come in, I'm just going to stand up and say: "Hey! Lez Magoo! I'm a Lez Magoo Too! And it sucks to a Lez Magoo in the suburbs. Let's be friends."
I don't know why I capitalize "Lez Magoo" like it’s a proper noun or something. Well, shit, it doesn't really exist as a word anyway, so why can't it be a proper noun?
...Ok point of order on The Great American Lesbian Coffee Shop Stake Out...if I'm going to be hanging out here more often (Which I am...duh)...I'm going to need to find something healthier to drink. 'Cause I'm going to turn into a huge fat ass with diabetes if I keep drinking these frozen mocha things with half a can of whipped cream on them.
Oo! Another point of order on The Great American Lesbian Coffee Shop Stake Out...maybe if we get enough Lez Magoos to come here, we can make it like Cheers. And everyone will know our names and always be glad we came.
Oo! Another point of order on The Great American Lesbian Coffee Shop Stake Out...maybe we could get a sitcom and this place could be our "place" like The Central Perk on friends.
Ooooo...now I'm excited. Sitcom! Sitcom! Sitcom! And every episode will either begin or end with me bloggin'...blllllllllllooooooog. Blog is actually a really fun/weird word. I wonder where it came from. Maybe tomorrow or the next day I will post a post on the history of the word blog.
You want to know something weird that might freak out your mind a little bit? Whenever I do spell check on this website and use the word "blog" in the blog. Or the word "blogging" Or the word "blogger" is always tells me that it's not spelled right or not a real word. I could see the word "blog" not being in Webster's dictionary. But, HELLO, this site is called blogspot. I think you know the word "blog" and it's many variations exist.
Ew. The whipped cream in my drink is coagulating.
Shit I have to pee. I'm going to damage my bladder and hold it.
I wonder if more lesbians will come tonight. I hope so. They one was cute, but not really my type. And the other one was sorta cute. But not really my type either.
...If a lesbian walked in the door right now that looked like Kate Winslet...that would be really awesome.
Extra points if she had a British accent.
...Or if a lesbian walked in the door that a Mediterranean-y look...that would be really awesome.
Extra points for some sort of Mediterranean accent.
Um. Ok. I guess I'm going to wrap up this post. I will certainly report back with any more...uh...reports.
As promised what follows is the quote of the day and the word of the day (today there will be TWO words of the day):
QUOTE OF THE DAY
Ok, so I was at work today. The kids were painting plaster fish. The kids were part of a camp. One of the camp consulars says the following:
CONSULAR: So, can the kids, like...take this home today or something?
ME: Yeah, we just have to spray them with a sealer.
CONSULAR: Oh...cause I thought...like sometimes...don't you have to fire these sorts of things in kennels?
Which leads me to...
WORDS OF THE DAY
KENNEL: 1. a house or shelter for a dog or a cat. 2.Often, kennels. an establishment where dogs or cats are bred, raised, trained, or boarded.
KILN: a furnace or oven for burning, baking, or drying something, esp. one for firing pottery, calcining limestone, or baking bricks.
...and no we don't have to fire plaster in a kiln thats already been fired in a kiln, 'cause thats how they make molded plaster in the first place.
...Oh Crap. I sat in an area of the shop with big comfy chairs and now a bunch of high schoolers came and took over the area. HELLO! Can't you jerks see I'm trying to attract the same sex here? I don't want them thinking I hang out with you guys. Please! Leave all the comfy chairs around me open for all the potential lesbians who want to date me.
Thanks.
Love,
Amy
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Blog Renovation: 2007
So you may have noticed that recently, my blog output has increased by 57%.
Ok, so I made that number up. But the point is, I'm blogging more. And I want to keep it that way.
It's my goal to blog at least every other day. And that's a goal not a promise. So like the Iraq-war benchmarks...you can't really hold me to anything I say.
In the next couple hours...or days depending on how ambitious I feel...you will notice some changes to the blog, Confusing Ideas Since 1986, that you have come to know and love. Well maybe not "love" but I like to make believe I have a huge-adoring-fan-base. Maybe one day my blog will be big enough where you, my huge-adoring-fan-base, will have t-shirts. And they will say strange things on them that only people who read my blog will understand (ie: you. My huge-adoring-fan-base). And THEN my huge-adoring-fan-base, we will together take over the WORLD. I get to be Emperor though. Since, you know, I just started the blog that would lead a fan-base to take over the world. It's only fair.
Anyway...getting back to Blog Renovation: 2007...
The content of the blog is not going to change. I pride myself on being somewhat of an anti-blog. I'm not really sure what that means exactly. But I guess to point is...continue to expect off-center ramblings, rants, raves. There's just going to be more of it (Hopefully. Remember...Goal. Not promise.)
Here are some things that will change:
POINT A: More blog content. Goal is to increase blog output by 67% (I made that number up)
POINT B: Links on my blog page to places I like. Hopefully this list will grow as I, well, remember places I like to go to on the web.
POINT C: New layout.
POINT D: Bring back the quote-of-the-day. Have one for every post.
POINT E: Implement a word-of-the-day with weird, obscure words.
POINT F: New look? This point is a maybe. Maybe I will change the look and color of my blog. Maybe not. Who knows.
And so, my huge-adoring-fan-base...it is through these small changes that I hope to bring this blog to a point where you could all have t-shirts. And soon after that...THE WORLD.
What other blog hopes to bring you the world? That's what I thought, huge-adoring-fan-base. That's what I thought. Thus, I hope you will understand that it is in your best interests to remain a LOYAL-huge-adoring-fan-base.
And that's not a threat.
It's just a warning.
...and yes, I know that my huge-adoring-fan-base consists of five people. But Rome wasn't built in a day! Granted. Rome had slave-labor. And we live in a free country where people can "decide" if they want to read my blog or not.
Hm. Whatever.
Ok, so I made that number up. But the point is, I'm blogging more. And I want to keep it that way.
It's my goal to blog at least every other day. And that's a goal not a promise. So like the Iraq-war benchmarks...you can't really hold me to anything I say.
In the next couple hours...or days depending on how ambitious I feel...you will notice some changes to the blog, Confusing Ideas Since 1986, that you have come to know and love. Well maybe not "love" but I like to make believe I have a huge-adoring-fan-base. Maybe one day my blog will be big enough where you, my huge-adoring-fan-base, will have t-shirts. And they will say strange things on them that only people who read my blog will understand (ie: you. My huge-adoring-fan-base). And THEN my huge-adoring-fan-base, we will together take over the WORLD. I get to be Emperor though. Since, you know, I just started the blog that would lead a fan-base to take over the world. It's only fair.
Anyway...getting back to Blog Renovation: 2007...
The content of the blog is not going to change. I pride myself on being somewhat of an anti-blog. I'm not really sure what that means exactly. But I guess to point is...continue to expect off-center ramblings, rants, raves. There's just going to be more of it (Hopefully. Remember...Goal. Not promise.)
Here are some things that will change:
POINT A: More blog content. Goal is to increase blog output by 67% (I made that number up)
POINT B: Links on my blog page to places I like. Hopefully this list will grow as I, well, remember places I like to go to on the web.
POINT C: New layout.
POINT D: Bring back the quote-of-the-day. Have one for every post.
POINT E: Implement a word-of-the-day with weird, obscure words.
POINT F: New look? This point is a maybe. Maybe I will change the look and color of my blog. Maybe not. Who knows.
And so, my huge-adoring-fan-base...it is through these small changes that I hope to bring this blog to a point where you could all have t-shirts. And soon after that...THE WORLD.
What other blog hopes to bring you the world? That's what I thought, huge-adoring-fan-base. That's what I thought. Thus, I hope you will understand that it is in your best interests to remain a LOYAL-huge-adoring-fan-base.
And that's not a threat.
It's just a warning.
...and yes, I know that my huge-adoring-fan-base consists of five people. But Rome wasn't built in a day! Granted. Rome had slave-labor. And we live in a free country where people can "decide" if they want to read my blog or not.
Hm. Whatever.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
The Sad and Decrepit State of My Love Life
So my love life is sad and decrepit.
I will admit that I recently posted myself on personals website. I don't really know why. I haven't paid for it, so it's not like I could contact anyone if I wanted to. And really all it does is depress me. And its not like if faced with the real possibility I would jump at the idea of having a girlfriend right now anyway. I think I just like to look at see that other people out there are as lonely as I am sometimes. It depresses me, but deep down somehow makes me feel a little better. And sometimes when I read one I think, "Wow, I could maybe like/get along with you." And it gives me hope that there may be someone out there for me and that I won't be end up alone with 40 cats and a hot tub (don't ask me why I think I'll be alone with a hot tub and 40 cats). ANWYAY. I haven't gotten any responses to my profile from other people. Until recently.
It was from a 37 year-old who lives in California.
Um.
No.
...not that there's anything wrong with a 37 year-old. Or people who live in California. It's just...not the sort of attention I was looking to get. Not that I was looking for any attention specifically. But I was hoping for something more along the lines of, oh I don't know..."Hi, my name is _________ I am 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, or 26. I saw your profile and find your awkward disposition and striking resemblance to Harry Potter adorable. You sound so awesome. Let's fall in love."
I just have this magical idea in my head about falling in love. I was talking about this with my gay boyfriend, David. And we both have fantasies about meeting the love of our lives in Borders or a book store. Like...our hands simultaneously falling across the same book.
I have fantasies about literally running into someone and crap falling everywhere and in the mad rush to pick up everything that was dropped, in the midst of a thousand apologies and explanations about being a klutz...our eyes meet. Somewhere in the distance "Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear?" plays and we are in love.
...and if you're laughing at me right now...fine. But don't tell me you've never played that scenario in your head. Because I think you probably have. We're all hopeless romantics deep down I think. As much as we may try and pull off the cynical, nonchalant WHATEVER...deep down we all want to run smack into someone, meet their eyes and hear "Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear?" Don't pretend like you don't!
Ok...I could probably think of a few songs I'd rather hear. But the idea is the same:
Meet someone. Run into them. Whatever.
Hear a song.
Fall in love.
Simple, right?
I think I probably have to stop trying so hard. I shouldn't be looking so hard. I think have to hope that there is some grain of truth to my stupid fantasies and that someone will walk into my life when I least expect it. That someone will literally run right into me and send me head over heels.
Then again...maybe I'm hopeless.
So me and David often joke about someone seeing us out in the world and then there being a "Missed Connections" ad for us somewhere. Like on craigslist or something.
So a while ago I posted a "Missed Connections" ad for David because I knew exactly where he was one day. It went something like this:
"You: Hot Latino-looking man (Mexican maybe?) sitting by the lake Sunday around 4:30. I saw you checkin' out all the boys. You didn't see me, but I def saw you.
Me: Short, white. Kinda look like Harry Potter.
Maybe on a cold day in hell if we both are desperate enough."
So it was a good joke and we all laughed. Hahahaha.
Then, I got a response. Like a real response from someone who read the ad. This is what it really said, I just copied and pasted:
"Hola, dude!
I was reading your ad and I think that you are sweet.
I am Latin but not the guy that you saw at LSD. I just
answer to let you know that I did like it and he have
to answer you because you sounds nice guy! Good luck
and take care. Ciao, M"
So potential as of right now it appears my dating options are:
a) A 37 year-old from California
b) A random latin-gay-man from somewhere around Chicago who thinks I'm sweet based on a "Missed Connections" ad I posted for someone else as a joke.
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
I will admit that I recently posted myself on personals website. I don't really know why. I haven't paid for it, so it's not like I could contact anyone if I wanted to. And really all it does is depress me. And its not like if faced with the real possibility I would jump at the idea of having a girlfriend right now anyway. I think I just like to look at see that other people out there are as lonely as I am sometimes. It depresses me, but deep down somehow makes me feel a little better. And sometimes when I read one I think, "Wow, I could maybe like/get along with you." And it gives me hope that there may be someone out there for me and that I won't be end up alone with 40 cats and a hot tub (don't ask me why I think I'll be alone with a hot tub and 40 cats). ANWYAY. I haven't gotten any responses to my profile from other people. Until recently.
It was from a 37 year-old who lives in California.
Um.
No.
...not that there's anything wrong with a 37 year-old. Or people who live in California. It's just...not the sort of attention I was looking to get. Not that I was looking for any attention specifically. But I was hoping for something more along the lines of, oh I don't know..."Hi, my name is _________ I am 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, or 26. I saw your profile and find your awkward disposition and striking resemblance to Harry Potter adorable. You sound so awesome. Let's fall in love."
I just have this magical idea in my head about falling in love. I was talking about this with my gay boyfriend, David. And we both have fantasies about meeting the love of our lives in Borders or a book store. Like...our hands simultaneously falling across the same book.
I have fantasies about literally running into someone and crap falling everywhere and in the mad rush to pick up everything that was dropped, in the midst of a thousand apologies and explanations about being a klutz...our eyes meet. Somewhere in the distance "Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear?" plays and we are in love.
...and if you're laughing at me right now...fine. But don't tell me you've never played that scenario in your head. Because I think you probably have. We're all hopeless romantics deep down I think. As much as we may try and pull off the cynical, nonchalant WHATEVER...deep down we all want to run smack into someone, meet their eyes and hear "Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear?" Don't pretend like you don't!
Ok...I could probably think of a few songs I'd rather hear. But the idea is the same:
Meet someone. Run into them. Whatever.
Hear a song.
Fall in love.
Simple, right?
I think I probably have to stop trying so hard. I shouldn't be looking so hard. I think have to hope that there is some grain of truth to my stupid fantasies and that someone will walk into my life when I least expect it. That someone will literally run right into me and send me head over heels.
Then again...maybe I'm hopeless.
So me and David often joke about someone seeing us out in the world and then there being a "Missed Connections" ad for us somewhere. Like on craigslist or something.
So a while ago I posted a "Missed Connections" ad for David because I knew exactly where he was one day. It went something like this:
"You: Hot Latino-looking man (Mexican maybe?) sitting by the lake Sunday around 4:30. I saw you checkin' out all the boys. You didn't see me, but I def saw you.
Me: Short, white. Kinda look like Harry Potter.
Maybe on a cold day in hell if we both are desperate enough."
So it was a good joke and we all laughed. Hahahaha.
Then, I got a response. Like a real response from someone who read the ad. This is what it really said, I just copied and pasted:
"Hola, dude!
I was reading your ad and I think that you are sweet.
I am Latin but not the guy that you saw at LSD. I just
answer to let you know that I did like it and he have
to answer you because you sounds nice guy! Good luck
and take care. Ciao, M"
So potential as of right now it appears my dating options are:
a) A 37 year-old from California
b) A random latin-gay-man from somewhere around Chicago who thinks I'm sweet based on a "Missed Connections" ad I posted for someone else as a joke.
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
She Left
So she left...
(Without me talking to her)
*sigh*
She was pretty dang cute.
Now there are just three teenage girls in here that look like they were probably in line at midnight when the seventh Harry Potter book came out...
Which might not be a bad thing...
...maybe they'll dig me.
HA!
I just got a mom to smile at me on her way out the door. So this night wasn't a totally waste.
I got some "action"
What's this??
ANOTHER Lez Magoo???
No. Couldn't be. This one could go either way. Maybe yes, maybe no.
She's got a broken leg. If she's gay its probably from playing softball.
...I'm going to leave now. I've gathered the info I needed. I'm hanging out here A LOT more. If for nothing else than to get smiled at by suburban moms.
(Without me talking to her)
*sigh*
She was pretty dang cute.
Now there are just three teenage girls in here that look like they were probably in line at midnight when the seventh Harry Potter book came out...
Which might not be a bad thing...
...maybe they'll dig me.
HA!
I just got a mom to smile at me on her way out the door. So this night wasn't a totally waste.
I got some "action"
What's this??
ANOTHER Lez Magoo???
No. Couldn't be. This one could go either way. Maybe yes, maybe no.
She's got a broken leg. If she's gay its probably from playing softball.
...I'm going to leave now. I've gathered the info I needed. I'm hanging out here A LOT more. If for nothing else than to get smiled at by suburban moms.
Operation: Find Lesbians in the Suburbs
Ok.
So.
I'm here at a coffee shop in the suburbs, which according to a trusted source is an alleged lesbian hang out. Apparently, he was in here on several occasions and saw a group of, "Lez Magoos", as he calls them. He also alleges, that the "Lez Magoos" were speaking with one of the employees of the coffee establishment. Thus, an employee may be a "Lez Magoo" as well.
I asked him if he was sure they were in fact, "Lez Magoos" and he said he was. As a fellow homo, I do trust his gayday opinion.
So here I am staked out. As of yet I have seen nothing to lead me to believe there is any "Lez Magoo" activity here. Here's who's in the shop, right now:
Two business men on computers. Not lesbians.
Two girls my brothers age. Clearly straight. Not lesbians.
Four coffee shop employees. One of them is a dude. The other three are likely not lesbians.
...the stakeout continues...
Oh, oh, someone just walked in-
Crap.
Just a chic-looking-mom. Not a lesbian except for maybe one time in college.
So they're really nice at this coffee shop. There's no attitude here. They're just nice. I got a frozen-Mocha-thing. It's pretty good. Mochas are really hard. They have to be the exact right balance of sweet and savory. Actually, the hot mochas here are a little too sweet. There isn't enough coffee kick to them. But this thing is really good. Plus, it has whipped cream. Mm. It's a good thing there are no lesbians here because I'm making a mess of myself licking the whipped cream off my straw.
What else should I talk about while on this mission?? The prospects aren't looking too good for me, but I've only been here 15 minutes. I should note that this post is happening in real time (thanks to the invention of free wi-fi). Not that my other posts happen in fake time. But most of the time I'm talking about something that already happened. Not so here. You are right now in this moment with me. You are seeing the potential "Lez Magoos" walk in the door as a I do. And if someone looks potentially Lez-ish you will be there with me as-
SOMEONE WALKED IN!
...just an old man in a green shirt.
As I was saying. You will be there with me as I evaluate the sexuality of anyone that looks promising to determine if they are in fact gay or straight. And if I determine that they are in fact, a "Lez Magoo" you may even be there with me as I try and come up with ways to get her to talk to or notice me. Maybe I will drop my car keys on the way out the door and let her pick them up for me. Maybe I will compliment her on her choice of coffee shop beverage. If I were drinking alcohol right now, and not a mocha maybe I would even ask her if I could sample some of her drink and then do something seductive. At which point I would probably spill all over myself.
...Here's the thing about me, which I'll probably have to get over if I ever want to potentially get a date. I have no confidence in myself as a potential date. I don't think of myself as someone who could be attractive to someone else-
Holy crap the skinnest 30+ person I've ever seen just walked through the door. Seriously...I don't think I could have fit into this lady's jeans when I was 12. She looks like she's here with her sister. Her sister is no where near as skinny. I wonder if that makes her mad.
Back to what I was saying...yeah...no confidence. I mean I know I'm not ugly-
Oh two straight boys just walked in. They're flirting with the barista I thought was cute. Jerks.
Jeez. I keep getting interrupted. [On a side note: this is either going to be the best blog post ever or the worst blog post ever. I haven't decided which yet]. I guess I should emphasize here that I'm not one of those people that thinks I'm worthless and has really low self-esteem. 'Cause I don't. I'm just saying that when it comes to dating or expressing interest in someone I freeze up and-
One of the straight boys has an iphone. Now he's even more of a jerk. He's taking pictures of his friend with it. Put it away jerk, nobody cares that you have an iphone. Really-
Haha this blonde lady just walked in the door and totally flipped her hair. Probably for the straight boys with the iphone. She's probably jealous because now they straight boys are flirting with this other lady, who's probably old enough to be their mother. The straight boy is showing the lady his iphone. She seems impressed. Move along, Mrs. Robinson. Those boys are half your age-
Ok now a mom and her two daughters just walked in. One of them might be a lesbian later in life, but right now she's 15 and has to think Justin Timberlake is hot. Well-she actually looks more like a Fall Out Boy type of girl. She probably has to think one of those boys are hot-
WHAT??????
Holy, holy, holy, HOLY shit-
A Lez Magoo just walked in the door. I don't believe it . They do exist in the surburbs. She's not my type necessarily, but I wish I had her hair. And her jeans. And her t-shirt. I don't believe it. I don't believe it. I don't believe it.
She is cute. She seems really sweet-I can hear her talking to the barista. I wonder how old she is. She's my size-so she could be 21+ or 12. AND she's talking to the barista as if she knows her. She is talking to the barista I thought was cute.
It's all coming together.
...she's old enough to have a tattoo...
Shit now I am seriously nervous. I just started to bite my nails!
...She saw me.
...I wonder if she knows I'm gay.
What am I saying?
I look like fuckin' Harry Potter.
...She just stole a second glance at me. But that could just be my imagination.
I cannot believe it. Only here 45 mintues and the alleged Lez hangout DOES in FACT appear to have SOME lesbian activity outside of me.
...I have to hang out here more often. Good thing I work only a few blocks away.
Shit. I drank this whole mocha thing and now I really have to pee. Really bad. But I don't want to pack up my computer either.
Oh shit she smokes. But she said its a bad habit. I overheard her say she's meeting someone here. MORE lesbians?
I hope so.
This.
Is.
So.
Exciting.
HA! And here I am like sitting like an awkward creep in the corner writing a minute by minute blog about The Great American Suburban Lesbian Stake Out.
...ok, so she's back in from smoking. Damn. She sat in a chair facing away from me.
This is ridiculous. This blog post is officially over. I actually thought this blog would wind up being a hilarious look at how everyone in the suburbs is not a lesbian.
....now its turing into how awkward Amy is when other "Lez Magoos" are afoot.
Done and done.
I hope you've enjoyed this real time post. I will give any other details out later. I'm going to sign off before I make an ass of myself...
So.
I'm here at a coffee shop in the suburbs, which according to a trusted source is an alleged lesbian hang out. Apparently, he was in here on several occasions and saw a group of, "Lez Magoos", as he calls them. He also alleges, that the "Lez Magoos" were speaking with one of the employees of the coffee establishment. Thus, an employee may be a "Lez Magoo" as well.
I asked him if he was sure they were in fact, "Lez Magoos" and he said he was. As a fellow homo, I do trust his gayday opinion.
So here I am staked out. As of yet I have seen nothing to lead me to believe there is any "Lez Magoo" activity here. Here's who's in the shop, right now:
Two business men on computers. Not lesbians.
Two girls my brothers age. Clearly straight. Not lesbians.
Four coffee shop employees. One of them is a dude. The other three are likely not lesbians.
...the stakeout continues...
Oh, oh, someone just walked in-
Crap.
Just a chic-looking-mom. Not a lesbian except for maybe one time in college.
So they're really nice at this coffee shop. There's no attitude here. They're just nice. I got a frozen-Mocha-thing. It's pretty good. Mochas are really hard. They have to be the exact right balance of sweet and savory. Actually, the hot mochas here are a little too sweet. There isn't enough coffee kick to them. But this thing is really good. Plus, it has whipped cream. Mm. It's a good thing there are no lesbians here because I'm making a mess of myself licking the whipped cream off my straw.
What else should I talk about while on this mission?? The prospects aren't looking too good for me, but I've only been here 15 minutes. I should note that this post is happening in real time (thanks to the invention of free wi-fi). Not that my other posts happen in fake time. But most of the time I'm talking about something that already happened. Not so here. You are right now in this moment with me. You are seeing the potential "Lez Magoos" walk in the door as a I do. And if someone looks potentially Lez-ish you will be there with me as-
SOMEONE WALKED IN!
...just an old man in a green shirt.
As I was saying. You will be there with me as I evaluate the sexuality of anyone that looks promising to determine if they are in fact gay or straight. And if I determine that they are in fact, a "Lez Magoo" you may even be there with me as I try and come up with ways to get her to talk to or notice me. Maybe I will drop my car keys on the way out the door and let her pick them up for me. Maybe I will compliment her on her choice of coffee shop beverage. If I were drinking alcohol right now, and not a mocha maybe I would even ask her if I could sample some of her drink and then do something seductive. At which point I would probably spill all over myself.
...Here's the thing about me, which I'll probably have to get over if I ever want to potentially get a date. I have no confidence in myself as a potential date. I don't think of myself as someone who could be attractive to someone else-
Holy crap the skinnest 30+ person I've ever seen just walked through the door. Seriously...I don't think I could have fit into this lady's jeans when I was 12. She looks like she's here with her sister. Her sister is no where near as skinny. I wonder if that makes her mad.
Back to what I was saying...yeah...no confidence. I mean I know I'm not ugly-
Oh two straight boys just walked in. They're flirting with the barista I thought was cute. Jerks.
Jeez. I keep getting interrupted. [On a side note: this is either going to be the best blog post ever or the worst blog post ever. I haven't decided which yet]. I guess I should emphasize here that I'm not one of those people that thinks I'm worthless and has really low self-esteem. 'Cause I don't. I'm just saying that when it comes to dating or expressing interest in someone I freeze up and-
One of the straight boys has an iphone. Now he's even more of a jerk. He's taking pictures of his friend with it. Put it away jerk, nobody cares that you have an iphone. Really-
Haha this blonde lady just walked in the door and totally flipped her hair. Probably for the straight boys with the iphone. She's probably jealous because now they straight boys are flirting with this other lady, who's probably old enough to be their mother. The straight boy is showing the lady his iphone. She seems impressed. Move along, Mrs. Robinson. Those boys are half your age-
Ok now a mom and her two daughters just walked in. One of them might be a lesbian later in life, but right now she's 15 and has to think Justin Timberlake is hot. Well-she actually looks more like a Fall Out Boy type of girl. She probably has to think one of those boys are hot-
WHAT??????
Holy, holy, holy, HOLY shit-
A Lez Magoo just walked in the door. I don't believe it . They do exist in the surburbs. She's not my type necessarily, but I wish I had her hair. And her jeans. And her t-shirt. I don't believe it. I don't believe it. I don't believe it.
She is cute. She seems really sweet-I can hear her talking to the barista. I wonder how old she is. She's my size-so she could be 21+ or 12. AND she's talking to the barista as if she knows her. She is talking to the barista I thought was cute.
It's all coming together.
...she's old enough to have a tattoo...
Shit now I am seriously nervous. I just started to bite my nails!
...She saw me.
...I wonder if she knows I'm gay.
What am I saying?
I look like fuckin' Harry Potter.
...She just stole a second glance at me. But that could just be my imagination.
I cannot believe it. Only here 45 mintues and the alleged Lez hangout DOES in FACT appear to have SOME lesbian activity outside of me.
...I have to hang out here more often. Good thing I work only a few blocks away.
Shit. I drank this whole mocha thing and now I really have to pee. Really bad. But I don't want to pack up my computer either.
Oh shit she smokes. But she said its a bad habit. I overheard her say she's meeting someone here. MORE lesbians?
I hope so.
This.
Is.
So.
Exciting.
HA! And here I am like sitting like an awkward creep in the corner writing a minute by minute blog about The Great American Suburban Lesbian Stake Out.
...ok, so she's back in from smoking. Damn. She sat in a chair facing away from me.
This is ridiculous. This blog post is officially over. I actually thought this blog would wind up being a hilarious look at how everyone in the suburbs is not a lesbian.
....now its turing into how awkward Amy is when other "Lez Magoos" are afoot.
Done and done.
I hope you've enjoyed this real time post. I will give any other details out later. I'm going to sign off before I make an ass of myself...
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
A Message to Chase, Bank of America, Visa, Mastercard, and American Express
I.
Don't.
Want.
Your.
Credit.
Cards.
So PLEASE stop stuffing my mailbox with all your offers. My mailbox is starting to think she's fat. You're giving her a complex. Leave me and my mailbox in peace. Otherwise I'll be sending you the bills when my mailbox goes to "I-think-I'm-fat" therapy.
Quit propsitioning yourselves out to me like whores! Seriously, I get like 3 offers a day. You guys should have a little dignity. Learn a little self respect. You must have pretty low self esteem if you have to throw yourself on me like that 6 times a week.
You ARE beautiful, credit card offers. I just don't want you.
No, Bank of America I don't even want your special edition Anne Geddes card. Multiple infants dressed up to look like flowers freak me out.
SCARY!!
Please.
I've very happy with my Capital One-Van-Gogh-Starry-Night-Credit-Card. It makes me feel artistic and interesting.
Don't.
Want.
Your.
Credit.
Cards.
So PLEASE stop stuffing my mailbox with all your offers. My mailbox is starting to think she's fat. You're giving her a complex. Leave me and my mailbox in peace. Otherwise I'll be sending you the bills when my mailbox goes to "I-think-I'm-fat" therapy.
Quit propsitioning yourselves out to me like whores! Seriously, I get like 3 offers a day. You guys should have a little dignity. Learn a little self respect. You must have pretty low self esteem if you have to throw yourself on me like that 6 times a week.
You ARE beautiful, credit card offers. I just don't want you.
No, Bank of America I don't even want your special edition Anne Geddes card. Multiple infants dressed up to look like flowers freak me out.
SCARY!!
Please.
I've very happy with my Capital One-Van-Gogh-Starry-Night-Credit-Card. It makes me feel artistic and interesting.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Big Foot Exists. He's in the Suburbs.
The most amazing thing happened to me today.
Ok, first of all it was Baked Potato Soup Day at Panera. A-ma-zing.
So I'm walking to go get my Baked Potato Soup and I pass this shop that sells tacky statues. I mean, classically bad statues...buff men with strategically placed fig leaves, eagles for America, wild horses running with windblown manes, and my personal favorites...the over sized pietas that I wonder where the hell people put. Who wants an huge statue of dead Jesus sittin' in their living room? Who has the space for a huge statue of dead Jesus?
ANYWAY.
So I'm walking to get my soup and I pass this shop and sitting out on display in front of their store are the cream of the crop of their statue stock.
And then I saw a statue I've never seen before...
It was a Bigfoot.
In the signature Bigfoot pose.
My words can't possibly describe how amazing this was.
Here is a picture:
Holy crap. This Bigfoot "sighting" has left me with one, big unanswered question:
Who has this in their yard????
Has anyone passed this thing while walking down the street and said to themselves:
"Oh my God, this is the thing I've been searching for all my life. This giant Bigfoot statue. I must have it. My entire life has led up to this moment. I can call my life complete now because I own a giant Bigfoot statue."
How do you transport something like that?
Do you stick it in the front seat and buckle it in?
Is it awkward if you get pulled over by a cop and have a giant Bigfoot statue in your car?
WHY would you want a giant Bigfoot statue??
You want to know what the best part was? This Bigfoot statue was positioned on top of a statue bridge. The bridge was not in scale with Bigfoot. They didn't really match. It was a horrible mess of tacky.
...And yet somehow I wondered if they could be purchased as a set. "Get your Bigfoot statue! And now, for a limited time only buy the statue bridge with the Bigfoot for HALF PRICE! Because nothing says "Bigfoot" quite like Bigfoot crossing a bridge.
Ok, first of all it was Baked Potato Soup Day at Panera. A-ma-zing.
So I'm walking to go get my Baked Potato Soup and I pass this shop that sells tacky statues. I mean, classically bad statues...buff men with strategically placed fig leaves, eagles for America, wild horses running with windblown manes, and my personal favorites...the over sized pietas that I wonder where the hell people put. Who wants an huge statue of dead Jesus sittin' in their living room? Who has the space for a huge statue of dead Jesus?
ANYWAY.
So I'm walking to get my soup and I pass this shop and sitting out on display in front of their store are the cream of the crop of their statue stock.
And then I saw a statue I've never seen before...
It was a Bigfoot.
In the signature Bigfoot pose.
My words can't possibly describe how amazing this was.
Here is a picture:
Holy crap. This Bigfoot "sighting" has left me with one, big unanswered question:
Who has this in their yard????
Has anyone passed this thing while walking down the street and said to themselves:
"Oh my God, this is the thing I've been searching for all my life. This giant Bigfoot statue. I must have it. My entire life has led up to this moment. I can call my life complete now because I own a giant Bigfoot statue."
How do you transport something like that?
Do you stick it in the front seat and buckle it in?
Is it awkward if you get pulled over by a cop and have a giant Bigfoot statue in your car?
WHY would you want a giant Bigfoot statue??
You want to know what the best part was? This Bigfoot statue was positioned on top of a statue bridge. The bridge was not in scale with Bigfoot. They didn't really match. It was a horrible mess of tacky.
...And yet somehow I wondered if they could be purchased as a set. "Get your Bigfoot statue! And now, for a limited time only buy the statue bridge with the Bigfoot for HALF PRICE! Because nothing says "Bigfoot" quite like Bigfoot crossing a bridge.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Don't Apologize, Just Admit to Being an Asshole
So...politics.
Love it.
So...David Vitter. Knockin' boots with the services of the D.C. Madam.
A.K.A...Prostitutes. Whores. Ladies of the Night. Red-Shoed Vixens. Money-For-Sex-ers.
So this was the dude that was calling for Clinton's impeachment. David Vitter's wife is quoted as saying she would not be as forgiving as Hilary Clinton if her husband were unfaithful, making it sound like Hillary Clinton was some sort of spineless politician's wife.
My, my, my how the tides have turned.
There was a little press conference where Vitter "apologized" and were his wife "forgave" him.
This shit cracks me up.
I am SICK of politicians apologizing. I just want them to stand up and say, "Look, I'm an asshole. We're all assholes at some point in our lives. I'm an asshole now. I know I look like a hypocrite now. And I am. I'm an asshole."
Why do they apologize? It seems so insincere when they do. Just be honest. I would have loved if David Vitter had said:
"Look, let me level with you. I'm a dude. I'm a dude with needs. Sometimes...I can't keep it in my pants. We've all had a moment sometime in our life where we just can't keep it in our pants. Do I regret sleeping with a ho? Sure. I've been itchy ever since. And look, I realize I made some nasty comments about Clinton and now I'm the one in that situation but the truth is I was jealous of Clinton. Here he is gettin' B.J.s from an intern and I'm forced to PAY for prostitutes. You're damn right I wanted to hang him out to dry. Who the hell does he think he is committing marital indiscretions for FREE where I have to spend my hard earned money for my not-my-wife-ass. Do I feel bad about how this has effected my wife? Yeah, I do. She won't let me bang her anymore. Look, I'm an asshole. I am. I fully admit it. We're all really assholes, I'm not going to put myself on some sort of pedestal of sorrow just to keep votes. I'm an asshole. All people are assholes. Politicians are just the biggest assholes because they spend most of their career trying to pretend they're not assholes. After all, even though everyone is an asshole, would you really want an asshole running your country? So you can see why we have to at least keep up this face of being an non-asshole. But I'm sick of pretending to be something I'm not. I'm going to come out and just say it, I'm an asshole. You voted for an asshole. I make mistakes like an asshole. I am sorry for the mistakes I've made, but I'm not going to pretend like I'm some damaged, wayward individual because I have made mistakes. I'm man enough to admit I've made mistakes because I'm a giant douche bag. Thanks for coming to this press conference. In conclusion, I will probably still continue to be an asshole."
Ok, and in a somewhat serious and related tangent:
IT MAKES ME SO ANGRY THAT THESE GODDAMN REPUBLICANS PREACH FAMILY VALUES AND UPHOLDING THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE AND THEN CHEAT ON THEIR WIVES WITH PROSTITUTES.
Seriously guys, fuck you. You think I don't deserve the right to marry the woman I love?! I think YOU don't deserve the right to be married, jerk.
Love it.
So...David Vitter. Knockin' boots with the services of the D.C. Madam.
A.K.A...Prostitutes. Whores. Ladies of the Night. Red-Shoed Vixens. Money-For-Sex-ers.
So this was the dude that was calling for Clinton's impeachment. David Vitter's wife is quoted as saying she would not be as forgiving as Hilary Clinton if her husband were unfaithful, making it sound like Hillary Clinton was some sort of spineless politician's wife.
My, my, my how the tides have turned.
There was a little press conference where Vitter "apologized" and were his wife "forgave" him.
This shit cracks me up.
I am SICK of politicians apologizing. I just want them to stand up and say, "Look, I'm an asshole. We're all assholes at some point in our lives. I'm an asshole now. I know I look like a hypocrite now. And I am. I'm an asshole."
Why do they apologize? It seems so insincere when they do. Just be honest. I would have loved if David Vitter had said:
"Look, let me level with you. I'm a dude. I'm a dude with needs. Sometimes...I can't keep it in my pants. We've all had a moment sometime in our life where we just can't keep it in our pants. Do I regret sleeping with a ho? Sure. I've been itchy ever since. And look, I realize I made some nasty comments about Clinton and now I'm the one in that situation but the truth is I was jealous of Clinton. Here he is gettin' B.J.s from an intern and I'm forced to PAY for prostitutes. You're damn right I wanted to hang him out to dry. Who the hell does he think he is committing marital indiscretions for FREE where I have to spend my hard earned money for my not-my-wife-ass. Do I feel bad about how this has effected my wife? Yeah, I do. She won't let me bang her anymore. Look, I'm an asshole. I am. I fully admit it. We're all really assholes, I'm not going to put myself on some sort of pedestal of sorrow just to keep votes. I'm an asshole. All people are assholes. Politicians are just the biggest assholes because they spend most of their career trying to pretend they're not assholes. After all, even though everyone is an asshole, would you really want an asshole running your country? So you can see why we have to at least keep up this face of being an non-asshole. But I'm sick of pretending to be something I'm not. I'm going to come out and just say it, I'm an asshole. You voted for an asshole. I make mistakes like an asshole. I am sorry for the mistakes I've made, but I'm not going to pretend like I'm some damaged, wayward individual because I have made mistakes. I'm man enough to admit I've made mistakes because I'm a giant douche bag. Thanks for coming to this press conference. In conclusion, I will probably still continue to be an asshole."
Ok, and in a somewhat serious and related tangent:
IT MAKES ME SO ANGRY THAT THESE GODDAMN REPUBLICANS PREACH FAMILY VALUES AND UPHOLDING THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE AND THEN CHEAT ON THEIR WIVES WITH PROSTITUTES.
Seriously guys, fuck you. You think I don't deserve the right to marry the woman I love?! I think YOU don't deserve the right to be married, jerk.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Actually Jerk, I Can't Hear
So I work at a box office.
I sit in an office, behind a desk, behind glass. This makes it hard to hear and can make it hard for our patrons to hear too when taking ticket orders.
Also...I have a hearing loss. I'm like five steps away from needing hearing aids. Yeah I know. Cute, right? I can't hear well when there's a lot of background noise, I can't hear well on the phone. And if I'm in a situation where there's just noise, like traffic or music, I have a really hard time tuning into something. When there's background noise I almost feel like its invading my personal space. I can concentrate on things, just not things that involve hearing. So I can read with noise, I can write, I can do things that just involve me but if I have to listen to someone or something I get really confused. Maybe I'm just crazy.
ANYWAY.
So this guys comes to the box office today and I think he was a little miffed because he had to wait a whole two minutes while I finished up an order with someone I was talking to on the phone. So I get off the phone and start to help him.
I think he got more miffed because the show he wanted seats for didn't have too much left. He was a little unclear about other dates he wanted to check so I was trying to figure out what he wanted.
When I talk to people at the window, I do raise my voice a little.
a) Because I CAN'T HEAR WELL, so I compensate by speaking loudly myself.
b) To make sure the patrons can hear me. Cause, uh, that's important.
AND
c) Because I have to speak up and over a glass window.
So this guy, I'm talking to him and the normal level I speak to people at the window. It's not a ridiculous level. It's a little loud so people can hear me, but I'm certainly not obnoxious about it. I've been doing this job for almost a year, so I have an idea about how loud I need to be. So I'm giving him seating options, telling him what days are open and he says to me suddenly, very nasty: You know I'm right here!
And I'm kind of taken aback, so I pause for a second and continue to talk at a little softer level but not much. And he goes: I'm right here! You don't have to yell!!
SO before I can say anything, Carly, my co-worker jumps in this happens:
CARLY: Actually sir, she's hard of hearing-
MAN: Well I'm not!
CARLY: Well I'm just saying she's not being rude, she just can't hear well.
MAN: Well I am right here and you don't need to yell!!
Then, because he didn't get the seats he wanted for the show he wanted he said he had to go check with his wife about other show dates and left.
You sir are a royal jerk. I don't know his name, but if I did I would warn everyone I know that he is surly toward kind-of-sort-of-deaf-people.
It just makes me feel bad that he would think I was "yelling" at him. I like to think of myself as respectful towards costumers. I think he was just surly...
UPDATE!
So surly man came back!!! Crawling back to order his tickets! He got me and was way overly nice. And it happened that at the time he was there, someone else was at the window next to me that Carly was helping so I HAD to talk loudly. So he was super super nice and as he's leaving says:
"Have a nice day. Don't yell at people."
Thanks. I will have a nice day. You're a jerk.
I mean, really? If I was talking too loudly for you, ask me nicely to lower my voice don't be nasty about it and don't CONTINUE to be nasty when you find out I'M the one with the hearing problem and in no way shape or form am I trying to be rude.
Uh! Sometimes people make me sad. Especially when people think I'm being I'm nasty to them and I'm not.
Really I'm not being mean...
I just want to sell you tickets.
*Makes puppy face*
Please...just let me sell you some tickets.
I sit in an office, behind a desk, behind glass. This makes it hard to hear and can make it hard for our patrons to hear too when taking ticket orders.
Also...I have a hearing loss. I'm like five steps away from needing hearing aids. Yeah I know. Cute, right? I can't hear well when there's a lot of background noise, I can't hear well on the phone. And if I'm in a situation where there's just noise, like traffic or music, I have a really hard time tuning into something. When there's background noise I almost feel like its invading my personal space. I can concentrate on things, just not things that involve hearing. So I can read with noise, I can write, I can do things that just involve me but if I have to listen to someone or something I get really confused. Maybe I'm just crazy.
ANYWAY.
So this guys comes to the box office today and I think he was a little miffed because he had to wait a whole two minutes while I finished up an order with someone I was talking to on the phone. So I get off the phone and start to help him.
I think he got more miffed because the show he wanted seats for didn't have too much left. He was a little unclear about other dates he wanted to check so I was trying to figure out what he wanted.
When I talk to people at the window, I do raise my voice a little.
a) Because I CAN'T HEAR WELL, so I compensate by speaking loudly myself.
b) To make sure the patrons can hear me. Cause, uh, that's important.
AND
c) Because I have to speak up and over a glass window.
So this guy, I'm talking to him and the normal level I speak to people at the window. It's not a ridiculous level. It's a little loud so people can hear me, but I'm certainly not obnoxious about it. I've been doing this job for almost a year, so I have an idea about how loud I need to be. So I'm giving him seating options, telling him what days are open and he says to me suddenly, very nasty: You know I'm right here!
And I'm kind of taken aback, so I pause for a second and continue to talk at a little softer level but not much. And he goes: I'm right here! You don't have to yell!!
SO before I can say anything, Carly, my co-worker jumps in this happens:
CARLY: Actually sir, she's hard of hearing-
MAN: Well I'm not!
CARLY: Well I'm just saying she's not being rude, she just can't hear well.
MAN: Well I am right here and you don't need to yell!!
Then, because he didn't get the seats he wanted for the show he wanted he said he had to go check with his wife about other show dates and left.
You sir are a royal jerk. I don't know his name, but if I did I would warn everyone I know that he is surly toward kind-of-sort-of-deaf-people.
It just makes me feel bad that he would think I was "yelling" at him. I like to think of myself as respectful towards costumers. I think he was just surly...
UPDATE!
So surly man came back!!! Crawling back to order his tickets! He got me and was way overly nice. And it happened that at the time he was there, someone else was at the window next to me that Carly was helping so I HAD to talk loudly. So he was super super nice and as he's leaving says:
"Have a nice day. Don't yell at people."
Thanks. I will have a nice day. You're a jerk.
I mean, really? If I was talking too loudly for you, ask me nicely to lower my voice don't be nasty about it and don't CONTINUE to be nasty when you find out I'M the one with the hearing problem and in no way shape or form am I trying to be rude.
Uh! Sometimes people make me sad. Especially when people think I'm being I'm nasty to them and I'm not.
Really I'm not being mean...
I just want to sell you tickets.
*Makes puppy face*
Please...just let me sell you some tickets.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh The Right Stuff
So I broke down and admitted to some people last night that I, Amy, went through a New Kids on the Block phase when I was probably five years old. And that later in my life, in my pre-teenage years, I went through a boy band phase, with their posters on my walls and everything.
I've always thought that this affection I had for boy bands came from the mindset of society. I.E. all girls are in love with boy bands, therefore, I, Amy, should put their posters on my wall if I want to be normal.
In actuality, Jewel was the musician who actually spoke to me in my pre-teen years. I listened to her album constantly and liked to sing along. One of my favorites was, "Do You":
"Hey, you say you like the way the cowboys tip their hats and say,
"How's it goin' ma'am?"
But you're never quite clear if their glares are sincere
Or really only just second hand
To you it's all roses, its a lavender haze
The man is a marvel, but it's a shame about his brains
But that's OK-
They say "he's got straight teeth and it's good sex"."
I didn't really get it. But it seemed deep and meaningful at the time.
I must admit however, that I did listen to a fair amount of boy band music too. Unlike listening to Jewel, when I listened to boy bands it would be in front of the mirror and I would try to sing and more importantly dance along. More importantly than that I would practice my smirk and cute facial expressions.
The suggestion was made last night when I admitted to my boy band phase, that in fact, maybe it had nothing to do with liking boy bands but that I wanted to be IN a boy band.
Thinking back…that’s probably true.
Now I’ve said before and I’ll say it again…I know I’m not Miss. America. I know I’ll never be on the cover of Maxim Magazine.
BUT
I’m fairly confident that I could get onto the cover of Tiger Beat and drive all the pre-teen girls CRAZY.
That face begs to be in a boy band.
I've always thought that this affection I had for boy bands came from the mindset of society. I.E. all girls are in love with boy bands, therefore, I, Amy, should put their posters on my wall if I want to be normal.
In actuality, Jewel was the musician who actually spoke to me in my pre-teen years. I listened to her album constantly and liked to sing along. One of my favorites was, "Do You":
"Hey, you say you like the way the cowboys tip their hats and say,
"How's it goin' ma'am?"
But you're never quite clear if their glares are sincere
Or really only just second hand
To you it's all roses, its a lavender haze
The man is a marvel, but it's a shame about his brains
But that's OK-
They say "he's got straight teeth and it's good sex"."
I didn't really get it. But it seemed deep and meaningful at the time.
I must admit however, that I did listen to a fair amount of boy band music too. Unlike listening to Jewel, when I listened to boy bands it would be in front of the mirror and I would try to sing and more importantly dance along. More importantly than that I would practice my smirk and cute facial expressions.
The suggestion was made last night when I admitted to my boy band phase, that in fact, maybe it had nothing to do with liking boy bands but that I wanted to be IN a boy band.
Thinking back…that’s probably true.
Now I’ve said before and I’ll say it again…I know I’m not Miss. America. I know I’ll never be on the cover of Maxim Magazine.
BUT
I’m fairly confident that I could get onto the cover of Tiger Beat and drive all the pre-teen girls CRAZY.
That face begs to be in a boy band.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Holy Crap I Thought We'd Never See Her Again
So I found a bunch of old, long dead, doomed-to-live-in-the-digital-camera-forever, family photos. I came across this one:
It's STRAIGHT AMY!!!! HOLY HOLY CRAP. Long hair! A SKIRT!!???? And is that a hint of makeup I detect???!! Whaaaaaaaaaa?? I bet some of you thought I didn't even own a skirt. Well I do. I just owned it five years ago.
Aw. But have no fear. Gay Amy was set to come out of the closet in just a few short months. Haha. Looking at this picture now...I look so weird and awkward! I was probably very uncomfortable. I've never liked wearing skirts. I don't know what possessed me to wear a skirt. Probably because it was my brother's graduation and I felt like I had to. I also did not like wearing light-and-bright-pastel-y colors. I can remember when I bought that shirt on a shopping excursion with my mom. She allowed me to get a dark blue one, if I got the yellow one too. According to her bright colors brought out my face better. I also did not like wearing tank tops or anything that showed off my form or cut a little low. This ensemble is just the culmination of things I hated to wear!
In this picture it also becomes very apparent that I've always had the build of a 14 year old boy. Sweet.
Alas, alas...I tried so hard to be a "normal" girl.
But I was destined for lesbo-ness.
.....and there's not other way I would have it.
It's STRAIGHT AMY!!!! HOLY HOLY CRAP. Long hair! A SKIRT!!???? And is that a hint of makeup I detect???!! Whaaaaaaaaaa?? I bet some of you thought I didn't even own a skirt. Well I do. I just owned it five years ago.
Aw. But have no fear. Gay Amy was set to come out of the closet in just a few short months. Haha. Looking at this picture now...I look so weird and awkward! I was probably very uncomfortable. I've never liked wearing skirts. I don't know what possessed me to wear a skirt. Probably because it was my brother's graduation and I felt like I had to. I also did not like wearing light-and-bright-pastel-y colors. I can remember when I bought that shirt on a shopping excursion with my mom. She allowed me to get a dark blue one, if I got the yellow one too. According to her bright colors brought out my face better. I also did not like wearing tank tops or anything that showed off my form or cut a little low. This ensemble is just the culmination of things I hated to wear!
In this picture it also becomes very apparent that I've always had the build of a 14 year old boy. Sweet.
Alas, alas...I tried so hard to be a "normal" girl.
But I was destined for lesbo-ness.
.....and there's not other way I would have it.
Was I Rude?
Ok. So...a few days ago I was in this place called Starbucks. Maybe you've heard of it.
So.
I had some time to kill. I got my coffee then made my way to find a seat. It was pretty crowded and they only table available was a big one that sat four. Since I was only one person, I did not want to take up this entire table. I sat there for a sec, feeling kinda bad because I was planning on staying for a while and writing.
THEN I saw that there was a place on a couch. No one was sitting there so I got up and went over there. When I got to the couch there was a book sitting on the cushion. I looked around for a second and nobody seemed to belong to the book. It was just a trashy romance paper back, so I figured whoever had just left it either on purpose because they were done with it or by accident. So I pick up the book and set it on the table next to the couch and settle in.
10 minutes later this dude comes walking over, talking on his cell phone, he sees me, picks up his book in a huff and goes to sit at another couch across the room. If he hadn't been on his cell phone I would have asked him if he wanted his seat back, but I couldn't because he was talking.
Was I rude to sit in this spot? Or was he rude to leave his book, disappear for at least 10 minutes and assume that his seat would be reserved?
I don't know what was the socially correct thing to do!!
So.
I had some time to kill. I got my coffee then made my way to find a seat. It was pretty crowded and they only table available was a big one that sat four. Since I was only one person, I did not want to take up this entire table. I sat there for a sec, feeling kinda bad because I was planning on staying for a while and writing.
THEN I saw that there was a place on a couch. No one was sitting there so I got up and went over there. When I got to the couch there was a book sitting on the cushion. I looked around for a second and nobody seemed to belong to the book. It was just a trashy romance paper back, so I figured whoever had just left it either on purpose because they were done with it or by accident. So I pick up the book and set it on the table next to the couch and settle in.
10 minutes later this dude comes walking over, talking on his cell phone, he sees me, picks up his book in a huff and goes to sit at another couch across the room. If he hadn't been on his cell phone I would have asked him if he wanted his seat back, but I couldn't because he was talking.
Was I rude to sit in this spot? Or was he rude to leave his book, disappear for at least 10 minutes and assume that his seat would be reserved?
I don't know what was the socially correct thing to do!!
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