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.

Amazing Art

So, someone recently showed me this guy's website. This is some of the coolest art work I've seen in a while. This dude makes underwater sculptures that eventually become artitificial reefs for sea life. They're sort of eerie looking, but so beautiful...

Here is a video of his work:

I recommend watching it with sound, because there is lovely instrumental in the background.

Here is the dude's website. The pictures here give you a little bit of a more detailed look, and photographically speaking are of a higher quaility than the video. CHECK IT OUT:

Underwater Sculptures

Um. Gross.

So, I went to the gay coffee shop in my neighborhood the other day, to try to get someone to fall in love with me. I did this by ordering a hunk of tiramisu and a Mexican Latte. There really was no one there who caught my eye, but for whatever reason I still felt the need to eat my tiramisu seductively.
But wait.
My version of eating tiramisu seductively means that I missed my mouth several times and got whipped cream across my face and that the tiramisu fell off my fork several times as well. I also spilled a splash of my Mexican Latte across my tiramisu once. And then later...across the table. Basically...I was a mess.
Thank God no hot girls were there to notice.
You want to know who was there though and sitting right next to me?
The skiviest looking dude ever.
He was one of the dudes who is balding on top, but tries to pretend he's not by growing out the rest of his hair to outrageous proportions. His thinning, oily red hair was thus, pulled into a long, half-assed ponytail. His beard was scraggly and ungroomed. He looked like he hadn't washed his face since going on the "jog" I heard him telling his companion about. He was really skinny, and had on round glasses.
You might be saying, "Well, ok, Amy. So maybe he wasn't the most attractive guy. But how does that make him skivy?"
Well...I'll tell you why...
He was a college professor talking about a prospective romance with one of his students. He mentioned she was 25, and that he is twice her age.
Um.
Gross.
Don't you know, dude, that student/professor relationships only work if the professor is smoking hot??
It was the most awkward conversation to sit next to.
He was talking about how he had to wait till after the semester was over to make his move. He said between now and then that he'd be walking a "fine line." But that there was nothing wrong with, "being friendly, right?"
My skin was literally crawling.

...but on the bright side the tiramisu was some of the best I've had. Absolutely phenomenal. Good job, gay coffee house (and the presentation was fabulous [of course-gay, the presentation is ALWAYS going to be fabulous).

So...in other news...
I have a crap load of laundry to do. Right now my clothes are all strewn across the floor of my bedroom.
I've gotta work out a better organization system for my room. Because right now it's: books and old papers and new papers and notebooks-on the desk and clothes-on the floor. Sometimes the two mix. Then I get confused. "What the hell is Long Day's Journey Into Night doing on the floor under a pair of jeans and a hoodie??!"

So...in other other news...
I need a haircut. I'm tempted to go super super short and do away with the Harry Potter meets Shaggy from Scooby-Doo action that I got going on right now.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
(Man comes to the window with a leather case)
MAN: Hi. My name-a-George. I am a Christian missionary. And today we a collecting donations for a fundraiser. Would you like to make a donation and buy something?(Opens leather case to reveal jewelry)

MAN ON THE PHONE: So it says tickets for kids 12 and under are 13.50?
ME: That's correct.
MAN ON THE PHONE: So my son is 10...so his ticket would be 13.50?
ME: Right. (What I wanted to say: Very good.)

I Am Not An L Word Lesbian

Ok. You guys are going to make fun of me. So I just joined this website called ourchart.com, it's basically a lesbian facebook and is a reference to the giant lesbian chart composed by one of the characters in the The L Word. Now, don't tell anyone on the site, because I'm pretty sure what I'm about to say is grounds for excommunication from not only the website, but could possibly get my "Lesbo Card" revoked too...
I'm not a huge fan of The L Word.
If you don't know what it is, it's basically the lesbian version of Sex and The City, set in California instead of New York. And it's aired on Showtime, so there are plenty of good lesbian "money shots" to go around.
Look, I don't object to money shots. I don't object to watching a TV show about hot women who sleep around with each other and get involved in butt-loads of drama. I would be lying if I said I never watched the show and never enjoyed it.
But I don't particularly like it. Here is my impression of The L Word, ready?
(Scene: At a trendy bar/club. Lesbian 1 ponies up to the bar next to Lesbian 2. They exchange "meaningful (ie: "I Could See Myself Schtooping You")" glances...
LESBIAN 1: My life is filled with so much drama. I am so dramatic. Drama. Drama. Drama. That girl I schtooped the other night totally wants to schtoop my friend and it makes me so mad because I was really hoping to schtoop her again tonight.
LESBIAN 2: Well, why don't you just schtoop me instead.
LESBIAN 1: What do you take me for? I don't schtoop around like that.
LESBIAN 2: Yes you do.
LESBIAN 1: Oh, wait that's right...I do. Great idea. Let's go schtoop in the bathroom.
(The go schtoop in the bathroom)
AND SCENE!
In case you were wondering, schtoop=have sex
But yeah. That's pretty much The L Word in a nutshell. I guess I don't like it because I am not that kind of lesbian. I am not an L Word lesbian.
a) I don't want to be an L Word lesbian and jump into bed with the first person I meet.
b) I don't have the time or energy to be an L Word lesbian. Drama takes two things: 1) time and 2) energy neither of which I want to spare on drama. Thanks.

This is not to say that I think lesbians who watch The L Word are L Word lesbians. I think the lesbians who watch the L Word wish they were L Word lesbians. I mean, for a second their lifestyle does seem really swank...partying, being classy, drinking Pelligrino, having lots of sex, being fabulous, being fabulous in California, hanging out at the local swank coffee shop...
But to be perfectly frank I'm surprised that none of the characters have contracted syphilis.
...oh my god. I'm so old-fashioned. So old-fashioned. But you know what, that's who I am and I don't care! I believe in romance. Not just sex. Sex is a part of romance, don't get me wrong. But I just can't see myself having sex without romance. So, I would like to know your last name before I jump into bed with you. Frankly, I would like to get to know you well before I jump into bed with you. You know...maybe go to dinner or something.
Call me old fashioned.

ANYWAY! All this to say...I got this message from a girl on this ourchart.com website.
It says the following:
"Just a note to say hi and I think u are really smokin' hot girl!"
Haha. Ok. Part of me is sort of flattered and is thinking maybe finally, after all this time, I have indeed brought sexyback.
The other part of me read her profile and wondered if it was a joke.
Why, you ask? Well...it says the following in her profile:
"I love the studs/butch/bad boy girlies, especially the chocolate ladies"
And...
On the quality she likes most in a woman, "that inner "thug", take control attitude and make me "putty" with their touch"

Um. Ok. I don't know how you got ANY of that from this picture:


How does this picture, coupled with the headline, "I'm Picking Out A Thermos For You.." give you:
a) Stud/butch/bad boy
or
b)Thug
or
c)Chocolate lady???? I mean, I'm not evena "maybe." That picture is pretty much, "Oh look, there's the whitest white girl ever."
This chocolate-lady-stud-butch-bad boy-thug loving girl does not have a picture up herself, so I obviously can't see what she looks like.
So...uh...
No thanks.
Also, she's from Arkansas.
So...uh...
No thanks.
Sorry girl with no picture from Arkansas, I'm trying to fall in love here and it doesn't do me much good if you'd prefer me to be black and a thug. It doesn't do me much good if you live in Arkansas.
I hate the iternet.
Why can't Natalie Portman or Kate Winslet just be in love with me?? Is that too much to ask?

I Just Want To Do Some Art

So I'm in this class called Life and Inquiry.
It's a science class.
It's pretty much a glossing over of everything you'd learn in a 7th or 8th grade science class, except with bigger words and more complex concepts. (So, photosynthesis isn't just something plants do anymore. Now we have to know exactly how it happens.)
Yesterday we watched this video called, "The Kidney's Tale: Of Salt and Hypertension"
(Don't pretend like you're not jealous).
Basically, it was a video of some really important, super-intelligent doctor talking about the dangers of high blood pressure. And when I say "talking" that's what I mean. It was literally a video of a dude giving a lecture to a bunch of students, complete with a power point and laser pointer...It kinda messed with my head a little bit. I was like, "Whoa, this dude is giving a lecture with a power point and laser point, but he's on the SCREEN! This is just a video. Whoa." I sat there for a while and tried to figure out with what I was experiencing would qualify as, "Meta-lecturing." I realized it probably wouldn't since the dude wasn't lecturing about lecturing, but in fact lecturing about science-stuff that I have no desire nor ability to understand.
I mean, I tracked with him for about five minutes. I was with him when he was talking about blood pressure being the force of the blood on the blood vessels...Then he started talking crazy-man science talk and throwing around names of molecules and enzymes and bodily processes like they were popcorn and I was totally lost. I mean, he might as well have been speaking Canadian.
"So the sodium bi-carbon phosphate bonds with the dexytril oxyficotin blotin in the sesphosipus glandounous maximus of the kidney. This reaction is fueled by ATP, which is fueled by glucose in the thylakoid membrane of the plant. Photosynthesis."
Is just as foreign to me as...
"Aye, hey der!"
I DON'T GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nor do I care to get it. Sorry, Canada.
But science, I'm not sorry. I don't care about you. I don't care about your glucose. I don't care about your phosphate. I don't care about ATP. And I especially don't care about photosynthesis.
I respect you, science. But I just don't care.
There once was a boy at the art studio where I worked that got all bent out of shape because we had to take a break from painting to have a snack. All the other kids were chatting a way, happily eating their Cheez-its. And this kids is moping in the corner. When I went over to ask him what was wrong he said in most pitiful voice ever, "I just want to do some art. I don't want to eat a snack. I just want to do some art."
Well, that's how I feel right about now.
I just want to do some art.
I don't want to do science.
I just want to do some art.


QUOTE OF THE DAY
(On Milanos, the best cookie ever invented)
CARLY: (While eating a Double Stuffed Milano) I don't understand why people would buy the non-double stuffed kind.
AMY: Me either, non-double stuffed is just pointless. You can't even taste the chocolate.
CARLY: I know!
AMY: I mean really, these should be the standard and they should make other Milanos that are even more double stuffed.
CARLY: There should be at least a quarter inch of chocolate in between the two cookies.
AMY: Really, they should just do away with the cookies completely.
CARLY: Well, that might be messy.
AMY: True.
CARLY: They could just do one cookie and put a lot of chocolate on top...it would be like an open face sandwich.


Sometimes on the phone people give me WAY more info than I need.
LADY: So, I need to get seats as close as possible. Because we're coming with my mother and she only has one eye...the other one, you know...just poked out accidently. So as close as possible would be great.
Um. "My mother can't see well." Would have been sufficient. Way too much info.

My Existence In Life Is AFFIRMED!

I got this comment today:
"From: Your #1 Fan
time for a new blog - it's been too many days!"

I try and blog as often as possible. I want to make sure you all are getting the quality blog you have come to love and respect from "Confusing Ideas Since 1986." I don't take blogging lightly. As a blogger I have a responsibility to you, the blog-reader. I just want to make sure you are getting the best blog possible. David told me the other day that when it's been a while since I've posted it's like turning on your favorite TV show and having it be a rerun. First of all, I am flattered by this. BUT I also want to make sure my blog is not going to spiral into crap like so many TV shows that start off great. This blogger refuses to let that happen. Rest assured that while I might not blog as often as you may like, the blog you are getting it 100% Confusing Ideas Since 1986 certified.
Ok.
Now that's out of the way.
We can get to the blogging.

...This blog is actually very serious today guys.
I have reached a very important point in my life. In the next few weeks, I will be playing the role I've been destined for since the date of my birth. On December 1st, I, Amy, will be an Elf for Santa Claus.
It was pretty much inevitable and only a matter of time.
I knew from a very small age, that at least once in my life I would dress up like an Elf and help wrangle kids on and off the lap of Santa.
I'll be doing this as part of the downtown Christmas festivities that take place near where I work.
I am so excited.
I'm already developing a persona in my mind.
I think my Elf name is going to be Fenwick. You may recall that this was the name of my bunny when I was young. What you may not know, is that Fenwick-the-bunny had a namesake before him. When I was in preschool, my teacher picked me as her special helper to make Christmas projects. She called me "Fenwick" her Christmas helper Elf. So besides being the name of my bunny, it seems only fitting that I should keep this Elf name, as it has been with me, since...well...preschool.
I'm actually really excited for this guys. Mostly, because I really like kids and I love talking to them. And I get to do that at my other job as an art teacher's assistant but NOW I get to do it as an ELF!!
Ok, so I fully understand that this could end up being one of the worst, most embarrassing moments in my life (well, probably not because I'm not easily embarrassed or convinced situations are "the worst") BUT at the very least, I'm sure it will spawn an AWESOME blog post.
I
Am
So
Excited
To
Be
An
Elf!!
Elf also happens to be one of my favorite movies. It consistently cracks me up no matter how many times I watch it.
This is going to be me (except not as tall):

(Also, I Zooey Deschanel is SUPER cute, and Will Ferrell falls in love with her in the movie, so maybe when I am an Elf I will fall in love with another, super cute Elf).
...I am going to be an Elf...
My life suddenly makes so much sense. My meaning seems so clear. I HAVE A REASON TO EXIST!!!!! I AM AN ELF!!!!
I wonder if I get to make my own costume? Oooo...this is so exciting!!



So in other news...
I just bought some boots.
They're pretty much big old lesbian boots. I got 'em out of the boys section.
Ok, guys...look...
I tried really hard to find a pair I liked out of the women's section. I really did. I even went so far as to try on a pair of Ugg-looking boots. But I put them on and looked down and my feet and thought, "I cannot take myself seriously in these things. They look stupid on me. I look stupid in them. I need to go get the black, lace-ups from the boys section."
And I did.
And I like them.
I don't plan on wearing them as a fashion statement, but they will be necessary when the snow starts to fall since I do walk to and from the train station (I can't make it just in gym shoes like I did last year)

QUOTES OF THE DAY
CARLY: You know what I don't like about this low price Internet hotel reservation sites? They don't tell you where you're staying until you've made your reservation and you get to the end...
DAVID: Really? That's weird...So it could be like...Congratulations you're staying in Grandma Connie's spare bedroom?

AUDRA: Hi, Amy...so I have a question...you know how when they do the downtown Christmas thing, they have a Santa Claus and reindeer and the kids can take pictures on Santa's lap?
ME: You want me to be an Elf?
AUDRA: (Laughs) Yeah. You don't have to if you don't want to. But I was going to do it, but I don't like kids and I know you do...

CARLY: Can you get a Camo jumpsuit to go with your new boots? And then you'll walk to the train and come out of nowhere and people will be like...oh my god! Where did she come from? Because you're wearing camo. I really think you should get a camo jumpsuit.
I AM GOING TO BE AN ELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Harsh Realizations/Scary Scarecrows/The Red Hat Lady Mafia

So I've recently come to a harsh realization about who I am as a person. I've spent years trying to deny it, pretending like it wasn't true, and avoiding the fact.
But I can't do it anymore.
I have to come out and say...
That I, Amy, am a morning person.
I wish I wasn't. I wish I were a night person.
But I'm not.
I wake up in the morning and feel fresh as a daisy, ready to take on the day. I'm active and talkative in the morning (ask my co-workers, I think sometimes they want to shoot me) and I find I get the most done in the morning hours.
I am not a night person. When it starts to hit about 10:30, 11:00...I start to fade, real quick. I get quiet, I stare off into space, and sometimes can't remember exactly what it is I'm supposed to be doing.
Being a morning person is not to say I LIKE getting out of bed at 6:30 in the morning. It just means I've found I work best in the morning. And in most cases, even if I can sleep in, I'm out of bed by 9:30 at the latest.
...I know what this means. It means I'm 50 years old.
Don't be surprised if I start capping my nights with WGN news.

So I walk to the train in the morning to get to work, and there's this house I walk by the has a scarecrow-ish dummy sitting on their lawn. It's just a stuffed shirt and pants, with a grotesque mask sitting on the body. And he's got leaves all over him to make it sorta look like he's coming out of the ground...It's actually a pretty crappy scarecrow as far as scarecrows go. Not that I'm a connoisseur or anything. But I know when I see a shitty, shoddily put together scarecrow. And that's what this one is...
Yet every time I walk by, it scares the shit out of me.
And I've probably walked past it 8 or 9 times in the past few weeks.
The worst part is that I see something on the lawn as I approach. Granted there are bushes in the way. But I know there's something there, it's not like it "sneaks" up on me. My thought process is usually something like this:
"Oh hey, there's someone on the front lawn of that house...he must be doing yard work or picking up dog poop or something...GAH!!! (At this point, I jump 10 feet in the air)OMG!!! THAT GUY'S EYES ARE OOZONG OUT OF HIS HEAD!!!...oh wait, that's right...this is the scarecrow I walked by yesterday. And the day before. And last weekend."...stupid Halloween decorations.
But today I saw justice was served...
When I walked by this morning I saw that someone had stolen the scarecrows head.
haHA! And you know what? I didn't get startled this morning. This justice is sweet for two reasons:
a) Because the stupid scarecrow scares me every time I walk by it. And I hate it.
b) Because it's not Halloween anymore and that damn thing shouldn't be up anymore anyway.

...So I don't know if you're at all familiar with this organization called the "Red Hat Ladies" but they're basically extremely old women that go places (like theatre) wearing red hats. Yeah. I'm serious. A couple of them came to the window today to buy tickets and they were the scariest old ladies I've ever met. I seriously thought they were going to take me out back and beat the crap out of me. They were forceful and pushy and condescending. Which led me to wonder...are the Red Hat Ladies affiliated with the mob?!?!
I mean...shit...maybe I shouldn't talk about this. Because I don't exactly have the money to hire a bodyguard and if I'm right...this could seriously crack open a world of crime that we never thought existed...
I have to talk about it...for the good of humanity.
So...basically I think the Red Hat Ladies are in with the mob. Or, maybe more accurately...the Red Hat Ladies are the mob itself!!
Ok, I've got no...shit, what's that thing called??...Evidence. Yeah. That. I've got no evidence. But what I do have is a sneaky suspicion. And hey, a sneaking suspicion was enough to invade Iraq, why can't it be enough to suppose that the Red Hat Ladies are the mob, right?
Think about...
No one would EVER suspect old ladies to be crime lords. Old ladies are supposed to bake cookies, and play BINGO in church basements, and fall asleep in strange positions...
Not so.
You might think old ladies are old and sweet and all the sudden...
BLAM!! You're face to face with some crinkly-faced, aged-spotted, shrinking, dinosaur wearing a red hat and threatening to beat the snot out of you with her walker.
...when you come to you notice you've got imprints on your face from where the tennis balls stuck to the bottom of her walker struck you.
I wonder what sort of crime they deal in...I think it's drugs. Really, I don't even have suspicion to go off of on this assertion. I just think it's really funny to picture an old woman in a red hat sitting in front of a mountain of cocaine in some dimly lit room with armed Red Hat ladies around her.
That's probably a little far-fetched, though.
I mean really, they probably do deal in drugs, but let's face it...it's the prescription kind.
I'VE CRACKED IT!!!
The Red Hat Ladies Mafia supplies the geriatric community with the prescription medications their insurance doesn't cover or that they can't afford.
Oh, but it isn't like a Robin Hood stealing from the rich giving to the poor sort of thing...oh no...the Red Hat Ladies have a STRANGLEHOLD on Retirement Communities everywhere. They demand a percentage of old people's pension, investments, retirement funds, stocks, family heirlooms, and stamp collections...all going toward their ultimate goal...MORE RED HATS!!!!!!!
...we've got to stop these mad women before they suck America's old people dry! Seriously, that's the government's job, not some rag-tag group of low-life, red-hat-wearing criminals!
I'm going to take a stand against these evil-doers. They're almost as bad as terrorists. I hope you'll join me. Otherwise, you're not an American.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
STEVE: Uh-oh. I'm getting in one of my hyper moods and I have no outlet! I might have to run around the block.
ME: I know. I get like that too. And I just sit here in my roll-y chair and...(I proceed to move back and forth in my roll-y)...too long in an office!!!
STEVE: That's when you need to give yourself a research project...like...find out how many elements are on jupiter.

Just Found This. Pretty Hilarious.

"Over Zealous" Is My Middle Name

So I was a tad over zealous while getting dressed this morning.
It was cold.
But certainly not cold enough to justify a t-shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a thermal shirt, a hooded sweatshirt, a puffy vest, and a pair of pj bottoms under my jeans.
But for whatever reason, since I would be walking to the train station and waiting for on train platforms it seemed necessary to dress as if I was leading a Siberian expedition with Huskies. MUSH!
I am so not hardcore.
It's not "cold" at all. Most Chicagoians wash their damn cars in this sort of weather.
Well, it is cold I guess. I mean...I finally relented and turned on my heat for the first time last night.
So when I was walking to the train today I found a dollar.
No, really...I found a dollar.
That wasn't just the classic, "And then I found a dollar" line-to-attempt-to-salvage-a-crappy-story.
There was actually a dollar lying on the sidewalk.
So I picked it up and put in my pocket.
3 blocks later I walked by the 7-11 and I overheard this homeless dude ask a dude going into the 7-11 for a "dollar for breakfast." I decided that dollar I found was meant for him and not me so I went back and gave it him. He said to me, "Oh wow. Thank you, sir. God bless you."
I told him, "No problem. Have a good one" as I walked away.
And then I kicked myself for telling homeless person to, "Have a good one."
I mean, I'm sure homeless people can have "a good one." Maybe this dude will have "a good one" if he can scrounge up enough money to get a half-way decent meal. Maybe this dude will have "a good one" if he can find a warm place to sleep tonight. It makes me a little sad though that these things will make his day "a good one."
I suppose it's all relative. I mean some people might think it's sad that I'll have "a good one" today if no one gives me shit because they can't get tickets to High School Musical.
It just doesn't seem right to me. I get to go home to a nice warm bad, in a nice safe warm safe apartment, with food and plumbing.
...by the way...I'm chalking him calling me "sir" off the fact that I was in nine-million layers and that he therefore could not see my nice girlish figure.


So as I was waiting to cross the street by the 7-11, three pigeons landed near me and looked at me like they expected something. I think Gimpy has been telling all his friends about me. Now pigeons follow me and are like, "cookie crumbs?"

So I saw the girl that was at the window last week. The one with the hamster, Lazlo. She came to say hi. I asked her how Lazlo was. Lazlo is just fine.

So I listened to "So Lonely" by The Police like four times on the way to work today. I think it might be one of the best songs ever. It's a great rock-out song. Granted rocking out is hard to do when you're on a train. Even if you rock out a little, people tend to stare. But I'm used to that and it's ok with me. Especially when it comes to The Police.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
Phone rings. I answer it.
MAN: Yeah, I'd like to get tickets for High School Musical tonight.
ME: High School Musical is completely sold out.
MAN: Ok...when is the next date that tickets are available then?
ME: It's totally sold out. There are no tickets available for the remainder of the run.
MAN: Well, when I was online it wouldn't let me buy tickets.
ME: Right. Because we're completely sold out.
MAN: So you don't even have tickets for next weekend?
ME: No. It's totally sold out.
MAN: But it wouldn't let me buy tickets online. It said they weren't available.
ME: Right. You can't buy them online because it's sold out and has been for about three weeks now. There's nothing you can buy which is why nothing is available online.
MAN: Fine. Thanks.
Hangs up.
DISCLAIMER: Whenever I talk to people on the phone, I'm always as nice as possible. I realize the way it's written it could sound like I'm being nasty. I wasn't.

Re: Spring Awakening
AUDRA: So you know that song thats in like a diminished, minor key?
(I turn and shoot Audra the blankest, "give me a break" look)
(Pause)
AUDRA: That song that's like-I'll just play it.
(A few minutes later, Audra is still laughing at the face I gave her)
ME: Are you still laughing at me?
AUDRA: That, and like all the songs on this CD are in minor, diminished keys.
ME: I'm impressed you even know that. Major, minor...I don't get it.
AUDRA: Well, not all of them. The songs in minor keys are like the more evil songs. The ones in the major, augmented keys are the pretty ones.
ME: Like "Touch Me"?
AUDRA: Yup. (Laughs) The pretty songs..."Like 'Touch Me'"? (Pause)...well I'm not sure if it is a major key or not, actually. (She starts to sing it to herself). Hm...I think it's a major key?
ME: Do you need to hear it to decide?! (I jump up and get ready to play it)
AUDRA: Yeah, play it! Play it!
*Maybe this conversation is only funny to Audra and me. You sort of have to understand our dynamic to understand why this is funny to us. Basically, we're both just weird and listen to Spring Awakening way too much.
...now we are singing "Kumbaya" to explore major keys.
Like I said.
Weird.