Confusing Ideas Since 1986

Blog-O-Vations 2009: In ACTION

2009-01-24T09:09:00.000-08:00

Hi Everyone! So...in an effort to shake things up a little bit, I'm shaking things up a little bit. The most important thing you need to know right now is this:
I'VE UPDATED THE URL TO MY BLOG!!!
Here is the NEW URL:
www.pocketlesbian.blogspot.com
If you could update your links, bookmarks, and such I would be eternally grateful.
I'm going to keep the old URL for a little bit until people are updated and using the new one BUT after a while I will DELETE this URL and it will probably take you no where.
So take heed.

www.pocketlesbian.blogspot.com

It's the exact same blog. Just moved.
Head over there to see what's up!

BASICALLY: I'VE MOVED! I'VE MOVED! GO TO www.pocketlesbian.blogspot.com

And Then I Decided To Ditch the Sequined Dress and Bonnet...

2009-01-16T08:39:00.000-08:00

So remember HERE and HERE when everyone was like, "Oh my, you and your brother were the cutest children in the world!"
Yeah.
Well, we did something called grow up.
And growing pains?
Well...they hurt.
They hurt BAD:

(Pssst...notice how in this picture I'm taller. At one point, someone DID actually have to reach up to throw their arm around me.)
I was probably in sixth grade and my brother in third when this picture was taken. Jimmy is still sorta cute here, because he's young, but he's definitely pushing ugly.
And me?
Clearly, I am not only pushing ugly-I am swimming in it. And ugly is a bog.

Good god that hair! My mother tried so hard to get me to fashion it properly.
I just put a hat on my head.
All the time.
And yes.
ALL my hats looked like that, because in an attempt to be cool I would "bend" the brim. But I never bent it so much as cracked it in half, so that my hat was less of a hat and more of a steeple.
Those giant glasses.
The overalls.
The multiple chain like necklaces.
It's clear to me now, with retrospect and hindsight-that I spent the better part of my adolescent years right up through... probably sophomore year of college trying very hard to hide. Not in a bad way. Just in like a "Do Not Disturb" sorta way until I could figure out who I was and what I wanted to be. I have come very far in this process, but I know I'm not "there" yet. Nor do I want to be. I'm totally ok with being a perpetual work in progress, but I'm doing my best not to hide too much anymore.
A lot of girls did it totally opposite of me-by barring their midriffs and putting on gobs of make-up and drowning themselves in "body splash." I'm not saying my way is classier (Did you SEE those necklaces?! Pretty sure one was a shark tooth, because while I was trying to hide, I was also wanted to tell the world, "I am hardcore and wrestle sharks in my spare time), I'm just saying it's different.
I should pull out some early college pictures and post them too-because I'm hardly EVER without a skull cap of some sort on.
I had a collection.
On a day when I did not wear a hat, people had a hard time realizing it was me.
Seriously.
"Whoa, Amy. I hardly recognize you without your hat on."
And then it was time to re-evaluate my life and appearance.
Step one?
Chopped the hair. Not to the length it is now, to the Harry Potter mop I sported for a year or two.
Then I got a little braver and hacked it to the point it is now and am quite pleased.
In fact-it's starting to get pretty fuzzy and I'm due for another choppin'.

...soo...
I had some requests.
So I pulled one out...
...this is a senior prom picture:

Yes.
That is actually me.
Yes.
I am not only wearing a gown, but yes, it is strapless.
Yes.
I do have on makeup.
And no, the picture isn't distorted-that's totally a wreath of flowers in my hair.
And that dust bunny of a dog I'm holding is none other than Molly the toy poodle, who had just joined our family that January.

It's so weird to look at pictures like this.
Prom was one of the last times I ever wore a dress.

A Contributing Factor to My Lesbianinity

2009-01-13T19:15:00.000-08:00

I think it's pretty much part of the Constitution that some point, every American girl needs to take dance lessons. I was no different. Oh yes. Little five year old Amy took dance lessons. For me...it was one giant leap towards lesbianism and rebellion against all things girly.
Dear Mom and Dad, No thank you. I do not want to wear tights. Can I please go play in the mud and pretend to be Westley from A Princess Bride? Love, Amy.
I mean you might feel the same if you looked like this:

Yup. That is actually me. I'm not completely sure how my parents convinced me to put that on and keep it on. But like I said, this was probably a step towards, "Are you freakin' crazy? A dress? You want to do what with my hair? Heck NO."

You want to know the hilarious thing about this dance recital??
Well.
Allegedly, the dance instructors failed to tell us five-year-olds that when they opened the curtains there would be PEOPLE on the other side. LOTS and LOTS of PEOPLE.
Whoa.
Baby.
Allegedly, (though I held it together for the dance number (which some of my fellow class-mates failed to do (what can I say? I was totally professional even at a young age))) I came off the stage sobbing and ran straight to the arms of my father who firmly pronounced that I would never go back to dance class. Dads are big softies when their little girls start to cry. And so I never went back to dance class and had my parents and entire family convinced that it would be a cold day in hell before I ever set foot on a stage again.
Turns out, feet on stage and the many variations thereof is pretty much my life's calling.
Oh life.
You are so very funny.
However, since that day I have been paralyzed with fear when it comes to moving my body in any way that resembles dancing. I clam up, step on toes and all around turn into an graceless oaf-troll. My stomach knots up the way it must have when they opened the big curtains to a house full of proud parents and flashing cameras. Dancing, and being in situations where dancing happens is one of the few places I fell true blue honest discomfort. Like I want to melt into a puddle and seep into the cracks of the floor. I'm not an advocate of drunken behavior or for using alcohol as a means to palliate social anxieties. BUT the next time I'm in a situation with dancing involved, it might help if I have, oh...one or two in me (that would be all it would take for me and my slight, unhardcore self). I wish I could dance. I want to be able to dance. I've actually considered taking dance classes/lessons. If someone offered same-sex/queer dance classes in Chicago, I would be ALL over that. But, alas, Dancing with the Queers is all the way in California.
Dear Dancing with the Queers,
Hi. My name is Amy. I don't know how to dance. I live in Chicago. You live in California. Two things:
a) I know your governor is always saying, "Come to California" but I think you should come to Chicago. Fly in on a big gay plane and set up a studio here. Teach me and other Chicago gays how to dance with the people we were meant to dance with.
b) I need a dance partner. Preferably one that will, in teaching me how to dance/putting up with my awkwardness...fall in love with me. Like Dirty Dancing. Except I get to be Patrick Swayze. Well, I guess I wouldn't be Patrick Swayze, because I'm the one who can't dance. But I get to be the hot, rough around the edges (or okay FINE awkward around the edges) dance partner who constantly wears black tank tops to show off super defined arm muscles. Preferably, she should be way cuter, way classier, and way less annoying than Jennifer Grey. Preferably, we should practice lifts in a lake at some point. Preferably, at some point, I should get to shout, "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" and then throw my shoe (I can't remember if she ACTUALLY throws her shoe in that scene, but in my mind, when I replay that scene in my head-she totally does).
Love,
Amy "I-Could-Be-The-Next-John Travolta-Except-Smaller-Queerer-More-Awkward-And-Less-Crazy (ok, so I'm crazy but I'm not 'I believe people are alien souls' crazy)" Cornelius

QUOTES OF THE DAY
These have been sitting in an unpublished post for way too long...

From Work:
How to stick a knife in Amy's heart Lesson #1:
Phone conversation with patron at the box office...
OLDER WOMAN: Yes are there any tickets available for this show?
ME: Yes, I do have tickets for that show. How many do you need?
OLDER WOMAN: Four.
ME: Ok, my best available for four-
OLDER WOMAN: Oh. I'm sorry. Just three.
ME: Three?
OLDER WOMAN: Yes. Three. I forget...my husband died.
*She laughs uncomfortably*
OLDER WOMAN: I just forget sometimes.
*I wanted to tell her: It's ok! Sometimes, when I set the table, I still pick up four forks! Or grab four plates! Sometimes when I sign tags on gifts I write "Auntie Jan" just because it's STILL natural and then I have to redo it! I get it! I know I'm young but I get it! It's ok! It will get better! I'm glad you're coming to see a show!*
ME: I understand.

I am putting labels on a mailing:
CO-WORKER: I think that one was a litttle crooked, Amy.
ME: Yeah well I dont do straight very well.
CO-WORKER: Tou-CHE.

JIM: Let's go see a movie. Want to go see that new Will Smith movie?
ME: I heard it was bad.
JIM: Then Yes Man? The new Jim Carrey movie?
ME: Ugh. That looks even worse.
JIM: But I love Jim Carrey!
ME: But it doesn't even look good! I know no one is going to want to see the movies I want to see. I'll have to go see them all alone. Nobody will want to see The Reader. No one will want to see Defiance.
DAD: Well what language are they in?
ME: They're in english!
DAD: Yeah. But they're still probably the kind of movies you need subtitles for.
ME: Are not.
*At this point Jim and my Dad are both laughing at me*
JIM: Yeah. Yeah. I bet you want to see that movie...what's it called? Soap?
*I know my brother well. And Unfortuntetly, know exactly the movie he's talking about. I slowly put down my fork*
ME: Jimmy. Please tell me you're not talking about Milk.
JIM: Yeah! Milk! That's it!
*Sound Cue: My heart smashing into a thousand pieces*
DAD: Milk what's that about?
ME: Harvey Milk?? The first openly gay elected official??
*Dad and Jim start laughing, insert my Dad making some crude joke about dropping the soap*
ME: I was found on the side of the road, wasn't I? There's no way I'm related...
*My Dad and brother are laughing so hard they are crying.*

And the answer to your question is: No. I don't know. I have no idea how you get from Milk to Soap either. Other than Soap is also a one syllable, four letter word. This is my brother. Who told his theatre major sister to her face that he spark noted every single play he was supposed to read for his Intro to Theatre class.
I think I might tell my brother we're going to see The Yes Man and then actually take him to see Milk. Then when he sees what happens at the end he'd feel real bad for making fun of it.

Over AIM...
ME: I made dinner and now I'm eating it!

DAVID: What did you make?
DAVID: Love?

ME: I always make love!

DAVID: ....um....

ME: OH!
ME: Oh! I'm sorry.
ME: I...uh...didn't mean it that way.

Later in a text message from David...
" 'I always make love' hilarious."

Sometimes...

2009-01-10T07:53:00.000-08:00

...after a rough week,
with the terror of post-collegiate life setting in,
after being followed Thursday by a creepy old man* (see story below)...
What you need is to go to the mall with your BFF (like you did when you were in high school and thought you were the bee's knees), eat at a place that offers bottomless french fries, and go to the mac store and listen to some tunes via Bose headphones to remember:
it's all ok.
Sometimes, you need to put on said headphones and rock out to the Chili Peppers in front of your BFF, the mac store, god, and everyone. And then realize it's probably a good thing you're not wearing a button down, sunglasses, and whitey tighties because if you were, you would totally be Risky Business-ing in your socks all over the store.
Listening to the Rolling Stones on Bose headphones? For me-it's soothing and relaxing. Like watching/exercising to that Hawaiian yoga chick must be for some (the one with the really soft voice, who's usually in some lush tropical paradise complete with waterfall, and usually says something like, "now simply take your leg and put it around your head....breathhhe...relax...doesn't that feel nice? do the same with your other leg and just...float there...in midair..."). I'm sorry but I will not do that with my legs. But I will certainly turn up the volume on the Stones. Life's just a cocktail party on the streets! Schmacta Schmacta Schmacta.

If you've never heard music on a pair of Bose headphones. Run. Don't walk.
If I ever have an extraneous amount of money just sitting around and think to myself, "gee, I'd really like to blow this wad on something super cool but not at all that vital" I'd take myself to the mac store or best buy and get a pair of these.
Holy smokes. You think you've heard your favorite songs before? Nay, my friend. Nay. In tunes I've heard a million times, I heard nuances I've never heard before. And when they say "noise cancelling" they mean it. I couldn't hear a tootin' thing Meghan said to me while I had these on (and it WASN'T just because I'm deaf).
Run.
And if you have an extraneous amount of money lying around, feel free to buy me a pair.

* Story about the creepy man who followed me:
Preface: Never in my life has a person has ever made me feel scared or threatened. And I've walked city streets late at night. I drive alone in my car late at night. I've been to gay events with people shouting horrible things/harrassing me and people I was with...But never have felt like, "whoa, I could be in some trouble here, I should high tail it outta here."
Okay?
Okay.
Well, there's a first time for everything-
I'm in the suburbs. I'm going to a rehearsal. I decide to get a giant diet coke (necessary) and some french fries before rehearsal. I pull into a McDonalds. This McDonalds is setup in such a way where when you pull in, you can go all the way around for more parking. You can also pull all the way around to get into the drive through line.
OR
When you pull in, if there is not a giant drive through line you can just pull right into the drive through lane.
Should you maybe go all the way around to get into the drive through??
Maybe. But it's certainly not essentially.
I pull into McDonalds with someone in front of me. He starts to go all the way around and stops.
So I just pull right into the drive through lane, wondering why he had stopped and was thus blocking traffic.
He wasn't happy about this. By the time I had pulled up to order he had whipped around the building. He came up behind me and LEANED on his horn. I got up to the window to pay and once again he LEANED on his horn.
I pull out of the McDonalds and am stopped at a light. He is behind me. I look behind me and he's menacingly shaking his head at me.
I turn left.
He turns left.
I turn right.
He turns right.
He is riding my tail down a major street.
At first, I think he's just being a jerk-tailing me because we are going down a major road.
But I get nervous, and instead of taking the easy way to work (major street) I turn left down a side street.
So does he.
I'm not panicking yet, thinking it's maybe just a coincidence.
I turn right again down the street rehearsal is on...
So does he.
He follows me down side/residential streets for five blocks.
I come into the shopping/commercial area where I work and turn on my blinker to park in the garage.
So does he.
At this point, I'm reaching for a piece of paper to get his plate number and the phone to call the cops. I'm not going to get out of my car, I'll just have to drive till I lose him, I figure.
I pull into the garage, look in my rear-view mirror and see him decidedly speed off.
Phew.
I was worried when I came out of rehearsal that my tires would be slashed. For the first time IN MY LIFE I waited for/asked someone to walk me to my car.
Creepy? Right?
Should I have gone ALL THE WAY around to get into the drive through?
Probably.
But, I didn't do it to be an asshole or a jerk. I did it because he was stopped and blocking the way around.
And, seriously dude-if you were so strapped for time you couldn't wait an extra 30 seconds to be behind me and get your food: why the hell did you have time to FOLLOW ME and scare the crap out me?

My advice? Even though I wouldn't call not going all the way around to get into the drive through lane, cheating...don't cheat. Go all the way around.
I'm not a cheater. I've never cheated anything or anyone in my life.
The one time I cut a corner a little bit (at a goddamn McDonald's drive through no less), I get the pants scared off of me.
How the hell do I get myself into these situations?

Dear Man who Followed Me and Scared Me,
If you read this blog (duh, everyone reads this blog), I am sorry you had to wait an extra 30 seconds to get your milkshake. I am sorry I cut you in line. I didn't do it to be mean or be a jerk. I did it 'cause you were blocking my way around. To make it up to you, I will by you a milkshake. On one condition:
Please don't ever follow someone the way you followed me the other day. You probably couldn't tell from your vantage point, but I am not a 16 year old teenage dude out to stick it to the man and old fogies like you. I am a small girl(who mind, you can defend herself). Being a creep is the fastest way to get your eyes burned out by pepper spray. I hope being a creep made you feel better about yourself. Point made. I won't ever cut in the McDonald's drive through line again (even though I didn't REALLY cut). But you win the prize of being the first person to ever make me feel threatened and like I should maybe consider calling the cops. How does that make you feel?
Next time I will get out of the car and kick your ass. Don't let my size deceive you. I'm in the business of defying expectations (and occasionally....gravity)(THEATRE NERD).
Love,
Amy.

Poverty In Africa According to a White Catholic Fifth Grader

2009-01-09T13:31:00.000-08:00

As promised, here is the dramatic reading of "Poverty in Africa". Some things to note before watching:
a) I was in fifth grade when I wrote this.
b) I watched WAY too much 20/20. This particular...uh...piece was inspired by an actual story I saw on 20/20. Or maybe it was 60 minutes.
c) I had an awesome English teacher in fifth grade, who encouraged us to write and gave us assignments/free choice writing tasks. This one is labeled, "Sept 5 Free Choice".

Here it is, "Poverty in Africa"

Yup.
I really wrote that.
More works from my fifth grade journal are on the way including: various poems, entries about field trips, and one called "Someone From Heaven was Watching" about my mom getting cancer (and I'll say it because I'm allowed to-it's pretty funny). There's also a series of short stories I wrote about a girl and her horse. Because when I wasn't writing about socially relevant issues (there's also a persuasive paragraph I wrote about how it's wrong to abuse animals) I was doing everything in my power to show the world that I wanted and needed a pony of my very own.

I thought I was the most important writer to grace the pages of a notebook with my pen.
And I couldn't even spell good.

The Many Faces of Amy

2009-01-07T13:36:00.001-08:00

I had some requests.
So here is a post of the many faces of Amy.
David took some headshots for me a while back. He took some really great pictures and some rather hilarious ones. The hilarious pictures were a result of:
a) My lack of ability to pose properly.
b) The fact that is was 12 degrees outside that day. Seriously.
c) I mean, even dynamos like me can't be cute ALL the time. (Aka: I'm awkward)

I've had a couple comments on the new picture posted up on my side bar. YES that is a picture from the headshot session. Sadly, it is a little too blurry to be my actual headshot, but is perfect for lookin' fine on my blog sidebar. I will post my for real headshot at the end of the post. But first...cue the gag reel:

This is my sexy face. Yes. Yes. I know it doesn't work, hence why it's in the gag reel. Rest assured I'm working on my sexy face and y'all will be the first to know if it ever works. But until that time I wouldn't hold your breath or constantly refresh my blog in your browser.

Dear David, That bird is about to poop on you. I find this amusing. Love, Amy

Picture Title: "Dang, it's cold. The color has done drained from my smoochers."

Awkward.

I am bad at looking serious.

Dear David, The bird is back. I'm trying not to give him away but I am bad at surprises. Love, Amy

The "I farted" face.

The "you farted" face.

Amy "Eyebrows McGee" Cornelius. This picture says, "If I get cast, the 'brows will need their own bios in the program."

Now here is my REAL headshot:

Look, ma! I look like a real live actor (and maybe the gayest (but still cute) one that ever lived (seriously, I just need to send this to Ellen with a post-it note, "Let me be your Sidekick")).

A huge thank you to David, for sticking it out with me in the cold to take these headshots and then printing them out for me so I was ready to walk into my audition with grace, poise, and confidence.

Blog-o-vations 2009

2009-01-06T19:34:00.001-08:00

First things first...Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a safe and festive holiday season with people they love.

Anyway. I know there has been a lack of blog-age lately, I apologize. Between the end of the semester, holiday season at work, and the holiday season in general...well. I'm sure you all understand. I promise there will be more substantive posts in the future that feature more than my clean desk or lack thereof.

I have rather grand plans for Confusing Ideas Since 1986 in the next year. I hope to make some regular segments a little more regular. I hope to start some new segments. I hope to interview real live ponies and ask them for their political opinions.

What do you have to look forward to this year as a Confusing Ideas Since 1986 Reader?
Let me tell you.
I found two more old notebooks I used to keep when I was young. They might just be more awesome (and by more awesome, I mean more awkward and wrong) then Delivering Supplies To Union Soldiers and Horse Notes.
Don't believe me? You want a preview?
Why I'd be pleased as punch to give you one.
The following is the first few sentences from a journal entry circa 5th grade. It is titled "Poverty in Africa":
"Cindy stared out the window of the Delta Airlines Plane. She was 21 and was going to Africa. Not for a vacation. She was going because of the extreme poverty."
Excited yet? Tune in to my next post for the stirring dramatic reading of "Poverty in Africa" or as I'll re-title it, "Even a Fifth Grader Can Have White Catholic Guilt".
Stay tuned for that and much more from my old fifth grade notebooks, including poetry and my very own recipes.

What else do you have to look forward to this year as a Confusing Ideas Since 1986 Reader?
More Cooking with Magoo. Hopefully, with special guest stars.

What ELSE do you have to look forward to this year as a Confusing Ideas Since 1986 Reader?!?!
A possible blog name change. Yes. I think it MIGHT be time to re-vamp some stuff and acquire a bit more of a stream lined concept. Nothing content wise will change, but I think a make-over might be in order. I mean, I AM a degree wielding blogger now, after all.

You can also expect that as soon as I get my degree (think it's mailed in March) I will take a sassy picture with it. I will probably wear a monocle and an ascot.

Whoa, It's Actually Totally There...

2008-12-24T12:48:00.000-08:00

...and all this time I thought my pile of crap was levitating in mid-air:

I finally cleaned and organized my desk! It's back in the working condition it should have been in for the entire semester.

Holy smokes, SNOW:

It
just
keeps
coming.

Not A Profession, or Round Peg in A Square Hole

2008-12-19T12:21:00.000-08:00

So, it seems appropriate to reflect upon this now that I'm done graduated:
What the hell do I do now?
And what the hell do I do with a degree in theatre? (The short and uncomplicated answer to that question is: "uh...theatre.")

So, I've had plenty of people over the years tell me that there's no future in theatre. I've had plenty of people tell me I've wasted my education, my money. I've had people call me straight up stupid for pursuing a degree and life in theatre and the arts. It comes with the territory, I get it. I'm not going to be a doctor and find a cure for AIDS or cancer. I'm not going to be a lawyer and litigate a super important civil rights case. I'm not going to become the new CEO of Ford and save it from destruction and in doing so, fix the economy and save America (sorry, Obama that's still on your list). So in some people's heads that makes me a waste of space. Unfortunately, in America there's not an overwhelming respect for artistry. I get it. We have quarterbacks to pay. I've accepted this about my country.
And while I feel no need to directly respond comments on my stupidity or lack of a future, while I feel no need to justify the reasons I do what I do, I will say: No job is "safe" anymore. You're better off just doing what you love. You'll be happier for it. And the world will be happier to have you in it (aka: I'm damn glad I didn't spend the last four years learning to be an investor)).
*Insert Awkward Dance Here*

Still not buying it? Still think I'll be on welfare and food stamps in three years?? Still think I'll be living under the interstate?
Ok.
Theatre, for me, is not a profession.
Please, allow me to explain.
I was listening to npr today and they were talking to Daniel Barenboim, who is a pretty solid dude. He's a famous pianist and conductor. He was the music director of the CSO (Chicago Symphony Orchestra) for a while. Not only his he a brilliant musician but he's also done much to bridge the divide between Jews and Arabs (like putting together an orchestra of Jewish/Arab musicians (that's a big deal)).
Anyway. So he was actually here in Chicago yesterday (I think) to play a concert and stopped by the local npr station to do an interview. I don't have a transcript in front of me, so I can't do exact quotes but, this dude said some interesting stuff that really struck me. He was talking about how his father taught him to play piano. And more than just teaching him to play, he taught him how to "think in music." He went on to say that for him, music is NOT a profession. It's a mode of existence, a way of thinking, a way of life, a way of operating.
This is how I think about my life and theatre in my life.
For me, theatre is not a profession.
Some people see the world in numbers. Some see it in music. Some see it molecules.
I see the world in theatre.
Now you're like, "What the crap does that mean, Amy?"
Well, I'll tell you.
I see the world in words, in language, in relationships (of people to people and people to environment). I see the world in story. I know how to problem solve creatively. I can think on my feet.
More than just learning how to "act", how to "direct", how to "do" theatre, I've also been trained in a manner of thinking. My brain works creatively, this is the way I was born. I've spent the last four years developing and training this aspect of myself. This brain training and skill set is thus applicable way beyond the boards of a stage. Trying to train my brain to do otherwise, trying to train my brain to think in numbers or molecules or litigation or logic would be like trying to shove a round peg through a square hole.
Could you force a round peg into a square hole?
Yeah.
But not without somehow damaging or altering the round peg or square hole.
And I don't know about you but a world full or critically injured round pegs and permanently maimed square holes, doesn't sound like a very happy place to me.

Do I know I'm an idealist?
Yup. It's a label I wear with pride.
Am I still slightly naive?
Duh, I'm 23 freakin' years old. I feel bad for people my age who aren't slightly naive.
Am I comfortable with these things?
Yeah.
Do I know exactly what I want to do or where I want to be in five years?
No.
Am I sure of who I am, who I want to be, the little I know, and the hefty infinite pile of things I don't know?
You're damn skippy.

...and if it ever ends up that somehow, by some strange twist of fate I do become the CEO of Ford (ha), I know I'll have climbed that ladder using my theatre brain and will run that company with my theatre brain.

I think my good pal Van Gogh said it best, "I consciously choose the dog's path through life. I shall be poor. I shall be a painter..."

Oh, speaking of dogs...THIS. There should be a law against that kind of cuteness. My heart can't take it. SHEESH.

Excuse Me, Is That a Tattoo on Your Face?

2008-12-14T14:59:00.001-08:00

So...
I have bizarre dreams.
This is not news.
When I'm stressed/nervous/tense they're usually about ten times more bizarre.
So last night, while I wasn't totally stressed, the stress was running out of my body (and can now be felt in every place of my back).
One recurring dream I have is that I, in a fit of mental instability, get a tattoo and then am later very angry at myself, because, I don't know if you're aware but those things don't come off. I spend the rest of the dream fretting about the permanence of my inked skin. Because, usually, it's some place awkward...like my hand.
But last night was the most awkward place of all...my face.
I got some weird sort of skyline on the side of my FACE.
I know.
I am crazy. Well aware, thanks.
So in the dream, I get this tattoo and while I'm getting it (and feeling the "tingly" on my face from the tattoo needle (yup, seriously)) I'm thinking, "this was the best idea EVER."
Then I look at the tattoo in the mirror.
And I don't remember what I wanted, but it wasn't what I wanted. It's some form of a bo-jank skyline.
I was really upset.
And when I got the tattoo and went to pay the artist she was like, "That will be 480 dollars please." I was like, "Really?" She's like, "Face tattoos are expensive." So I HAD to pay because the tattoo was already on my face and then I'm literally so upset I feel sick because:
a) I was like, "Well, guess I'm not going to Ireland anymore since I bought this 500 dollar face tattoo"
b) "This tattoo is really ugly and now is on my face forever."
c) "Holy shit my mom is going to be so pissed at me." (My mom makes random dream appearances, while I always understand that she is "dead", for some reason, sometimes she's just there. I guess to be like, "Why the hell did you get a face tattoo??")
d) "Yikes, I don't have the money to pay for tattoo removal and neither does Dad. Also...I don't have health insurance anymore WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."

AND THEN in the dream I was like, "Well Amy, you've really done it this time. I mean you've had dreams where this has happened before, but this is real life now. This is not a dream. Because if it was you'd have woken up already. Nope, this is real life. Guess you've got a tattoo on your face forever. Genius."

I spent the rest of the dream trying to hide the one half of my face a la Phantom of the Opera.

Needless to say, I was so very happy when I actually woke up and discovered the side of my face was NOT tattooed with a weird skyline and in fact just my normal Amy face.

All that said, I'd like to go ahead and take a poll. You know. Just in case...
POLL: Would you still love Amy if she had a face tattoo?
a) Absolutely not.
b) It would depend on the tattoo.
c) Of course. I love Amy for her sparkling personality and not her poorly chosen body art.

It's 2pm on a Sunday

2008-12-14T12:05:00.000-08:00

...and I've just about done it.

Let me give you a run-down of the last two days.

Friday.
2:45am-Wake up. Yup. I was dumb and said I could work a special shift at work that started at 3:30am. It was actually fun to be there so early and be a part of this special event BUT I was dumb to schedule myself then with so much going on this week.
3:30am-7am-Work.
7am-Leave for school.
9:00am-11am-Final for a class.
11am-1pm-Furiously try and make copies for my chapbook (I've had numerous complaints about the use of the word "Chapbook" so I've had a request to name it after David. This request came from...well, David. It shall henceforth be referred to as the "David A Book of Effervescent Poetry Stylings"). Anyway. I fail at making copies, more than once. Finally, I get what I need and its off to...
1pm-2:10ish-Final for another class.
2:10-Run south to pick up headshots from David, then home. (My headshot looks AWESOME by the way. Many thanks to David A for taking them and freezing his butt off with me (we went and took them last Friday, which if you live in Chicago and remember...it was like 12 degrees that day.))
3:45-HOME long enough to freakin' SHOWER and EAT.
5:30-10pm-Back at work. Yes. Seriously.
10:30-Home. Run over monologues for Saturday.
11pm-I am a 8 ton of bricks on my bed.

Saturday
6am-Wake up, dressed, shower, get in car-go to school.
9am-11:30-Perform final monologue for class.
Then...
Get changed, jump on the train, get off, stop at UPS store make copies for the cover of my David A Book of Effervescent Poetry Stylings (thank you nice UPS store lady who helped me copy my cover onto cardstock and was super mellow to my insanity). Get back on the train, get off, go to Starbucks, sit and work for a while on said books, go over monologue for...
1:40pm-AUDITION AUDITION AUDITION
Back on train. Back to school for...
4pm-Degree Completion Ceremony. Years of busting my ass and look, I got a keychain:

I will treasure it forever. My school is lovely. I owe it my education, but I gotta say this keychain was a little mean considering we DID NOT get caps and gowns NOR did we get to walk across a stage and get a fake diploma and that some of us likely won't be around in May to do that. Little mean, school. Little mean. BUT at the ceremony there were brownies, so I suppose I can't be too mad. Also, there were chocolate covered strawberries. Which are delicious.
THEN after the ceremony my Dad and I (after eating homemade empanadas (yum)) met my cousins at the ZOO! For ZOO LIGHTS! (The decorate the zoo with lights and you can go say hi to the animals. It was fun, even though it was raining. I got to groove with my little cousins and meet this dude:

All the monkeys were sleeeeeeeeping (well, apes). The chimps were sprawled out on the ground, mouths agape passed the heck out. It was pretty funny.
Then I came home, glued some stuff together for my David A Book of Effervescent Poetry Stylings, talked to some lovely people, and WENT TO BED.
10:00-I am passed out.

Sunday-
11am-I wake up after sleeping like a rock
Work on David A Book of Effervescent Poetry Stylings, GET THEM DONE! THAT'S RIGHT! THEY'RE DONE! Behold:
Front Cover (drawn and then copied, care of nice lady at the UPS store):

Back Cover:

Inside Covers (these are hand drawn with white colored pencil, cause it was easier than trying to copy onto black paper):

Amy Cover:

Yup. I had to make 16 of those. I made 20 just in case I get attacked by bear on the way to school who eats 4 of them. I'm pretty happy with how they turned out. Hooray! They're DONE! Now, all I have to do is turn 'em in and I'll be DONE.

...it STILL hasn't set in how "done" I am.
BUT I am finally starting to slow down a little bit.

...my back hurts.

Sarah Palin Brain: The Second

2008-12-06T09:26:00.000-08:00

Please.
Reserve your judgement.
I just completed my last week of undergrad classes...

Wednesday night.
I'm driving home.
I notice the road is awful dark in front of me.
Flick my lights.
They go...

BRIGHTS
nothing
everything totally off

Flick my lights again to the one between "brights" and "everything totally off" and try and see based on the reflection off the car in front of me, if my lights are indeed "nothing" or if I'm just imagining things. It's hard to tell.
Flick again...

BRIGHTS
nothing
everything totally off

Finally I pull off to the side of the road and get out and yup...
Both my headlights are dead.
Pull into a service gas station.
They check my bulbs.
Allegedly, they're odd, so they don't stock them and will have to order them. They'll be in by tomorrow.
They tell me to drive home with my brights and come back the next day.
So I do.

Home.
Sleep.
Last day of classes.

Drive to school, using my brights halfway before it's light enough to turn them off.
Get to school.
Go to classes.
Finish.
Can't let the fact I've finished settle in because I have to get my car from Roger's Park to Park Ridge to get my headlights changed then come back to city to have dinner with Meghan and David.
Get in car.
Drive.
Flick lights.

BRIGHTS
nothing
everything totally off

Drive to Park Ridge.
They take my car.
5 minutes go by.
"Um, mam? Your lights are working."
Man takes me to garage, shows me brights (whoa) shows me normal lights that, yes, are indeed working.
He says, "I don't want to charge you for bulbs you don't need and send you on your way because you might have a larger problem."
Me, "Oh."
In my mind I'm going over flicking the lights back and forth in my head and trying to convince myself that they were INDEED really out...
He walks around the back of my car, "But you have two tail-lights out. I sure hope you don't drink, girl. You'll get pulled over."
Me (thinking), "I drive alone. When the hell would I ever notice that I have two tail-lights out, jerk?...Please don't look at my oil sticker and notice that I was due for a change in Novemeber. Also, please don't say anything about the fact that my check-engine light is on."
DISCLAIMER: My check engine light as been on for like...two years. Somewhere, deep inside the Soobs, a sensor is out of whack. Everytime we've had it fixed (like...four) it just pops on again two weeks later. So the long and short is: I don't care that my check engine light is on. I realize the problem this presents when something IS actually wrong with my engine, but it's been this way for two years, so the long and short is: oh well.
He says, "We'll change those for you."
I say, "Thanks."
He says, "So both lights were out yesterday?"
I say *shifty eyes*, "Yeah."
He says, "I think you might have a bigger problem. You may want to take it somewhere and get it checked out. I'm not gonna change your bulbs and charge you but if you hit a bump these things could go out again."
Me thinking, "The bigger problem could well be that I am I am just a dipshit."
Me, "Ok."
He says, "I'll give you my card, so you can have whoever call me and I'll talk to 'em."
Me, "Thanks."
My tail-lights get changed.
He says (to mechanic), "How many blubs?"
Mechanic, "Three"
He says, "Psshh. Tell you what. Give me 10 bucks. Just to keep you honest."
I pay 10 dollars and am sent on my way.
Get in car.
Lights are on.
Look at stick.
Realize I did NOT have my lights properly turned on Wednesday night.
The stick had been flicked/jostled (unbeknownst to me) into "Brights" mode. So that when I turned my lights "on" my brights came up.
This had severely confused my damaged brain and sent me into panic mode.
I swear, I'm much smarter than this.
...but I probably shouldn't tell you about the things I messed up at work Saturday.

Sarah Palin Brain

2008-12-03T08:46:00.000-08:00

So I've been working like mad the past three days, trying to get everything done I need to for this, my final week of classes. When I run this way, I pretty much never allow my brain to rest. Which I know is a bad thing. And even though I know it would not kill me to chill out for 20 minutes, I can't make my brain stop. I would sit on the couch and twitch, so it's just better to keep going.
As such:
Sunday night while working on my set model for design I had chips and a diet coke for dinner.
Monday night I threw two frozen burritos in the microwave while working and ate them while working and then forgot I was eating them and two hours later was left with a weird stale burrito mass on my plate.
Last night I attempted to make eggs. But I did this, again, while working-cutting things with an X-acto, painting, and pasting. My eggs didn't turn out. I tried to eat them anyway. Bad idea. Diet coke and cookies for dinner!
I know.
I know.
It's DISGUSTING.
I'll have a major project out of the way after today so I'm going to make up for the above nastiness by stopping at the grocery store, picking up some polenta, mushrooms and peppers and making something hearty and delicious for dinner tonight. I can't wait.

David's appropriately coined my brain right now, "Sarah Palin" brain. I'm saying things that don't make sense at all and stumbling through the world.

Want evidence?

This happened last night...
I listed my facebook status as, "Amy is a maniac, turning out papers and projects. But it should be noted her hair is out of control and she's only wearing one sock."
Meghan was on AIM at the time...

Meghan (9:43:38 PM): you're only wearing one sock?

Amy (9:43:43 PM): um.
Amy (9:43:44 PM): yes.
Amy (9:43:57 PM): i remember taking one off with the intention of taking the other off
Amy (9:44:04 PM): but then i got distracted

Meghan (9:44:05 PM): it happens

Amy (9:44:54 PM): it happens
Amy (9:45:01 PM): life gets in the way of these simple tasks

Meghan (9:45:08 PM): it does

Amy (9:45:14 PM): normally i could multi task and take off the sock while doing something else
Amy (9:45:23 PM): but with my mind in the state its in right now...

Meghan (9:45:24 PM): OKAY here's a plan:

Amy (9:45:29 PM): OKAY!

Meghan (9:45:31 PM): the next time you start to type at me over IM
Meghan (9:45:36 PM): take off your sock
Meghan (9:45:51 PM): is it off?! it better be off.

Amy (9:45:53 PM): um ok im typing now and trying to take my sock off
Amy (9:45:58 PM): its not off yet

Meghan (9:46:07 PM): you need drugs.

Amy (9:46:17 PM): ok its off
Amy (9:46:23 PM): i had to concentrate though

Meghan (9:46:24 PM): but now your feet are cold, no?
Meghan (9:46:31 PM): go get that sock and the other sock and put the two back on.

Amy (9:46:47 PM): no my feet are fine
Amy (9:46:49 PM): socks annoy me
Amy (9:46:59 PM): in a past life i was a bare foot hillbilly

Meghan:
Dear Loyola,
Give Amy her degree already. She's out of her mind.
Love,
Meghan

Also, when my brain is running like this I have this weird thing where I sleep really really HARD but also am still sort of awake at the same time. I know, it's bizarre. Here's how I can explain it (yes this really happened):
I'm sleeping. Dreaming weird things. I have a dream I'm in my bed doing homework, like I was right before I fell asleep. I open something (I think it was a book or a box) and see SPIDERS! SPIDERS unleash themselves in my bed in my dream!! (This, seriously, is like one of my worst "this could really happen" nightmares) SO, in REAL LIFE I literally go from sleeping like a rock to FLYING out of my bed. No joke, I JUMP out of bed, spastically brushing "spiders" off me and fly to my light switch and turn on the light. No joke. And as soon as the light turns on and I look at my clock and see "1:45am" I "wake up", realize I was dreaming, turn off the light, fall back into bed, and PASS OUT. You would think having such an arresting nightmare would make it hard to fall back asleep. Nope. Not when you're Amy.

Tomorrow is my last day of classes.
Then two tests.
Then the making of 16 chapbooks (Anyone want a copy of my lame poetry book? Let me know and I'll make one for you. You can save it and use it as "make fun of Amy ammo").
One turning of a paper from a rough draft into a real draft.
One composing of a "Life List" and putting it together in project form.
One performance of a Greek Monologue.
THEN FOR REAL DONE!!!!

...crap. I still have a lot to do.
But first...
presenting my design project.
heading to one more class.
driving home, stopping at the grocery store.
a sit down good and hot MEAL.

Trying to Write One of Two Final Undergrad Papers At 9:30 on a Saturday Night: A Study

2008-11-29T19:41:00.000-08:00

Paper 1:
A literary criticism paper on The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Great book. I recommend it. But I hate being forced to write in such a structural, regimented way. Currently, I'm doing a rough/draft outline that will be filled out over the next few days.

Here is a "sentence" I wrote:
"At the novel’s end, Pecola, with the weight of history on her and the knowledge. She goes crazy. "

Here is how the construction of that sentence went in my brain:
"At the novel's end, Pecola, with the weight of her parental history...no...just history. Don't want to be too wordy...with the weight of history on her...on her?....on her...and the knowledge she will never have blue eyes...but wait...at the end she thinks she has blue eyes...but she's crazy...so...she's just crazy? Ugh. With the weight of history on her and the knowledge...the knowledge...screw this...SHE GOES CRAZY."

Uggghhhh...
Am I done yet? Can I have my degree now PLEASE!!?

And you know what I'm doing right now, right??
Procrastinating. I've got about a page of sentences and fragments constructed like the above delightful piece of insight. I need seven.
And that's just the one paper.

Holy Toledo. I love school. I love learning. But I will NOT miss writing academic papers.

Dear God,
Please send me a paper-writing elf.
Love,
Amy
P.S. If they don't exist you should make them. 'Cause you're God and allowed to do that.

My mind is so out to lunch right now. I know I don't have much left to do, I know I just need to sit my ass down and DO IT and get it DONE so I can be DONE.
But seriously?
Right now my brain is running through fragrant meadows and spinning in circles while humming to itself.

Thankful/Not Thankful: A List

2008-11-27T20:50:00.000-08:00

So it's Thanksgiving. A day to give thanks. It seems like a good idea to list the things I'm thankful for. Mostly, 'cause I haven't had to list the things I'm thankful for since like...5th grade. If this were a sheet of paper and not a blog it would probably be accompanied by a hand-trace-turkey with different colored finger feathers...

Ok. So here are the things I am thankful for:

1. In keeping with the traditional sense of thanksgiving I will say that I am thankful I am not dead. And thankful that I do not have smallpox. And that indians have not taken my scalp.

2. I am thankful I am not a pilgrim.

3. I am thankful, oh so thankful, that I am done with school in two weeks. Like, for undergrad good done. I am thankful for my education and I am thankful that I now get to put that education to work. I am thankful for all the opportunities that are before me.

4. I am thankful for A Muppet Christmas Carol. And the fact that the whole thing is on youtube. I am especially thankful for this song in A Muppet Christmas Carol:

It's true where ever you find love it feels like Christmas....

5. I am thankful that I can now listen to Christmas music!

6. I am thankful for the many special people in my life. Friends. Family. Blog Readers. Life is more beautiful with you in it.

7. I am thankful for laughter. All the time. Every day.

8. For Christmas. For lights and trees and decorations. Christmas makes me feel fuzzy and happy and peaceful.

9. I am thankful for Jimmy John's. I am thankful for their tuna sandwich and their jalapeno chips. I am thankful they are two blocks away from work. I am thankful they deliver. Subs so fast you'll freak.

10. I am thankful for Obama. And the hope he's brought to the country.

11. I am thankful for puppies.

12. I am thankful for the small simple moments that make me heart and soul happy. Like seeing an autumn tree lit by sunlight.

13. I am thankful for little kids who insist on calling me, "Jamie".

14. I am thankful for my comfy bed. Inside my warm house. I am thankful for my dogbear, who is my night time snuggle buddy.

15. I am thankful for my brain. And that I don't have to thing about using my lungs or pumping my heart. Thanks, brain! You're pretty swell too, spinal cord, thanks for keepin' brain in touch with the bod!

16. I am thankful for art. Art is like my glasses, I'd be sorta blind without it, bumpin' into crap and squinting my way through life. Theatre. Theatre. Theatre. Writing. Poetry. LORCA. DUENDE. I AM THANKFUL FOR DUENDE. Music. Oh music. Painting. Drawing. Creativity. I am happy these things exist.

17. I am thankful for potential.

18. I am thankful for love. LOVE. Love for life. Love for people. Love. Love. Love. It's why I get out of bed in the morning.

And just so we're clear...

Things I am NOT thankful for:

1. People who are unkind and disrespectful to others.

2. Poorly designed parking garages (seriously) (they make me so mad)

My Life Right Now...

2008-11-21T09:38:00.001-08:00

Looks like this:

Things I love about this:
a) Cross-eyed count.
b) That everyone's name is also their occupation. "Count, I'm Police Chief." "I'm Mayor."
c) "You are most beautiful".
d) That there are a copious amount of pies just sitting on tables for no reason at all.
e) That the cops respond to the pie fight like a damn SWAT team.

Remember When Your Mom Made You Clean Your Room?

2008-11-19T08:39:00.000-08:00

There's a reason for it.

So...
From the lack of blog-age lately (I've got a couple posts I'm working on, swear) you may think that I've neglected my blog and you.
Not so.
Truth is, two weeks from tomorow I will walk out of my last undergrad class.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Aside from the heinous amount of end-of-semester work this involves, this realization that I will be done with something I've been doing for the last 18 years of my life (until when and if I decide to go to grad school) has left my brain when not distracted by said heinous amounts of work-slightly comatose. Like-I have a heart palpitation every time I realize that December 4th is...like...soon. Ah! There it was again. I may or may not go into cardiac arrest at 4:00 on Thursday December 4th. I should probably take some Bayer for that in advance.
It's kind of crazy when I think all the way back to the beginning of my epic degree journey in the Fall of 2004. Lots of shit can happen in four and a half years and lots of shit DID happen. There were days I didn't think I'd be where I am today. There were days when everything was so hard, I thought getting my degree was pointless. I came pretty close to quitting. More than once.
Thank god for the people around me. 'Cause I would not and could not have done this without them. But I'll save this stuff for the day I ACTUALLY am HOLDING my degree. Because I know damn well something could happen tomorrow and the university could decide I need to take a Home Ec class before they grant me my B.A. I will be angry as hell. But I will bake that cake and diaper that baby until I hold that stupid piece of paper in my hands.

ANYWAY!
All this to say-no, I'm not dead. I'm just busy. I've been piecing together a couple posts that should come up in the next few days.
So, all this to say...
When I get busy...well, my room basically turns into the epicenter my madness.
My room is always a bit mad. I can never seem to keep it organized, but when I'm busy my, what I call "organized disorganization", pretty much implodes.
My room is pretty small. And, as you may imagine, is where I keep all my stuff.
I'd post pictures of the madness in my room now, but really...it's just too embarrassing.
Even for me.
Right now I operate by clearing just enough space on my desk to accomplish the work I need to accomplish.
Papers, books, art supplies, computer accoutrement, pens, pencils are quite literally spilled across my desk and dripping onto the floor. Dripping onto the floor into pools of hazard.
"What sort of hazard, Amy?"
Scale rule hazard.
What's a scale rule?
Well, if you put an extra long Star Wars TIE fighter [which is also applicable because the Imperial March of DOOM plays in my head whenever I have to use a scale rule...or it might just be the sound effect I make as I fly my scale rule TIE fighter through the air] and a ruler in a blender...you'd get a scale rule. It's used for, well, uh figuring out scale. I don't like it very much cause it involves numbers and remembering what side of the ruler to use and what numbers stand for what and how many feet and how many inches and shut the heck up scale rule I'm sick of your sass.
Then scale rule, sitting precariously in a pool of hazard on my floor (along with a metal box that contained X-ACTO knives (yipes) (that coulda been bad) (good thing my odd OCD had kicked in and I had taped it shut with red duct tape because I was worried it would open in my bag) (phew)) tripped me.
Or, I guess you could say I tripped over it.
And lesson of the day is: clean your room. And talk nicely to your scale rule.
Because even though it's made of plastic it still has the power to put a gash in your foot. And then you drip blood on your cream colored rug. And then you feel dumb in movement class when you take off your socks and have a dramatically bandaged foot.

Clean your room kids.
Or, at the very least...if you must litter your room, do so with pillows, teddy bears, and cotton candy.

The Muppets: They Will Cure What Ails Ye

2008-11-12T21:16:00.000-08:00

So...Ariana showed me this video the other day and we both watched it over and over and over and cracked up. A lot:

"OH YEEAAAHHHHH....sorry 'bout that." Cracks. Me. UP.

And then I found this:

And then I realized...
I am this crazy orange haired fuzzy green guy.
Like...especially when he runs to the background and is just like, "ba da da da da da da Da bee dee rup bud dah dah"

And then I realized...
Those little pink guys? Probably David. Like the subtext of what they're saying when crazy orange haired fuzzy green guy riffs is, "Ma-goo!"
Or Sara. Those little pink guys could be Sara too. In fact the look the pink guys give the crazy orange haired fuzzy green guy I've seen on Sara's face. More than once.

...and now I'm currently watching/guilty-pleasure addicted to "First Comes Love" on Logo (Big Gay Channel) about couples (gay ones) who want to get married. Most of the time the couples go to Canada...since, you know...it's legal there. But still its super cute. And it's hosted by Elvira Kurt who is hilarious.

Hooray!

Thoughts on the Election

2008-11-05T15:23:00.000-08:00

I am elated about our new President elect.
Some of my friends have said that they're finally proud to be an American. And since we all know what the right "gotcha" media will do with that statement, I won't say it.
What I will say?
For the first time in my life I understand what it is to be an American. The American ideals I've read about in history books all my life, the supposed American ideals that this country has always stood for-I finally see in my country, my generation, my new president. It's the first time in my life I feel like I can even say "my president" instead of "the president".
I am so proud of my generation.
I am so proud that America elected a BLACK MAN.
I am so proud Obama proved the impossible.
I am proud that as a nation-not matter you voted for, no matter where you sit in politics-that we cared and showed up to the polls in record numbers.
For the first time in my life I understand what it is to be an American.
This election is an amazing triumph-for America, for the world, for minorities. But mostly for hope and the hopeful who proved to be a big loud collective majority last night instead of the quiet voice in the corner.
Hell.
Yes.
And! AND! AND!!!
There will be puppies.
Like you do much better.
Ok?
Ok.
Look.
I'm not a dummy and Obama ain't Superman.
We got a lot of work to do.
And I'm not elated about the election results because I believe he is the be all end all solution.
I'm not elated about the election results because he's a democrat and is going to rule the country with a liberal agenda.
I'm elated about the election results because I believe he will be the inspiration and instigation for change that will continue for generations.
I'm elated because he's helped people believe in their country, believe in each other, and believe in the power of hope.
That's pretty freakin' awesome.
Will he fix the economy in four years?
Maybe. But probably not.
Will every single American have health care and a job in four years?
I'm not holding my breath.
But he's planted some pretty powerful seeds and now it's up to US as AMERICANS to help them grow. That's probably a lame metaphor. My poetry teacher would underline it and write, "cliche!" but you get my point.

However.
I'm certainly not feeling all peaches and roses at the moment.
Proposition 8 passed in California.
So my elation is mixed with some serious heartbreak.
Proposition 8 will put an AMENDMENT on California's CONSTITUTION that bans same-sex marriage.
Why is this a big deal?
Because California will put an amendment on their constitution LIMITING and DENYING rights. Forget what you think about marriage and the gays...that's SCARY.
It kills me that on some level America (even blue-state California) sees something so wrong with homosexuality that they have to amend their constitutions.
What the hell?!
I'm afraid if I start to write too much on this my post will turn super angry and that's not what I want it to be.
I am angry.
I am hurt.
The election of Obama and defeat of Prop 8 don't belong in the same election for me. My hope for America includes equality for all. My hope for America includes recognition of my love and of my rights-and of all gays, queers, lesbos, dykes, and queens.
Progress comes in baby steps I know: three steps forward and two steps backward. I know. I get it.
But it doesn't make it suck any less to be on the losing side of the progress that's not only close to your heart but a part of your very make-up and who you are.
I have enormous faith and hope in Obama and his presidency. He will do monumental things for this country and abroad and more importantly, he will inspire Americans to do monumental things for this country and abroad. I believe this and am thankful for this. An optimistic dude who believe in ideals and hope is my kind of dude.
And in believing this I guess I ultimately have to trust that the way I am will one day not be seen as less.
I have so much love in my life. I am lucky to be loved by so many wonderful people who would not care if I were purple with a third arm growing out of my forehead. I just cannot wait for the day when the rest of the country will catch up and understand, just as so many people in my life do, I'm just me. And that other gays are just who they are, same as anyone.
I'm not trying to stage a coop or overthrow traditional values or re-write the Bible. What I would like is to exist in the world with the same rights and opportunities as any one else without ever compromising who I am. Is that too much to ask?!

Halloween Photo Contest RESULTS POST

2008-11-01T23:06:00.001-07:00

Here are the results for the Halloween Photo Contest:

Congrats, Sara! You are a much more awesome Sara than the the Sarah Palin. Mostly, 'cause you don't like to shoot me.
You shall get a prize! Send me your address and you will get something super awesome. Excited? YOU SHOULD BE.

Thank you to everyone who submitted pictures! I do declare it a mighty fine contest.

A special thank you to Sarah Palin for helping me announce the winner.

Here she is simultaneously hunting and eating Moose. Way to go, you Maverick. Most people like to make sure their meat is dead before they eat it. Then they usually like to cook it. And most of the time...people don't eat antlers. Even if they're just made of bristol board and felt.

...and yeah, I realize I am the most bo-jank Moose in the history of the universe. That's what 20 bucks'll get ya for a Halloween Costume.

Keith Richards aka Moose's Dad would also like to say hello:

Maybe one day your Old Man Band will be as big as the Stones.
Maybe one day I will be a real Moose.

It's TIME

2008-10-31T17:18:00.000-07:00

As promised (and for once actually ON TIME) here are the entries for the Halloween Picture Contest! Excited? You SHOULD be. Ok, today's post is just the entries. I'm hoping to have the winner posted tomorrow but it might be Sunday. The winner will be announced by a special guest. Intrigued? You SHOULD be. Ok. Thank you so much to everyone who submitted pictures. You all win points in the "Amy's Favorite People" book of life and we all know that at the end of the day, what I think about you is what's most important. Oh yeesh. I can't even take myself seriously when I talk like that. Seriously, thanks for submitting. They were so much fun to get and I'm so happy to post these. Pictures are fun.

WITHOUT FURTHER POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE...

Ha! Get it?

Carly sent me this picture:

This is Carly and some of her friends/family dressed as bunnies. With balloon ears. Genius.

My Auntie Bena sent this picture:

These are my other grandparents (Dad's folks). They are dressed as Wayne and Garth. The answer to your question is: Yeah. It is pretty much the best thing ever.

This picture is from Claire:

Oh Claire. How I adore puppies. And how your puppies are so adorable. They are looking super fine in their Halloween get-ups.

These pictures came from Ariana:

I have no words. Except that I really want to see these dogs RUN in these costumes. Because I think it would be a hilarious. Preferably, it should happen with the soundtrack from their respective movies playing in the background. Preferably, it should also happen that they have an epic duel with their respective evil nemesis who is (preferably) another dog dressed in costume.

These two came from Sara:

Sara. Sara. Sara. I have a whole knew respect for you. A dragon?! When you said you were going to submit a picture I thought I was going to get something cute like a princess or a kitten or a fairy. No. I get DRAGON. My friend, you are way more hardcore than I thought you were. Way more hardcore than I. I think will all remember what I was dressing up as at this age. Also, if I may say so, you are one cute dragon kid.

These two pictures came from Meghan (after much nagging from me):

Smart Ass.

Here is Meghan as Wendy from Peter Pan. She has plopped herself in the center of the circle. I love it. You are also one freakin' cute-ass kid. However, I cannot say you are as hardcore as Sara. I mean...maybe if you went as the crocodile from Peter Pan...but Wendy?

Look for the results post this weekend! Thanks again for submitting!

Fierce Firey Amy (Apparently)

2008-10-23T14:13:00.000-07:00

So my pal David sent me a facebook message this morning.

The subject of it was:
Um...this is how fierce you are btw...

And inside the message was this video:

So I sent him a message back that said:
Seriously...you think I'm that fierce???

He said:
Even more than that.

And then I felt pretty dang good because "fierce" and the ability to ninja up walls would not be things I'd put on the list of "Amy Assets".
Thanks, David! This made my morning.

Also not on that list?
Firey.

But apparently...

So, withhold your "Ugh, theatre people are SO WEIRD" reaction and go with me for just a moment...
So I'm in this movement class. And we've been doing some "elemental" work, which basically means running around the room (or being very still) as air, water, earth, and fire. It's a way to think about movement, to think about how characters move, what moving as those elements does to your body and to your internal emotion.
Yeah?
Yeah.
So, before we started this, I thought..."I'm such an earth person. I'll be all over that, that'll feel real good to me. I'm grounded. Duh. Certainly not airy and Lord know I don't know my hips exist so why the hell would I be water?"
But then came the fire day.
And that felt way more awesome than being a tree.
Or air.
Or a river.
Please. Continue to withhold your, "Ugh, theatre people are SO WEIRD. What the hell is that shit ABOUT?" feeling that I KNOW is going through your head right now. Be honest. How do I know it's going through your head right now?
'Cause it goes through my head on a pretty regular basis too....
"Um, you want me to what, professor? Stand in front of the class and be the flame of a candle?? Um...ok. If you say so."
(Yeah Dad, that's what tuition is paying for.)
ANYWAY.
Since doing the elements we've moved onto other stuff...namely, colors. We had a day where we made paintings out of movement. That day was pretty badass. Now, over halfway through the semester, we've started working again with words (cause I hear those are important onstage) and how they relate to and/inform movement. And what sounds "move" like.
Yeah?
Yeah.
ANYWAY.
I had a meeting with my movement professor today, to talk about where I'm at in the class, for her to give me some feedback, what I'm having trouble with- that sort of deal.
And she said to me, "There's fire in everything you do."

"There's fire in everything that you do."
What?
Seriously?
Me?
FIRE?!?

Hm.

...I'm ok with that.

Muahahahahahahaha...
Look OUT. Apparently, I'm fierce and firey.
Whoa.

Reminder again:
Halloween pictures to me at:
Magoo1001@gmail.com
Multiple pictures? A-Ok.
Pictures of your dogs dressed up? A-Ok.

SEND 'EM IN! SEND 'EM IN! SEND 'EM IN!

Special Message From Some Old Time-y Sunbathers

2008-10-21T06:31:00.000-07:00

Amy's classy Grandparents would like to remind you that the DEADLINE for the Halloween Photo Contest is fast approaching. Get 'yo pictures IN. I've had some requests and I'm willing to extend the deadline slightly to give you all extra time to scan and such. The post with all the pictures will go up on the 31st. I will announce the winner on November 1st. So to give me time to download/post/judge have all pictures in by October 30th at the LATEST. Sound cool?? Good. I'm starting to get more entries! Keep 'em coming!
ALSO in regards to the Halloween Photo Contest, I had this question in my comment box:
"Can you send multiple pictures if you can't decide on one? Also, can I send in a picture of my dogs dressed up if I don't have kids? "
The answer is YES on both counts. And that is a very emphatic YES for pictures of your dogs dressed up. I am way excited to get these pictures. Please, please, please...SEND THEM. The more, the merrier-especially if cute puppies are involved.

...Oh and by the way? Yes. My grandparents ARE the coolest ever. Just so you know...that's what happens when an Italian from da city of Chicago marries a sweet Irish lass from the farmlands of Wisconsin. Seriously. Yeah. I'm not sure how they pulled that off either or convinced the 'rents it would all be ok.
These two give me faith that people can be together and love each other for a very long time. Not that relationships are always peaches and cupcakes. But the duration of love?? Yeah. It happens. Observe my grandparents dressed to go to a party as old time-y sunbathers. Brilliance.
You know what's sorta funny about this picture? Looking at it I see my face in my Grandpa's. But maybe that's just his slight awkwardness-in-the-presence-of-a-beautiful-woman coming through. Aw, Grandpa. I'm right there with you.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

Meghan and I were heading to a coffee shop. The place we want to go to is closed so we decide to hop in my car and drive somewhere...
ME: Ok. Just...don't judge me by the state of my car.
*Meghan shoots me a look like "Give me a break*
ME: I'm just sayin'.
*Meghan looks in my backseat and starts laughing*
MEGHAN: Aww...Amy...it's like your little moveable home!

The Big Gay Marriage Debate

2008-10-18T08:39:00.000-07:00

All right. I'm going to blog about it. I'm gonna do my best to keep it articulate and intelligent because I'm not the liberal "gotcha" media. I'm just a twenty-something lesbian trying to make sense of an issue that's important to me.

So...
Gay Marriage.
*Gasp*
The scandal!

Where to even start?

Let me start by saying this:
I ain't a-gunnin' to stick a ring on a girl's finger. I wouldn't call marriage a "life goal" of mine, meaning it's not something I have on "GOTTA DO THIS!" list. I don't equate marriage with being a "life step" like purchasing my own car or starting my 401K or buying a house.
To me, marriage is much more powerful than that. And rather than it being a step I HAVE to take...I hope it's a step I'll be LUCKY enough to take. And not "lucky" in the sense of it being legal. "Lucky" in the sense of finding that person willing to say, "I do." To me, marriage and potentially finding someone willing to put up with my shit forever, stick with me in good and bad, to be that one person who will always be there, to grate my last nerve and make me weak in the knees all in same day- is incredibly powerful.
To me, marriage is not about religion, it's not about a contract, it's not about economics or insurance. It is unequivocally and completely about love. And should the day ever come where I decide to share my life with someone I know in my heart what will be important is not the legalities of the matter. What will be important is the beautiful woman who will say to me, "Yeah Amy, I'll put up with your shit" and who I will say to, "Yeah beautiful woman, I'll put up with your shit too." The important thing will be our love and the celebration of it.
Ok?
That's where I stand on marriage. And while I've learned never to say never and while I know things and people change I do feel pretty strongly that marriage is a one-time thing. It's not something I take lightly, it's not something I would do in Vegas, and it is not a system I would take advantage of (ie I wouldn't marry David just to reap whatever benefits he might have at his place of employment or file joint taxes).
Yeah?
Yeah.

So...honestly? There are some days where I say to myself, "Amy, do you really care about the legalities? Is it really THAT important?"
I know there is no law or person that could ever take away the love I'd have for the person I'd marry.
And it would be over my cold dead body that any law or person would try and take that person away from me.
I know both these points as fact.
I know that (sorry America) there is no law that could ever preserve the sanctity of marriage. Because the sanctity of marriage is preserved by the couple in the union and by no one and nothing else.
This also is a fact.
Abuse. Incest. Infidelity. Divorce.
And you're trying to prevent me from getting married because somehow the fact that I'd want to marry a woman destroys the sanctity of marriage? Sorry, but it seems to me like the heterosexual married world has got some work to do on the "sanctity of marriage" front before they start preaching to me about what is or is not "holy."
...so I guess it isn't so much that if I got married I wouldn't have those legalities but it kinda shatters my heart that the world wouldn't see the love I have for that beautiful woman I'd marry as wonderful and WORTHY of those legalities.
And while my mother always told me it isn't important what others think as long as you're down with who you are and what you're up to in life...it hurts.

And then there's the whole issue of RIGHTS and it being ridiculous that those same rights heterosexuals enjoy in their marriage wouldn't extend to me and my partner. I could beat this out till I'm blue in the face. Suffice it to say...I'd like my wife to be able to get into the hospital to see me should I ever get hit by a bus. It'd be nice to come have her hold my hand.

Phew.

As a lesbian. This makes voting difficult.
I refuse to be the one issue voter. I know the issues at hand in the world today are greater than singular issues and greater than me. And it seems a little selfish to be concerned about my marriage rights when the world is blowing up.
I get that. I recognize that. I'm not righteous enough to be blind to that.
But dang.
I'm forced to choose between throwing away my vote or giving my vote to someone who, in some capacity, is saying that the love of same-sex couples isn't worthy of full blown marriage rights. And maybe said candidate (ahem ahem...Obama) doesn't really believe in his heart that such love is unworthy. But...that's what he has to say.
What a moral conundrum.

I don't know if what I just blogged made any sense. But it's all rolling around in my head right now.
I gotta head to the polls in a couple weeks and decide what to do about this.
I don't think I gotta go into what McCain says about the gays.
But, if you're curious about what Obama says you can read about it HERE. He does support civil unions, he does support the gays on a lot of important legislation. But there is something he does oppose. And it's marriage. And I realize he can't support gay marriage. I realize that's political suicide. I get it, I get it, I get it.
It just makes little sense.

QUOTES OF THE DAY

On AIM with David...
DAVID: sent u a text earlier!
ME: really?!
DAVID:you didn't answer
ME:....oh.
ME: oh.
ME: that MIGHT have something to do with my text box being full
DAVID: magoo! delete some! what if i was texting you to tell u ponies were being given away!?

David and I went to see a show together. At some point in the show, this actor in a really awesome full-body-suit puppet came out. She was a monster. Apparently, I got real excited. And apparently, I was moving my head around to track the monster's every move and see around the person in front me...
DAVID: I thought you were gonna jump right down to the first row when that monster came out on stage. You were way excited.
ME: Don't make fun of me! That monster was awesome!
DAVID: I'm not making fun, it was fabulous...I felt like I was with an eight year old at Walking With Dinosaurs.

I'll post a reminder picture later BUT here is ANOTHER reminder for the Halloween Photo Contest. Send all pictures to me, Amy, at:
Magoo1001@gmail.com

Chucking a Bouncy Ball at a Wall

2008-10-15T09:32:00.000-07:00

I apologize for the serious lack of blogage of late.
I hate saying, "I've been busy" because I enjoy blogging and like to make time for it even when life is slightly nuts, but...*sigh* I've been busy.
I like to make sure you get the best possible blogage from Confusing Ideas and sometimes after a day of school/work/homework/rehearsal...that just isn't possible. Not even because I don't have the time but because my brain gets tired after working all day and says to me, "God. Amy! I need a break. Will you let me just chuck a bouncy ball at a wall for a little while??" And I say, "Ok, brain. Here's a bouncy ball. Have at it."

REMINDER
All right guys. I have two entries for the Halloween Photo Contest. I need more. I'm not gonna lie...the competition is fierce. You should make it even fiercer and send me your pictures. People have said to me, "Amy! I would love to send you a picture, but my Halloween pictures are not digital! How am I supposed to send it to you? Woe is me."
Two things:
a) A scanner. They're really easy to use. So if you have one, or your parents/friends have one, or if your local library has one-that's one way to do it. It goes like this: lift scanner lid, put picture on scanner screen, hook scanner into your computer, press "scan" on scanner, photo will appear on your computer. Done and done.
b) ALSO you can take them into Walgreens or Jewel Osco or whatevs and get them put onto a media CD or your little USB dude. This also is really easy and if you are confused I'm sure an enthusiastic member of the costumer service squad would be happy to assist you.
Ok? So it CAN be done. So...do it. Remember...there IS a prize which I will ACTUALLY send to you (yes, a real palpable prize) if you're comfortable giving me your address. If not, well...let's be honest. If you're just in it for the prize you best not play. The GLORY is really what it's all about.

Ahhh yes. How perfectly typical. Amy is dressed and ready to take on Halloween as Patch from 101 Dalmatians and Jimmy is...still in his pajamas with only his Scarecrow hat on.

Fall Colors: Red, Yellow, Orange, Brown, and...Pink?

2008-10-06T13:54:00.000-07:00

*DISCLAIMER: This post is slightly more personal than the usual here at Confusing Ideas.*

Well, it's that time again.
The trees are turning lovely shades of orange, yellow, red, and brown and the store shelves are turning pink.
Yup, that's right.
It's BREAST CANCER AWARENESS TIME!!

So...I made it pretty clear in a post last year how I feel about certain aspects of BREAST CANCER AWARENESS MONTH! (I think it helps to say BREAST CANCER AWARENESS MONTH like you're a monster truck rally commentator).

I do have some slightly more intelligent things to say on the matter now that I've aged a bit.
Ok...here's the deal...
For 12 years of my life my mom had cancer on and off. I never really gave a damn during those 12 years (and still don't give a damn) that companies make over their products in pink for a month out of the year. Yes, in the end, I know I can't be too snippy about it because it does raise funds for important organizations. I get that. (But I still say, "Dyson my mom didn't die so you could sell a vacuum.")
I have to say...what made the difference for me for those 12 years were people.
People who cooked dinners for my family during times my mom was really really ill.
People who sent cards.
People who called.
And even though it ain't my thing...people who prayed.
Such people made it easier for me to sleep at night.
I am unable to even fully express how grateful I am to everyone who supported and helped my family.
...and while I appreciate the thought of making the world over in pink and sellin' shit to give portions of the proceeds to cancer organizations...
I could never be a fraction as grateful for that as I am for the people who were there for my mother.
They mean more to me than a pink vacuum cleaner ever could.

I don't live my life weighed down by grief. It's not in my personality number one. I find it infinitely easier to be upbeat that I do to be a debbie downer. Being weighed down by grief is not what my mother would want and it's not what I want. I am so excited to get up in the morning and see what potential each day has to offer and I am very much looking forward to my life and my future...
But I will be sore until the day I die.
And until the day I die, not a day will go by that I won't miss her or wish she were here.
And I know that it is this soreness that feeds my cynicism over Breast Cancer Awareness month. Because I know, like too many people know, that breast cancer couldn't be farther fluffy pink-ness.
Breast Cancer ain't pretty. Even in pink. (Is that a pun? Sort of? No? Ok. (I'm just funny))

I also feel like I need to say that I don't remember those 12 years as an awful horrible time period in my life.
Truthfully, I remember them as really happy and always filled with love- with some spots of scary and badness. And not the other way around. I think that's a huge testament to my mother and dad. They never let cancer take over and run our lives and for that I got pretty kick-ass childhood.

There. I said my piece. I vow never to speak on Breast Cancer Awareness month again unless I see something really ridiculous like pink puppies bred for breast cancer awareness.

AND

In light of breast cancer awareness, I feel it is only fitting to give a Breast Cancer Awareness PSA in Confusing Ideas fashion:

Elf Amy would like to remind you there's nothing funny about having a mother with cancer.

...but she IS wearing her mother's post-chemo wig under that elf hat AND wearing her mothers "bangs" as a beard.
But again...nothing funny about this.
At all.

Please.

Be aware of Breast Cancer.

Children shouldn't have the option of wearing their mother's post-chemo wigs as part of their Halloween costume.
...even if it is slightly amusing.
Which it isn't.
At all.

This One Time...I Did Actually Grow

2008-10-03T14:06:00.000-07:00

This is proof that at some point in my life...I did actually grow. You'll notice this is the same unicorn outfit from the previous pictures I posted. Only, I'm like three years older and four inches taller. Oops.
I love my super colorful jacket. I loved that jacket. Hi, my name is Amy I was a kid in the late 80s early 90s, observe my flashy jacket.
...also observe my socks.
Classy.
I love that my brother's costumes always involve trying to cram that large noggin of his into something. I love that he is eating candy.

this is another reminder to submit your Halloween photos for the CONTEST!! You've got until the 25th! I still only have one entry.

Mickey Mouse, Unicorn, and Super Dog Here With a Special Message

2008-09-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

Amy is glad to be a unicorn. Because unicorns are related to ponies.
Jimmy could not be more excited to be Mickey Mouse. Someone get that kid a fun size kitkat bar.
Cory, golden retriever extraordinaire, cannot be anyone but herself on Halloween and must survey the scene and protect the chillens.

I should have been a model.
(In the background you can see the scary ass Sears mannequin my Dad turned into a vampire. He resided in our basement from November to September and made playing down there alone impossible. Much like a picture of Jesus, his eyes followed you no matter where you went.)

SEND ME YOUR HALLOWEEN PICTURES FOR THE CONFUSING IDEAS HALLOWEEN CONTEST!!! (Click on that guy for rules and stuff)
Send all pictures by October 25th to Magoo1001@gmail.com
The winner will be announced on October 31st!

Remember...anyone and everyone is welcome to submit. If you are reading these words right now, YOU can enter. I've got one entry so far. This is not enough to have a contest. Send me your pictures!

In Search Of Duende, Because Nobody Likes Meat-Sack Poetry.

2008-09-22T07:53:00.000-07:00

So I'm in this poetry class. And my professor is constantly talking about how he expects us to write good poetry (duh). He says, "Like..doves bursting out of your chest good."

This is not an easy task.

To do such a thing, one needs a lot of what Lorca called, "duende". Duende is more than inspiration, it's more than an bright idea. It's the blood and guts and pulse you gotta put in your poetry (and not just poetry, duende applies to any and every kind of art) to make it good. Without duende, your poetry is pretty much just a sack of meat and bones. And nobody likes meat-sack poetry. Or acting. Or painting. Or music.
Lorca was a master and blood and guts poetry. Probably, because he's Spanish and the Spanish are like RAAWRR I'M SO DAMN PASSIONATE AND FEEL EVERYTHING LIKE RAAAWWWRRR. RAWWWRRR I'M GOING TO DANCE FLAMENCO!! I'M THE MOON AND I LIKE BLOOD. I'M A GUITAR AND I'M CRYING. I'M A GYPSY!!! I'M DAWN IN NEW YORK AND COME WITH FOUR COLUMNS OF SLIIMMMMMMMMEEEEEEE. RAAAWWWWWRRRRRR.
And that's about the only way I can describe Lorca's work.
When you read Lorca's writing, ain't no doves bursting out of your chest. Dude writes, you read, and mother freakin' HAWK rips itself out of your chest. For real. I read his stuff, and (because I'm a nerd) giggle with glee because it's so turbulent and emotional and filled with hardcore duende.
Anyway.
As you may imagine...
Duende is very elusive.
Especially when you're a 22 year old college student feeling your way through poetry and not some genius master of awesome Spanish writer.

With possibly the most difficult poem of the semester assigned this past weekend...I needed some serious DUENDDEEEEE (it helps to say the word "duende" in your most hardcore voice possible) (ask me next time I see you, I will demonstrate).

So this weekend, I went in search of some duende...
*Annddd cue the incidental music (which is probably all wrong if you're on a search for duende)*

Heelllllooo...duendeeeee? Are you here?

(These above pictures are my answer to anyone who asks, "Why do you get up early to be at school earlier than you have to?" Um...because I'd miss this. I'm sorry, but the lake does not look like this at any other time of day and its ok with me that it happens to be between the hours of 7am and 9am.)

Waiting for duende at the lake...

But no duende came. Why? Because this is my "cliche" face and not my "duende" face. Duende face needs to be 80 times more intense. This is the face I would make if I wanted to go write a pastoral. Oh wait, I had to do that too. And it SUCKED. Ugh. Pastorals. You are dumb and lame and Lorca would probably piss on you. Ok, wait...Lorca could probably write a kick ass pastoral. It would be freaky as hell. But kick-ass...But he would definitely piss on Marlowe's "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love." Sorry, Marlowe. But it's sorta true.

BACK TO THE SEARCH FOR DUENDE

Are you backstage, duende?? Where I spent my entire weekend?????

Negative.
...backstage was where duende went to die.

Are you in the garbage with the squirrels, duende?

No. No duende, here. And squirrels? It's really ok...I do not want your half eaten brown apple or bag of old Cheeto crumbs, so stop staring at me like I'm going to steal your children. Maybe if you gave me some duende I'd give you my goldfish crackers. Too bad for you.

Is there some duende in here? In this little room I'd never been in before? That I stumbled upon in a campus building by accident? And was shocked, surprised, and tickled to discover???

Oh yes. In here...I found some serious duende. At least...I think/hope.

POP QUIZ TIME

What don't these guys have in their song?

If you answered, "duende" you would be right.
Sorry, Sonseed. You read Marlowe, don't you?
Although...I'm sort of frightened to admit this but...the song IS kind of catchy. BUT catchy DOES NOT EQUAL duende.
Things that make this video so genius:
a) "Zap!"
b) Dude rocking out to the two chords he knows on guitar. Way to play with fervor and gusto, man.
c) The backup singers. And their one line. And their individual close-ups throughout the video.
d) Casio keyboard ROCK OUT.
e) I could be totally off on this...but I feel like the lead singer of Sonseed just recently came to America, learned english and is pulling himself up by the boot straps through catchy christian bubble gum pop.

DUUUEEENNNDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

IN OTHER NEWS:
I am exhausted.
Today, when it came time to get up, my body started moving before my brain. I'm not even kidding you. I was laying in bed, my brain pretty much out cold. And (IN BED, STILL) felt my muscles moving and contracting as though I were walking. Seriously. I was sleep-walking in bed. Who does that?
Oh.
Right.
Amy.

"Number 2 On The Back and Sides. Scissors On Top."

2008-09-19T14:52:00.001-07:00

Cracked me up.

In other news...I got my haircut. Which is good. Because when I start to look like a walking Q-Tip I have a hard time existing in the world with grace and poise. Ok, so, I always have a hard time existing in the world with grace and poise but more so when my the goings-on on the top of my head are out of control. So I went and got my haircut yesterday at this place by my school.
Here is what I love about having short hair...
I walk into a shop. I sit down. Stylist says, "How do you like it?"
I say, "Number 2 on the back on sides, scissors on top."
Done and done.
None of this language I don't understand about layers and whatever and hair stuff and what I want done and which way I part and which way I want my sides to slope and should the back be this or that blah blah blah. None of that awkward shit I went through when my hair was longer where stylists were constantly trying to make my hair "more feminine". Seriously. One time I went to a place and the stylist was like, "Oh, well I'll do this, this way to make it look a little more feminine. Because you don't want...well, I just make it look more feminine." And I'm sitting there like, "Ummmm...I don't think you understand."
It's one of the things I find most interesting about, not even being gay but...just looking more boy-ish/androgynous/non-girl-ish (whatever you want to call it). People aren't at all malicious about it, but I've had such weird experiences where people suggest that somehow I don't know how to look like a girl or be a girl and they have to help with that. They have to help me be more like a girl, because that's what I am. They have to help me and/or suggest ways that I can fit in and be how they think I should be. I need to stress that these experiences have been in no way mean or nasty. They're meant totally well and they don't necessarily bother me, I just find them very interesting.
To be more concise: It's hard for people to wrap their brains around the fact that: Hey, I look this way because I want to. This is what's comfortable for me. The way you're suggesting for me to look/be (whatever) feels wrong and uncomfortable to me deep down inside. When I tell people this...that wearing dresses and makeup is totally uncomfortable for me, that I don't want to wear a boost-ee-a (I don't know how to spell that so I just put the sounds there. Sorry. Didn't want to look it up, but you know you love me) because I don't want my boobs to look bigger, in fact I'm sorta totally fine being flat-chested...they're, frankly, shocked. 9 times of 10 if I explain to someone that I haven't worn a dress in years because it makes me uncomfortable on a deeper level than just "this dress itches" they're reaction is, "Reeaaalllly???"
Yes.
Really.
When I try to explain to people by saying, I would be at a loss in the role of Juliet but give my left arm to play Romeo..."Reaallllly???"
Yes.
Really.
I mean let's face, it's mostly 'cause dude gets to SWORD FIGHT on stage, but YES I would rather play Romeo.
It doesn't make me not a girl. It doesn't make me a boy. It doesn't make me anything but me.
This all is a lot to explain. I do and don't feel the need to explain myself. It depends on the situation. And sometimes it's hard to explain because it's still something I'm trying to figure out too, honestly.
Which is why I LOVE how easy it is to say...
"Number 2, scissors on top."
It's sort of glorious.

Anyway. This place I went to (to get my haircut) (which is where this story started) (before it was derailed by my strange thoughts on gender) was a "first time" affair for me. Normally, I just get my butt into a Hair Cuttery, but this week is slightly nuts, so I just needed to get it done and had no time to search God's green earth for a Hair Cuttery. I go in and get a stylist, who is pretty nice. She's doing my hair, cuttin' away...

HER: Is this your natural color?
ME: Yes.
HER: Really?
ME: Yes.
HER: You've never put anything in it?
ME: I had highlights once a long time ago and at one point dyed it red-ish but that was several years ago.
HER: But this is natural now?
ME: Yup.
HER: Wow. You have a great hair color.
ME: Thank you.
HER: It's really nice. Really nice. (As she's inspecting my hair with her comb)
ME: (What I wanted to say) Please don't take my hair.
ME: (What I said) Thanks.

Anyway. Aside from her infatuation with my hair color, this stylist was actually pretty nice. She did a good job, she did it fast, and she was really friendly (see above conversation about my hair color). She asked my name and introduced herself as Gina.
Dear Gina,
You still can't have my hair. No, Gina...I would not like to get my eyebrows threaded today. I know they are as O.C. (outta control) as my hair was when I walked in and I will fix that myself later. Beauty is pain and when it comes to my beauty any necessary pain will be dolled out by me and no one else. So drop your tweezers and dental floss.
Love,
Amy
But P.S. I still think you're nice and might come back and see you again.

Anyway. So it comes time for me to pay, and she goes...
GINA: What do they normally charge you?
Ok. I don't hear well. I'm in a salon with hair dryers and what I think is Indian music playing over the speakers. And Gina has an accent....
ME: Pardon?
GINA: What do they normally charge you...for cut?
ME: (On the inside) Oh Gina, I normally go to Hair Cuttery. Do you really want the answer to this question?
ME: (For real) Like...13 dollars?
GINA: Oh. It will be 18. Is that ok?
ME: (On the inside) Now I feel awkward. Why did you ask? Ahhh!
ME: Oh yeah, that's fine.
INDIAN-MAN (I think)-BEHIND-COUNTER-WHO-I'VE-GATHERED-IS-SHOPS-OWNER: I only charge you 18. For men haircut. Would not be fair to charge you for women's because (he gestures to my head).
(Now, I gathered that Gina was trying to figure out if I get charged for a women's hair cut or a man's. Oh Gina! Don't you know when you go to Hair Cuttery you can get a cut and wash for a mere 13 dollars no matter what you've got between your legs?)
ME: (on the inside) I feel awkward again. Thanks?
ME: (For real) Thanks. I appreciate that.
INDIAN-MAN (I think)-BEHIND-COUNTER-WHO-I'VE-GATHERED-IS-SHOPS-OWNER: Well, is not fair. You get card come in 4 times, have hair cut for 16 dollars.
ME: Sounds great.
(And now the boring business of me paying, tipping, and leaving not knowing quite how I feel about my experience in the shop)

Ahhhh!! I wish the rest of existence were are easy as saying "Number 2 on the back and sides, scissors on top."

"What do they normally charge you for a haircut?"
"They charge me for a number 2 on the back and sides, scissors on top."

"Why don't you like to where a dress?"
"Because number 2 on the back and sides, scissors on top."

"Are you a boy or a girl?"
"I'm a number 2 on the back and sides, scissors on top."

...not that I want to be defined by my chosen hairstyle. "Definition" is the very thing I'm rallying against. And I guess, if you really sit down and think about it hard "definitions" don't exist for anyone. BUT in terms of gender, where the mainstream belief is one or the other it gets a little frustrating to not be able to say, "I'm a number 2 on the back and sides, scissors on the top."

Yay! 4 Hours of Sleep!

2008-09-18T11:33:00.000-07:00

(So yes..it is now Thursday night at 10:45 and after sitting with this post all day I decided to delete what I wrote about the bailouts/america/whatever. I just can never seem to say exactly what I want to in the way I want to. These past couple days I've been almost stunned into silence and what was up here earlier today was just my mind exploding onto my blog. Ugh. One day. One day I will be able to write well about such things.)

But here for your enjoyment is still the part about how I couldn't find my keys this morning:
So, I got about 4 hours of sleep last night. I wake up pretty early to get so school (5:45am) because I find I got a lot done earlier in the day. I enjoy the morning, starting the day with a cup of coffee and getting the baulk of my work done by 10amish. Because, I start to shut down around 10:00pm. But I had a lot of work to do last night, and passed the "second wind" threshold around 11:30pm so I wasn't terribly tired at 1:00am so I thought, "why not just study some more?"
So I did.
And went to bed around 2am.
I woke up this morning at 5:45am from pretty much a robust nap.
I showered, put on some clothes (nobody likes a naked Amy).
I gathered my stuff.
My keys were on the floor. (Great place for them)
I pick them up.
I do something with them.
I continue to pack my stuff.
Wallet in pocket.
Cell phone in pocket.
Pocket knife in pocket (so gay).
Backpack on.
Ready to head out the door.
...
...
Where are my keys?
Desk? No.
Under bed? No.
Under massive piles of paper and books on desk? No.
They were on the floor.
I stare at the floor.
Not there.
Am I missing them?
Stare at the floor some more.
No.
But they were on the floor.
"Amy, wake up. Your keys are on the floor. You're just not seeing them."
"Amy, I don't see your keys on the floor."
"Amy, keep staring. They will appear."
"Amy...where are your keys?"
Desk? No.
Under papers? No.
On the floor?
"Amy, this time, stare at the floor harder."
"Amy, what did you do with your keys?"
"Amy, seriously, your room is like...10 feet by 10 feet this is not a large amount of space to lose a set of keys in the span of 5 minutes."
"Amy, they were just here."
"Amy???"
"WAKE UP!"
"Keys!"
Then I vaguely remembered...
Had I?
No...
Why would I?
Oh, I should check...
And yes. I did.
I put them clipped them inside the little front pocket of my backpack.
WHY?
Who knows.

And since it's now almost 11:00 on Thursday night I must say that for a day running on 4 hours of sleep, it wasn't half bad. School is off to a decent start. AND I got my pony poem back today in poetry class (I wrote a poem about ponies) (don't worry, I used the word "horse" instead of "pony" like a big girl) AND the professor said it was my best work yet! Granted, it still needs revisions but SHIT I don't know why I waited four weeks into the semester to write about ponies! Soooooo...what did Amy learn at school this week?
Ponies + Poems = Winning Combination

Sugary Cabbage and Bed-Head

2008-09-16T19:31:00.000-07:00

First, THIS DOG is so cute it should probably be illegal.

REASONS WHY I LOVE MEGHAN #49459498982343209

This is a short AIM conversation we had this evening...

ME: i LOVE school...but i do not love all the work...(meaning reading edith wharton)

MEGHAN: oh god! i remember her

ME: yeah

MEGHAN: high school. ick.
MEGHAN: i miss CLASSES, yes. don't miss homework.

ME: she's not AWFUL. way better than the last thing we read....
ME: BUT
ME: I dont want to waste my time reading it
ME: lmao
ME: that sounds bad.

MEGHAN: no it doesn't
MEGHAN: life is only so long, it takes time to read, there are billions of things to be read, and there are billions of things you have no desire to even touch.
MEGHAN:<--clearly hyper.

ME: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
ME: why so hyper?!

MEGHAN: i think what i meant was, why should you waste your timing reading something you don't want to read, when there is so much out there that you DO that you may never even get to!?
MEGHAN: i have no idea, actually

ME: YES
ME: i know what you mean

MEGHAN: i had some cabbage, i think there is a lot of sugar in that vegetable.

ME: HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
ME: you are brilliant

MEGHAN: what!
MEGHAN: well i think it's true
MEGHAN: okay. guess that was a little weird.

ME: i had a potato tonight
ME: maybe thats why im feeling so lethargic

MEGHAN: damn, with that reaction, i expect that to make the blog!

ME: IT IS

MEGHAN: ooh yes they are very filling.
MEGHAN: well, apparently, cabbage gives you wings.
MEGHAN: i dont even mean the gas
MEGHAN: i'm gonna bounce
MEGHAN: talk to you later

Meghan has gone offline.

ME: what the hell just happened?

The person is not currently online.

____________________________________________

HALLOWEEN CONTEST REMINDER

Bed-headed Amy likes to play with her cardboard haunted house around Halloween time. She likes to make up stories about the going-ons inside the cardboard haunted house. She does this for hours and sometimes, gets scared of the cardboard haunted house. It is never in her room when she goes to sleep at night, but always on the kitchen table in the morning. Something about playing with a cardboard haunted house while eating Count Chocula Cereal just feels right.
The cardboard haunted house is definitely way less scary than that serious bed-head she is sporting. Bed-head Amy (who clearly hasn't had her coffee OR Count Chocula yet) would like to remind you to submit your Halloween pictures by October 25th.

Send pictures to non bed-headed Amy (well, she might have bed-head but the great thing about having short hair is that "bed-head" is suddenly "fashionable") at:
Magoo1001@gmail.com

Oh Happy Day! It's CONTEST TIME again! Start digging through your old pictures!

2008-09-13T08:31:00.000-07:00

OLD MAN BAND This is a link to a blog my Dad publishes for his Old Man Band. I call them the Old Man Band because they change their name before every gig, so it's really the only way I can refer to them with any sort of consistency. And they're old. If you're curious, read ahead but do so at your own risk (seriously).

My Dad did post some awesome pictures on his sidebar of our old house in Edison Park. HERE is a direct link. We had a sweet front porch that my Dad decorated with homemade (Yes, that stuff is all done BY HAND) every year for Halloween. You may surmise two things from these pictures:
a) My Dad is pretty bad ass and probably could have been a scene designer for theatre/movies/TV. He made all that stuff without any formal training whatsoever. B-A-D-SPACE-A-S-S.
b) As a child (I lived in that house from birth to about 5) I was deathly afraid of my own house at Halloween time. Because in addition to the decorations my Dad also played scary sounds (like, blowing wind, people screaming, ghosts moaning, chains, heartbeats, thunder, ect). I could not go out on the porch by myself and was convinced the Ghouly Guys (what we called scary monsters) would come to life at night and eat my brains. I mean, really. But I was also the kid that insisted my mother take "The Berenstain Bear's Halloween" picture book out of my room at night after she read it to me because I was convinced the Ghouly Guys in the book would come to life, come out of the book and eat my brains. Clearly, I was making it much more difficult for said Ghouly Guys to eat my brains if they were on the other side of my not-all-the-way-closed bedroom door. Because Ghouly Guys can't figure out how to open doors that are not-all-the-way-closed. Right, 4 year old Amy. Right. Don't you know when fresh 4 year old brains are on the menu Ghouly Guys can not only open doors but bust them down with their bare, putrid, rotting Ghouly Guy arms????
...Well, I guess it all turned out fine. 'Cause sure as I'm blogging here today no Ghouly Guys came to life and ate my brains.
...or did they??

Since Halloween is coming up, maybe I'll find some pictures of my brother and me in our Halloween outfits and post 'em up. We had some pretty amazing Halloween costumes, I must say. I will also find some more of my Dad's decoration pictures 'cause I know there are more floating around ('cause I stole them) (shhh...don't tell him) (I was just worried he'd lose 'em 'cause he's a boy).

...there definitely needs to be some sort of Confusing Ideas Since 1986 Halloween Contest...
I'VE GOT IT!
Send me a picture of yourself in a Halloween Costume from when you were a kid, OR just your best/most hilarious Halloween costume from whatever age. Send them to me at this email address:
Magoo1001@gmail.com

Rules:
a) I know I don't need to say this but I'm going to anyway...Nothing nude or lewd. If you send such pictures to me (whether it's you or some special friend you found on the internet) I will take your email address and put you on the mailing lists of the most ridiculous websites I can find. I am not even kidding. Send me anything gross or obscene, I will reap my internet revenge and sign you up for the McCain/Palin newsletter, just to start.

b) Two pictures max per person.

c) You have to be ok with me posting the pictures on my blog. I will do my best to post a picture from everyone who sends me one.

d) Include your name (an alias is fine if you do not wish to be identified)(but make sure I know that you want me to use the alias), what you "are" in the costume, your age at the time of the photo, and if there is any sort of funny story behind the costume.

Sound good? Today is September 13th. Let's say have your pictures into me by...October 25th. Sound fair? I will post the pictures and winner on Halloween (which is October 31st in case you don't know). As always, some sort of ridiculous prize will go to the winner. IN FACT, if you are willing to give me your address I will SEND you your ridiculous prize.
Yes.
You heard right.
This time there will be a palpable, actual ridiculous prize if you send me your address.
I would encourage anyone and everyone to send me pictures: If you read this blog and I don't know you. If you read this blog and I do know you. If you're young. If you're old. If you were a cute kid. If you were the sort of kid who only fit in around Halloween...SEND ME YOUR PICTURES. This contest has some serious potential for AWESOMEOSITY. But YOU yes YOU I'm talking to YOU gotta send me your pictures.
If you're one of those people who dresses up their animals and wants to send me pictures of you dog/cat/alligator dressed up for Halloween that's ok too. But I need pictures.

I am very, very excited for this contest. I think it might be the best one yet.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

Meghan and I were talking about drunk text messages. She is sitting right next to me. She sends me this "drunk" text message...

MEGHAN'S TEXT: Whatdou kool in a pool? Dive in!

It's 6:30 am

2008-09-09T04:22:00.000-07:00

And what a perfect time to blog.

I really like being up early. I find that morning is condusive to my "getting shit done". All this is NOT to say that I enjoy the physical act of leaving my warm bed. In fact, last night I was having a good dream (rare) so when I woke up 15 minutes before my alarm was to go off (which I have a habit of doing) I reset it so I could sleep for another hour and keep dreaming good dreams.

So, not everyday but almost everday I visit this website called Daily Puppy. Look! I found...myself? Apparently, I don't make a cute puppy.

So, it may seem a long way off, but really what I'm going to call "gradunewyearbirthmas" is actually really close. Don't believe me? First there's the rest of September, than there's this month called October, then there's this short little month called November which ends with a lot of eating and then it's pretty much the holidays and it will all happen very fast and before you know two weeks into December I'm done with school! And then it's time for "newyearbirthmas". Which is going to be very special. And then I turn 23. YIPES. I don't want to think about that.

I may be ultra lame and start a "gradunewyearbirthmas" countdown. I was going to make a shitload of paper chains but:
a) I don't really have time
b) My room is small as it is and I don't want to be buried in paper chains
c) I like the environment and already waste enough paper on my poems for poetry class.
I will start this "digital paper chain" sometime soon, it may even come with hilarious fortunes. Like you know how you sometimes write thing on the paper chains? Maybe I will do that. But right now, it is early. And alas, I have no mind for counting. I will do some calculations later and post countdowns to the various days of "gradunewyearbirthmas"

...it's early...I'm going to go eat a carton of blueberries.

Things I Really Enjoy

2008-09-08T08:56:00.001-07:00

When in September I put my itunes library on shuffle

And am blessed to hear "What Child is This?/Hava Nagila" sung by cats.

And I start giggling because the Jingle Cats ALWAYS make me giggle, no matter what time of year, no matter my state of mind.

Composed Upon A Long Day Working Alone In The Box Office

2008-09-07T13:17:00.000-07:00

I am at the box office today. Working alone. It is slow.

Here is a crash course in some things I've been meaning to blog about lately:

POINT A: QUESADILLAS
YES! The Quesadillas were delcious. No, David, they were NOT a hot mess. Sorry to leave y'all hanging on that one. Verdict: Quesadillas delicious!

POINT B: CLAMS
Last week David and I went to an Italian restaurant...
DAVID: If I get a clam appetizer will you have some?
ME: (Slight pause) Um...sure?
DAVID: Do you like clams?
ME: I'm not sure I've tried them properly in a while.
DAVID: Will you try them if I get them?
ME: Yes.
DAVID: Will you love them?
ME: (Slight pause)...sure.
I was slightly wary. But this gorgeous steaming plate of clams arrives in a beautiful white wine-butter-garlic sauce and HOLY COW were they delcious. Clams Delicious! Quesadillas Delicious! Trying new things delcious!

POINT C: SCHOOL
POINT 1 ON SCHOOL: I'm a poetry writing class! It's so awesome! Although, the jury is still out on whether I take myself seriously enough to be in that class. BUT I will have to write around 30 poems. Anything that demands that sort of writing from me is so exciting and delicious. Poetry writing delicious! Clams Delicious! Quesadillas Delicious!

Ok...so work was so boring/draining that I couldn't complete the above post yesterday (now it's tomorrow (aka Monday morning)). So in my inability to finish writing yesterday, I started another game of spider solitaire and realized in doing so my eyes might start to bleed and/or up and fall out of my head. Thankfully, Meghan came and talked to me for my last hour. And we talked about how much we wanted to throw a ball. (Ball as in big fancy dance, not "throw a ball" as in Meghan and I wanted to go chuck a football around...but that would be fun too...but Meghan probably wouldn't want to play that with me) Seriously. How much freakin' fun would it be to go to a BALL??? Like..old school, dress up BALL. I didn't save our conversation but I do remember it going something like this:

ME: I want to go to and/or throw a ball. Wouldn't that be ridiculously fun?
MEGHAN: Yes!
ME: I mean...think about it...a BALL!
MEGHAN: Hahaha the lesbian wants to throw a ball.
ME: Well, I'd want to wear a tux and/or nice suit.
MEGHAN: Duh.
ME: Omg, Meghan. How can we throw a ball?
MEGHAN: It would be a lot of fun...getting all dressed up. I don't get to dress up all that often.

Later...
MEGHAN: I'll bring the string quartet.
ME: I'm bring the goblets.

When I went home, after calling Meghan on the phone (because clearly after talking online for an hour we had to talk on the phone) I promptly made myself a tuna sandwich and watched 2 and half episodes of Law and Order: Criminal Intent. And now I say unto you: How is it possible for that show to be so good and so very bad at the same time? Then I did laundry. And then I talked to Sara, who told me the most hilarious story about her escapades in a gay bar in Bloomington-Normal and getting offered free drinks from a 60 plus year old bartender named "Mama" and having to get around the gay men making out in the hallway on her way to the bathroom and past the lesbians grinding on the dancefloor with glasses of wine in their hand. It may or may not be my favorite story of the week, and told by Sara it is priceless.

And so now I sit here on a Monday morning, at my spot in the campus building RIGHT on the lake. Like, literally guys....ON the lake...like, if this was an action movie and I jumped out the window, I would be very wet. And rightfully so, this building is MADE of windows. Uh. I am going to miss this spot after December. The lake is always very beautiful, but today it is particularly so. It's sunny/cloudy today so the lake is this placid combo of gray shimmery-ness which I guess if you wanted to be concise you could call silver. and the wind is pretty calm, which makes for perfectly clear water-OMG! THERE IS SOMEONE SWIMMING IN THE LAKE!!! HOLY SHIT!! (This is strange because there are no beaches around...dude must be a professional swimmer because he is like IN THE LAKE. I am currently looking around me to see if anyone else sees that I see..I hope he's ok! Be careful man!) Anyway...even though on Mondays I don't have to be in class until 12:30...I like to come down here early and sit right here and do my homework (like my poetry writing) (how perfect is that?) (example: the lake is a placid combo of gray shimmery-ness) (that is some nobel prize worthy verse let me tell you)

SWIMMER UPDATE: He (or she) is now swimming by the windows again in the opposite direction. I am worried about this man/woman. I mean...I'm sure he/she is fine and just getting exercise and taking advantage of the calm waters today...right?...I've just decided NOT to watch the news tonight.
...Looks like he/she is backstroking. I sure hope you are Michael Phelps, swimmer man/woman, and I know it's cause my best stroke is the dog paddle and I'm deathly afraid of open water but what you are doing looks 40 kinds of dangerous. Oh, ok-I feel slightly better knowing you at least on the inside of the "No Wake" buoy. Buoy. What a strange word. OMG! That is the object I am going to write my "ode" about! (I have to write an "ode" for my poetry class on a single object...I was at a bit of a loss. Buoy wins for the oddity of a word that it is!)
...the vents in the building are open...so I can hear the waves.
God, I love this building.
My other favorite thing about this building?
Watching birds. I was in here the other day and watched birds fly and swoop past the windows and then just SIT in one spot on the wind. It was pretty incredible. People sometimes stare at me and give me weird looks because I spend a fair amount of time staring out the window, watchin' the world go by...HOW COULD YOU NOT?? I mean...birds...SWIMMERS...
AND! AND! AND!
THE OTHER DAY A HELICOPTER SWOOPED RIGHT PAST THE WINDOW, REALLY LOW, LITERALLY RIGHT THROUGH MY FIELD OF VISION...the 10 year old boy in my rejoiced. I refrained from saying "that was awesome" aloud, although the slight rock of excitement I did in my chair and my huge smile plastered across my face as I looked around to high give my fellow students was probably enough to make people think I was nut. Oh well. I'm ok with that.

...most random/rambling post ever. I should go write that buoy ode, if you'll excuse me.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

We have a new girl working with us in the box office. Chicken is training her, telling her all sorts of things, about servers and where stuff is and what we put where and...
CHICKEN: And if you need to get a new box of brochures I recommend sending Amy...or someone else strong.
KATIE: (In slight disbelief/confusion/need for clarification of the ways of the box office) Amy's strong?
CHICKEN: Oh yeah. That's why we call her Maximus.

P.S. Can I be angry for a sec? Recent polls have McCain ahead of Obama in a "convention bounce". Did the rest of America watch the convention as me?? Because McCain should be behind Obama in a "republican douchebag deficit." I am worried.

The RNC: A Lesson In Self-Absorption. Let's Make Quesadillas!

2008-09-05T09:59:00.000-07:00

Did you miss the RNC?

Much to my dismay...I did not.

...If you happen to be a lucky soul who did not witness the madness, let me fill you in on what you missed:

Several days of unabashed and pure self-absorption.

Hardly any understanding and/or recognition of what the American people are currently going through right now in light of the tanking economy. Hardly any plans laid out for the future. Hardly anything of what they should have said.

We heard a lot about the brilliant and upstanding citizens that Palin and McCain are. On one night alone (Thursday) the Republicans managed to invoke McCain's time as a POW, foreign black people, foreign children with cleft palates and Mother Teresa.

Seriously.

John McCain spent years as a POW in the Vietnam war. I know it was horrific. I know he was tortured. I can imagine the horrible things that must do to a person (like, apparently, it turns them into a Republican) (what? did I just say that?) (sorry). I don't think McCain is a bad guy. I do respect him and the sacrifices he made. Really, I do.

Cindy McCain...I think it's great that during your speech you called a black woman your hero and said black woman stood up and waved to everyone. This is great. Too bad she was the only black person at the convention.

Cindy and John McCain...I am so glad you adopted a foreign child with a cleft palate from the orphanage associated with Mother Teresa and welcomed her into your white, rich-ass family. But deep down you know she secretly wishes Madonna and/or Brangelina had picked her and not you, right? (Man, I am MEAN today)

All of these things I do honestly respect. I think its great when people are self-less. The world needs more of it. I think its very powerful to find inspiration in people and places you didn't expect. I think when you go through a harrowing life experience it changes who you are deeply, either for the better or worse and maybe a little bit of both. All these things are important and powerful in their way. Yes. I recognize that and celebrate it.
Here's the thing...it's got no place at a political convention. All the above things are so deeply personally that, to pretty much vomit up on the American people is just wrong. I almost felt a little dirty after watching the RNC. Like, is this why we adopt children from foreign countries with cleft palates?? So we can stick them in front of a camera during a political convention to prove WHAT ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS PEOPLE THE MCCAINS ARE??? Is this why we go to foreign countries to learn about something and someone OTHER THAN OURSELVES?? To bring a black delegate from that country and call her our hero at a political convention?? PUH-LEASE. That's really freakin' disgusting. I know, I know, before everyone gets mad at me that wasn't necessarily the McCains' intention but BOY HOWDY did it sure read that way to me. It makes me feel a little gross inside. But that just might by my horrible liberal bias talking. Republicans? BE REAL for five seconds and it might actually get you somewhere. Be a freakin' person. Too many of you have forgotten what it means to be a person, to be human and thus you will never ever be fit to lead this country, or any country for that matter.
...and please, don't even get me started on Sarah Palin...

*Calming breath of peace*

And it's at time like these when there's really only one thing you can do...

MAKE QUESADILLAS!!!!

STEP 1: GATHER YOUR INGREDIENTS. It can be as simple or as complicated as you like! But remember: your quesadilla is a reflection of you. Make sure it says the right things! What does my quesadilla say about me (see answer below)

ANS: My quesedilla says that I am exponentially more fresh because I use cilantro. And I'm SPICY!!!! CALIENTE!! (Yeah, I know...I don't buy it either). (What did I do with those "I love ponies" tomatillas?).

STEP 2: WASH YOUR INGREDIENTS BECAUSE SALMONELLA IS BAD

STEP 3: Get a really big knife.

Cooking: the one time when it is okay to stab things. And watching the RNC may make you want to stab things.

STEP 4: Chop those vegetables. Chop 'em good. When you're done a-choppin', put em all in a bowl and mix em up. It looks like this:

Mmmmmm

STEP 5: SEASONS OF...SEASON!!!

Also, I forgot to do it in the video, but I later added a little bit of fresh squeezed lime. Fab!

STEP 6 : MAKE YOUR 'DILLA
I put beans on mine because my approval rating of beans is probably triple the approval rating of President Bush.
They're just refried beans from a can I slathered on one half of the 'dilla and put my veggie fixins and cheese on the other half...

NOTE: Feel free to use REAL Mexican cheese and not...Sargento Sharp Cheddar.

STEP 7: FOLD THAT 'DILLA IN HALF AND COOK THAT 'DILLA

STEP 8: FLIP THAT 'DILLA TO BROWN THE OTHER SIDE

Why YES! That IS photographic evidence of my well-done flip!

STEP 9 : BE THE SPATULA QUEEN and/or KING

STEP 10: SERVE UP THAT 'DILLA MMMMMM

STEP 11: EAT THAT 'DILLA

Composed, or Rather, A Conversation Had In Reflection on the RNC

2008-09-03T20:29:00.001-07:00

Me and Meghan had the following conversation via AIM after watching Palin speak at the RNC. We cracked ourselves up, so I figured it was worth sharing...

MEGHAN: and did i mention that palin shoots yak?
MEGHAN: or moose. whatever.

AMY: HAHAHAHAHA
AMY: i feel bad for them
AMY: and she hates polar bears
AMY: and penguins
AMY: and ponies
AMY: and rainbows

MEGHAN: one line did make me chuckle, though
MEGHAN: "this isn't a community, and it doesn't need organizing."
MEGHAN: tee hee.

AMY: lol

MEGHAN: i mean that was funny

AMY: "this isn't an ice rink and we don't need pitbulls in lipstick" is what I say

MEGHAN: lmffffffffaaaaaooooooo

AMY: hahahahahahaha

MEGHAN: yo, putin, i was on the PTA BOARD
MEGHAN: DON'T YOU EVEN MESS
MEGHAN: YOU BIG BULLY

AMY: HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
AMY: I WILL CALL YOUR MOTHER
AMY: DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL YOUR MOTHER?!

MEGHAN: THAT'S RIGHT. NO SNACKS FOR YOU.

AMY: HAHAHAHAHAHA
AMY: TIME OUT, MISTER
AMY: oooo but she could give the DREADED...
AMY: "I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed in you."
AMY: KILLER
AMY: THAT is a WMD

MEGHAN: oh yeah!
MEGHAN: "Excuse me, Iran. I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed in you."

AMY: HAHAHAHAHAHA
AMY: crisis: averted.
AMY: Iran will be TEARS so FAST
AMY: BEGGING for forgiveness.

MEGHAN: "crisis: averted."
MEGHAN: i'm laughing so hard right now

AMY: lol! me too!
AMY: jesus, I'm beginning to think sending a mom to the white house might be the best decision EVER

MEGHAN: right

AMY: can you imagine if someone messed with us
AMY: ?!?!

MEGHAN: "BACK THE HELL OFF MY BABIES"

AMY: SHE WOULD HAVE FREAKIN FOUND AND PERSONALLY POMMELED OSAMA

MEGHAN: yeah
MEGHAN: and then she'd shoot him in the face
MEGHAN: like a yak
MEGHAN: moose
MEGHAN: whatever

AMY: HAHAHA
AMY: awww
AMY: that's right.
AMY: she's still a republican
AMY: DAMMIT!
AMY: and i thought we were onto something

Also, it can't be displayed via blog but the best moment was surely when I commented "Cindy McCain is CREEEEEPY" and Meghan responded in giant lime-green letters, "I KNOW."
I love her.

Cougar (?) ALERT

2008-08-31T13:34:00.000-07:00

So, we had a concert at the theatreiworkat today that was sponsored by the local old people home.
As you may imagine, the average age of the attendees was well over 70. Which is saying something. Because although I joke about the theatreiworkat being constantly frequented by old people, this particular event brought out an even MORE ancient set than usual.
Let me say...on a day when there are so many wheelchairs and walkers around that we could turn the theatreiworkat into a medical supply shop is not a day to be short-handed.
And we were.
So instead of being in the box office like normal, I took tickets. I actually really like this job.
Anyway.
I'm taking tickets. I say to this one lady who had to be at least 75, "Enjoy the show."
She says (I swear on my life) in a flirtatious voice, "Well I will if you come sit next to me."
I laugh uncomfortably and then she adds, "You're a little cutie!"

At moments like these I play the "Do they know I'm a girl?" game in my head.

It Never Fails...

2008-08-26T10:43:00.000-07:00

Always.
And I mean ALWAYS.
Always on the first day of school, when I am feeling pretty good about myself and excited to be in school and especially so this year seeing as how I'm graduating in a little over three months...
ALWAYS...
Someone says something about my size.
Yesterday, while picking up my U-Pass. I hand the lady my ID and she looks at me and goes, "Well, gosh look how tiny you are!" And then she giggled at me, like I was the funniest/most ridiculous thing she'd seen all day.
Did I miss something?
Was there a sign outside the front gates of college that said "You Must Be This Tall" to enter?
Ok...Look...
I have a sense of humor, ok? I get the joke. I will be the first to admit I look like Harry Potter meets Frodo Baggins meets a Munchkin from Munchkinland.
I will happily joke about my size and take teasing from friends and family.
But I absolutely do not understand the need perfect strangers have to comment upon my size.
I don't walk around saying things like, "Hey Tall-y McGee! What's the weather like up there?"
Or, "Wow, you're enormous!"
Or, "Holy crap! Did you know you're black?!"
Why do people need to tell me I'm small?
Like I don't know! Like I'll suddenly look down and say, "By golly, you're right! I AM awful close to the ground from here."
I guess what makes me a little miffed about the whole thing is that when people comment upon my size it's usual with some sort of "I don't take you so seriously" tone. And not that I'm going to demand to be taken seriously by the lady dolling out U-Passes...but...
*sigh*
I guess...it's part of my charm, right? Right? My charm is...is that I'm little?
I mean, it's pretty hilarious. It's like a big cosmic joke or something because it NEVER FAILS. Sometimes I wonder if these people are being PAID to say these things to me.
Because seriously...I was walking/feeling 10 feet tall yesterday, thinking about my graduation. Thinking about how much that means to me. Thinking about how I almost didn't make it. Thinking everything that happened. And here I was...on the first day of my last semester all set and poised to graduate.
"Well, gosh look how tiny you are!"
Clearly you are blind and dumb because I am mother freakin' taller than god damn Yao Ming right now.

ME (about to stuff your ass (duh)):

The Great ipod Debate

2008-08-24T19:14:00.000-07:00

My ipod mini that served me well for almost five years is officially dead.

ipod minis are ancient.
So ancient, they don't make them anymore. (Well, to be fair, I guess their equivalent would now be the nano) BUT my point is...you can no longer walk into a mac store and ask to see their selection of ipod minis. If you do, they will probably laugh at you.

ipod minis...
...before color screens and slim, sleek design...

I'm a person who has a really hard time spending money on things I don't really need*. (*NB: Ice cream doesn't count. Ice cream = need. Duh.) It's rare that some THING catches my eye and I'm like, "holy crap...gotta have." In fact it almost never happens.
But holy mother of mercy am I drooling over this sweet device...

If I decide to get a replacement ipod, I think this would be the one I'd get.
Please, please...
Allow me to rationalize.
a) Getting a huge ipod with a ridiculous amount of storage space is way beyond my needs. I do not have anywhere NEAR 20,000 songs, so why get the ginormous 80GB?
b) The ipod shuffle is stupid. And if it fell into my cereal in the morning I just might accidently eat it.
c) Nanos are great for music and would essentially be comparable to what I had with my mini. BUT if I'm looking to "move on up in the world" as the kids say...
a) ipod touches are wifi equipped. Which means anywhere there's a wifi hotspot. You get internet. This could be pretty awesome for school and could mean I don't have to take my laptop with me everyday.
b) It can hold around 1500 songs which is pretty perfect for me.
c) It has a calendar, which means I could do away with my current paper planner.
I guess what really appeals to me about the ipod touch is that it's more than an mp3 player. It's got internet access, you can upload photo slide shows to it and it has the ability to be a sort of personal organizer. In other words: THIS THING IS FREAKIN' SWEET AND APPEALS STRONGLY TO MY OCD.

...however...
a) In all honestly, I am not certain my "coolness" factor meets with that of the ipod touch. The ipod touch is a sleek, bitchin' piece of technological genius and I...well...I am awkward. (Which is why my bulky mini fit me so perfectly). I mean, I'm not trying to be self-deprecating AT ALL but if I got this thing it would be the most advanced (not to mention fashionable) piece of anything I've ever owned. Period. And I'm not really the type to need or want that kind of stuff. I usually leave that to my brother.
b) I am pretty concerned about its ability to withstand wear and tear. I'm also concerned with it's longevity. I don't want to spend so much money on something that will die in a year.
c)The price tag is pretty hefty. 299 bucks for new 8GB ipod touch. OR I can buy a refurbished (returned items apple fixes/cleans/spruces up/whatevers and then sells at a discounted price) 8GB ipod touch for 199. I have to admit that is more than a little tempting.

I think I'm going to sleep on it for a few days and talk to people and see what they say about their ipods. If you are an ipod owner, let me know your personal ipod poison and what you think of it. If you have any other opinions on the matter or know someone with ipod touch who either:
a) hates it or
b) doesn't know how they lived without it
Please, let me know.

I also just realized my ihome dock is now pretty useless to me. I mean...sure it tells time and has a radio and can still exist as my alarm clock BUT what's the point of an ihome with no ipod??? (More rationalizing) I can no longer make sure I wake up to Justin Timberlake's "Sexyback". How the hell am I supposed to start my last semester as an undergrad without waking up to "Sexyback"?? HOW??!?

Going Back To School, Or: My Post Man Is Going To HATE Me

2008-08-24T10:37:00.001-07:00

...cause I ordered books from Amazon to save money.
...and I buy 'em used to save money.
...and they may or may not being coming in like...20 different shipments.
Oops.
Sorry post-man. I will bake you cookies at Christmas. Because you're seriously going to HATE me. I feel a little bad about it.

You want to know something hilarious about buying all my books used on amazon?
I paid like 64 bucks total for all of my books. (Which includes no less than 15 plays and like...5-6 novels). 64 bucks for 20-ish books is nothing. At the bookstore I would have payed well over double.
Now...guess what I paid for shipping? Keep in mind I'm paying for each vendor to ship their used books to me separately...
Ready for it?
62 bucks in shipping. The shipping ended up costing 2 dollars less than the actual books.
Seriously.
Now, I am WELL aware that this borderline totally ridiculous and insane.
BUT it is STILL less than purchasing at the overpriced bookstore, where "used" just means "a dollar off" the already 12 dollar book. Um...no thanks. I will happily pay 99 cents for a book and 4 dollars to ship it. Somehow, in this wild and wacky world THAT saves me money.

Sorry post man. At least none of them are hardcovers...right? And at least I already have my Shakespeare complete works...right?

QUOTE OF THE DAY

I am on the phone with Sara, she is eating cold pizza which she tells me tastes bad. She then says she's going to put in the microwave. I hear her open the microwave door...
SARA: Taste less like crap and more like pizza!

Some Open Letters

2008-08-23T06:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Barack Obama,

I thank you, dear sir, for the 3am text message. Had I known that "notifying your supporters via text message before the media" really meant, "I'll just text you at 3am, before you can tell anyone or feel special that you know because no one's going to want to discuss politics at 3am and by the time you get up the media and everyone else will know too" I may not have forked over my email address and cell phone number. Thanks, Barack Obama. No, I would not like to donate anything to your campaign.
I knew your VP pick at 3am. And guess who I got to tell? My giant dogbear. I realize that politics may never sleep, but I do sleep. And I quite like it. I'm sorry, sir, I may be a 22 year old hip lesbian with an interest in politics but I am also a surly old bitty when it comes to unwarranted interference of my sleep. Just ask my brother. And texting me your VP pick at 3am when I'll just wake up at 7:30am and see it all over the news and the internet anyway, is unwarranted interference of my sleep. Good for you, Mr. Obama. Now you have my email address and can inundate my inbox with buttloads of emails that I will promptly delete. You also have my phone number. And not just any phone number but my cell phone number, if you start calling me at 3am...I'll be forced to vote for a write in candidate...probably Harry from Harry and the Hendersons. Why? Because he's classy. And I'm prety sure he doesn't even know what text-messaging is.
I'm sorry Barack Obama. I like you. I really do. It's just that...oh, I don't know. Like, I felt really special when you said you were going to text me and tell me your VP pick. Perhaps the message you were trying to send is that you're the best candidate to answer the phone at 3am and also the best candidate to send text messages at 3am? But look. Barack? There's a reason we have a president. And that's so he or she can answer the phone at 3am while the rest of America sleeps. That's the point of a 3am phone call. You don't want to get it, but BY GOLLY you're the PRESIDENT so you have to do the duty your country voted you to do. Barack? (Can I call you Barack?) I'm not the president. You know what that means? I DON'T have to answer 3am phone calls. Or text messages.

I'm not mad.
I'm just disapppointed.
It's like buying a TV dinner because the photo on the packaging makes it look so delicious and then you put it in your microwave and take it out and are like, "Oh. Right. TV dinner does not equal eating at the Ritz".

Good luck with Biden. At least he thinks you're articulate and clean and nice-looking!

Love,
Amy

Dear Ancient ipod Mini,

We had a good run, friend. I am going to miss you a lot. Mostly, 'cause right now I can't buy another ipod. Since I have to...you know...buy books and stuff. You lasted me almost a whole 5 years! That's a lot for an ipod. And for that I am appreciative. But even yesterday, when I was loading you with all sorts of new tunes, and you decided to make strange internal noises and then just quit...it seemed too soon for goodbye. Maybe the next time I buy a new mac computer, I will get an ipod for free. Right.

Love,
Amy

And Now Presenting: My Weekend With Sara

2008-08-19T13:53:00.000-07:00

Who I don't see enough. I mean, really. People who crack each other up as much as we crack each other up really shouldn't be away from each other for such long stretches of time.

I took the Amtrak down to Bloomington Sunday morning. [Side note: trains are awesome. I love them a little bit. I want to take one that goes somewhere over night. For seriously. I mean, I realize sleeping in a sleeper car on a train is WAY less glamorous than it sounds, but to me it sounds like an crazy adventure waiting to happen.]

While I'm on the train, Sara sends me a text message:
SARA: Hey, did you eat?
ME: Do M&Ms count?
SARA: No! Great. I have a wonderful idea!

So I get to Bloomington and Sara tells me she's taking me somewhere special for breakfast. Where does my friend take me? Uncle Tom's Pancake House.
Seriously.
Only in Bloomington-Normal.
I think it should be called Uncle Tom's Pancake Cabin. Because if you're going to call your establishment Uncle Tom's...you may as well just go the whole nine yards. It was delicious though. Uncle Tom makes some mean flapjacks and bottomless cups of coffee are always appreciated. Especially when you woke up at 5am to catch the 7am train out of Chicago.

After eating breakfast we went back to Sara's super cute apartment. There we caught up a bit, laughed a lot and played some wii. Which, turns out, I SUCK at. Sara kicked my butt at everything from shooting to table tennis to cow racing. Yes. Cow Racing. It was slightly awesome.

After playing wii, we went for a walk by little pond behind her apartment.

I threw rocks in the water because its pretty much the best thing ever, a) It's fun to throw things. b) When rocks hit the water they make what may be one of the best sounds in the world:

Then I had to be an adult and take a picture:

After our walk/throwing rocks in the pond adventure we had to leave for SARA'S SHOW!! Sara was in this show called Pirates of Penzance. It was really funny. There were singing pirates. They had cool swords. I wanted one. Sara was fabulous as always. I think she should always carry around a parasol, mostly 'cause she could smack me with it when I start to annoy her:

We went to dinner with her parents at this place called Luca's. It brought back memories for me. And not good ones. Luca's is the place where I did my most outrageous experimenting in college. Feeling adventurous, my friend and I once decided to try a basket of their "famous" fried chicken livers. They were pretty much disgusting. Anyway, now I have happy memories of Luca's because I ate a delicious pizza and not chicken livers. What was I thinking!??!?
Then we went back to Sara's apartment.
We played some Phase 10.
We watched some of Hook with Sara's roomie, Erin.
Then we may or may not have had a bottle of wine and played Mario Kart. I am glad no pictures from this period of time exist.
Then we crashed.

In the morning, Sara made breakfast. It's been a long time since someone made me breakfast. I felt special.
Cutest ever:

Chocolate milk is always a good choice. Sara had me "pose" for this picture. In the process of posing and picture taking I used way too much syrup. Oh darn.

The she said I looked too distressed in this picture and I had to take another one...

"Look excited."

While breakfasting, Sara made me watch The Sound of Music. Which I had never seen before. When she learned this information I thought she was going to have a heart attack. It wasn't kosher at all. So we had to rectify the situation and I was educated in the ways of Julie Andrews. I also learned that, "When you know the notes to sing, You can sing most anything". And those notes just happen to be: Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do!

Then it was intermission. Seriously, it's a long ass movie:

And what better way to intermiss from The Sound of Music than to head to downtown Bloomington for a spell and do fun things. Like...

Sit at a coffee shop and drink coffee...

Fabulous.

And while sitting at said coffee shop we saw a woman walk by who looked like she stepped out of the Marshall Field's catalog from the 1950s. (Hard to see in this picture, but Sara and I were like..."Is this girl for REAL??)

And then we went shopping. And tried on hats. Duh.

And after shopping we were hungry. So we ate food at this really good bakery, where Sara happens to work:

After lunch, we went back to Sara's. Time for the second half of The Sound of Music! GET EXCITED!!

And then more wii...

Curses. I was better at this last night while drinking wine. I lost. Hard.

And then it came time for me to leave. Here we are at the train station. Sara look fabulous. Me looking ridiculous. To be fair, the sun was in my face.

Back home at Union, waiting for the papa to come get me 'cause my train was late getting in and I didn't catch my train back to Mt. P. Lousy Amtrak! (I still think you're super fun though)

Horror Upon Horrors

2008-08-14T23:26:00.000-07:00

So last night, I'm sitting around after work and I realized...

I had gone the entire summer without going to the bookstore.
Um, Amy? Are you still with us? Earth to Amy...GO TO THE BOOKSTORE.

Bookstores are dangerous for me.
I love them.
Yes.
More than I love the Mac Store.
I could literally spend hours upon hours wandering through the aisles.
Aside from paying off school and copious amounts of travel and a pony (duh) a bookstore is where I could and would single-handedly blow my huge jackpot lottery winnings, if I were to ever win them. And then I'd be on one of those shows, about people's lives that are destroyed by winning the lottery and it would cut to me in my giant library a la Beauty and the Beast sailing around the room a moving ladder, my hair mussed, my glasses askew, hopped up on espresso to keep myself awake to read all I can.

Anyway. Last night, I went to the bookstore.
Oh, happy day.

I am a tactile person.
This is me in a bookstore:

Circle a table of books.
Circle again.
Run my hands over the covers.
Pick up a book that looks interesting.
Turn it over.
Put it down.
Pick up another. Look it over. Put it down.
Pick up a book I want to read.
Carry it with me.
Circle another table. Pick up another book I want to read. Carry it with me.
Walk around the store.
Poke at things.
Walk around the store.
Read some kids books.
(Namely, Pigeon Wants A Puppy)
(Get to the ending where pigeon decides he doesn't want a puppy)
(Pigeon Wants A Walrus)
(Get angry that the pigeon doesn't want a puppy)
(Put the book back, muttering under my breath, "Pigeons are dumb.")
Walk around the store some more.
Circle the table of books again.
Pick up a book.
Put it back down.
Walk around the store.
OH
MY
GOD
NOTEBOOKS
I love notebooks I love notebooks I love notebooks
Pick up each one and flip through the pages.
Admire the pretty ones.
Pick up one and almost decided to get it.
It is wide ruled.
Who does that?
Put it back.
More notebooks notebooks notebooks
Spend a large amount of time just looking a notebooks.
Drool a little.
Walk around the store.
Circle table of books.
Find more books I want to read.
Stare at all I have.
Read the first page of each to decide.
Put book A and B back.
Keep book C.
See a book that looks interesting.
Pick it up.
It becomes book D.
Pick up book A again.
?
Pick up book B again.
?
Put back book C.
Put back book B.
A & D are from the buy one get one half off shelf.
Oo. E is also on the buy one get one half off shelf.
?
Put back E.
Settle on A & D.
Go to get in line.
Change my mind.
Feel guilty.
Put back book A and decide to just get book D.
Get in line.
OH
MY
GOD
NOTEBOOKS
NOTEBOOKS IN THE 50% off box.
Get out of line,
Contemplate.
Contemplate.
I have lots of notebooks at home.
But this one is fresh.
Contemplate.
Contemplate.
Force myself.
Force myself.
Walk away.
Back in line.
Stare straight ahead.
No more distractions.

Finally, I get up to the cashier and pay. She goes, "You finally found something you wanted to read, huh?" I was like, "Yeah." She's like, "I saw you circling."
WELL DUH.
CIRCLING IS THE BEST PART OF BOOK BUYING.
I love circling. I love looking through books. I love finding something I didn't expect, taking it home and either finding out it's amazing or that it blows chunks and I can't get past page 3.
I hardly ever go into a bookstore knowing what I want to come out with and the times I do go in knowing what I want to get, I usually come out with something completely different.

I love books.

Major Technical Difficulties

2008-08-13T17:17:00.000-07:00

With the webshow.

Doing what I can to salvage.

All hope may be lost.

If not heard from in five days, send Geek Squad.

Over and out.

So I Finally Relented...

2008-08-11T13:09:00.000-07:00

...and bought a new battery for my computer, Miss. Watermelon.

In case you were unaware my battery decided to lose its purpose back in March and quit working. Leaving poor old Miss. Watermelon powerless and dead sans her plug-in cord and an outlet. Being stubborn and unwilling to part with 150 bucks, I remained steadfast that Miss. Watermelon would be just fine as pretty much a desktop, constantly plugged into a power source.

However...

Having to shut Miss. Watermelon down and unplug her and plug her back in and reboot just to move locations in my house was getting super old.

Also getting old?

Without a battery the computer has no memory of date/time. This is no problem with an internet connection. With an internet connection, the computer recognizes the date/time and corrects itself. But without the internet or a battery my computer insists that it is December 16th, 1969 at 6:00pm.
Um, computer? Pretty sure you weren't even a glimmer in Steve Jobs's eye at that time.
Anyway, this wouldn't be such a big deal BUT getting the date/time screwed up for whatever reason messes with my applications and makes them misbehave.

BASICALLY , TO GET TO THE CRUX OF THE MATTER...I was in constant need of a) an outlet and b) the internet for my computer to work properly.

As I said, it was getting old. And with my final semester looming on the horizon, I need Miss. Watermelon to be as reliable and powerful as possible.

That said.

Do you have ANY idea how much it SUCKS to walk into a Mac Store...walk past the ipod touches, walk past the iphone, walk past the new laptop models, find someone and say, "Hi. I need a new battery."?
And if that's not enough...then have the guy look on the shelf where they keep the batteries and realize they don't keep the batteries for Miss. Watermelon on the shelf anymore because she is so old? Like...2005 old. And then he has to go in back and pull out a battery from 2005-Might-As-Well-Be-1969??? And then in you see the poster for the special deal wherein buying a brand new laptop gets you a FREE ipod touch? And then in your mind you're like "what if I did?" Because Miss. Watermelon was also made like MONTHS before they started manufacturing ibooks with cameras built into them? And you think it would be really swell to have a webcam? And a brand new shiny computer? And a brand new ipod touch to replace the ipod nano you have from 2004 that you seriously have no idea how is still working??

...and then you remember that there are starving kids in Africa.
...and then you remember that there is nothing wrong with Miss. Watermelon. And she looks at you and says, "I might be old, and I might not have a webcam built into me, and maybe I didn't come with a free ipod, and maybe I'm a little banged up and dirty (that part's pretty much your fault, btw) but I love you. I love you even when my battery is dead. I love you even when you get impatient and can't wait for me to finish shutting down properly before you pull my plug out of the wall. I love you enough to let you put a rotation of lame comics on my desktop. I love you enough to have never sent any of your important papers to the land of no return. I love you even though I have to stare at your ugly face for hours a day. Think about that. Your face. In my face. All the freakin' time. But still, I love you."

And then you feel really bad about yourself (and slightly crazy because your computer just spoke to you (and not only spoke to you but professed it's undying love for you even though you're pretty much a jerk (and right in the middle of a Mac Store no less (and you looked around to see if anyone else heard)))).
And then you decide to quit your bitchin' and moanin' about going to the Mac Store to buy something boring.
And then you decide that Miss. Watermelon might be worth having to buy something a little boring.
And then you decide to maybe donate a buck or two to starving kids in Africa.
And then you decide to stick with Miss. Watermelon and not buy a brand new black ibook with built in webcam.
...(at least 'till the end of undergrad).

Scary Dreams With Giant Snakes AND A Good Way To Kill Time Before Work

2008-08-10T11:01:00.000-07:00

So, I violated that "Amy's Not Allowed To Watch Animal Cops" rule I set up for myself. I watched an epidode last night right before going to bed. In this episode, the exotic animal trappers had to get a 10 foot python out of someone's backyard pond.
So what haunted my dreams last night?
If you guessed: 10 foot python with teeth. You would be correct. For whatever reason, in the dream, I was a snake trapper. As I was as afraid of snakes in the dream as I am in real life, I had no idea why Dream Amy thought being a snake trapper would be a smart career choice. Anyway, we trapped the snake who I would not describe as a "Happy Camper" and put it in our truck. Which had no sealed area so it pretty much meant the snake could attack and bite (did I mention this snake had a set of teeth?)(And no, not snake fangs)(Like...teeth)our asses at any moment while driving it back to base. We get it back to base and the lights in the base aren't working (a common occurrence in my dreams, where lights are out and/or I can't see well (can't see well as in Dream Amy doesn't have her glasses on)). Anyway, back at base the snake ESCAPES. Oh, did I mention the base is also my house? So, now the lights are out in my base-house and we have a 10 foot python with teeth loose. A snake infiltrating my place of habitation is pretty much my worst nightmare. And here it was...my nightmare last night. AND since I watched this particular segment of Animal Cops right before going to sleep in the morning I had a really difficult time distinguishing between what I actually saw on TV and what had just happened in my dream.

But enough about snakes. They are ugly and mean and I hate them and frankly, while I'm well aware they serve some sort of ecological purpose, I would not be the least bit sad if they went extinct. They could fall off the face of the earth and I would throw a party.

On to more cute things...

So this morning I had some errands to run before work. Like getting my Q-Tip head cut. So I go get that done. And I've got some time to kill before I need to be at work. Luckily, there is a pet store right next to the hair cut place. The kind of pet store with puppies. The kind of pet store where the tops of cages are open so you can pet:
Hamsters
Guinea Pigs
Ferrets
Bunnies
Birds

AWESOME!

Pet stores always make me a little sad because I want to take everything home (except snakes) and also because the puppies pretty much live in a two by two cage. I was the crazy person walking up and down the cages of puppies, talking to them through the glass, like they could actually understand me. I tried to tell them how cute they were, and how I wished I could take them all home. I mean, if and when the time comes that I could ever have a special pooch of my own I would certainly adopt from a shelter. BUT STILL the cuteness in the store was undeniable. Puppies romping with each other despite their little cages. And if I stopped to have a closer look...they put their little paws on the glass. I couldn't hang around too long because I did have a credit card in my wallet and might have done something really stupid. Now, I am a sucker for a scrappy looking pup and I have to say the Daschund-Poodle mix I saw might be the cutest pooch I've seen in a while. The Chihuahuas were also quite cute. Unlike the other puppies, they just sat there staring through the glass at me as if to say, "What you want? A song and dance? Pssh We dance for no one, lady. You don't want to take us home? Move along muchacha. Make room for the people who can afford us." (Said obviously with a bad Spanish accent).

Besides gaping at all the cute puppies, I also got to pet hamsters, guinea pigs and bunnies.
Additionally, I rough-housed/caused trouble with some baby ferrets. Adult ferrets are pretty nasty, not gonna lie. But the babies? Simply adorable. They had some playful sass going on and I loved it.

Anyway,
In other news...
The webshow IS coming. It may be the first and last episode because David and I are putting ideas together for a webshow we'll do together called "Two Platonic Gays and a Couch". But I will still post the pilot webshow I made. I haven't been staying at my house this past week so I've haven't had a chance to put on the finishing touches. BUT definitely look for it in the next two-three days.

The Puppy Games: Scientifically Proven To Be 10 Times More Entertaining Than The Real Olympics

2008-08-09T11:15:00.000-07:00

So I watched the opening ceremonies last night. Parts were pretty cool. Those parts are as follows:
a) Massive amount of light up Fou drums played by massive amounts of Fou drummers? Like, 2000 plus massive amount? Amazing.
b) Perfectly synchronized and choreographed moving cuneiform blocks? Off the hizzy.
c) Thousands of performers doing Tai Chi in unison? Totally awesome.

But 'round about the parade of nations.
...I got a little bored.

So I started channel surfing.

I watched a few minutes of Law and Order, which you can always find, on some channel, at any time of day. I don't know why they just don't buy their own channel and air 24/7 Law and Order all the time. I mean, it's not my favorite show ever but if I'm super bored and need to just veg, it certainly is a great default show.

I watched a little bit of Hustle and Flow on BET, but there's prostitutes in that movie and that makes me feel bad inside, so I changed it.

I watched a little of whatever was on the Discovery Channel. I think it was probably Deadliest Catch, which would explain why it didn't hold my attention.

THEN

I turned on Animal Plant. Now, Animal Planet, being the smart and savvy TV station that it is, knows that it can't really compete with big name networks. And that they definitely can't compete with big name networks when big name networks are airing big name events.
So, Animal Planet, being the smart and savvy TV station that it is simply defaults to puppies.
During the super bowl they aired the "Puppy Bowl".
And during the opening ceremonies they aired "The Puppy Games."
These shows are nothing more than video footage of puppies romping around, rough housing with each other, running around and playing with copious amounts of puppy toys.
And
It
Is
Brilliant

It sounds like it should be so dumb. And the first few minutes of it, I'll admit, I was skeptical and I love puppies. I was like, "Really?? They're half-assedly trying to insert some sort of plot with lame commentary that really has nothing to do with what the puppies are actually doing?? Really?? Really?? Really they've really just thrown several puppies into an enclosure with some soccer balls and called it puppies playing soccer?? Really??? Really this is really just two solid hours of puppies being puppies???"
Yes.
Really.

Five minutes later I was transfixed.

I cheered on the Boston Terrier little Zim as he made his way across the "balance beam", after "screwing up" his "routine" twice.

I laughed when all the puppies congregated in the "pool" and then after three minutes of romping around all five decided they were thirsty and started to drink straight from the pool.

I laughed again when in the "soccer" match a puppy "threw" a ball into the water bowl and the shot cut to the "water bowl cam" (aka a camera positioned under the water bowl pointing up through the water)and caught the puppy sticking his paw tentatively into the water, circling the bowl, pushing his nose in, trying to figure out how to get the ball back out of the bowl.

I was trasnfixed the way a cat gets transfixed watching birds outside a window. There was no plot. I was just watching puppies do their thing. But I could not take my eyes away. I probably watched this for a solid 45 minutes before I realized that I had to regain control of myself and maybe change the channel to...something with a plot and/or that didn't put me in the same category as a cat looking out a window.

OK. Here...to give you an idea of what I mean check this out (I couldn't find a good clip from the Puppy Games, but here is one from the Puppy Bowl):

You can't explain it, right? I mean at first you're like, "This is the dumbest thing EVER! Could Animal Planet at least TRY and put on something substantial?" And then you're like, "Oh, right...there's puppies. And they're cute. Who cares if there's a plot or any merit whatsoever?"

...If I ever were to run for President I would not only create a 24/7 Law and Order channel BUT ALSO a 24/7 Puppies Playing channel. In fact, who says I have to go through the trouble of running for President myself? I am going to write Mr. Barack Obama a letter.

Not That I Ever Lacked Any, But...

2008-08-06T15:30:00.000-07:00

I have new found more respect for my mother.

Teaching Kindergardeners is exhausting. It's day three and I feel like I want to pass out. I really only have these kids for a total of four hours everyday.
How did she do it all day?
How did she do it WITH CANCER?!?!

Yikes.

I am battle scarred and bruised. Blue paint all the way up my arm. Black splotches up and down my other arm. Oh. And orange too. And some cream on my elbow. Oh look...more orange. And glitter. Glitter. EVERYWHERE.

Tiring as it is, I'm enjoying it. The kids are pretty damn funny. in the afternoon, there's this little girl playing the tortoise who is so hilarious. We were rehearsing today and I was introducing all the characters...
ME: Once upon a time, in a forest not too far away, there was a tortoise...say hello tortoise.
HER: Hello Tortoise! *Waves*
She said it in complete and total earnest and was not trying to be a smart ass. I busted a gut.

A Profuse Apology. And Several Excuses.

2008-08-05T15:25:00.000-07:00

I am so sorry for several things.

a) That the webshow is not posted yet.
b) That I haven't blogged in almost a week.
c) That I still have yet to bringsexyback.

I have no excuses. Well, wait...actually I do. There are as follows:

1. This week I started teaching my very own class at the studio. It is called "Little Thespians". We are doing fun things like making scenery, costumes, props and programs that will culminate with a performance on Friday. We will perform stirring renditions of "Goldilocks and the Three Hares" and "The Tortoise and The Hare." I had my first class yesterday. So far it's going pretty well. My favorite part is putting them through acting exercises and warm ups because its pretty much the most hilarious thing in the world. A group of 5-7 year olds doing "Little Face/Big Face"?? Pretty priceless if you ask me. It is also pretty hilarious that they pretty much copy any and everything I do. Case and point- today I was making random noises/sounds/words while doing accompanying body motions. I had them all following me for solid minute and a half before some little kid piped up and said, "Hey! That's not English!" We also pretend to be animals. Today we were pandas. We sat our asses on the floor and ate bamboo. None of us could stop giggling. Obviously, I can't post pictures of the kids but I will try to take some shots of the scenery they painted and maybe some of their costumes too.

2. I'm currently dog sitting for Mrs. Yueill. This involves staying at her house. Which means I'm not home as much to blog and edit webshows. I will post a picture of her dog soon because she's pretty much the cutest dog ever. Abby (the dog) is pretty much a sweetheart but not too trusting of people outside her immediate family. For whatever reason, she decided she liked me so now I get to take care of her sweet puppy face. I was over there last night and together we watched an episode of "Animals Cops: Miami". I may or may not have cried. If you'd seen the episode with Buddy the brown Dachshund who survived living on a horrible puppy farm and had parasites and was nothing but skin and bone and had an pneumonia and was so sick he could barely hold up his head and had an 80% chance of non-survial, you'd probably cry too. Anyway. Last night we had some serious storms roll through while I was sitting with Abby watching TV. Abby doesn't like storms too much and I don't either. My preferred method of dealing with storms is too ignore them. Abby's was to bark at them. We got through them, though. I was starting to settle in for the evening, turn out the lights, and generally hunker down when round two of storms came through. These bad boys blew out the power. I had a momentary lapse of fear. It is sorta scary being in someone else's house when the power goes out but I'm sure you'll all be happy to know I gained my composure. Good thing too. Because as soon as I curled up on the couch to sleep and Abby came right up on the couch and laid down RIGHT on top of me. So adorable. We stayed like that for a while before she decided she was calm enough to go sleep on her ottoman across from me.

3. I preparing to go back to school. This means I've spent my spare time:
a) Color-coding my planner with my class times (I know, I know, I know...OCD)
b) Trying to find a class to replace that 8:15 photography class I thought was a good idea. While I was very sad to see it go, I don't live in the city anymore and must commute from the 'burbs. An 8:15 class would be a severe setback for my plan to not drive to school.
c) Getting further in debt aka paying for school aka applying for loans.
I must say, if it were up to me I would start school tomorrow. I miss it so much. What's that? You want to know what classes I am taking? I would LOVE to tell you:
-Intro to Theatrical Design. This got lost in the shuffle of transferring/taking what I could when it was offered. Probably should have been in this class freshman or sophomore year. Oops. I like art and drawing but math/measuring/technical drawing ain't my forte. I am a tad apprehensive about this class. Maybe that's why I put it off so long. Oops.
- Movement for the Actor. So excited for this. If I were to say to me, "Amy, what do you move like?" I would say: "An Intoxicated and/or Graceless Squirrel." I am looking forward to removing the "intoxicated" and "graceless" part of my squirrel-ness out my movement and generally just be more conscious of how my body moves, especially in regards to performing.
- Chief American Writers 1865-Present. Yay finding something decent to replace Photography! Yay reading fabulous works of literature!
- Dramatic Literature II. Yay reading plays!
- Poetry Writing. I love poetry. I love writing. This class is going to be so awesome. In FACT I've been meaning to post this:

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Alas, I cannot take credit for that amazing piece of poetry. It is by one mr ee cummings and reading it makes me swoon. First of all, for its content and second of all for its...I mean I can't explain it! Just read it and you'll know what I mean. Maybe one day I will write poetry like ee cummings (right).

A Word(s) On Various Things

2008-07-30T19:39:00.000-07:00

THING: Pilot Webshow.
WORD: Coming.

THING:
WORD(s): Ok. I am so excited to see this. Like, even more excited to see this than the movie about the singing chihuahuas. And I'll admit...ok, I may have been a bit premature in my exuberance over the singing chihuahua movie. OK?! I won't force anyone to go see a movie about singing Chihuahas who are secretly some form on ancient warrior with me. But I will demand someone to go see this movie with me. Pretty sure the hamster and the pigeons are my favorite, already.

THING: Last semester of my senior year.
WORD(s): Less than a month away.

THING: John McCain.
WORD: Old.

THING: The Dark Knight.
WORD: Possibly one of the most awesome movies I have ever witnessed.

THING: The Juno Soundtrack
WORD: I finally have it. And I can't stop singing it. All of it. "All I want is you, will you stay with me? Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea (Harmonica Breakdown)" But I especially love this song:

It's sorta beautiful.

THING: Vegetarianism.
WORD(s): So the other day my Dad put hamburgers on the grill for himself and my brother. He put a veggie patty on for me. But he bought this veggie patties that had like...fully visible whole lima beans and corn kernals held together by some sort of spongy mess. He bought some kind called "Dr. So and So's Healthy Veggie Patties." Um, Dad? I appreciate the thought but anything with the title "Dr. So and So's Healthy Whatevers" is probably going to be pretty crappy. Anything. Even Ice Cream. "Dr. So and So's Healthy and Fun Fudge Pops" is pretty much code for "This Food Product Tastes Like Soggy Cardboard". Anyway, my Dad and my brother are making fun of me and my veggie patty.
MY BROTHER: Ew, what the hell is that?
ME: It's a veggie patty!
MR BROTHER: That looks like what you would feed a hamster.
ME: Shut up.
(My Dad is laughing)
MY DAD: Next thing you know she'll be asking for an exercise wheel.
MY BROTHER: And a giant ball to ride to work in.
ME: You guys are jerks.
(I take a bite of the veggie patty.)
(Pause)
MY DAD: (Laughing) How is it, hamster?
ME: It tastes like weeds.
MY DAD: Hm. These burgers are really good.

THING: John McCain.
WORD(s): Still old. In fact, older than he was thirty seconds ago.

THING: "Welcome to the 60s."
WORD(s): Always makes me feel happy.

...that's all for now.
I think...

Look for the first ever webshow to be up in the next few days!

Hi, Welcome To Amy's Brain, Where Strange Things Are Always Happening, Especially during Sleepy-Time

2008-07-24T20:18:00.001-07:00

So.

I have very strange, very vivid dreams. Dreams that I remember very well in the morning.
Strange as they are, they are also very realistic. In my dreams, I am usually never aware that I am "dreaming" or that it is impossible to say...climb Mt. Everest in roller skates underwater (yes, that actually happened in a dream).
In fact, my dreams are so realistic that it often takes me a while to "shake them off" emotionally, or to actually comprehend they did not in fact happen (ie after the Mt. Everest dream I woke up ready to call all my friends and family and tell them I climbed Mt. Everest).
Dreaming in this way means two things:

a) The good dreams are very good. And breed much disappointment when I wake up.
And
b) The bad dreams are very, very bad. And often I will wake up from such dreams and stay awake for 20 minutes so as to not immediately fall back into them. Or force myself to think about ponies for a solid 5 minutes or other happy things as to hopefully dream about those things when I fall back asleep and not...getting shot.

The "in between" ones? Well. They're usually just weird.

Here is one such "in between" dream. It happened this morning:

So in the dream I am at the theatre I work at for a meeting. The meeting is taking place in the theatre, which strangely enough is filled with a ridiculous amount of people. Way more people than actually work there. Like...our 300 seat theatre has suddenly turned sports stadium huge. There is no ceiling. Only the twilight sky, where I can see stars shooting out other stars (Apparently, in the dream, there was a war going on-American and Germany (Yes. Germany.) were taking over the world. This was so in the stars shooting down other stars) (See I told you my dreams were weird) (Actually, I'm pretty sure EVERYONE'S dreams are this weird) (The oddity in my case is that I can actually remember not just my dreams but what the bizarre images actually signify. Like when I wake up it's not, "Man, I was in this weird stadium with lots of people and these stars were shooting other stars. It was trippy man." When I wake up it's like, "Germany and America were taking over the world as signified by the fact that there were stars shooting out other stars.").
ANYWAY.
So I'm at work. In a meeting. We are being lectured about something. There was also something going on with mobsters. Like, I think we were run by mobsters or something and they were having a private meeting with pasta and oranges and sitting in plush chairs a la The Godfather.
So after this meeting, we go to work. At work in the box office, I mistakenly give someone who calls the wrong information about the performer we currently have at the theatre. The costumer than calls me back and proceeds to yell and scream at me for giving them bad information. I am worried about making this mistake not only for losing a sale, but also because we are run by the mob and the ramifications for making a mistake when run by the mob could be...severe.
Suddenly, me and someone I don't remember are looking at this old LP record. Someone's name is on it, and now I can't remember who's name it was. It was no one famous. Just a name. Whoever found it is telling me that the person whose name is on this record actually made and recorded it himself. So we put it on to play and for a solid 5 minutes in my dream, I hear music I'd never heard before. Makes me kinda sad I have no musicianship to actually play what I hear in my dreams, because I actually hear music I've never heard before quite frequently in dreams(is that weird?!??). Anyway, whoever found this record is telling me about how old it is while we listen to it play. This person tells me the record was 30 years old when she found it when she was young in 1954. I see the date "1954" inscribed on the record and in my head start to do the math (very difficult for me) about how old this record actually must be. Suddenly, the song we are listening to stops, I see the needle glide over the record and for a moment there is silence. Whoever I am with says, "there's one more song on here." We wait anxiously for the needle to cross the grooves on the record into the next song, marveling at the ingenuity of this man to make and record his own records. The needle hits the song. And suddenly loud and clear, the Victrola is blasting "Sexyback."
I.
Swear.

...It was my alarm.
Time for me to get up.

Blog-o-vations: 2008

2008-07-20T11:56:00.000-07:00

This is just a post to say....

I'M WORKING ON SOME SERIOUS BLOG-O-VATIONS!!!

Are you excited?!

I'm excited.

So there may not be new posts for a while, but I'm working on what I hope will be some good stuff.

Here's what I'm hoping to accomplish:

Not that I don't love you ten people who read this blog very dearly BUT I'm thinking it might be cool if I could get more readers/people to tune into Confusing Ideas Since 1986.

Guess what?

You as my loyal "readers" get to be guinea pigs! Don't be sad! Guinea pigs are super cute! Don't believe me? Check it out:

Aw! CUTE! Have I mentioned how cute you all are too??
And you'll be the type of guinea pigs that get fun things tested on them...like ice cream flavors or new kinds of popcorn. You will not be the kind of guinea pigs that endure gross medical testing. At least I sure hope that's not what will happen and if it does, well...that's why we have guinea pigs.
Basically, here's what's going to happen...
I will continue to post up written posts about crazy things that happen in my life.
BUT
In addition, I'm hoping to post a bi-weekly (once every two weeks) web show. I will hopefully be posting up the first of these web shows sometime late this week. Here's where you as the guinea pigs come in...basically, if you want to and feel like it and don't have something better or more productive to do, you will watch the first of these shows and then vote:
a) "Amy, these shizzy is off the hizzy and also, you are hot and have once again broughtsexyback."
b) "Amy, you suck and blogging and at life. Stop. Before you injure a baby. Or a guinea pig."
c) "Amy, I don't think this shizzy is off the hizzy, nor do I think you have broughtsexyback BUT I also don't think you suck at life."
d)"Amy, I like this a lot. But I am uncomfortable saying you've broughtsexyback 'cause I don't think you're sexy. At all. Stick to blogging. Don't ever talk about being sexy again."
e) "Amy, my opinion on the matter may be classified as 'other' if I am feeling generous I may explain myself further, but I may choose to just be mysterious and leave it at 'other'."

The Bible-For More Than Just Soul Hygiene

2008-07-15T17:06:00.000-07:00

So for pretty much as long as I can remember my family (well, specifically, my mother) has had a tried and true method for filing important documents and papers.

That method?

The Bible.

Over the years, nestled safely in between the words of Jesus and the Laws of Moses, we have kept our social security cards, all of birth certificates, my parent's marriage license and a wealth of other important things.
Observe:

Up until now, the system has worked very well. Mostly, because it's not a book we pull out and read regularly so what better way to keep your important crap in place than by putting it in a book you never use? But I do need to point out that it's also a book that ain't exactly meant to be pulled out regularly:

Generally, books that are substantially larger than your face and heavier than your body are meant to like...sit on a coffee table or something (or in your front hall closet, where you have to be careful taking it off the shelf because if it falls...it will kill you).

Important documents are also well-kept in The Bible (especially from children) because there are scary pictures like this:

Oh yes. This Bible has full color pictures and they scared the crap outta me when I was a kid.

Recently, though, The Bible Filing System failed me. Now, it could very well be that The Bible Filing System is no longer maintained by my mother, and in fact, now ruled by the lack of rule that is my brother and my dad. It could be that I took my birth certificate out for something I don't remember and then forgot to put it back in The Bible Filing System. It could be Jesus got sick of my sass and purposely excommunicated my birth certificate from the sanctuary of his pages. Whatever the case, when I went to The Bible to get my birth certificate...it WASN'T there. I combed through The Bible at least six times. It was not there. Jesus hates me. Great.

My birth certificate is lost. But all is not lost. Thank God for modern technology. You can order anything off the internet. Even your own birth certificate.

I might not have found my birth certificate in the Biblical Filing System...but want to know what I DID find in the magical Biblical Filing System?

Prayer cards.

Prayer cards.

Prayer cards.

Holy (pun intended) crap. PRAYER CARDS!

Now, if you are unfamiliar with the Catholic tradition, basically what happens is...whenever someone dies and you go to their wake or funeral you pick up one of these babies. They have the date of birth and date of death of the person, funeral information and a prayer on the back and...on the front, some tight religious iconography. Catholic kids go crazy for these things. They collect them and trade like Pokemon cards in the parking lots of their Catholic grade schools.

There were probably like 40 prayer cards in there. Like every member of my family that's ever died was in there. And there were a bunch of people I didn't know in there too! Oh! And there was like a mini prayer packet in there for Cardinal George. Weird.

I also found this in magical Biblical Filing System:

A giant aerial picture of my great-grandparents farm. Random.

I Ate Spongebob and I'm Not Sorry About It

2008-07-09T14:51:00.001-07:00

Today was a glorious day. Because today I harkened to what might be one of my favorite sounds in the world: the whimsical tune of the ice cream man.

He stopped his truck right in front of my driveway.

This is what I ordered:

It was a deviation from my normal Choco Taco but I was feeling sassy today and what better way to compliment sassiness than with a Spongebob Popsicle?
Heck.
Yes.

Can you feel the sass?? Now, Spongebob Popsicle, we all know you live in a pineapple under the sea...if I could see that in popsicle form...that would be choice. I'm just saying. Who wouldn't want to eat a popsicle shaped like a pineapple? (Plus, pineapple is like the tastiest fruit EVER and its tasty-ness would only be exponentially compounded when put into popsicle form.

And it's just like my grandpa says about Christmas...

Spongebob popsicle come, Spongebob popsicle go. Aww, Spongebob Popsicle...it's too soon for goodbye.

NAME THAT BIKE: RESULTS POST

2008-07-01T13:59:00.000-07:00

It is time for the NAME THAT BIKE results post.

Are you excited?

I'm excited.

Check it out:

Ok. I know it is definitely not as good as the videos my brother makes. But still...I'm re-learning imovie after not using it since high school. You guys will have to let me know what you think. If you want to see more of this kind of stuff or if it was super lame and you want that 6 minutes of your life back.

I want to say a thank you to everyone who submitted their suggestions.

David-Erik after the saddest donkey ever was a great suggestion. But I like to think of my bike as a trusty steed and not a depressed donkey who should probably be on Zoloft.

Jeff- Maximus 2 is pretty hardcore. But I hesitate to name things after myself. It just weirds me out a little. Especially because this is not a baby. Not that I would name my baby Maximus 2 BUT...I just find it odd. And there's no way that bike could be as hardcore as me. So it probably doesn't deserve the name Maximus.

Carly-I am sorry. I cannot pronounce it or say it easily. Sometimes I is bad at English.

Ariana- I have a friend named Bill. I have no problem naming things after people I think are swell except the thing in question is a bike and bike are things to be ridden and...do you see where I'm going with this?? Umm...ok. Setup: I walk into work, Carly (Bill's girlfriend) is in there. Bill is in there and I walk in and say, "Hey guys, I just rode Bill all the way to work!" Awkward.

Darth Vader's Real

2008-06-30T18:10:00.000-07:00

The results post is COMING for the NAME THAT BIKE contest. I know I've said that like 100 times. But I'm trying something new this time around. Hopefully it will be spectacular. (But you may not want to hold your breath). It will be posted if not tomorrow, certainly by Wednesday. Get excited.

In the meantime please enjoy...

QUOTES OF THE DAY

At the studio talking with kids.

This happened. Yes. Exactly like this:
EMMA: I had a princess on my birthday cake.
ME: Which princess?
GRACIE (her twin sister): It was just a princess.
ME: So it wasn't Cinderella or something?
EMMA: No, just a princess.
ME: Got it.
GRACIE: And there was a frog next to her!
ME: A frog?!?! Was it a prince????
EMMA: (As if this was the craziest thing she'd ever heard) Nooooo. It was a frog!
ME: But sometimes...frogs can be princes.
GRACIE: Uh-uh.
ME: Uh-huh. Have you ever heard the story about the princess who kisses the frog and it magically turns into a prince??
(Both girls shake their heads no)
ME: Well it's true. I bet that frog was a prince!
MRS. YUEILL: Was the frog wearing a crown? Sometimes thats a clue.
EMMA: Nooooo.
ME: I think it was a prince anyway.
MRS. YUEILL: It happens. Frogs can be princes.
(Both girls look at me and Mrs. Yueill like we're nuts)
EMMA: Darth Vader's real you know.
(I lost it)
EMMA: He is! My parent's saw him and took a picture with him.
I love children and their utter randomness. It makes my heart so so happy.

Later. We are talking about pets. I got an earful about Kaitlyn's guinea pig. And her bird. And her bird that died. And her fish. And then...
KAITLYN: Sometimes my dog makes accidents and then eats them.
I know I shouldn't have but I cracked the heck up.
KAITLYN: It's bad.
ME: Yeah that's bad.

At no point yet had I used any funny voices or "accents" with this particular group of kids. Ben comes up to me so I can help him sponge stars on his little Fourth of July box.
ME: Ok, Ben where should be put this star?
BEN: You talk weird.
ME: How do I talk weird?
BEN: You just do.
ME: Why do you think that? I don't think I talk weird.
*Shrugs*

I put on my helmet to leave work at the Studio.
MRS. YUEILL: Look Kristen, there it is. (She points to my helmet)
ME: Did you tell Kristen about my helmet?
(Kristen works at the studio but has been gone for a while on vacation)
MRS. YUEILL: Yes.
ME: ...were you making fun of me??
MRS. YUEILL: No. Well...yes. Well...I just told her it was very large. And dark colored.

I am at home. In the other room. When suddenly I hear from the living room...
JIMMY: Molly!!!!!...God dammit.
(Pause)
(Pause)
ME: What happened??
JIMMY: God dammit. Molly fucking licked my burger!!
I laughed for no less than five minutes.
I come into the room a few moments later to find he has cut off the portion of the burger she licked. Molly is also at his feet, ear perked, sitting upright waiting for him to drop something.

Meghan and Amy Doing What They Do Best

2008-06-29T13:30:00.000-07:00

...being dorks.

Meghan and me did our little city gallivant the other night. Here are some pictures, stories and videos from our adventure:

King Lear statue outside Meghan's place of employment. Pretty cool, no?

I always end up bein' the camel. I guess you're asking for it when you carry a large blue backpack around:

I am an umbrella NINJA:

We found an awesome fountain by the river. It was cool. You could touch it. But not stand in it. Oops.

My wet foot-prints after wading in the fountain:

"Let's take a picture together in front of the fountain..."

"Ok. Wait, let's take a real picture...."

"Ok. This time...a really real picture..."

"Ok. For serious. A really real real picture..."

"Ok. Let's do a real goofy one..."

"Ok. One more..."

"Let's be cute one more time..."

GIANT fountain that shoots water over the river....

Let's take pictures with it!

CAMEL GIRL! (Hey, but be honest...if you were on Safari...you'd want me with you)

Now, presenting "Amy discovers the 'night' setting on her camera"...

Sans night setting:

With night setting...(please enjoy the following gorgeous pictures)

And Meghan and me played the....
THE SING WHATEVER SONG COMES TO YOUR HEAD GAME (And also dance accordingly)

It all started with us trying to figure out the proper way to do a box step, me randomly singing Gloria Estefan, and us deciding to make up a song called "Hobo Junction"...

ME: I KNOW! Let's play the "Sing Whatever comes to your head game!"

Cue Meghan and I walking along the river singing WHATEVER pops into our heads. I think we were singing "The Circle of Life" (after we had made it through "A Whole New World", "Rock Around The Clock", and "Hobo Junction") when we happened upon a boat...
ME: I'm the king of the world!!!!
(Meghan and I lock eyes and then AT THE EXACT SAME TIME...)
MEGHAN AND ME: Love can touch us one time and last for a lifetime. You have come to show you...go on. NEAAAAARR FAAAAAAAR WHEREEVER YOU ARE!!!!!

Oh yes. I'm sure people thought we were high as flippin' kites. No. Sorry. We're just Amy and Meghan.

We started this at Navy Pier. We finally decided enough was enough (out of breath) when we got to Milennium Park. We probably also danced as we walked. Nobody really paid us too much attention, until I passed a couple standing by the river while singing (mayhaps too loudly)...
ME: Backstreets back, ALRIGHT! Bow bow bow bow bow bow Bow bow bow bow.
The dude whirled around and stared at me. Mayhaps he was about to blarn (makeout) with his girlfriend. And I ruined the moment. Oops.

This happened while we were trying to find the bathrooms:

Proper technique:

Installment the Fifth and Final

2008-06-28T18:38:00.000-07:00

I am proud to deliver the fifth and final installment of "Delivering Supplies to Union Soldiers" or "When 10 Year Old Amy Fancied Herself An Important Writer".

In case you've missed any previous installments:
INSTALLMENT 1
INSTALLMENT 2
INSTALLMENT 3
INSTALLMENT 4

Thank you to Carly and Meghan for providing their dramatical services.

And NOW Carly reading part one of part five:

Um. And yes, that would be me SNORTING in the background.

And NOW Meghan reading part two of part five:

(Sorry it's a little hard to see)

And NOW me reading the final part of part five:

(Sorry it's a little hard to see)

Thank you to everyone who did dramatic readings. I hope you all have enjoyed "Delivering Supplies To Union Soldiers" I hope you were able to see something of yourselves in the brave characters of Billy and Jack and learned something about what bravery really is.
Bravery is delivering supplies to Union soldiers when you come from Nashville.
Bravery is using your sweatshirts to gather food when a colony of ants eats your provisions.
Bravery is sneaking onto a train and hiding behind a box when you don't have a ticket.

EPILOGUE:

Installment The Fourth

2008-06-24T17:51:00.000-07:00

Here is the fourth installment of "Delivering Supplies To Union Soldiers" or "When 10 Year Old Amy Fancied Herself An Important Writer"

This installment is coming to you, as promised, in dramatic reading form. Kudos to Jeff and Audra (aka Chicken) for their stirring interpretations.

In case you need to catch up here are installments 1-3...
INSTALLMENT 1
INSTALLMENT 2
INSTALLMENT 3

And now may I introduce Jeff who will read for us part one of installment the fourth

And now may I introduce Audra (aka Chicken) who will read for us part two of installment the fourth:

A big thank you to Jeff and Chicken for their dramatic services.

My Head: Good For Smashing.

2008-06-22T08:17:00.001-07:00

Counter where I smashed my head:

Look! My shoes are green! (Label indicating where exactly Maximus hit her head care of Jeff. Thanks, Buddy.)

QUOTES OF THE DAY

*I am printing tickets. Jeff is talking to me. I bend over to get the tickets and absolutely SMASH my head on the counter (see picture) and my head makes a horrible THUD noise. Jeff continues to talk to me than drifts off. He pauses*
JEFF: Was that your head?
*I sit there still stunned and seeing birds. I nod my head haphazardly*
JEFF: Oh. My. God.
*Jeff has to come over and grab my head in his arms and hold it to his bosom to keep my head from swirling*

Later....

JEFF: Man. You face-planted onto the counter.
Later...
JEFF: Hey, face-plant how's it going? That's what I'm going to call you from now on. Face-plant.

Later...
Jeff is standing at the box office window. I am counting my drawer. I am counting pennies.
ME: Sometimes counting is hard.
Jeff proceeds to crack up laughing.

Later...
JEFF: Hey, Amy. Remember this? *Jeff pounds the counter with his fist making a THUD noise*

CONCLUSION OF THE DAY: I NEED TO START WEARING MY BIKE HELMET ALL THE TIME IN EVERYDAY LIFE...

When cooking...

When showering...

Ahh! I'm not decent!

When hanging out with friends...

Aw, Molly I swear, I'm the same Amy I was before; they only difference is I have a large plastic sphere on my head. Don't be afraid! Please? Ever since I started wearing my helmet all the time you're my only hope for someone to love me.

When blogging...

Even when sleeping...

Hopefully Dogbear won't mind that my head is harder than it used to be and grown to five times its normal size. Sorry Dogbear. But you'll have to deal with it. I gotta cuddle something. My helmet isn't quite enough for me to feel totally comfortable and safe.

And especially when...

I feel so irresponsible having drunk before without a protective plastic case on my head.

~~~

Also...

COMING SOON TO A BLOG NEAR YOU...

The NAME THAT BIKE results post is in the works

Also...

Hopefully tomorrow I will post the the fourth installment of "Delivering Supplies to Union Soldiers" or "When 10 Year Old Amy Fancied Herself An Important Writer" in this edition, guest readers Jeff and Chicken read the story aloud with dramatical (yes, dramatical) results. In case you need to catch up, here are the previous installments:
INSTALLMENT 1 (At the bottom of the post)
INSTALLMENT 2
INSTALLMENT 3

Back in Blog Business

2008-06-19T20:03:00.000-07:00

I must apologize for the lack of decent blog-age recently. I have no excuse other than to say I have recently been rediscovering cable after nine months without TV and been busy enough with work lately where all I wish to do is veg out in front of the TV when I get home (12 hour work days tend to do that to me).
...I also may or may not have upgraded my Netflix to Two-At-A-Time-Unlimited.

Diversion of Blog post...
Speaking of that I just watched this absolutely PHENOMENAL German film called Nirgendwo In Afrika (Nowhere in Africa). The trailer is not in English, I couldn't find one with subtitles, sorry, but here it is anyway:

I highly, highly recommend it. It's about a Jewish family that flees to Africa to escape Nazi Germany. The acting is top-notch (especially the little girl). The story is beautiful. AND it has a fabulous fabulous score/music to boot (but I am a sucker for a score with African rhythm and influence (not kidding one of my favorite CDS is my Soweto Gospel Choir CD, it's slightly amazing)). I could write a 40 page essay on this film. It's amazing. If you have any interest whatsoever: watch it.

ANYWAY.
Aside from seeing the occasional amazing film, I find that copious amounts of cable TV in my spare time does not give me as great a sense of fulfillment as blogging in my spare time. So it is thus that I write this post to let you know:

I am back in blog business.

Which means: As soon as I have a work day where I work less than 12 hours, you will see:

-The next installment of "Delivering Supplies To Union Soldiers"
-The results post for the "Name That Bike" Contest
- Some crazy stories about this thing I call my life (and I've got a few stories in my back pocket to share).

But as this post already lacks a fair amount of coherence. I feel I must turn in for the evening. Until we meet again, which will be very very soon (like tomorrow) (or Saturday) please enjoy these:

QUOTE OF THE DAY

(I'm sitting at the desk in the box office. We're trying to seat a children's show, I'm taking phone calls. I got a guy on hold asking a question I don't fully know the answer too. Carly is trying to find David so he can answer the question. A very old woman approaches the window holding a gift certificate. She sees me.)
ME: Hi, can I help you?
(She approaches the window grasping one of our gift certificates. She is walking towards the window with a fair amount of trepidation)
OLD LADY: Boy, you look awfully small. And young.
(What I wish I could have said: Boy, you look awfully old.)
ME: *Insert half-assed laugh here*
OLD LADY: (Mildly condescending) Do you know anything about gift certificates?
(What I wish I could say: No, sorry. I am small and young. And also I don't speak English.)

(At the studio, kids were being very careless with their work, simply rushing through things to paint something else. These conversations happened...)

(There's a little girl painting a tray she wants to put this fairy decals on it, I tell her she has to wait for the paint to dry first before she can put them on)
LITTLE GIRL: So I have to wait for this to dry?
ME: Yup, otherwise those fairies won't stick.
LITTLE GIRL: Can I start something else while I wait?
ME: No mam. You have to be completely done with one project before you start something else. It won't take that long to dry.
*She picks up her tray and starts waving it wildly to make it dry faster*
ME: Uh-uh. No way. Put that down on the table before you smack yourself in the head with it.
LITTLE GIRL: I'm just trying to make it dry faster.
ME: Well, the way to make it dry faster is patience, not waving it around like a lunatic.
(Mrs. Yueill, the head of the Studio comes back to see how the kids are doing)
LITTLE GIRL: She (points to me) says I have to wait for this to dry. And I'm just trying to get it done. But she says I have to wait even though I just want to get it done.
MRS. YUEILL: That's right. It has to be dry otherwise those fairies won't stick on.
LITTLE GIRL: (Ultra smart ass) But no one like to watch things dry.
(This is why Mrs. Yueill and I are awesome working together because without missing a beat...)
MRS. YUEILL: Oh I love to watch things dry, don't you Aim?
ME: Oh yeah. I love watching things dry. Because I know it means I'm taking my time on my project and going to have something that turns out great.

(Mrs. Yueill is helping some Children cut pictures they brought to make really cute memory frames. She is helping Little Girl A, Little Girl B is waiting her turn)
LITTLE GIRL B: Can I just go work on my other project?
MRS. YUEILL: No, just hang out here for right now. I'll get to you in just one second.
LITTLE GIRL B: I don't see why I have to sit here and waste my time when I could be working on my project.
(Oh yes) (We have some straight up sassies in this rotation)

Installment Number Tres

2008-06-14T07:45:00.000-07:00

Here is the THIRD installment of "Delivering Supplies to Union Soldiers" or "When 10 Year Old Amy Fancied Herself An Important Writer". In case you missed previous installments...
Find the first HERE
And the Second HERE

I'll be making my commentary in italics. I know I said this one would be a dramatic video reading, but I'm working on possible getting some guest celebrities to do some readings so this one will be plain old text:

If you recall when last we left our hereos Jack and Billy they were discussing the all too real possiblity that mayhaps they're father has died in the war.

"The moon slowly came out and the two brothers soon decided to turn in. In the remaining light, Billy unhitched Big Red and tied him to a tree. He made sure the rope was long enough so he could walk around a bit. Billy stored the harness in the corner where Jack had been sitting earlier. That left about one fourth of the wagon for sleeping...not much room. Dear God, these poor poor boys! Only one fourth of a wagon for sleeping?? How will they ever make it?? Meanwhile Jack started a fire and took out a pot to cook supper.
Jack got water from a nearby creek and put it in the pot to boil. He added some fish and spices. Where the hell did they get these fish and spices?? Aren't spices a little much on a wartime supply run? Shouldn't they be boiling and eating their shoes or something? While it cooked both put out their blankets. Billy marked off where they had stopped.
"Did five miles today." Billy said. "Let's go to bed I am as tired as the old hound dog that sits on the constables porch." Oh yes. I am for real. 10 year old Amy does not mess around with her similes, and apparently...neither does Billy. But Jack had already fallen fast asleep.
"Darn fool forgot to say his prayers." Billy sputtered a giggle. "His brains are smaller than the salt that ma puts on potatoes." Ohhh BUUUURRRN. Next time you need a top notch insult. Compare someone's brains to salt that goes on potatoes. You will send your opponent reeling in shame. Before he knew it he drifted off to sleep.
The next morning they awoke to a starting sight. A colony of ant feasting on their food.
"Dag namin'." Billy said frustrated.
"Now what?" Jack asked with a hint of whining in his voice. Billy sat for a moment deep in though.
"Ahh, I know, Ma gave me a book of plants that tell which are edible and which are not edible." Billy said smartly. Right 10 year old Amy, you're already learning how to employ that magical trick as a writer or pulling things straight out of your ass. 'Oh no, I've backed my characters into a corner! Ants ate their food! How do I get them out of this mess?! Ahh...I know...a random book about edible plants. Huzzah. Jack and Billy are saved. On with the narrative!' "I'll just go and get it and we can gather plants that we can eat. We'll have to stay close to the cave though. WHAT FRIGGIN' CAVE?!? He went on. "The Unions will just have to wait one more day, we got five miles done yesterday and with tomorrow bein' Sunday and all I spect' we can get there on Monday." He finally finished. Well, phew.
So the two were off. Forced to use their sweaters as a bag to hold all their gatherings. OHHHH the HUMANITY!!! The were FORCED to use their SWEATERS as BAGS for their GATHERINGS?!? Is their no end to the trials and tribulations of this two young whipper-snappers? By the end of the day their sweaters were stained with berry juice, wet from the dew that had collected on the plants and just plain dirty. Dear God, say it isn't so!! Billy and Jack were dead out tired by the time they got back to the cave. WHAT FRIGGIN' CAVE?? The dark blanket of night had just fallen upon the mountain valley WHAT FRIGGIN' MOUNTAIN VALLEY?? DID I MISS SOMETHING?? and the moon hung high in the sky.
"Those there blankets look like a welcome mat to deamland." Said Jack with a yawn. Billy had already crawled under his blanket. The two were out like a light. Was electricity invented yet? Pretty sure it'd be more accurate to say something like: The two were snuffed out like an oil lamp...or something...

Here we will end for today. Stay tuned for installment four!

Oh And Last Night I Held A Baby Bunny

2008-06-13T12:29:00.000-07:00

I did.

He was mildly hurt and my Dad found him running around the street, liable to get squashed. He picked him up and put him in my hands.

The poor guy was SO scared, he didn't even try to get out of my hands. He was so small I could cup in my little bitty hands. I put him under some bushes and he was so scared he just sat there for a while with his little legs splayed out. I then gave 'em a nudge and he went into the bushes.

I'm a little worried 'cause I've heard that some mamas don't take babies with human smell back.

...I've decided that while my dad is on vacation I'm going to start a halfway house for injured baby animals.

Some kids throw parties when their parents are away...
...I'm going to rescue baby animals and put them up so he won't be able to say no by the time he gets back. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

This Was My Morning

2008-06-13T08:03:00.001-07:00

5:00am-Wake up.

No, no. I was not supposed to wake up at this time.

5:00am-Wake up. I wake up a lot during the night so I don't think much of it, until I turn over and go back to sleep. Can't. Too hot. Then too cold. Too much covers. Not enough covers. Cuddle with my dogbear. He's annoying with me. Ditch the dogbear. Need him back.

One of those kinds of mornings.

5:30-isham-Give up and get up. For whatever reason I am WIDE awake. I go downstairs to see if my Dad has left yet (gone to Mexico). He has. Left the garage door open with yet-to-be-named-bike (by the way the deadline is tomorrow so have your suggestions suggested) in plain sight. Grumble to self. Close garage door. Garage door can't close. Recycle bin in the way. Move recycle bin. Close garage door. The world is righted. Say hi to Molly (dog) who is looking out the window very confused wondering where my Dad went. Sorry, Molly. He left us for Mexico you're stuck with me. I love you, though I know you don't love me as much as you love him. Deal with it.

Go back upstairs. Contemplate getting back in bed. Not happening.

Turn on computer to check email and play spider solitaire (new addiction) (Thanks, Carly)

One new email.

It's from Netflix. Yes, Netflix, Au Revoir Les Enfants has arrived. I watched it last night. It wasn't that good.

Sorry boutcha.

THEN THEN THEN THEN THEN

THEN!!

My morning was saved!!!

By talking with someone awesome AND puppies.

Said someone awesome shared THIS site with me. Heck yes, it is a website with a daily puppy. This website is how I spent my morning. I just about went into a cuteness coma. A link will be posted in my sidebar as well, so you will always be able to find it if you need it.

Here are my favorites (if you don't care...you don't have to look. But personally, I would like permanent links to this guys and find that bookmarking them may be a little much):

FAVORITE ONE
(I think Roger is my favorite favorite. I want to steal him and cuddle with him and play with him in the park.)

FAVORITE TWO

FAVORITE THREE

FAVORITE FOUR

FAVORITE FIVE

Warning. Your heart is about to be melted in...
5
4
3
2
1
FAVORITE SIX

So this happened all morning.

I'm sorry...but thats just damn fabulous.

After an hour and a half of this I was in a bit of a cheerier dispostion and at 7:15-isham I went back to bed and was able to sleep until 9am. And it was a delightful sleep. YAY! Happy endings!!

Remember to play the name-bike contest! Deadline is TOMORROW and I've only got three suggestions so far. All right...tell you what: you have till MONDAY. That's right. No excuses. Extending the deadline till MONDAY. Three suggestions now...that means out of the 10 people who read this blog seven of you haven't voted. *Hint Hint*

Stay tuned...later tonight I will post the THIRD installment of Delivering Supplies to Union Soldiers. It's only going to get better. And by better I of course mean...worse. I think this installment may have to be a video dramatic reading. There is a possiblity for future celebrity dramatic readings of this story. Stay tuned for more.

Name That Bike

2008-06-10T18:46:00.000-07:00

Ok. So as much as I liked the size and agility of my brother's BMX bike...the comfort factor was pretty horrid. It was pretty much ruining all chances I ever had at bearing children if you catch my drift. Not that I'm in a hurry to become a baby factor, but I'm just saying...that junk down there works and little bro's BMX bike was not too comfortable for my ass or...other extremities.

So...

That's pretty bad ass, right?! The yellow was a little flashy for my tastes. I wanted the red but the red didn't come small enough. Even this guy feels a tad large for my impossibly slight self but riding it doesn't require the sacrifice of my baby-making parts, so for this I am grateful and happy.

Now, on to matter more important matters than a bikes affect on my baby-making parts...

HOLY SMOKES WHAT DO YOU THINK IT SHOULD BE NAMED?!???!!!

It's CONTEST time again, folks!!!

Any name will be considered but YOU have to submit your suggestions. I am putting the awesomeness of my new bike in your hands. It needs an awesome name. Once again, just to remind you...my settings are such that you do NOT need to be a member of blogspot to comment, so ANYONE can. This means YOU. Let's say that you should have your name suggestions suggested by this Saturday the *pause while I count on my fingers* 14th. Sound good? Good. Once again, there will be a results post once a winner is decided.

Yeah, I wasn't kidding when I said that helmet made me look like a huge dork. I think when I wear it people actually give me pity smiles because I look so ridiculous in it. Oh well, I will not be undone by a bike accident that spews my brains onto the pavement. Not on my list of ways I want to die or become a vegetable. And let's be honest my mind is damaged enough. Pretty sure it doesn't need blunt force trauma.

ACTION SHOT!!!!

Best.
Action.
Shot.
Ever.
I will be an action movie star at some point in my life. Hellz yes.
NOTE: Confusing Ideas, as you can see, does recommend ALWAYS wearing your helmet. Whether you're taking to the trails and rough terrain or merely riding up and down your driveway to compose lame action shots...you never know when the pavement will rise up and beat you over the head. Best to always be prepared.

Second Installment

2008-06-08T07:32:00.001-07:00

I am very proud to present the second installment of:

DELIVERING SUPPLIES TO UNION SOLDIERS OR WHEN 10 YEAR OLD AMY FANCIED HERSELF AN IMPORTANT WRITER

Part Deux

Read part one if you missed it!

Here

We

Go

Remember I'm adding my commentary in italics.

"I've decided...that y'all can go. But only if yous write to me as soon as y'all get to your Pa's campsite and promise you will be real real care-"

Her words were cut short by Billy and Jack whooping and dancing around.

"ful." Ma finished looking a bit angry.

Ma led the two excited boys to the backyard. The family lived in a nice little town called Nashville. So there's a note at the bottom of this page written in handwriting that reads: "Tennessee...for the North or South?" Heck. Yes. Clearly I hadn't gotten around to checking yet and changing the hometown of my characters to have them live somewhere like, oh...I don't know...Ohio. New York maybe? The Ardens lived in a sturdy red brick house lined with red, yellow and white daisies. Vines overtook the little white picket fence that enclosed their yard. Off in the corner was a barn which stabled their cow, Daisy, their horse Big Rred, two sheep and a goat named Harry. The family also had few chickens running around, but their numbers decreased every so often. The Ardens = non vegetarians, apparently. Ma took out Big Red and hooked him up to the family wagon. She loaded the wagon with food, medicine, blankets, and Ma's homemade sweaters. Plot hole: Where the heck did they get these supplies?? Do they have a store in their basement for situations like this?? Ma gestured the boys onto the old wagon. Ma cleared her throat to speak.
"You pa sent a map. Just follow like it says here. Take you 'bout 2 weeks to get there."
"How far is it?" Asked Billy.
"Down in Dickson." Said ma.
"Dickson?" Complained Jack.
"Hey, y'all were the ones who begged me to do this." Ma pointed out.
"She be right." Billy put in. SHE BE RIGHT??? What was I on when I wrote this dialogue??
"Don't you worry now, we'll be just fine." Said Billy
"Billy, you 'member what I says to ya 'bout driving this here cart." They exchanged their goodbyes and the boys were off. Tears tickled ma's eyes as she watched the cart disappear down the road.
"You promises me you wouldn't get involved in the war...now the whole family's involved." Ma said to Pa even though she knew he couldn't hear. DRAMATIC TENSION! MARTIAL PROBLEMS BETWEEN MA AND PA!! OH NO!

Ma had covered the floor of the wagon with straw, so the boys would be at least a little comfortable. Billy maneuvered the cart, while Jack sat quietly reading Pa's letter. Everything was quiet until Jack spoke up from his corner. "Do y'all think we'll see pa at the campsite?" He said this without looking up from the letter.
"Sure why wouldn't we?"
"Well, ya know he might be..." Replied Jack not even able to finish the sentence.
"Don't even think that." Said Billy and that was the end of that.

~~~

STAY TUNED FOR INSTALLMENT 3!

Little Baby Bird

2008-06-07T07:28:00.000-07:00

Well, this is only the second time I've biked to work and ALREADY I have a story. Good thing I made, "biking" a tag, huh?
This is a sad story, I should warn you.

So I'm biking today and I get maybe a block away from my house and this truck passes me on my left. I look up ahead and I see a bird in the middle of the road, just sitting there as birds often do. Except when the truck gets closer, I don't see the bird fly away. The truck just passes right over the bird (not smashing it) and keeps going. As I get closer, I realize the bird has not moved. I pass it, and it does not move as I approach either.

I turn around.

Pass it again. It's alive and "moving" but does not move out of my way of fly away even though I'm really close to it.

It's a baby. (It had feathers)

I put down my bike and approach it.

I can hear two other birds (Robins) going INSANE over my head.

The little bird does not attempt to get away from me as I approach it. It only does what I will call "bearing its teeth at me" meaning he opened his beak wide and lunged at me a bit.

I know at the very least, I have to get this guy out of the street. I contemplate taking him back to my house, but don't want to move him far away from his mother who is clearly the bird going insane over my head. SO I decide I'll put him under a tree off the side of the road.

I try to pick him up. His little baby beak attempts to bite my hand (sorry baby bird, no dice I could hardly feel it). He gets away from me and starts flapping his wings, which he clearly has not figured out how to work yet. Then I get scared because I'm wondering if I'm doing this bird more harm than good, like worried I'll break his wings or legs trying while he tries to get away from me.

I try to pick him up again, same thing, he falls out of my hands and is now laying in the curb, with his little wings splayed out.

Birds over my head-still going nuts. I was surprised I was not DIVE BOMBED.

I take a deep breath, go in and just grab the little guy, getting a good hold on him. I take him and put him underneath the tree. I wanted to put him in the bushes further off the road, with more cover but at that moment, the garage door to the house I was in front of opened. And I guy stepped out and here I am on his property holding a baby bird.

I put him under the tree, wondering if I should d something else.

And then I got on my bike and left.

Now I feel really really bad.

I mean, I'm just worried about the guy in general. But my house wasn't too far away. I'm sure the mama bird would have followed. I should have taken him home. OR at the very least, I should have found better cover for him and not put him six feet away from the road in plain view of a friggin' cat.

Dammit!

...sometimes I suck at life.

I hope he'll be ok. I mean, I know he won't be. He can't fly, has no way of getting back to a nest and clearly was hurt enough to be in the middle of the street letting trucks drive over him.

Dammit.

I feel so bad now. It was dumb to just put him under a tree...

Sad animals make me real, real sad.

Installment Number One!

2008-06-06T09:42:00.000-07:00

Also...I recently found MORE notebooks of mine from when I was young. These notebooks contain some short stories I wrote when I was young. I will share some of these complete with video in later posts. BUT in the meantime I do want to implement a new Confusing Ideas Since 1986 feature...So I found this story I wrote back when I was young (I was 10 or 11 when I wrote it) called "Delivering Supplies to Union Soldiers". I know. That title has you hooked already, right?? I bet you can't guess what it's about or what happens. I found this fine piece of literature, typed out and everything. It's 9 pages of pure genius, if I do say so myself. What I would like to do, is post a portion of the story in the next couple blog posts. Sort of like a mini blog soap opera. You'll have to tune in or rather...log on to learn the fate of the characters and outcome of the story. Sound good? Good.
It is with great pleasure that I present (presented exactly as written typos, misspellings, malaprops and ALL) part 1 of...

DELIVERING SUPPLIES TO UNION SOLDIERS OR WHEN 10 YEAR OLD AMY FANCIED HERSELF AN IMPORTANT WRITER PART 1

*side note...I will present my own commentary on the piece in italics.

And...ROLL IT....

"Mail's here Mail's here." Billy and Jack Arden shouted as they yanked open the mailbox and looked inside.
"There's just gotta be a letter from pa in here somewhere!" Jack said while throwing the rest of the mail on the ground.
"Are you kiddin' he has been fighting for us Unions in the Civil War for months!"
They both reached in and grabbed the last piece of mail. Billy scanned the return address, it said:
Philip Arden
Camp 4F Charleston, Virginia
52643.00 I have no idea what this number means or is supposed to be. Pretty sure zip codes didn't exist yet.
Billy stood there frozen with amazement. Then he snapped back to reality. Billy and Jack ran back to the house waving the letter high above their heads. When they reached the house Billy tore the letter open, letting the bits of envelope fall to the ground he read aloud: I think it's highly improbable that little Billy would be able to read. Oh well. I ask the audience for a willing suspension of disbelief.

Dear Ma, Jack, and Billy
The war is going like any other. So many men come thinkin' it's a game-most of em learn the hard way. The conditions are very poor. All wes gots to eat round here is stale bread and water. That is why I is sittin here writin to y'all. We need Billy and Jack to deliver supplies to us Unions. Um, ok. I LOVE that I chose to make the Dad sound like a hill billy IN HIS WRITING. Not only does this man speak in stereotypes he WRITES in stereotypes. (The stereotype of course being: people in olden days didn't know how to speak or write too good and ain't not as smart as us people todays). Now, of course when I hear or read letters written from this period I actually know how eloquent and well spoken people at the time were. Well. We all is got our stereotypes that need shattering. My stereotype of "people from the past is dumb" has done been shattered

"Oh can we ma ca we?" Jack cut in.
"I...I...I'll have to think about. Billy keep reading." Ma said trying to change the subject.
We're desperate. Men are not only dyin' of bein' shot but out a sickness too. We need food and medication. I know this is a hard decision, but more men are dying then that need to be dying. I love you all very much.
Sincerly,
Pa
At breakfast the next morning:
"Well may, did y'all think about it?" Jack asked hopefully
"Kep' me up all last night, but yeah I thought bout it." Ma answered?
"Well?" asked Jack while gobbling up this oatmeal and chugging a glass of milk"

~~~~~~

Here is where we will leave the story for today. Are you totally hooked?? Log on next time for the next installment of...

DELIVERING SUPPLIES TO UNION SOLDIERS OR WHEN 10 YEAR OLD AMY FANCIED HERSELF AN IMPORTANT WRITER

Movie Reviews!

2008-06-05T07:34:00.001-07:00

SO I just saw two amazing movies.

The first, was the one I talked about HERE. El Orfanato. I don't think I ever talked about how awesome it was...
It was awesome.

I also just saw this last night:

El Espinazo del Diablo (The Devil's Backbone)

Guillermo del Toro who did Pan's Labrynith (which is amazing if you haven't seen it) produced El Orfanato and directed El Espinazo del Diablo.
Both films are incredible and I highly recommend them if you get a chance to watch them. Both have elements of...well, I hesitate to call them horror because they're not at all what American horror films are like. These movies are less about blood and guts and violence and usually about something much deeper. Really, in the end, these films almost transcend genre and boil down to fantastic story-telling. Both films deal with ghosts and the supernatural-but they're just elements of the story instead of the full blown concept of the movie in general, right? Like...ok...watch The Ring (no, don't watch The Ring it's a dumb, stupid, crappy movie) and you get a movie about some video tape with a dead girl in it that comes out of the TV and...drowns you? Watch these movies and...I don't know...you get something way cooler I think. Ghosts, the supernatural are not the antagonist in either of these films. They're scary at times, yes. There are freaky parts in both that I jumped at BUT you discover as the characters in the film discover that the ghosts are not there to kill you seven days after you watched a video tape with fingers in a box and an upside spinning chair. I feel like both these movies treat ghosts/the supernatural with a great amount of respect and understanding-and I don't mean that from a freaky-deaky like "I believe in ghosts and think they're our friends" sort of point of view I mean it from a plain and simple story-telling point of view. It's kinda boring to watch a movie that's simply evil evil ghost vs. innocent, good people. It's much more interesting when you have enough respect for the story and characters to take a good hard look and blur those lines because nothing is that black and white.
And I'm going to shutup now.
Here's the point: I highly recommend these movies. del Toro is a genius. These movies are amazing.

Composed Upon My Arrival To Work After Biking Here

2008-06-05T06:48:00.001-07:00

So I biked to work today. I am so proud of myself. It's a little over three miles from my house to the theatre. I wasn't sure how long it would take little-out-of-shape Amy to bike here, so I of course gave myself WAY to much time. It only took me like 20 minutes to bike it! That's not too shabby, right?? I'm kind of excited and empowered about this idea of riding my bike all summer. I've been wanting to get into shape for a while and this might be the way to do it! YAY! My ass is going to be 10 kinds of fine come September. Look out! *Sigh* I've always wanted a nice ass. My dreams are finally coming true. And I won't even have to have surgery to get my nice ass. It will be nice because I'll have worked hard for it. And hard work paying off might be nicer than a nice ass...

As long as we're being shallow and talking about looks and physical features that shouldn't matter I gotta say...I kinda look like a giant dork in my bell helmet. It makes my head exponentially larger and my movements about thirty times more awkward than usual. BUT it does protect my noggin. And my noggin needs all the help it can get. Noggin might be my favorite word ever for head.

Since I have no bike to call my very own, I've decided to use my brother's long-abandoned-been-sitting-in-the-garage-for-four-years bike. Here's the thing: it's a BMX bike. Which means it ain't built for distances and I must say, even though my stubborn self INSISTED I'd be fine and there'd be NO reason for me to purchase a different bike-I might need to look into getting something a bit more built for my purposes of riding to work and not turning flips off vert ramps and breaking my collarbone. I mean...I made it here, it wasn't a bad ride but because it ain't built for distance-it has to be pedaled constantly. Like the word "coast" isn't in this bike's vocabulary. Which has it's upside of being a better work out for me. I guess I don't so much mind the constant pedaling as the lack of it being a comfortable bike to sit on. It just is not made to travel anymore than a few blocks.

So we'll see. I've talked to a couple people here and there on craigslist who are selling their old bikes but nothing's really jumped out at me. Maybe I'll see what kinda deal I can get at Wal-Mart. As much as I LOATHE shopping there and hate the idea that I'll probably get a bike assembled by children in Trejistan for 3 cents a day...second thought...I'll try craigslist again. And re-email this guy who lives near me who was selling his TREK bike for 120 bucks. I'm just a little worried it will be too big for me but who knows? Once I get a permanent bike-whether I end up just sticking with the BMX bike or picking up something else I may have to have a naming contest-so start thinking!

In a related tangent:
I LOVE SUMMER. I love that it is FINALLY warm in Chicago. Sheesh. It took long enough. I don't even care that is is 40 kinds of muggy and hot out today-I love it. It makes me feel like I'm somewhere tropical when it's like this. And when it's muggy out everything sweats-and unlike people when plants and trees sweat it smells lovely and my delusion that I am somewhere tropical is only encouraged.

In another related tangent:
So, in order to combat high fuel costs I am biking to work. Americans great and small are really hurting at the gas pump. There's this part of me thinks it would be kind of sort of AWESOME if people owned horses again and rode them everywhere. After all, if you read the article in my last post people are just dumping them out west. Those horses need love and a home we need to not use oil-EVERYBODY WINS. And I ESPECIALLY win because I've wanted a pony since about the time I had a concept of a pony.

P.S. It is with great pride that I officially make "biking" a tag on this blog. Between the eventual bike naming contest and the fact that I'm me and at some point or another a hilarious story is going to occur while I'm on a bike and the fact that I will probably wipe the heck out at least once this summer-it needed to happen.

Something Sad

2008-05-31T09:41:00.000-07:00

THIS makes my heart real real sad.

Huge Nerd

2008-05-28T12:55:00.000-07:00

So, while I was organizing and moving things back into the 'burbs I came across some old notebooks I used to keep. And by old notebooks I mean things I wrote in when I was like eight or nine. Of course, I had to share what I found with you.

HERE IS THE SET UP FOR SAID NOTEBOOKS:
It may come as a shock and surprise if I tell you that as a young child I was more or less a loner. I wasn't made fun of too harshly or socially ostracized. For the most part, it was a self-imposed loner-ship. I just always felt that I was a little different from most kids somehow, and consequently spent a lot of time alone. Or hanging out with my brother or cousin. It was alone or hanging out with my brother or cousin that I felt I could really be myself. I can probably count on two hands the number of times I went over to someone's house or someone came over to my house-and that's not a joke or exaggeration.

So...when I was a kid I was way into horses. I was way into animals in general. I wanted to be a vet. As such I was also way into science. I had a microscope which I frequently used and I also had a telescope because I really liked astronomy. So I always had a really hard time making friends because in addition to being a dorky oddball I was also totally and completely shy. I still am pretty shy to those who don't know me, but I've definitely gotten better over the years. When I was little, people were lucky to get two words out of me. I was known as really nice but really quiet and thus, probably a little misunderstood.

Ok. This is the kind of kid I was, right?

I spent a lot of time drawing.
I spent a lot of time reading.
I spent a lot of time with microscope.
And I spent a lot of time writing.

I like to think of my childhood as the gestation period for my artistry. (I said that in a really snobby tone in case you couldn't tell).

So I came across some of my old notebooks. And it's more than a little hilarious that they exist at all to begin with but it's also slightly hilarious how seriously I took myself.
I guess I considered myself a sort of Renascence woman...a lover of science, art and progress. Trying to unlock the mysteries of the universe at age eight.

HERE IS WHAT I FOUND IN THE NOTEBOOKS:

Ok. So in addition to the aforementioned horse notebook above, there is ANOTHER book or packet of horse notes (Which is composed of yellowing sheets of loose leaf bound together with brass brads. It bothers me that the sheets are yellowing. I feel old. Yellowing papers are what you find in the attic of your dead great-grandparents. Not in your own closet!!) ANYWAY what follows are selections from each:

Note the spelling of the word "Diagram"...DIEagram. Whoa. Sounds kinda ominous. My eight year old self is just letting you know...diagrams are a serious business.

Oh, great eight year old Amy. Thanks for letting us know that miniature horses require the same care as a full size horse. I always thought mini horses didn't poop or have to be fed. And also that their head should fit their body. Lesson from this page: mini horses must be be fed and if they have the head of cow this is probably bad news.

In this picture I brilliantly illustrate what a long thick mane looks like. In case you're wondering. This is exactly what it looks like: scribbles.

This page illustrates what can kill your horse. AND also what to feed him to make him grow big and strong. Separated only by one single, wavy line.

I never said I was insighful

Quiz Wuiz? Wuiz?? REALLY, eight year old Amy?? I think my reasoning for completely marring the spelling of "wiz" must have been that quiz has a "u" and wiz rhymes with quiz, so...or like when people spell night as "nite" or like when people purposely misspell things as style thing? Like...Kit Kat Klub?? I love that you can tell by looking at the "u" in wuiz that I clearly thought about spelling it correctly...so what I can gage from this is that I'm too smart for my own good??

Ok. I know "bomb-proof" must mean something in the horse world but I don't know or can't remember what it is. I just think it's hilarious out of context. Nowadays I think bomb proof is a little outdated and that horses should instead be terror proof. Osama won't get my pony!!!

Coftobable?? Iteaget?? Gentel?? Am I writing in english??!!?!

Good thing I found one of these in the back of one of the notebooks:

Ah yes. One of those at-home practice spelling tests my mom made me do. Well, I clearly needed all the help I could get. (Words I spelled wrong I had to write 10 times). Apparently in addition to have trouble spelling comfortable, intelligent and gentle, I also had issues with libraries, canaries and blueberries. I was a way special little kid.

And here is a random page I found in which I illustrate (literally) my observations of shrimp eggs from underneath my microscope. Each circle represents a different magnification. Yeah. Like I said...not many friends:

Things I Love About Being Home Episode #1

2008-05-28T11:07:00.000-07:00

So I recently (as in yesterday) moved back to my home in the suburbs with my Dad and brother. I'm sure I will soon be blogging hilarious stories about how we get on each other's nerves in a sitcom sort of way but for now...it's kinda nice to be home and living with people again.

Here's something I love about being home:

Spend an hour by yourself youtubing and you feel guilty about the time you've wasted.

Spend an hour with your brother youtubing and not only do you enjoy the wonders of youtube but the wonders of siblinghood as well.

I bet you're now wondering what my brother and I spent an hour youtubing on the couch this morning and my answer is quite simple: puppies and kittens.

You think I'm kidding. But oh no. I am not. This is why I love my brother: he's awesome enough to sit down with his nerdy older sister and laugh incessantly and hilarious videos of puppies, kittens, or puppies and kittens, or puppies and kittens duking it out in a mortal match of playfulness. My brother might have a chin up bar in his room and talk about things like building muscle mass and drinking protein shakes, but at the end of the day I know he'll be easily swayed to sit with me and watch youtube videos of animals doing hilarious and ridiculous things.

Here is the evidence of our youtube session. What follows is a sort of "best of" of what we youtubed.

This video, I'm not going to lie breaks my heart a little. It really, really does. Mostly because it's funny in that "break your heart" kinda way and makes me want to hunt down this puppy and hold him close to me and love him until the day I die. Warning: if you like puppies and/or do not have a heart made of stone this video will turn you into a puddle of mush (p.s. I've watched it no less that 20 times already):

I'm not really sure if I buy that the puppy is screaming "Elmo" but I am damn sure he's the cutest damn thing I've seen all week. And that even includes surpassing the cuteness of my own puppy. Seriously. And I love my puppy, but damn.

This one is pretty great. I love the one puppy that steps on the other puppies head. And then entire body. I love that there is like eight of them and they are still scared of the cat. Awesome:

This battle is epic and amazing. And I love that the kitten constantly surprise attacks the dog:

This one is absolute and total genius. I've never seen a video that so brilliantly captures what it is to be a cat:

This one is also pretty amazing. It does make me a little sad though because unlike the other this puppy does not seem to want to play. It makes me sad the little puppy gets pwned by the nasty cat:

Holy crap. My brother and I laughed and laughed:

Absolutely frightening and also makes me very sad that this cat is so angry. I would want to love this cat and make him believe in humanity again, but I also like my internal organs where they are:

This video is a-mazing. It's a little long but totally worth it. Or, at least it was worth it this morning as my brother and I sat on the couch for an hour promising ourselves "just one more, just one more." The first minute and half of this video is probably the best part:

...and again...

I can guarantee you right now you will have to watch this more than once.

Working With David In the Box Part II

2008-05-23T11:10:00.001-07:00

DAVID: Let's watch the trailer for The Strangers!!
ME: Let's not. I have it on my computer and I'm not even watching it with sound and it's freaking me out! Ohhh Liv Tyler is in it! Liv Tyler is pretty I don't want to see her die!!
DAVID: She doesn't die. They all go to a farm. And play...pictionary.
*We watch trailer. I'm standing next to him while we watch at a non-scary moment he jumps out at me. I jump 10 feet*
ME: Jerk!
*We finish watching the trailer*
ME: Hell no. No way.
DAVID: What do you want to go see?? Kung Fu Panda???
ME: No!
DAVID: Harold and Kumar??
ME: Definitely not!
DAVID: Narnia??
ME: (pause)...maybe a little.
DAVID: Uh-huh.
ME: There's sword fighting!!!
DAVID: Uh-huh. Whatever.
ME: But there's sword fighting! That's cool!
DAVID: Not as cool as live sword fighting in theatre. That's cool.
(Pause)
ME: Well, Timeline's running Mask of Zorro. That has sword fighting we should go see that!
DAVID: I didn't say I wanted to go see theatre with sword-fighting. I'm just saying it's better.
ME: Oh. Well, Raven is also running a show that's done by Babes with Blades.
DAVID: Oh yeah you'd love that wouldn't you????
ME: I would! I would!
DAVID: You'd think it was hot, wouldn't you??
ME: No, but I'd probably want to be them. AND the picture from the show makes me think there's lesbian undertones!!!!
DAVID: Duh there's lesbian undertones. It's called Babes with Blades.

Working in The Box With David

2008-05-23T08:54:00.000-07:00

So David and I were talking about scary movies. He was talking about trying to convince a friend to go see a scary movie with him. David was sad because much like me, said friend doesn't really like scary movies. Well here is where I should point that THIS is the movie David tried to convince me and his friend to go see:

Um...No.
No.
I will not pay 8.50 to hide in my hoodie.
Like I've said before I can do the ghost/supernatural/psychological scary movie. I can not deal with people wearing masks sneaking into houses to play games with and eventually kill the people inside the houses.
Can.
Not.
Do.
If I do then I will see people in the dark corners of my room late at night with butcher knives, poised and ready wreck havoc on my entrails all for laughs. I have too much to do in life, I cannot die at 22 at the hands of psychopath.
Anyway. So this happened:

DAVID: So he told me if we went to see it he'd have to hold my hand. And then he said he'd have to squeeze my hand. And I was like, 'Well, yeah me too!'
ME: You should always go see a scary movie with a love interest it's an excuse to hold their hand.
DAVID: I know right? 'I'm going to have hold you hand.'
ME: 'Um. Hi, I'm Amy. I'm going to have to sit in your lap.'
DAVID: 'I'm going to have to clutch your arm.'
ME: 'I'm going to have to clutch...you.'
DAVID: 'I'm going to need to be cradled...like a baby'
*Insert me pantomiming with sound effects being afraid of a movie and clutching and invisible person whose lap I am sitting in*
*David and I cracking up*
ME: Why don't we have a TV show?

So I'm pretty much over my annoying sickness. But there are still some vestiges of it that remain. My voice isn't totally back to normal, I sneeze and cough occasionally. And sometimes I make noises that are in between a cough and clearing of the throat.

*I make such noise*
*David turns and stares at me and gives me the gross face*

*I make such noise a few moments later*
*David turns and stares at me and gives me the gross face*
DAVID: You're like a horse. Just making occasional random noises.
*I laugh and delighting in the notion that I could be a horse start to make horse noises. David gives me the "oh no you didn't" face*
DAIVD: No.

So...apparently there's a big bag of shelled peanuts in the upstairs office. David brought down a cup full and asks me if I want a peanut. I say yes and he gives me some.
ME: Oh. They have shells.
DAVID: Yeah, is that ok?
ME: Oh yeah. It's just weird. Did we hire and elephant or something?
DAVID: Yeah, haven't you heard?
ME: No. I haven't met him yet. What's his name?
DAVID: Stampy. We love him.
ME: Aw. It's sweet we're being diverse and hiring elephants. Where does he work?
DAVID: Marketing.

*CUT TO*

David had gone upstairs to talk to someone. I am sitting alone in the box on the phone with a costumer. Suddenly, something comes flying through the box window. I try and ignore it and continue with the order. Something flies through the window again. I assume David is shooting rubber bands at me because he was doing so earlier for about 10 minutes. I suddenly see David at the window, grinning as he throws another what I figured out were peanuts through the window at me. He comes through the door cracking up.
DAVID: I thought you'd think Stampy was coming to visit.
He walks in the door and we start to pick up the peanuts from the floor. We find two. We know there were more than that. David walks back to his desk
*Insert sound effect of peanut crunching under his foot*
DAVID: Found it.

Some Good Conversations I've Had Lately

2008-05-21T09:36:00.000-07:00

AT THE STUDIO
(All the following studio conversations happened on the same day).

LITTLE GIRL: Can you reach that flower??
(I reach up and touch a flower we having hanging from the ceiling of the studio)
ME: Yup.
LITTLE GIRL: Can you touch the ceiling?
( I reach up. No dice.)
ME: Nope. I'm too short.
LITTLE GIRL: Will you ever be able to reach it?
ME: Probably not. I'm all grown up so I'm done growing.
LITTLE GIRL: You're done growing??
ME: Yup. I'm all grown up.
LITTLE GIRL: Oh. (Pause) Are you a Dad?
ME: No, I'm not a Dad.

ANOTHER LITTLE GIRL: Are you a boy or a girl?
ME: I'm a b-(oops) girl. I'm a girl.
ANOTHER LITTLE GIRL: (Muy perplexed) You're a girl?!
ME: Yes.
ANOTHER LITTLE GIRL: Then how come you got short hair?
ME: 'Cause I like me hair this way.
ANOTHER LITTLE GIRL: You like your hair that way?
ME: Yes. I think it looks cool short.
(All the little girls at the table look at me like I'm off my rocker)

YET ANOTHER LITTLE GIRL: Are you a boy or a girl?
ME: I'm a girl.
(Little girl elbows the little girl next to her)
YET ANOTHER LITTLE GIRL: See! I told you.
OTHER LITTLE GIRL: How come you where boy clothes if you're a girl.
(Ah. Touche)
ME: These aren't boy clothes.
(Girls look at me like I'm nuts, I gesture to my beat up, old, paint-ridden t-shirt)
ME: This is just a t-shirt. It's my paint shirt.

AT HOME

JIM: Yeah, that girl is such a slut.
ME: Jimmy!
JIM: What?!
ME: That is not a nice word.
JIM: What?! It's true!
ME: I don't care it's not a nice word to use when talking about a woman.
JIM: But it's true! She sleeps with everyone and anyone on campus.
ME: I don't care! It's not a nice word.
JIM: So what should I call her then? A prostitute that you don't have to pay?
ME: Jimmy!!
JIM: What??? Aim. Aim, she's a slut. She sleeps around. It's true.
ME: Well, it's not a good word to use when talking about a woman, number one. Number two, how is it any of your damn business what this girl does in bed and with whom? She doesn't even go to your school!
JIM: It's my business when she does it with everyone. AND she goes to school with Katie [friend of his].
ME: No. It's not. It's not your business. You shouldn't walk around calling her a slut!
JIM: Yes, when she sleeps with everyone. It's everyone's business.
ME: No it's not. And it's not nice.
*During the course of the conversation my brother had been readying himself to go for a run. Which involved applying sunscreen only to his ugly-ass tattoo*
ME: That thing is so ugly.
JIM: You're the only one who doesn't like it.
ME: I'm entitled to my right not to like it. It's ugly.
JIM: (Mocking me) Oh, but Aim ugly isn't a nice word.
ME: No, slut isn't a nice word. Ugly is a legitimate word to describe the hideous monstrosity on your back.
*Jimmy starts to laugh*
JIM: I hate you.

So Much To Blog About

2008-05-21T07:21:00.001-07:00

Holy smokes so much to blog about today!!

Ok. First, we must talk about how my mind plays tricks on me/messes with me as if I were a five year old.
So...my next movie to arrive on Netflix is Guillermo del Toro's El Orfanato.

I don't like slasher scary movies, but every once in a while I enjoy a supernatural scary movie that's more psychological rather than, "Billy Bob was shot here nine years ago and his restless spirit is haunting the sorority house he once lived in, join us as Billy Bob peeps in on collegiate girls having half-naked pillow fights and eventually reaps his revenge in a bloody massacre. Girls will get stabbed in the shower and during sex, please come see the movie that will teach young boys to associate sex with violence!"
Also, this movie is a foreign movie. I like foreign movies. Especially those of the French and Spanish variety. And especially those of the Guillermo del Toro variety. Pan's Labyrinth, anyone?
So David saw this movie and said it was really good but freaky. So I added it to my Netflix a long time ago making sure it was at the bottom so I wouldn't have to watch it for a while. It has finally made it's way up to being my next movie. Netflix sent me a little email saying, "We're shipping El Orfanato Tuesday!" And then I remembered. And it was too late to replace it with something less frightening.
I have not seen the movie yet.
The movie has not even arrived at my house yet.
But the mere prospect of watching the movie alone in my apartment...gave me nightmares last night.
Swear.
Good job, Guillermo del Toro. I haven't even seen El Orfanato yet and I'm already having El Orfanto themed nightmares!!
And yes, I probably will watch it when it arrives tonight.
a) Because I sort of kind of want to see it.
b) Because I am stubborn. "I can watch this movie by myself and go to bed a few hours later by myself and exist in a big apartment by myself for the next few days. I'll be fiiiine. Pssh."
c) Because it's coming whether I like it or not and I only get two movies a month and I payed for it dammit.

...so think of me tonight, guys. I'll be watching a hella scary movie all by myself. 'Cause I'm a big girl. Right?? I'm...a...big girl. Oh man. I wish I was still ten and had the excuse to run to my parent's bedroom when I was scared and sleep in their hardwoord floor. Oh yes. When I was little you had to be pretty damn scared to go sleep in Mom and Dad's room 'cause it might sleeping the night on a hard floor and waking up with a smashed face and backache.

Also...turning on the lights at work involves going in a dark theatre. You have to go into the tech booth which has large windows that overlook the theatre. Standing in one of the rows was a wardrobe mannequin. When I saw it I freaked 'cause I thought there was someone inside the theatre. A moment of staring led me to the conclusion it was a wardrobe mannequin and...uh...not a ghost.

My brain is weird.

Ok...in other news about REALLY scary things...GAS PRICES.
Holy friggin' smokes.
Chicago has the highest gas prices in the NATION.
GREAT!
I made the mistake of filling up in the city the other day and payed 4.24/gallon for regular unleaded. 4.24!!! SHEESH. The 'burbs are still real expensive. At least 4.00/gallon. Usually it ends up being 4.00 and some cents.
I heard on the radio today that oil is 130 bucks a barrel and it's estimated to top 150 a barrel by the end of the year. Which means...5.00/gallon gas?!?!?!?!?! Maybe?! I don't know I'm bad at math but that's about what my calculations gave me. YIKES!
I am not excited to move back to the suburbs but I am excited I won't be commuting 20miles each way to work anymore.
I've also decided I'm riding my bike EVERYWHERE this summer. It's less than a mile to the studio and only about three miles to the theatre from my house, so there's really no excuse not to. And I won't put myself into credit card debt filling up my damn car.
And what does our fair President do to remedy this malady??
He goes to Saudi Arabia and asks the King to increase oil production.
What a stooge. Of course he's gonna say, "Um...NO!"
What we should be doing is figuring out ways to maybe not be so DEPENDENT foreign oil and let's face it...oil in general. We would all be a lot better off if we worked on ways to not need oil. Think about how awesome that would be! And the polar bears would thanks us too!! It's like eating two pies with one fork: we don't suffer so oil companies can get richer AND we help the environment. (AND if you ask me we take an imporant step in solving a problem in a way that benifits the vast majority of people and NOT the freakin COMPANIES!!) (I'm sorry, I'm sorry but I'm currently going through my "Capitalism is the root of all evil phase.")

In other NON scary news:
So the other day I was on youtube in order to find clips from Young Frankenstein...THIS:

Led to THIS:

Which leads me to:
Oh my God! I wish I could move like this man. And also...I want his outfit.

...Also, not to alarm anyone but all of Young Frankenstein (the movie version not the crappy Broadway Musical version) is available on youtube. Run.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

ARIANA: Because peeccaan pieeee tastes better than homophobia.

Truer words were never said.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

2008-05-16T09:59:00.000-07:00

Phone rings. I have a cold, thus am not speaking very well my nose is stuffed. Use your imagination.
ME: Thank you for calling the box office. This is Amy how may I help you?
MAN: Abee I've never heard that name before. That's so interesting how are you Abee?
ME: Oh. My name is Amy. I'm sorry I have a cold.
MAN: Abee?
ME: Amy. A-M-Y. Excuse me I have I cold.
MAN: Oh, I'm sorry.
(Proceeds to ask me weird questions about the theatre. Says that Bruce Springstein or Paul McCartney would like to play at Mteropolis. Right.)
MAN: Well thank you Amy, you've been very helpful. I'm sorry you have a cold and I hope you feel better.
ME: Thank you.
MAN: What is this it's not even a summer cold? It's like a spring-winter cold?
ME: I guess. I don't know.
MAN: I bet you got it from your boyfriend.
ME: Oh yeah. You're totally right.
MAN: You know he's no good you've gotta get rid of him. Get rid of him to so can get better. No messin' around.
ME: I'll do that.
MAN: Well ok. You've been a great help. You have a great day.
ME: You too.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
On all levels.
Don't try and schmooz me man. I cna see right through you.
And don't talk about me messin' around with my boyfriend!
a) Inapprops
b) Gross
c) CREEPY!

Chicken and Maximus

2008-05-16T09:04:00.000-07:00

This is what we look like when we look hot and don't wear sombreros. Just sayin'. Also, thanks for bending down and making me look like the taller one, Chicken. I really 'ppreciate it.

What Else Is Annoying About Being Annoying Sick??

2008-05-16T02:22:00.001-07:00

It wakes you up at 4am. The inability to breath coupled with the inability to find a comfortable spot coupled or I guess not coupled because now there's more than two things...menage a trois-ed with a sore throat = me blogging here now.

Booooooooo...

I have to work both jobs today for an all day work extravaganza. Breathing ability would be nice. I'll stop at the store on my way and pick up some decongestants. Yes. That is what I will do. I am going to stop this blog now before it goes any further because lord knows 4am and being annoying sick can't be a good writing combo and will only lead to me saying something dumb, awkward or both.

You know what's weird? See, I can't shutup can I?

I kept having dreams about driving to work. Particularly, about this one stretch of road I normally take that is now under construction and I always forget to take a different way so than I have to take a detour that is stupid. And then it started to rain and I couldn't see.

...I can hear the morning birds singing. This is something nice about being up at 4am.

Annoying Sick

2008-05-15T19:20:00.000-07:00

I am annoying sick.

Meaning...I mostly feel fine, I can go to work and generally exist in the world but my throat is all swollen, my nose is stuffed, I'm sneezing, I have sinus pressure and my eyes feel all goobery.

Annoying sick.

What's annoying about being annoying sick?

Well, you're not really sick. So you not only still have to do stuff (like work, chores, going out) but you sorta want to do stuff. It's not like being totally wiped out and unable to move. BUT people look at you funny and are like, "Stay at least 10 feet away" because between the constant sneezing and the goobery eyes you look about ready to pass on something deadly.

What else is annoying about being annoying sick?

Well, I constantly want to drink cause my throat it sore. So I do because liquids are also good for you but this also leads to the constant need to pee. Seriously, I am peeing like Seabiscuit every half an hour and I'm sure that's more than you ever wanted to know about my bladder habits.

What else is annoying about being annoying sick?

I hope it's not leading to being laid out sick. I don't get sick all that often. I am not the type of person that can normally spend copious hours of the day sleeping so I know I'm sick when all I do is sleep and so far that hasn't happened yet.

So phew.

Being annoying sick, I did about the only thing a person can do while annoying sick:

Picked up two movies and frozen Amy's Mexican Enchilada bowl and cuddled up on the couch with my favorite blanket.

At any rate I hope this little thing goes away stat and does not develop because being annoying sick is...well, annoying.

In other news after many people telling me I have to see these two movies I watched Before Sunrise and Before Sunset in a two movie romance night extravaganza.
They weren't bad.
But the way people talk about these movies I expected to be blown away.
I'm sorry but I'll take Amelie any day over this stuff.
Not that they're not decent well-written and well-acted movies. I just think Amelie:
a) Holds much more true to my own ideas/hopes/dreams/whatevers about love.
b) Is way more fun.
c) Doesn't take itself as seriously as these movies do.
d) Is much more imaginative. And you may say to me, "Yes, Amy, but Before Sunset/Sunrise is much more realistic." And sure, I'll give you that. But I'm an imaginative person with strange things constantly playing in my head so for me, the imaginative is much more true than the realistic.

CONCLUSION: AMELIE PWNS ALL ROMANCE MOVIES. EVER.

Seriously. I did not like romance movies until I saw Amelie because no romance movie I saw-gay or straight-spoke to that type of love I wanted or saw for myself. Seriously, guys. Watching that movie was akin to figuring out I was gay. I watched it and was literally like, "Oh my god. It does exist."

I appreciate Before Sunset/Sunrise for their cinematic value. But they do not speak to me as a human.
Sorry.

That's my story on that.

I just took and Advil Cold and Sinus which I'm pretty sure is Awesomeness in tablet form but also has the ability to do strange things to my body and mind so I am sorry if this post is weird and/or doesn't make sense.

AND SINCE I'm talking about weird things happening to my body it's also worth it to mention here that I once again proved my absolute and total INABILITY to hold alcohol. I think I mentioned it vaguely earlier, but the night Sehaj and Meghan were over they had the same amount to drink as me and held it together like classy, sophisticated adults. I on the other hand...put on a cowboy hat and had a hard time walking a straight line to the bathroom (more like a wide arc). Troubles speaking. Troubles getting Sehaj and Meghan to take me seriously for the hour or two I was tipsy. Troubles taking myself seriously. I kept telling them, "Guys, I'm sorry. I'm so bad at college. I am so bad at college. You think I could handle two drinks. I am. So bad. At college." They spent the better part of the evening laughing and making fun of me. It's okay. I deserved it. Because it's also worth mentioning while drinking the two drinks I drunk I was also:
a) Eating food.
b) Drinking water.
Seesh.
I am totes classy.
Cheap date. That's what everyone keeps telling me.
Great.
Great.
Great.
It's not that I want to be able to drink eight drinks in one night and be fine. But you know...the ability to have more than one without the consequence of making an ass of myself would be nice. I'm just saying. For life. In general.

...What else is annoying about being annoying sick?

You have no where to go or nothing to do because you feel the need to sit home alone so as not to spread your disease and end up writing blog posts that probably go are a little too long-winded, a little too detailed and a little too ridiculous.
Oh well.
Here's to being annoying sick...