eye. rolls.

remember how i hate the new blogger?
well i just have one more complaint to make before i get onto much more exciting things.

here is my complaint.

instead of saying "0 comments" it now says "No comments" when no one has commented.  now maybe i am just a weirdy, but seeing 0 is much less depressing than seeing NO.  as in NO ONE had anything to say about this post.  NO ONE cares.  melodramatic much?  okay maybe.  but i'm over it.

moving on...

so my sister reminded me that i left out a very important story in my last post.  so i thought i'd share.  this is what went down.

it was play time.

and i was playing.

with the kids, obviously, since that was my job.

so i'm playing.  and i'm pretty sure i was working on a puzzle with M.
then he said something that 1st graders say, i don't even remember what.

then this happened:

M: miss amy, what does this mean?
cue the most dramatic eye roll of your entire human life.  (i swear his eyes rolled into the back of his head and then around again.)
me:  why would you ask that M?
M:  because you just did it.

oh my gosh.  remember how i am the worst person ever sometimes?  this is one of those times.  i mean, who rolls their eyes at a 1st grader?  oh, just me.

now please let me try and explain myself.  i have a good excuse, i promise.

that excuse being, i have absolutely no control over my eye rolls.

i am serious, people.  it is so ingrained in me that i cannot help when it happens.  they just roll when stupid things happen.  or obnoxious things.  or annoying things.  or funny things.  so basically i am rolling my eyes all the time.  and i do not even mean to nor do i know that i'm doing it!  i have been working at a camp this summer (i'll post details about that another day), but honestly, at least five of the guys i work with have commented on my eye roll.  and i don't know what to tell them.  one of them said he was going to try and figure out what the eye roll meant.  i said, good luck, i do not even know what the eye roll means.

and just so you know i'm not a crazy person, let me just tell you that my sister has this same habit.  maybe she has more control over it than i do.  or maybe not.  i've never actually asked her about it.  but that's irrelevant.  what's relevant is, that the eye roll is so popular it has a name.  "the allen girl eye roll."  yeah, we're cool, i know.  i mean, who else can say their eye roll is so (in)famous it has a name??

sometimes.

sometimes, i really miss my old job.
you see, i used to be a teacher's aide.  best job ever?  i think yes.

because kids are the greatest.  and spending all day with 3-5 year olds is pure bliss (most of the time).  also hilarious.  because they say things like this:

T:  "coffee is like hot cocoa but with lots more bubbles!"

S:  "when my mom makes disgusting food, we give it to our dog."

L:  "we are gonna be best friends forever.  come on carson."
C:  "um. my name is connor."

out of nowhere, i hear the loudest screeching noise of my entire human life.
me:  "B, what was that?"
B:  "that was a dying cat."

me:  "A, i like your haircut."
A:  "yeah!  i'm not wolfman anymore!"

T exiting the bathroom:  "there's no more pee left."

H had a cut on his finger so i asked what happened. he looked at me. then at his finger.  then back at me, with a thoughtful expression.  and then he replied...
"well...my skin fell off!"

BURRRRP.
me:  "A, what do you say?"
A:  "thank you!!"
i was going for excuse me, but i'll take it.


after telling B's mom about her accident at school, her mom turns to her and says:  "B, i told you if you pee on their floor you can't come back to school."
B's quick reply: "but it wasn't on the floor!  it was on the chair!"
technically, it WAS on the chair....


and of course, my personal favorite:
N:  "i don't like you miss amy.....(long, dramatic pause)....
I LOVE YOU!"

i love you too, kiddos.  and i miss you.  lots.

sweet dreams.

do you ever have things happen in your real live life.  and it feels like it's happened before.  or you knew it was going to happen.  like you dreamed about it.

i mean, i guess that's kinda what the term de ja vu is for.

but this isn't like chunks of time i'm talking about here.  i'm talking about small, insignificant things.  like opening a new toothbrush that is blue and feeling like you knew, you just KNEW, that was going to happen.  like you dreamed about it.

because if that doesn't ever happen to you then i think i am officially going crazy.  because it has happened to me quite a few times lately.  trippy.

kamikaze.

it is deathly hot outside these days.

and it is only going to get hotter.  because that is what happens when you live in arizona.

another thing that happens when you live in arizona in the summertime is you get to see lots of pigeons.
dead. pigeons.
in the middle of the road.

i used to wonder why the number of birds escalated in the summer months.  then i figured it out.  it's because the heat causes them to either a) be unable fly fast enough to get out of the way of moving cars.  or b) have heat stroke mid-flight and fall from the sky into the middle of the road.  and then people run them over.  and they die.  dead.

now, up until this day, i was proud to say i never caused the inevitable death of one of these poor pigeons (and i use the term "poor" loosely since we all know i'm not really that torn up about a few dead birds).  but that ended today.

let me just tell you what happened.

i was driving along in my car.  jamming to carly rae jepsen, as is my usual.  when all of a sudden, a bird flies right into my car.  but this pigeon does not take the usual route and hit the windshield.  oh  no.  this stupid pigeon smacks right into the driver side window.  as in, if my window had been rolled down this bird would've straight up hit me in the cheek.  this also means that i did not see the bird coming.  and consequently, the smack it made scared me.  bad.  i may or may not have screamed.

also, i may or may not have killed the bird.

RIP kamikaze pigeon.  no doubt you will be joined by many friends as the temperatures rise.

put a ring on it.

so probs you should all prepare to judge me.  because what i am about to tell you is shameful.

so here's what happened.

i was at a fireside tonight.  being so righteous.  and i ran into a friend.  okay, so she probably is more of an acquaintance than a friend.  but that's irrelevant, really.  here is what is relevant:  the last time i talked to her, she had just gotten engaged.  so i went up to her and was like oh hey girl heyyy!  how are the wedding plans going?

she responded by saying nothing.

instead, she just lifted her left hand for me to see.  no more ring.

now, my first thought should have been, oh poor thing are you okay?  or maybe, um.  this is awkward.

but do you wanna know what really ran through my head when she showed me her bare left hand...
phew.  she got rid of that heinous ring.

OH MY GOSH.  am i just the most terrible person ever?  i think maybe.  at least the most unsympathetic.

now, do not worry.  i did not articulate my thoughts to her.  because that would just be the ultimate rude.  but as long as we're being honest here, her ring really was my least favorite engagement ring i have ever seen in my entire human life (and i have seen some pretty terrible rings, lemme tell ya).  totally not my style.  i would never wear it.  probs if a man proposed to me with the ring her ex proposed to her with, i would say, baby, i'm glad you liked it enough to wanna put a ring on it (cue beyonce dance move)  BUT that ring is hideous and unless you exchange it, i would not marry you.

okay, now judge away.

and pray the man who proposes to me (someday...) has fabulous taste in engagement rings.  else we may have a problem.

cupcake girl.

so i was partially in charge of this social tonight.

i had to run the cake walk.

you may be wondering if this social was for young children, considering there was a cake walk.  i will tell you, it was not.  it was for young single adults.  as in, 20-something year olds.  we are really cool.  obviously.

so i'm running the cake walk, which was actually a cupcake walk since i wasn't about to make cakes to give away.  no way, jose.  so it was cupcakes.  but all if this is pretty irrelevant information.  the relevant information is, i was running the cake walk and this guy comes up.  we start talking.  and then he was like, "you were in my math class in high school.  i probably don't look the same, but you do.  except your hair isn't blonde anymore.  it's red."

whoawhoawhoa.  excuse me, please.  my hair is not red.  i mean, it's not blonde anymore.  he was right about that much.  and it was nighttime.  so maybe he has a valid excuse for thinking my hair was red.  but not really.  because, hello, he took calculus in high school.  this kid has a brain.  and yet, he does not know what the color red looks like.  i am seriously concerned for him.  i mean, how does a grown man not know one of the primary colors?  i do not even know.

all i know is that my hair is not red.

just thought i'd clarify that.  now i am done.

except one more thing, the reason this post is called cupcake girl is because as i was leaving the event, this guy yells "hey cupcake girl!" from across the parking lot.  and how i knew he was talking about me and decided to turn around and acknowledge him is beyond me.  but i did it.  cool story, huh?

yeah, i thought so.

hughugkisskiss,
cupcake girl.

layout

here's the thing. i have never complained about f book's changes to their layout. i mean, i get over those changes pretty quickly considering how little time i spend on the website. oh wait, probs i spend way more time on the facebook dot com than i should, but that's not the point. the point is, i have never said excuse me please mr. f book man whose name i can't remember, can you stop changing the layout of facebook? because i could really care less. however, i feel the need to complain for just one short second about the new blogger layout. i'm not sure i can get over the fact that when i press "enter" as in, new paragraph, it does not go to a new paragraph. now maybe i am just seriously technologically challenged. scratch that, i KNOW i am seriously technologically challenged, but it should not be that difficult for me to start a new paragraph on my blog post. it just shouldn't. also, full disclosure here, when the new layout was introduced, it took me a total of four clicks, FOUR CLICKS PEOPLE, to "view blog" correctly. nothing should be that hard. and i refuse to blame this entirely on my stupidity. i flat out refuse. now, speaking of laying out, i totes need a tan. so bad. how do i know i need a tan? i will tell you. last week i was getting ready to go out and my mom walks in my bathroom. she looks at me as says dangggg girrrl you is WHITE! okay, so probs my mom does not really speak like that. although let's be honest, it would be pretty entertaining if she did. but regardless of the exact phrasing of her sentence, she did tell me i was white. and then yesterday when we were walking to church she said girl, you need to get you's a spray tan. (again, not sure why i feel the need to make my mom sound like an uneducated gangster/hick speaker. i assure you, she is not. but that is not the point. the point is...) MY MOM told me i needed to get tan. not just a tan, a spray tan. as in, let's resort to the quickest method of dewhitening your skin possible because you are pastypasty white. do not even worry, i will not be getting a spray tan. but i will be getting a real live tan. not sure when. not sure how. considering i work all the day long when the sun is shining. but it is going to happen. and that is all i have to say about that.

wardrobe.

my wardrobe is empty at the moment. like literally, empty. where are all your clothes, girrrrl? oh, you know, just in the laundry hamper. nbd. confession: sometimes i'd rather just buy new clothes than do laundry. it happens. speaking of which, i am in desperate need of new tops of the summer variety...

want a good laugh?

this is probs the most hilarious bulk email i have read in my entire human life. pretty sure i cried from laughing so hard the first time i read it. and the second time i read it. so i had to share:

Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife.
A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer.
The effects of the Tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety...??
WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home... I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.
AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.
I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised.
Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and Tazer in another.
The directions said that:
a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant;
a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; and
a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.
Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say, 'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it.
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and...
HOLY MOTHER. WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION. WHAT THE... !!!
I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs! The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.
Note:
If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a Tazer,
one note of caution:
There is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor!
A three second burst would be considered conservative!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.
* My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace.
* The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was.
* My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching.
* My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
* I had no control over the drooling.
* Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure, and my sense of smell was gone.
* I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came from my hair.
I'm still looking for my testicles and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!
PS: My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!
If you think education is difficult, try being stupid!!!!



if you don't find this hilarious, your sense of humor needs improvement. that's all i'm saying.

why? oh, why?

two posts in one day.

whoa.

is it the end of the world or something?

no. i'm just feeling the need to ask the cyber-world a question. that question being... wait for it.... wait for it...

WHY oh WHY do text greetings and salutations seem so much more personal when a person's full name is included? we're not just talking first names here. we're talking the whole. entire. name.

as in,
good morning peyton sawyer!
OR
hey brooke davis!
OR
sweet dreams, haley james.

i mean, those sound so much better than,
good morning peyton!
OR
hey brooke!
OR
sweet dreams haley.

(and yes, i just used OTH names. don't even judge me. but we all know those full names are ESPECIALLY good because all of their last names resulted in one of their children's names. i mean, one time it was cute, but after three...can we find another creative outlet, please. sorry for the tangent.)

and so my question for all two of my readers out there is WHY is that? or am i a cray cray because i find it so much more personal and cute? i'm hoping you don't say the latter, but if you do i would understand.

and you're welcome for the two posts in one day. i know how much you love reading this. oh wait...

p.s. sorry for not going by my whole what i learned from who theme these days. i'm kinda over it. although that makes the name of this blog kinda weird. especially since i don't have a husband. but i'm kinda over that too. (both the weird name and lack of husband. ;) ) (and yes, i just used a winky face. again, don't judge.)

hat hair.

so i nanny for this family once a week.

it is great.

but the greatest thing about it is playing catch with the littlest girl. she is 2. and whenever we play catch, she HAS to have her hat on. it's this navy baseball hat with a pink bow. most adorbs. no hat=no playing catch. it's as simple as that.

also, equally great is learning dance moves from her. probs she can bust a move.

okay, that is all.

a minor slip up (pun intended).

so i had a grad school interview on monday.

i knew about it for two weeks, and to say i was stressing is an understatement. i mean, this interview determined my future. no big deal, right?
wrong.
HUGE deal.

my biggest worry? what to wear. duh. because naturally these professionals are going to be most concerned about what i'm wearing not what i say. so i planned and prepped. i had the perfect outfit picked out. i laid it all out the night before to be extra prepared. for some reason i had this huge fear that i was going to forget my shoes and/or my slip. so i made sure those were out and ret to go.

then i went to sleep. and had a nightmare about my interview. the first question they asked me in my sleep-interview was what "TEM" stands for. um. no clue. they informed me it stood for the university of communications. UGH. HOW DID I NOT KNOW THAT?? my dream-self berated me for my stupidity. (fyi, i looked up TEM on google dot com when i woke up (so i would be prepared if/when they asked that to me because my dreams are so inspiring). obvi it doesn't stand for university of communications. in fact, it stands for some middle eastern country or something like that. they did not ask me this question in my interview (shocker, i know) but anyways...)

i woke up. laid i bed. you don't care. blahblahblah.
grabbed all my necessities and headed out the door. 2 hour drive to tucson. drivedrivedrive. oh wait, we're 20 minutes away from the school and all of a sudden it hits me. you, IDIOT, you forgot your slip. i brushed the worry aside because how could i forget one of the things i knew i was going to forget?? i couldn't. because i was prepared.
except i wasn't. i looked in the back seat for my outfit (i couldn't drive in it and get it all wrinkled, silly. presentation is everything). NO SLIP. CRAP. now the interviewers are going to be able to see through my clothes and they'll think i'm a slut and tell me to get away from their university because they don't accept such revealing people. this is the thought that ran through my mind. among others...

thank the heavens there was a kohl's nearby. (fyi, wal mart does not sell slips. went there first.) so i took a minor detour prior to my interview. and good thing i did. because they loved me! and probs that had everything to do with my outfit not being see-through. i can't really think of any other reason why they would have thought i was amazing enough to accept. yes, ACCEPT. as in, ACCEPTED to grad school.


i'm brilliant. shh...

baggage claim.

i decided the number one thing i hate about being single this week.

now, i am not one of those people who complains about being single all the days. there are actually quite a few things i love about being single. married people who say marriage is the greatest thing ever invented, don't freak out. it's not like i don't want to get married. it's just that i'm enjoying the single life.

with one exception.

called flying alone.

why do you hate flying alone, girl?
is it because you hate sitting next to strangers?
no.
is it because said strangers ask the strangest questions and can be somewhat annoying at times?
no.
is it because you're sick of the male flight attendants hitting on you?
no.
(and no, i'm not making this up. a male flight attendant DID hit on me this one time. how do i know he was flirting? let's just say he brought me a cup filled with gummy bears. who does that? a southwest flight attendant who is clearly flirting with me, that's who. and can i just say, that is the kind of flirting i am definitely not opposed to--free food.)
well if it's none of those things, what could it possibly be?

i will tell you.
it's called having to heave my hugenormous carry on suitcase above my head and into a tiny little compartment where it barely fits BY. MYSELF.

i am weak.

how can you expect me to enjoy doing that? especially in front of hundreds of strangers who judge me with their judgy eyes for not being stronger? (okay so maybe they don't have judgy eyes. but then again, maybe they do.)

it is hard. and it makes me light headed. and it is so not enjoyable. and then i see all these couple-y people where the man is like, "oh sweetie, is that bag heavy? let me just get that for you." and then he proceeds to lift the bag with one finger. because he is so masculine and strong.

i need me one of those men. forget dating or marrying him. i just want a personal male assistant to fly with me so i don't have to lift up my bag. that's all i'm asking for.

and for those of you who would tell me to just pack lighter because then it wouldn't be such a problem...
to you i say: fitting it in a carry on sized bag was difficult enough. who do you think i am? superwoman? um. no. because if i was superwoman i would be able to lift my own bag regardless of the content weight. that's all i'm saying.