The Non-Packing Packing Diary

7:21 p.m. Home from work. Finally. Grr.

7:26 Check email.

7:30 Get out suitcase. Attempt to rip old airport baggage tags off.

7:32 Get scissors.

7:33 Cut tags off. Peel sticky ends apart and stick on cat.

7:36 Vodka.

7:39 Open suitcase. Find old batteries and mini-shampoos.

7:40 Put pink pinstripe PJ bottoms and pink tank top in suitcase. Adorableness.

7:42 Cannot resist adorableness of pink pinstripe PJs. Put on.

7:44 Put less adorable blue jersey PJs in suitcase. Because really.

7:40 Look for Tuesday and Wednesday's Care Bear thongs.

7:43 Still looking.

7:47 Where? Where?

7:49 Find them in sock drawer. All is well. Also find Strawberry Shortcake PJs. Put on. Pink pinstripe PJs back in suitcase.

7:51 I wonder what the weather is like in Pensacola?

7:53 75 degrees. Pink pinstripe PJs replaced with Simpsons Mr. Sparkle tee-shirt and white men's briefs.

7:57 Frantic trying on of everything in closet, on floor and in laundry pile. Hate everything. Have seriously nothing nice to wear. Am poor little girl from Les Miserables with the rags and the whatnot.

8:02 Is Juicy Couture business casual?

8:07 Oooh dinner!

8:14 Oooh vodka!

8:17 Everything in closet makes ass look huge. Hate huge gigantic ass and size four clothes from last year. Hate all-you-can-eat Indian buffets.

8:19 Ok. Brown pants with rose sleeveless top for tomorrow. White dress capris and black sweater for dinner out. Light blue skirt with striped shirt for Wednesday.

8:20 No.

8:23 Brown pants with cashmere sleeveless top for tomorrow. Black pants with blue sweater for dinner out. Navy pencil skirt with tan top for Wednesday.

8:24 Hate!

8:26 Black pants with rose top for tomorrow. White capris for dinner out. Teal striped skirt and cardigan for Wednesday.

8:28 Hate everything I've ever owned, ever. Except for that one shirt I put in the donation bin last fall which would have solved everything because it was perfect. Perfect!

8:30 Stalemate. Suitcase still only contains one thong, tee-shirt and briefs. Will throw all clothes in and continue battle at hotel tomorrow.

8:32 Why don't I have any pretty bras? Why?

8:34 Vodka! Bladder! Oh my god!

8:39 Oh my god! I totally forgot about that one black skirt I have! This changes everything!

8:42 No. No it does not.

8:45 Dude, I have not even begun to think about shoes.

8:49 Vodka hitting head. Ass is bootylicious. Am J-Lo, bitches.

8:56 Think VP Mike would recognize the dress I wore to work today? It's so pretty.

9:03 Am taking the following hair products: Bed Head Dumb Blonde shampoo & deep conditioner, Small Talk thickifier, Control Freak anti-frizz serum, Head Rush shine spray, Sexy Hair soy milk smoothing cream, Cat Walk something-something hair spray. You know, just the bare essentials.

9:13 Just had argument with Jason over toothpaste. One tube in house. Argued that hotels do not provide toothpaste, will not remember to buy tube at airport. Squirted adequate amount into plastic baggie and told him to go to CVS tomorrow if he needs more. Would think I was asking him to nail his damn self to a cross for the dental hygiene of mankind.

9:15 Going to miss him sooooo much.

9:19 If I bring sandals? I must touch up my toenails.

9:28 Oof. Should have painted toenails before having vodka.

9:34 Shoes. Oh my god!

9:37 Am bringing two books for plane. Big Fish and Virgin Suicides. Both movies now, yes, shut UP. Reading VS because just read Middlesex and am in love with Jeffrey Eugenides and want him to write hundreds more books so I can marry them.

9:45: Vodak. Hate clauthes agin. Love cat thogh!

9:53: Holy shit. Have to leave at 6:30 a.m. to get to goddamn Metro on time to get to goddamn airport for goddamn flight. Should be in bed. NOW.

9:58 Jason is doing push-ups. Silly. Squashy is beautiful!

10:00 I have no idea what I've packed.

10:07 Pick fight with Jason using time-tested "Why don't you drive me to the airport anymore?"

10:14 Where the hell are my sunglasses?

10:17 Lint roller! Need that. Shove in suitcase before Jason sees and complains about lone lint roller going away with the toothpaste.

10:22 Where are you, sunglasses?

10:27 Ouch. Walked into closet door. Hurt toe, perhaps fatally.

10:29 Toenail polish is chipped again.

10:34 Holy mother of god. I left my plane tickets at work.

10:43 Fuck fuck fuck.

10:47 Fuck.

10:51 Oh. Here they are.

10:56 I'm very tired.

10:58 Sunglasses are gone forever. Toenails look like shit.

11:00 Family Guy is on! Yay!

11:04 Better pack some Excederin though while I'm thinking of it. And cereal bars.

11:05 Check email. No one loves me.

11:13 Very tired now. Think enough nonsense and whatnot for now. Can't make sentences more. Going to Florida with Mr. Sparkle tee and no shoes. Whatever.

Haiku Smackdown, New & Improved

(Okay, I just posted this over at the Thursday Haiku Smackdown's official site, but I like it so much I'm posting it here too. Reruns! But since I'll be away until Thursday morning I didn't want all you Amalaholics to go cold turkey, so here. Drink, for this is my body. Which is so going to hell now. Byeee!)

Greetings 'Ku Fans, I'm your host for this week's Smackdown and as such, I am the boss of you. The very bossy boss of you.

After consulting with the Powers That Be over at the JLB, we've decided to up the ante a little this week. You've proven yo'selves to be quite the proficient 'ku writers, so this week? It ain't gonna be about the numbers.

After last week's spectacular showing, the world knows we can rapid-fire 'ku like nobody's bizness. We can do hundreds and hundreds of haiku in a span of a few hours. We can 'ku about the weather and our lunch and how much we hate meetings and blah blah blah. While fun for those in the heat of the haiku hotness, its kinda boring for anyone who has to poke in occasionally and scroll through those hundreds and hundreds of bland little verses.

So this week, we're going for quality of 'ku, not quantity. You can still post as many as you want, of course, but think before you do so. Be funny. Be witty. Be snarky. And above all, be snarky and witty and funny.

I'm also giving you a theme, because I'm mad (mad!) with power. Also because Zoot made me an author on this blog, and not you. This week's theme is: POP CULTURE 'KU.

Now that's pretty broad, so let me give you some examples.

GOOD:

I miss The Muppets.
The theme song is stuck in the
windmills of my mind.

BAD:

Work sucks! I hate my
boss! He's ugly and now it's
raining wah wah wah.

GOOD:

"You're fired," said Trump
to Awful Assorama.
Music to my ears.

BAD:

Hey, I just farted.
And my bra hurts my boobs, yo.
Where's my vibrator?

I trust you get the idea.

We also shall be crowning a Grand Haiku Master. This was something we planned to do after the very first Smackdown, but we were too busy doing heroin. Or something. Whatever. We forgot. But now we remember!

The esteemed title of Grand Haiku Master will go to the 'ku-er who makes us laugh the most, using the strict and precise criteria of snorting liquid out the nasal passages. Inane little 'kus about your socks or bladder functions will not win you the title. Hilarious little 'ku about Judith Light fan art or Duran Duran lyrics? Will totally make us want to marry you.

If the Master has a blog, we'll make you a little banner image thingie (well, Chris will, as soon as I tell him about any of this) to display on your site and lord over your friends and coworkers. If you don't have a blog, well, why the hell not? Get with the '00s, people. Even Jan Brady has a blog now, for crissakes.

Anyway. This Thursday. Amalah.com. Bring your sense of humor and your puns and your Jerry Orbach farewells.

Floreda

I'm going to Florida tomorrow morning. For work, though, before y'all amp up your "Yay! Have fun! Get some sun, etc." comments. I'll be back late (laaaate) Wednesday night.

FIVE REASONS WHY I VERY MUCH DO NOT WANT TO GO ON THIS TRIP:

1) I'm going to miss not one, but TWO episodes of American Idol. I'm going to miss Gilmore Girls and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Scrubs. The Apprentice. South Park. These are two momentous days of television and my lone TiVo will not be able to handle it all. Decisions must be made. I may also, a little bit, miss my husband.

2) I'm going to be in the Atlanta airport for a mere 48 minutes tomorrow, and then again on Wednesday. 48 minutes of being so close, and yet so far away from Miss Doxie and all the fun we could have in the non-airport part of Atlanta.

3) I have to write new and revised rules in preparation of Thursday's Haiku Smackdown, to be held right here. But because of this trip I need to write them today. And I don't wanna. I also need to write a clever and witty Actual Smackdown post for the Actual Smackdown, then save it as a draft and set a publishing time because Lord knows I ain't getting up Thursday morn at the crack of dawn to placate all you krazy 'ku-ers.

4) Packing. I hate packing. If I am ever really rich I am going to hire someone to pack for me. A full-time packing person. He or she will pack my lunch, suitcase, gym bag AND switch between the black and brown purses for me each morning to match my shoes.

5) I'm so sleepy today that the best post I could come up with was five reasons I don't want to go on this trip...and yet I could only think of four reasons. And this could very well be the last post until Thursday. And this could very well be the worst post ever. You are all going to leave me and find another blogger that you love more than me while I'm away and there's nothing to be done about it.

I hate you, Florida. You also look totally fat today.

A Memorandum

To: All Users of the Ladies’ Room, Which Would Mean, Basically, All Ladies.

From: Amy, Queen of Everything, Esq.

Re: Toilet Seat Covers

The paper toilet seat covers supplied in our restroom are a wonderful public service. No one wants to share ass-germs with anyone else, no matter how delightful we may find you otherwise. While they are thin and flimsy, they are a comfort to many of us who secretly think that you? Are skanky.

However, it has come to my attention that someone(s) (somebody(s)? some dipshit(s)?) is/are taking a paper seat cover and then changing their mind and shoving the cover BACK into the dispenser. I can tell you’re doing this because I am not an idiot.

Are you taking two? Are you deciding at the last minute to live life dangerously and risk the ass-germs? I do not know. But what I do know is that I want you to quit it. Your hands have touched the seat cover, and therefore I do not want that seat cover anywhere near my ass. Because you are skanky, dirty girls and I have Germ Issues.

Look, these paper toilet seat covers are not a precious resource. Go on, treat yourself. The company will never know that you flushed an extra seat cover. You do not have a daily seat cover allotment. And they’re so wafer-thin? It’s not even a 1,000,000,000th percent of a tree. So just flush the extra one. It’s the circle of life.

I’m sure if we all work together, we can all enjoy a pristine, uncrumpled and untouched toilet seat cover on every visit. Because this is America, and we waste things. So trying to salvage a crumpled toilet seat cover? Is freaking communism, people.

Thank you for your time, germies.

Today I Shall Eat Lettuce Like a Little Bunny

It's Friday. Friday Friday Friday.

Friday.

Aaaaand, it's beautiful outside, which put me in the BEST MOOD this morning. I was all set to write a post about bunnies and sunshine and the Return of the Cadbury Creme Egg.

But. Then. (You knew the happy couldn't last, right?)

I decided today would be a lovely day to break out some capris from last year. I have these linen ones that are very earth-mother-granola-I-heart-the-universe and I wanted to wear them. Well guess what?

Right, you saw where this was going before I even started. They didn't fit. At all. The side pockets did that horrific stretch thing that I cannot even describe...it's like the poor pants call in the fabric from inside the pockets as reserves to try to stretch around your hips. I got them zipped and all but then you have the squoosh factor above the waistband. And since I was determined to thoroughly destroy the happy sunshine and puppies vibe I had going on this morning, I looked in a full-length mirror after getting them on.

The one thing I can say? Is that my calves and ankles are very nice and skinny. From my knees down? I am rocking those capris. Let's all focus on Amy's pretty ankles today.

Anyway. So now I'm in boring old khakis that are also feeling tight because my fragile little ego (snort) has been shaken to its very core.

And the little zip-up hoodie I'm wearing smells like an ashtray. I just now noticed. Ew.

So it's Friday. Big freaking whoop. Somebody go buy me Cadbury Creme Eggs.

Today is Why I Created the Got Nuthin' Category In the First Place

Jeez, where have I been all day? Well, two places. No wait, three. Shit, four. Ok. Four places.

1) Haiku Smackdown at Zoot's place. At last count? Over 580 haikus, not including people with the mad multiple verse post action. Tis a site to behold.

2) Work. Duh.

3) A bridal shower for a coworker that I COMPLETELY forgot about until 10:30. The shower was at 12:30. I freaked out about a gift (in haiku form, of course) until 11:30 when I went out and got the always thoughtful and appropriate gift of a wad of cash. Then I ate some cake.

4) Over at JLBrigade.com, composing what may be either the most brilliant photo essay of my life or the post that will totally get my ass sued by crazy Who's the Boss? fans. Confused? Well then, I think you better go read it for yo'self.

Haiku Smackdown IV: I Know What You Did Last Thursday

Thank goodness it's Wednesday, because Wednesday means I can be lazy and just post some crap about tomorrow's Thursday Haiku Smackdown.

Tomorrow morning, get your 'ku on over at Zoot's. She'll have a post and a little fluffy comments board all ready for you.

She also made the Smackdown its very own website! It rocks and is so pretty. It also very nearly killed her, so y'all better sing her some major 5-7-5 praises tomorrow.

Now (and I know this may confuse some people) HaikuSmackdown.com is NOT going to be hosting the Smackdown. Like, ever. Because all of us? Are dirty, filthy hits-and-comments whores. We're not giving up our mad Thursday traffic just to make it a little easier on you. Sorry about that. But HaikuSmackdown.com will be your portal to all things haiku -- results, haiku count, permanent archives, and of course, the location of the next Smackdown. So love it, bookmark it, sacrifice small animals to it, whatever. Just don't post your 'kus there because we'll laugh at you.

Obligatory crap for newbies: Haikus are poems. They don't...wait, I don't need to tell you all this basic stuff anymore...it's all on the website! Whee! So go to HaikuSmackdown.com (what's that address again? HaikuSmackdown.com?) and read about Smackdowns Through History, all our stupid rules and also how brilliant Miss Zoot is.

The "My Pictures" Folder of Doom

While I'm off thinking of something Fun and Interesting to write about, here are some completely random photos I found on my computer. There is no narrative thread to this photo essay whatsoever. I have no idea when most of these were taken or why I have them on my computer at work.

Especially the ones from my friend's bachelorette party with the stripper. I really shouldn't have those here. And I'm not posting them either. He wasn't very good-looking and the one of him on my lap has someone's thumb in the way, so you're really not missing out on much.

Anyway. What? Oh, right. Pictures. Also: anyone with a dial-up connection is pretty well screwed. Sorry.

Here's my brother, my nephew and me.

Isn't he cute? And aren't I tan? And don't you just love when a photo comes out just blurry enough to be really, really flattering?

Here's another nephew.

You know he's one super-cute kid when he looks totally adorable while holding some kind of vile shrimp-insect thing.

Here's me with an award I won for work.

Second place in Best Financial Advisory Newsletter, beeatch. I was beaten by Investor's Digest of Canada. Which is neither a newsletter nor non-Canadian. So the whole competition was a sham. A sham!

Here's me at a nightclub.

This was actually a nightclub on a Disney cruise ship. My company took all award-winning editors (and all other non-award-winning employees) on a cruise last September for the company's 30th anniversary. It rained a lot. And there was more drinking than one would usually expect in such a wholesome atmosphere. I also called Wendy from Peter Pan "jailbait" to her face.

Here's me and a lot of snow.

Some of that snow is totally yellow. Oh yes.

Here's Jason and a lot of snow.

All that caution tape around the biggest drifts? Just totally made me want to jump in.

Here's me and my parents' cat, Mollie.

Mollie is the middle cat of my parents. They also have Mazie, who is so rarely photgraphed one could doubt her existence, but she is real and she is mean. The baby is Maggie, who I have not met yet but am assured is not mean. But I've also been assured that all the M names are not confusing, so we all know my mom lies a lot.

Speaking of liars, here's me, my mom and Max.

Three generations of crazy in comfy pyjamas.

Amy vs. The Department of Education

OR, AMY IS PROBABLY AN IDIOT BUT WE'RE BLAMING SOMEONE ELSE ENTIRELY

So I got this letter from the Department of Education on Friday, saying that the automatic debiting of my student loan payment had been halted.

(PANIC ATTACK #1: Oh shit, oh shit...did I change my information when I opened that new bank account? Did I just default on my student loans? Oh shit.)

The second sentence of the letter said that the automatic debiting of my student loan payment had been halted because the loans were no longer in repayment status.

(JOY ATTACK #1: Holy shit! I've paid off my loans! I'm done! No more loan payments ever!)

The third sentence said that I still owe approximately eleventy zillion dollars, but that I had been granted a deferment or forbearance.

(PANIC ATTACK #2: Oh shit. They've screwed something up. They've given me someone else's deferment and if I stay quiet about it they'll show up at my office and arrest me for fraud.)

The fourth sentence of the letter and all sentences afterwards were all blah blah blah form letter talkyspeak.

So I went to the Department of Education's lovely website, and after trying every single username/password combination I have ever used, I finally got into my account.

Sure enough, I'd been granted a deferment. It did not say why. It did not even really say what a deferment is. But it did say that I don't owe them anything until July 20, 2011.

(JOY ATTACK #2: Holy shit! 2011? That's like...(counting on fingers)...SEVEN YEARS? I don't have to pay anything for SEVEN YEARS?)

Then it said that interest will continue to accrue on the unsubsidized portion of my loan during the derferment period. Fuckers.

So this won't work at all. I mean, I make a nice living. Jason makes an even nicer living and we had no pre-nup. I can afford the stinking $135.33 monthly loan payment. It gets automatically taken away every month and I never miss it. Poof. Bye-bye, money. So when it comes down to it, I'd rather just keep paying the stupid loan off rather than defer and still be paying it off when I'm 57 years old.

Right. So. I shall call and tell them to where they can shove this derferment nonsense.

Ring Ring.

Blah blah blah menu options talkyspeak. Whatever, give me a human. Zero pound, zero pound, etc.

Human: Hello, this is Jason, how may I help you?

Amy: Hee. Jason.

NotThatJason: Excuse me?

Amy: Sorry. Yes, I just got this letter? That said I've been granted a deferment? But I don't want it.

NotThatJason: Excuse me?

Amy: Deferment. That I didn't ask for. Get rid of it. I want to keep paying the loan off.

NotThatJason: You know deferments are good things, right? It means you don't have to pay anything.

Amy: But I want to. I have money. Take it.

NotThatJason: Well, you can keep paying the loan off if you want to.

Amy: But you turned off my automatic debity thing.

NotThatJason: Right. But you can still mail in a check.

Amy: A...check? Like...with paper?

NotThatJason: Yes. You can pay the interest with a check.

Amy: Um, right. See, I will not remember to mail in a check. Why can't you just make things like they were before?

NotThatJason: We received notice that you're enrolled in school at least part-time this semester.

Amy: OH! Right. That.

NotThatJason: So you qualify for an in-school deferment.

Amy: Yeah, but...I'm taking some classes...but I graduate in May. And I'm not like, a real college student. I'm not poor. There's no need for this 2011 nonsense.

NotThatJason: We're required by law to grant you the deferment.

Amy: But. I. Don't. Want. It.

NotThatJason: You'll save almost 60% with the deferment.

Amy: Wait, what?

NotThatJason: But if you want it gone, fine, I'll take it off. Hold please.

Amy: Wait! 60%? How?

HoldMusic: doo de doo doo de doooooo staticstaticzzzzz

NotThatJason: Ok, I've gone ahead and removed the deferment. It should take about two weeks before it takes effect.

Amy: What was that you said about 60%?

NotThatJason: During a deferment, the government pays the interest on the subsidized portion of your loan. If you continue to pay the interest on the unsubsidized portion, more money will go towards your principal and you'll finish paying the loan off faster.

Amy: Oh. OH. I didn't, um, know that.

NotThatJason: (silence.)

Amy: See, I didn't really understand what a deferment was.

NotThatJason: (silence.)

Amy: I just did something really stupid, didn't I?

NotThatJason: Well. Hmmxzzerp.

Amy: Can I have my deferment back?

NotThatJason: Hold please.

HoldMusic: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzstaticstatic do dee doozzzzzzzzz

I did get my deferment back, and I realized that I can still just have my bank mail a real-life check for me every month automatically, and also that I should read more and not talk on the phone to people, ever.

But in my defense? The letter they sent me did not say ANYTHING about saving money or mailing paper checks or the government paying for things. And NotThatJason did not explain a damn thing either. I still, just now, Googled "deferment" to make sure that I was explaining it right. He obviously realized he was dealing with a complete and utter moron who needed things explained to her and chose not to. I hope they recorded and monitored our call. Grumble, grrr, etc.

(And then YesThatJason pointed out that next semester? When I'm not in school anymore? They'll probably take the deferment away from me again. So if I hadn't called I probably would have just been all, "Oh good, they fixed it" when I got the next letter. Welcome to the futility that is my life.)

Baby Max and the Unbearable Cuteness

So I was going to do this whole Max-related post to preface the following, but I? Do not have time. Plus it's starting to sound all cutesy-wutesy crazy cat ladyish, so obviously I want to punch myself in my own damn face now. Maybe some other time.

For now? I think this is all the cutesy-wutesy-ness the world can handle. And by "this" I mean Max's baby pictures, from when he was all brand new.

These were taken in the dark times. The pre-digital camera times. They've been preserved on a FLOPPY DISK. They're old. And blurry. But still? So cute.

So very, very cute.

CLICK HERE FOR THE CUTENESS, SUCKERS