Of Mice (and Roaches) And Men

I had no idea that roaches could tell time.

I can't say I'm surprised, of course. As in my recent epiphany about mailer-daemons (mailer-daemi?), I'm well aware of the organizational capabilities of the powers of darkness. I'm just saying that I much preferred dwelling in blissful ignorance.

Here at 202 Flatbush, we have a resident roach named Stan. He works alone, fortunately, and seems to reside only in our bathroom... and none of my roommates have seen him for weeks now. I, on the other hand, have seen him three times this week alone. Normally I would consider the possibility that Stan was a figment of my imagination, or part of a very vivid dream. However, the last time that I saw him the door jamb got in the way of my rapidly flailing limbs and left me with a very tangible piece of evidence to the contrary (in the form of a colorful bruise on my left forearm). Upon further investigation, I realized that the reason why my roommates have probably not encountered Stan recently is that I've only seen him between midnight and 1:00 am, when my roommates are asleep. Why is it that Stan chooses to manifest only between these hours? I can't imagine. Frankly, I'd rather not imagine. All I know is that in the nanoseconds between making visual contact with Stan and creating an Amy-shaped hole in the bathroom door... I can see the plotting in his roachy eyes.

Do roaches have eyes? *pause for thought*

Even if they didn't, and the alleged "plotting" that I saw in Stan's eyes was actually a well-placed speck of dirt, that does NOT dissuade me from believing that these midnight appearances are more than mere coincidence. Stan is not the only Creature of Darkness that has invaded our domain-- several months ago there was Norm and Babycakes and several of their minions.

What NOT To Say When A Friend Text Messages You, Panic-Stricken, Because A Mouse Has Just Run Out of Her Closet at Midnight And She Tells You She Is Standing On Her Bed Armed With Only a Flashlight

(these were actual responses given)

• Just pray him out.
• Well, coax him into a corner and catch him. Do you have any Tupperware?
• HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I do love my friends dearly, but there was some serious ball droppage here.

Regardless, there was a very obvious pattern of calculation in Norm's maneuvers from the very beginning. There was "Just Disgust" (appearing for the first time on TOP of our kitchen counter), "Element of Surprise" (sending two cronies to get caught in a glue trap and somehow sliding said trap so that it would be within inches of Amy's feet when she sat down at the computer) and, of course, "The Decoy" (allowing a compadre with similar coloring to get caught, making us think that the nightmare was over). "The Decoy" failed miserably however... Norm was a dark-skinned rodent, and his poorly chosen decoy was clearly mulatto.

Even though that particular tactic failed, the war waged on for weeks and caused irreperable psychological damage. I could just see Norm sitting at his Mac somewhere behind the walls of our living room, receiving updates from Personnel and checking his Human Distress Meter before a debriefing with the infantry.

See, this is just one more reason why I believe that there are some creatures that fall outside of God's original plan for the earth. Think about other creatures that might end up inside an apartment. Take flies, for example. What do they do when they find themselves indoors? Either head immediately for the nearest lamp and scald themselves to death, or attempt to fly out a closed window over and over again until they knock themselves unconscious (or are helped along by a flyswatter or, depending on the patience level of the homeowner, an unabridged dictionary). CLEARLY no intelligence is involved here. But roaches? Rodents? They bide their time... wait for the proper moment... and then strike. They must be receiving their orders from SOMEwhere.

Which is why I believe that, rather than having been created by God on the sixth day of creation like all of the nice creatures such as bunnies and panda bears... some creatures came about as a direct result of the fall of man. Seriously, can you imagine Adam and Eve fellowshipping with, say, a louse? No, no, no. It must have been that, just like death, certain things came about as a result of sin.

Adam: *crunching* Mmm, great idea, Eve. This apple tastes GREAT!

Eve: See, if you'd just LISTEN to me once in a while, you'd AAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEE!!! WHAT IS THAT HIDEOUS THING???

Adam: Hey, I thought you liked it when I wore my hair this way.

Eve: Not YOU-- THAT!!! It's hideous! Whoa, and it's FAST! *jumps up on tree stump* KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!

Adam: Sorry, the first murder of the Bible is reserved for our son.

Eve: What's the Bible?

I know, I know. It might be a bit theologically unsound. But come on, people... if any creature can embody sin, it would be a roach or a rat. Unfortunately for Adam and Eve, the Rat Zapper (www.ratzapper.com) was not invented until 1994. I'll spare you the details but let's just say that Norm's minions have returned to their maker... whoever it may be.

Or it could be that I live in New York City, whose official population would quadruple if roaches and rats were included in the census, and that I should stop whining and pray those rodents out of my apartment. Well, if THAT be true... then how do you explain THIS???

Amy's Great Adventurette XXXVII: Norm's Revenge

After a long day of helping Zakiya and Jeff move out of their apartment, I was trudging back up the stairs after bringing down another armful of goods to be loaded into the van. I stopped to chat with Z for a few minutes, making sure that all was well with the last bit of packing, and I even managed to avoid tripping over the doorway that had bested me seven other times that day. Feeling somewhat proud of myself for that small accomplishment, I grabbed a couple of garbage bags and started to make my way down the stairs... when I felt a strange sensation on my right foot. It felt like I was dragging something on my sneaker. Perhaps a stray paper towel, or a plastic bag? Right before I looked down, I remembered thinking "it almost feels.. sticky."

There, stuck firmly to my right sneaker... was a glue trap.

".... um .... Zakiya ....?"

Zakiya walked out of the kitchen, took one look at the situation at hand, and said, "This is N.G. Not Good."

No, seriously, Zakiya handled the situation extremely well and managed to come rather quickly to my aid, despite laughing uproariously. I would like to take this opportunity to commend CatchMaster, Inc. for the fine quality of their product, because it was nearly impossible to get that thing off of my shoe. After a great deal of straining and the strategic use of a paper towel, I was free. I tested a couple of steps and it felt like I had just stepped in gum. I smiled bravely and thanked Zakiya for her help as she threw out the offending trap and then made it almost to the refrigerator before succumbing to another bout of laughter.

It was funny, though, because as I started toward the steps again, it was my LEFT foot that started feeling sticky. I mean, I've heard of phantom pains but that's a little excessive. Just to make sure I wasn't losing my mind, I looked down at my other sneaker.

".... um.... Zakiya ....?

By this point, I thought that poor Zakiya was going to die. I don't know how she even made it back out to the hallway to help me scrape off YET ANOTHER glue trap. And, in case you haven't assumed this already, yes, these ARE the same sneakers that were featured in "Putting My Best Foot Forward."

Now tell me that this wasn't an OBVIOUS revenge attempt by the sin-spawned vermin whose comrades succumbed to my Rat Zapper. I'm sure that Norm enjoyed every moment as he watched via video conferencing before powering down his iBook for the evening.

Well, it's almost midnight, so I might as well go check on Stan. Babycakes, incidentally, was the name of the perp that came out of my closet that fateful evening. I knew that HE wasn't Norm because Babycakes was white and only half Norm's size. At least Norm is an equal opportunity employer.

A-Musings II: Gotta Go To God's

Please don't misunderstand. The fact that I've posted A-Musings for two straight weeks does NOT mean that I haven't done anything foolhardy in two weeks. Au contraire (French for 'whatev'). In fact, here's just a smattering of oopses that I've accomplished since the shoe incident:

• Locking my keys in the car ONCE AGAIN while taking a friend to the doctor's office.
• Waking up one morning to find five insect bites on myself in the shape of the Big Dipper (sort of like crop circles... but not.)
• Walking around my neighborhood for 15 minutes because I couldn't remember where my car was.
• Arriving home at 5:30 am after the Transitions All-Night Prayer Meeting and realizing that my house keys were sitting upstairs on my bed.

So don't worry. Things are just as they should be in Amyville. In fact, there was a perfect AGA incident that occured on Friday, but the circumstances must remain classified until next month.

So while you wait.... let's muse over some A-Musings.

******

My spiritual gift is E.

While you're chewing on that, I'll give a quick shout out to Nana, who has re-claimed her life after spending 25 hours per day studying for her MCAT... and also because she is the ONLY person who posted a comment after reading "Reject Demons and Ram Rights" *ahem ahem*. Also, just to keep you posted on previous events, I have since returned to the Jersey Gardens Mall and exchanged the two right shoes for a right and a left. The next day, I went out to play softball and forgot to change into my cleats, and got dirt in EVERY POSSIBLE CREVICE of those shoes.

But back to E. See, I have an uncanny yet unsurprising ability to fail tests that don't have right or wrong answers. It's incredible, really. For example, I took a test a few weeks ago to determine which careers I was best suited for. It was a simple test, asking questions about my likes and dislikes, values, personality type, etc. When I received my computerized results via email, I read a statement that basically said (in lots of technical jargon):

Scientifically speaking, you shouldn't be able to exist.

Well, that's about accurate. I've always said that I can singlehandedly disprove Darwin's Theory of Evolution by my mere existence. If survival of the fittest were true, I would SO not be around right now. However, I think they were more referring to the fact that my answers were seemingly contradictory and my personality type was undefinable... so they couldn't really give me results.

But don't think this is the first time that I've confounded a test of this nature. Some of you may remember the Spiritual Gifts inventory that Brian gave out at Transitions a while back. In case you weren't familiar, it was basically a questionnaire that helped to show you what some of your spiritual gifts might be and then gave some ministries that might be a good fit with a person of that particular gifting.

This was very exciting to me, as I had no clue what gift I might have. The gift of Foolishness wasn't listed, so I figured this might be an opportunity to branch out and fan into flame some of those other gifts that might be lying dormant. (I've now sat here for about 30 seconds, laughing hysterically at the word 'dormant.' I have no idea why.) I finished up the questions and then began adding up the numbers. The higher your number, the more you line up with that particular gift. If I remember correctly, which is unlikely, a score of 9 or higher indicated that you might be gifted in this area. When I finished, I sat scratching my head... because my paper looked something like this:

Gift 1: 5

Gift 2: 5

Gift 3: 5

Gift 4: 5

Gift 6: 5

Gift 7: 0

Gift 8: 5

Gift 9: 5

Gift 10: 5

Amazing. I rightly deduced that I probably should not pursue a career in Gift 7, but after that I was a bit stuck. I thought that maybe my computation was inaccurate or that I wasn't taking the test correctly, so I waited a couple of weeks and tried again-- same result.

Not a problem, people! I have since discovered that I have one of the cooler spiritual gifts out there. Remember when you took those evil tests in high school that had three multiple choice questions and then the choices 'all of the above' and 'none of the above'? Well, choice E was always 'none of the above.' It didn't mean "nothing," it just meant "not on this list of choices." That's my gift! E. I love it-- it's adaptable, interchangable and undefinable. And speaking of undefinable...

******

Who is Sam Hill? And why was he so important? Why do people say, 'What in the name of Sam Hill...?' What does that even mean?

******

Customer Service Representative: Welcome to God's, how can I help you?

Me: Oh, um, yes. Hi! Um, I need to return a gift.

CSR: ... I'm... sorry?

Me: I need to return a gift, please. It's malfunctioning.

CSR: Oh! I see. You're looking for Repairs. Down the hall, first door on your left.

Me: No, you don't understand. I don't want it fixed. I don't like it. I want to return it. It doesn't work, and it just brings me pain and frustration. It was obviously given to the wrong person, so if I could just give it back and be on my way, I would appreciate it.

CSR: .... Oh...... I see. *looks very confused* I'm sorry, it's just that... we don't accept returns.

Me: Oh. Okay, then I'll just exchange it. Any chance I could trade it for the ability to fly?? I've always wanted to do that. Or maybe omniscience, yeah, that'd be cool. But that one's probably for owners only, right? No matter. Just point me towards the Holy Spirit section and I'm sure I can find something in there.

CSR: I'm sorry, ma'am. We don't do exchanges either.

Me: Then what good are you?! Look, you don't seem to understand my situation. Other people have gifts, and they work. They use them, and people are blessed and God's kingdom is expanded. My gift isn't like that. It hurts me and it hurts other people. It controls me instead of me controlling it. It doesn't help anyone and it's not bringing any glory to God. I wouldn't call it a gift. I'd call it a thorn. A problem. A hindrance. I don't want it, and I'm sure that God doesn't want me to have it. If He did, then it would work and I wouldn't be here.

CSR: .... I understand, ma'am. I think there's someone here who might be able to help you. Would you mind waiting for a moment?

*I wait. After a few minutes, CSR returns with a man wearing a God's uniform.*

Me: Are you the manager? Great. Let me explain why I'm here, and--

Paul: I know why you're here. You'd like to exchange a gift, right?

Me: .... well, yes. How did you know that?

Paul: I used to come here for the exact same reason.

Me: Really?

Paul: Really. In fact... I came three times.

Me: THREE times! That's perseverence. I'm hoping I only have to come this once. It's not like it's easy to get here, you know. That winding staircase is a killer. So, where did you go? Who did you have to talk to in order to give back your gift?

Paul: Well, that's just it. I talked to everyone. I came to Customer Service and they wouldn't listen. I was desperate, you know, so I made a big stink. I asked to see the manager, and then I asked to see HIS manager. I complained so much and I was so insistent that I finally got an audience with the Owner.

Me: *jaw drops* You did not.

Paul: I assure you, I did.

Me: WHOA!!! Well, that's GREAT! He must have been able to do something for you, right? I hear that He's the one who decides who gets which gifts in the first place. So.... you told him that He must have made a mistake... and you want Him to take it back!

Paul: I did.

Me: And?? What did He say?

Paul: "My strength is made perfect in your weakness."

Me: .... huh?

Paul: He said, "My strength is made perfect in your weakness." He told me that He had given me that gift for a purpose, and that part of that purpose was learning what it meant to be weak so that He could show Himself strong. See, Amy, if your gift was managable and if you could make it work, then you wouldn't need Him. You'd be able to make things happen on your own, and that would take away from the main reason why He gave you the gift in the first place... to glorify Him. I used to think that if I couldn't control something, or if something caused me pain, it was evil and that I could just ask and it would be taken away. Now I know better. Now I know that my thorn was an opportunity for Him to shine. Now I BOAST in my weaknesses, my thorns, and my 'malfunctioning' gifts. For when I am weak...

Me: .... He is made strong. Thanks, Paul.

CSR: Is there anything else I can help you with today, ma'am?

Me: .... yes, Ma'am. Do you have any Grace in stock?

CSR: Always. That product is a part of our In-Stock Guarantee program. Just stop by the Mercy Seat on your way out. It's waiting there for you.

Me: Thanks.

CSR: And thank you for shopping at God's.

A-Musings I: Reject Demons and Ram Rights

Amy: You know when you have an interlude dream?

Innocent Bystander: Uh.... what?

Amy: An interlude dream. Like... you finish your first dream. And then before you have your next dream, there's a... an interlude. Like a little scene, real short, in between dreams.

IB: ..............what???

Amy: *sighs impatiently* It's just a little vignette. A short scene. It's almost like the second dream wasn't quite ready to begin yet, so they just had to pull something off the shelf and show it real quick while they got ready.

IB: You... you have to stop pretending that you're normal.

EXCellently put, IB! This little conversation served as the perfect introduction to the A-Musings series, the first series to debut as part of Foolish Things Ministries. Before we begin, I'd like to shout out to two people in particular that were instrumental in developing this series. My roommate, Nana, who has been listening to A-Musings for about 2 years now, and hasn't yet had me committed. A thousand thanks, Nana. And a special thanks also to Patty, who had the audacity and fearlessness to say "I wish I could get inside your head" before Story of Love on Friday, which gave me the courage to think that perhaps other might be able to survive the experience. Please take special note of the Surgeon General's Warnings contained in the archived episodes "The Keys To Success" before reading on.
******
You know who I really can't stand? MAILER-DAEMON. You know who that is, right? The guy who bounces all your e-mails back to you for no apparent reason? Simpleton as I am, I used to think there was just one, and that it was just some computer hacker or something. Oh, but I'm onto their little game now. Oh yes. Gotta get up PRET-TY early in the morning to pull one over MY eyes.

See, first of all, they're organized. There's a "mailer daemon" for every e-mail system that exists. Yahoo, Hotmail, AOL, Mac, you name it, they've got a daemon. You know what, let's be real. Take out that "A," which, by the way, is a pitiful attempt for them to disguise their true nature. Just cause you stuck that extra little "A" in your last name, you think you can fool people, huh? MAILER DAY-EE-MON. Pathetic.

But then I started thinking... man, that demon sure got grunt duty. I mean, here they are, trying to serve the devil, bring down Christians, thwart God's plans for the world... big-time stuff... and here's this one guy (or several guys), stuck in a mail room somewhere, bouncing back e-mails.

See, MY theory is, they're the rejects. They must have been assigned to people who ended up getting saved, and then they were in HOT WATER... or should I say... HOT FIRE *badoom crash.* The boss was probably none too happy with them, since they failed miserably at their jobs, but they had to put them SOMEplace. So... mail room it was. You kinda feel bad for them. So who knows? If you're a Christian, maybe you were personally responsible for the creation of another MAILER-DAEMON.
******
Speaking of salvation, you know what else gets my dander up? The word dander. What's THAT expression about? Also, I feel as though I need to begin to champion a very serious cause, and I'm hoping you'll join me. Now. I know that, in the end, it's really all about the Lord. Like the apostle Paul once said, "I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow." I understand that it really doesn't matter who gets the credit for things. However, I really believe that the Christian community as a whole is guilty of grossly underestimating the role of a very key Biblical player.

If it were not for this character, Israel would never have come into existence. In fact, if I may be so bold, it would not have been possible for our Savior to have been born without the champion of my cause. I daresay, I have never heard a preacher, songwriter, teacher or evangelist spend more than 2 minutes on this individual... yet billions of sermons, songs, lessons and exhortations are a DIRECT RESULT of this hero. One of the very names of God Himself was birthed because of his involvement in God's sovereign plan.

The ram.

Yes, that's right. And for further proof that we have made such an egregious error in forgetting his accomplishment, I bet most of you are staring at the screen right now thinking "the ram.... hmm... now, which ram was this?" or "ram, ram, ram.... sorry, not ringing a bell."

The ram, people! You know the story-- God wakes Abraham up one day and tells him to go take his son Isaac and sacrifice him... Abraham puts Isaac on the altar, raises his arm to slaughter his son, and the angel of the Lord appears! And what happens?

"Abraham looked up and there in a thicket he saw a ram caught by its horns. He went over and took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place JEHOVAH JIREH (The Lord Will Provide)." (Gen 22:13-14)

Can you just take a minute and imagine this from the ram's perspective? See, I happen to think that God supernaturally transported the ram to that spot at the last minute. Cause what animal would come over and graze near a place where there was commotion? So here's the ram, chillin', minding his own business and chewing on some grass. Maybe thinking about his upcoming nap, or pondering whether or not to approach the ramette that he noticed as he was coming down to graze. He bends down to eat another morsel, opens his mouth... and suddenly notices that something's different. Mouth still open, he looks up slowly with his eyes... and he sees a boy tied down to an altar, head up, looking in his direction. Abraham, with knife in hand, eyeing him with relief. And an angel, hovering above it all, pointing at him.

Aw, COME ON!!!!, he might have said (in ram of course. Hebrew ram.) He tries to get away... but his dumb horns are caught in some thicket. Of course, THEN he remembers his mother's nagging voice: I told you to CUT those things! And before you know it, he's dead. Sacrificed on the altar, as Abraham and Isaac walk away, arms entertwined, appropriately grateful to God for sparing Isaac's life.

Now, I am not asking for much. Just a little bit of respect, admiration, and dare I say gratitude for this innocent ram, plucked from his home and martyred so that the plan of God could go forth. But no. No sermons... no songs. No mention in Foxe's Book of Martyrs.

I am hereby championing the RRC (Ram Rights Coalition) so that we can educate those around us as to the importance of this underrated, crucial character.

I would like to give special mention here to Michael Card, whose song "El Shaddai" made mention of this heroic act. As quoted here in verse 2:

"Through Your love and through the ram / You saved the son of Abraham."

And finally, two thumbs firmly down to Jody McBreyer and Avalon, who had a perfect opportunity to include the ram in their song "You Were There," but failed to do so. Again, in verse 2:

"So there he stood upon that hill / Abraham with knife in hand was poised to kill / But God in all His sovereignty had bigger plans / And just in time / He brought a lamb."

..... a WHAT?????? A RAM!!!!! IT RHYMES!!!!

No respect. Help me out here, people. Education is the key to ending ignorance.

Putting My Best Foot Forward

Today's scheduled program, entitled "Reject Demons and Ram Rights" has been postponed due to a recent must-tell bout of senselessness and irony. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you, and we promise that "Reject Demons and Ram Rights" will air sometime this week. -FTM Staff
********************************************************

Six months ago, FTM celebrated its 25th anniversary. That's 25 years that I've spent getting myself into situations that no other living, breathing humanoid would ever find themselves in.

So why is it, pray tell, that I'm still surprised when these things happen? YOU all are not surprised. In fact, when I tell you that another AGA moment has occurred, you usually just smile and nod and think that all is right with the world, and move along. You say such things as:

• *checks watch* "Well, it HAS been over 24 hours..."
• "Great!! Can't wait for the post..."
• "ah, so THAT would explain why you're dripping wet."

These remarks, of course, come from seasoned saints who are well-schooled in the workings of FTM and know alllllllllll about irony of fate. Well, whether you're a seasoned saint or a newbie, check this one out...

Amy's Great Adventures, Episode XXVIII: Putting My Best Foot Forward

Monday, March 27th, 2006.

Allow me to set the scene for you. I'm cruising in Min, on my way to Jersey, and--

Totally Unnecessary Tangent #1: Okay, after reading those first 18 words, anyone with the IQ of a breadstick has already accepted the fact that an AGA incident will take place. I don't think anyone has ever driven to Jersey without having some kind of incident take place. With apologies to those who live/work/care about New Jersey, and with all due respect given to the Embroidery Capital of the World (not making that up)... New Jersey is the armpit of the northeast. I cannot STAND it. It is federal law that any driver who, under the influence of some obvious mental deficiency, chooses to drive past the state boundary must IMMEDIATELY get lost. It is also the only place, to my knowledge, that can smell worse than Manhattan Garbage Pick-Up Day in 90 Degree Heat. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

-- it was a beautiful day. I had volunteered myself (and Min) to help transport some BT staff members to the Jersey Gardens mall to pick up some items, and I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing time of looking longingly at all of the items that I would WANT to buy if I had any money.

We found the mall without incident, and went inside. I immediately noticed a Skechers store and then looked down at my feet, and thought "I REALLY need new sneakers." You know it's time to get new sneakers when a) you can see any part of any one of your toes and b) the sneaker has turned at least two hues lighter or darker on the color palette than the original. My sneakers had both, but my wallet was laughing at me so i moved along.

During the middle of the day, I realized that I needed to get to a drugstore to make a purchase. I couldn't find any in the directory, but the lady at the "Information" booth had directions to a Walgreens which was about 2 miles down the road. I took the directions, professionally printed out from MapQuest, called my friends to let them know that I was going to take a brief detour with Min and be back soon.

Totally Unnecessary Tangent #2: I'm noticing more and more how calm things always seem before the chaos sets in. I take care of everything that I need to take care of... things seem like they are rolling along smoothly... and then BAM!! I guess God must think it makes for a better story that way. Aaaaand we're back...

So I got out my MapQuest directions, made sure I was starting in the right direction on the right road, and set off. I even plugged in my IPod, Po, with my nifty little contraption that hooks up through the cigarette lighter in my car so that I can listen to my IPod on the road. I was cruisin. But somehow... perhaps distracted by checking the speedometer or glancing in my rearview mirrors or engaging in some other totally inappropriate action while driving, such as blinking... I ended up on a major highway. I have no idea how this happened. In fact, according to the six different maps that I ended up using during Part I of this adventure, there were no major highways near where I was. However, I was not thinking according to Amy's Law.

Amy's Law: If, in the course of human events, we the people decide to form a more perfect idea that could go wrong, there is an equal and opposite reaction that requires an object in motion to remain in motion until it is acted on by a force, unless that force is losing one's keys, which will always be found in the last place you look, except if that place happens to be in the bottom of a cosmetics bags.

So! Clearly, it can be seen that according to Amy's Law, one does not necessarily need to be located NEAR a highway in order to suddenly find oneself on it. And that is precisely what happened to me. But I did not panic. I simply relied on a time-tested, tried-and-true strategy for what to do when you find yourself on a nonexistent major highway: Take your very first exit, which, according to Amy's Law, will immediately place you on an even majorer highway. I followed this effective strategy for about 15 minutes, exiting onto highway after highway, until I finally decided to opt for Plan B, which was to pull over and look at a map. Always prepared, I had six maps in my car that contained parts of New Jersey. After carefully examining each map, I came to the foregone conclusion that none of those six maps contained the part that I was in. So I went to Plan C, which was to figure out which direction I think I should be going in, and then just do whatever I could to keep driving in that direction until I found someplace that I recognized.

Believe it or not... it worked! I kept driving in one general direction and suddenly I got to a spot where I could see Jersey Gardens! The only problem was that it was on the opposite side of a large body of water. Not a problem-- at least I can see where I need to go. I let out a deep breath and relaxed for just a moment. And in that moment, I nearly ran over a large Hispanic man who was standing in the middle of the street.

See, I was so focused on where I needed to go that I wasn't really paying attention to where I was. And where I was was in a place that vaguely resembled that area in Brooklyn by 2nd avenue where all of those docks are... (if you're an AGA veteran, this was DEFINITELY a double black diamond neighborhood). I realized that I needed to get out of here Right Away, so I tried to look as menacing as possible while performing an 11-point turn to get Min facing the right direction. In the chaos, I inadvertently turned on the windshield wipers and activated my turn signal. *shaking head* It's really a wonder that I survived Poughkeepsie, let alone Brooklyn.

So finally, I ended up getting back into a less frightening area, and asked someone for directions to get back to Jersey Gardens. The woman was very nice and I ended up following her to get back, so there were no more problems. I called my friends and let them know that I was back, and they said that they would be just a little bit longer, so I ended up walking back into the mall, past the Skechers store.

At this point, my feet were KILLING me. I had been walking/driving all day, and my back was starting to hurt. I knew that part of that was from the fact that my sneakers were in desperate need of replacement. There was a large SALE sign in the store window, so I thought I would take a peek. I ended up finding the EXACT sneakers that I wanted-- these black low-tops that I had before this current pair. I looked for my size-- score! They had it.

TUT #3: I don't even bother shopping for women's sneakers anymore. I just save myself the pain and go to the men's section. NOBODY carries size 11 WIDE. I have boats attached to my ankles. I could water ski skiless.

I immediately took out the shoes and put on one of the sneakers, just to check the size. I already knew that I liked the sneaker because I had worn it before. As I was doing this, I noticed that the sign that advertised the sale said "buy 1, get one half off." So I looked for another pair of casual sneaker/shoes (since I didn't have any of those either) and found a nice brown pair that I was interested in. I tried them on and they felt fine, and right at that moment my friends called and said they were going to the car and to meet them in 5 minutes. I hurriedly gathered up my purchases, slapped my credit card on the table with miminal guilt (I really did need the sneakers) and walked out of the store in 3 minutes flat.

I had rehearsal for "Story of Love" that night, and I decided that I would use that rehearsal to break in my new black sneakers. I got them out of the trunk and brought the box into the front seat and took off my old sneaks. I was only sort of half-paying attention to what I was doing, because I was checking the time to make sure I wasn't late, and making sure I didn't lock my keys in the car *ahem*, so it didn't surprise me that I put the shoe on the wrong foot.

"Hee hee," I thought, and absent-mindedly reached for the other shoe. By this point, I was rummaging around the car to make sure I hadn't left anything, while shoving my foot into the sneaker. Something STILL felt wrong... what is UP with this sneaker?? I looked down and the sneaker was still on the wrong foot. I rolled my eyes in exasperation-- how hard is it to put on a shoe?

Apparently very hard, if both sneakers were right ones.

Yes, that's right. Two right sneakers.

Now I would have caught this problem if I had chosen to try on the LEFT sneaker in the store. I also would have caught the problem if I hadn't left the store so quickly. There were about 6 different boxes that had my size, and I actually went for another box first, but put it back because the other box was "nicer." And in order for me to RETURN the sneakers... I would have to go back to Jersey. Unbelievable. Yet, on the other hand, completely believable. Why?

Because we are....

Foolish Things Ministries:

Confounding Wisdom and Common Sense in a Neighborhood Near You!

Thanks, BRIAN.

So, if you missed the excitement, last night at Transitions, Brian had a Great Idea. It began with the innocuous words, "Amy, could you stand up for a minute?"

I said, "No."

Well, actually, I said, "*looks around*... me?," which was extremely intelligent considering he had just said my name and was staring at me. But I almost said, "No."

Why, you may ask? Because I had NO IDEA what Brian was about to say. And all I could do was slowly stand up, give a little wave, and think OH MY GOODNESS WHAT HAVE I DONE THAT WOULD MAKE BRIAN ASK ME TO STAND???? Master's degree? No, that was last summer. Birthday? Not even close. Oh my goodness... what if he tells some embarrasing story about me? I don't want people knowing if I do stupid things!

*badoom crash*

Brian continued, taking his time with each syllable, "Amy has just recently--"

WHAT HAS AMY RECENTLY DONE???
Graduated? No.
Moved? No.
Had a baby? Only one virgin birth.
Gotten married? Probably would have remembered that.

And if you're thinking "there's no way you could have thought all of that in the time it took for Brian to say one sentence," then you have never entered into the depths of my mind, which is a blessing that you should treasure with all of your heart.

--started a website blah blah blah blah."

To which I gave the sophisticated and eloquent response, "NO... WAY."

By the end of the torture, I had introduced FTM (Foolish Things Ministries) and given out this website. I then realized that newcomers would be completely clueless as to what in the world was going on here, and therefore would fit right in with the staff here at FTM.

No, seriously, I didn't want people to be confused-- that's not part of our mission statement. So please note the following announcements and stay tuned for the next post, which will be called "Reject Demons and Ram Rights" and will kick off the A-musings series at FTM.

• If you are new to FTM, please read the post entitled "If You're New..." It can be found under the section called "Previous" on the right hand side of the post.
• We now have an e-mail address that you can write to at any time with suggestions, questions, comments, complaints, criticisms and compliments. Nice and simple: foolishthingsministries@gmail.com.
• If you would like to leave a comment on any post, PLEASE don't post as anonymous. If you click on the option that says "other," you can just leave your name and just ignore the part that says "website," unless you want to enter one.
• All archived AGA (Amy's Great Adventures) episodes are now online! If you'd like to read any previous episodes, just click on the link under "Archives" that goes with the date of the episode. Each month listed has a new episode and there are 10 of them! :)

Intro, yo.

Welcome, friends, to Foolish Things Ministries!

If you are a long-standing partner with FTM, you are already aware of our reputation for being a top-notch provider of high-quality hijinks. If you're new, we welcome you to the team and encourage you to have absolutely no expectations whatsoever. That way, we'll probably exceed them.

I just recently gained full custody of Min (my 1997 Chevy Lumina), who has been driven and crashed by more of my friends than any other car that I am aware of *applause*. However, despite having been a licensed driver for almost ten years... it seems as though I might need a refresher course on the basics.

yeah, okay, so this isn't Min. but it's a REALLY cool picture.

I had just frantically pulled up in front of 202 Flatbush last Saturday morning. I did not want to be late for drama rehearsal, but my contact lenses were threatening to become part of my eye if I did not assuage them with some eye drops... so I left my compatriot (shout out to PJC) watching the car while I dashed upstairs. I grabbed what I needed and flew back out the door, nearly tripping on a huge garbage bag on the landing, and jumped back into Min. I looked behind me, put the car in reverse, and lighly tapped on the gas.

Something was wrong!! Min was not responding!! Code blue! The car began slowly rolling backwards down Flatbush Avenue. I tried slamming on the brakes but it was like they were stuck in molasses. I'm in full Panic Mode at this point, trying again to shift back into neutral, or into drive. I had both feet pressed as hard as I could against the brake and Min finally stopped. I frenetically rolled down my window and screamed out to my friend, who had just crossed the street, "HELP!! MIN IS UNCONSCIOUS!!"

He walked over, shook his head, and said, "Turn the car on, Amy."

Oh yeah. Oops.

If You're New...

Welcome to FTM! If you're joining us for the first time, let me just take a moment to explain to you what in the world is going on here.

FTM (Foolish Things Ministries) was birthed on a blustery September day twenty-five years ago, when I came into this world. Since that moment, I have been blessed with a unique ability to get myself into unbelievable situations that would never happen to anyone else. My job, as president and founder of FTM, is to write them down and share them with the world so that they can laugh. That's why our motto is "Our Embarrasment Is Your Entertainment."

FTM began with a series called Amy's Great Adventures (AGA) back in the year 2001. You can find all of the old AGA episodes in the archives, so that you can catch up on all of the episodes you've missed. We have just recently developed a segment called A-musings, which is basically just a smorgasbord of really random thoughts. We were going to called Things That We Think When We're Supposed To Be Doing Something Else, but we thought it was too long. So A-musings it is.

We at FTM LOVE to hear from our readers, so if you read a post, please feel free to leave a comment (just click on "comments") or drop us an email at foolishthingsministries@gmail.com.

The Keys To Success (January 2006)

I think I’m going to get a tattoo.

Okay, okay, scrape your eyebrows off of the ceiling. I don’t want to get a tattoo. But, for the good of humanity, I feel that this may be necessary. You know those warnings that they put on cigarettes? You know, the ones in size .0001 font, letting you know in vague and evasive language that the product that you’re using will almost definitely probably kill you? I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to have one of those babies written directly on my forehead. Something like…

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Prolonged Exposure To This Individual May Lead You Into Unanticipated Chaos.

Or if that one doesn’t fly, how about:

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Avoiding This Individual Greatly Reduces Serious Risks to Your Sanity.

I say this because I have reached the point in my life where even I am baffled at the amount of commotion that seems to pursue me. Others have been baffled for quite some time now, but I think I’m catching up. In fact, I’ve been doing some research about ironic situations, and I think I’ve found an answer. Check out this definition, provided for us today by wikipedia.com:

irony of fate, n.
1. The notion that the gods are amusing themselves by toying with the minds of mortals, with deliberate ironic intent.

Hello? Is that not me in a nutshell, or what? I think Webster’s could save a great deal of money and ink by changing their definition as follows:

irony of fate, n.
1. Amy.

Moment of Pondering #1: If you digress without really making a point in the first place… is it really a digression? *contemplative silence*

Okay, enough already! You people want an adventure, let’s get to it!
*AGA theme music begins*
*voice-over*

you've watched her through the years...

you gasped when she got decked in the face with a cross before a gospel choir concert... you howled with laughter when Lady With Cute Child loudly asked her if she was pregnant on the Q train... you marveled at her naiveté when she used her thimble-sized subway map to be her sole guide in trekking across the Brooklyn ghetto.

you understand the Etch-A-Sketch and Double Black Diamond Neighborhoods. you've met the Squawking Sisters, Needle-Flick Nurse, and the Threatening Looking Individuals.

and now...
the moment you've all been waiting for...

AMY'S!
GREAT!
ADVENTUUUUUURES!!!

*crowd goes wild*

let's give a warm welcome to the organization that makes it all possible, where "Our Embarrassment Is Your Entertainment," Foolish Things Ministries!

Thank you, thank you, you're too kind. Here at FTM it is our number one goal to see you amused by our stupidity. We've worked long and hard to... well... actually... we haven't really worked at all. These things just kinda happen to us. Ha ha! But, regardless, we are honored to regale you with our heroic tales of inanity. And now, FTM proudly presents to you:

Episode XVIII: The Keys To Success

Date: January 16th, 2006
Time: 10:30 am
Location: Lake Pleasant, NY (just 30 miles NNE of Nowhere)

It had been a fun-filled weekend with friends at my family’s cabin, and we were just about ready to venture out for our last day of skiing before returning home. We were all piled into two cars, attempting to get warm, as the temperatures were hovering in the single digits (although it was better that ski day #1, when it was -5 with a wind chill of -30!!)… when we started having some trouble. One of our cars was dangerously overheated and we did not feel that it was safe to drive. We were a bit disappointed, as this meant that our last ski day would probably not happen, but very glad that I had a AAA membership, which I got only DAYS after I managed to lock my keys in my car (see above note on irony of fate). I called AAA and got a very pleasant-sounding woman who professionally took down all of my information. That is, of course, until she asked for my location. “I’m sorry… you’re WHERE?,” was the response given. Apparently our location was so remote that she had to transfer me to a completely different AAA department with a different name. Something like AAA Northway. A new worker picked up the phone who did not sound HALF as professional as Pleasant Lady. In fact, she sounded a bit like Fran Drescher crossed with Chewbacca.

*pausing to let you try to even IMAGINE what that might sound like*

Despite my initial impression, she eventually was able to get us the help we needed, sending a tow truck that could bring the car to the ONE AAA location in about 50 miles, where it could be assessed. Eventually, after approximately 7 hours and a extraordinary amount of chaos (which I will skip in order to keep this e-mail shorter than War and Peace), we were back on the road. It was 6:00 pm.

Turmoil continued on the journey back home when the BQE was completely blocked off due to an accident, so we were forced to re-route deeper into Queens (motto: We Don’t Care If Our Road Signs Make No Sense) and wind our way back to Brooklyn. Basically, cars had been the major source of frustration for me this day, and I was just looking forward to getting OUT of one, getting INTO my bed, and going to sleep. After all, I had to work the next morning. We finally dropped off the last of our party and headed into Bay Ridge, where my car (Min) was waiting for me. It was 11:00 pm.

I decided to check my cell phone messages en route, and I had a message from one of my roommates, Erika. I punched in my password and began to listen.

*beep* Hey Amy, this is Erika. Um, I’m calling because there are some messages for you on our answering machine… something about your car being towed… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

Oh, she said more. But after the words “car” and “towed,” I immediately slipped into Full Panic Mode and heard nothing but blahs. I turned to Jeremy, who was driving, and said “… there’s a message that says my car’s been towed.” The car was silent for about 5 seconds, and then we both simultaneously began to state out loud all of the reasons why that did NOT really mean that my car, Min, had been towed. We did this for about a minute, and then slipped into silence again. I was attempting to maintain at least a scrap of composure while also concentrating on keeping my heart inside of my chest. Fortunately, the traffic lights were with us on 4th Avenue, because had it taken about 5 minutes longer I probably would have gotten out and started running.

We turned the corner and I could barely look, until I heard Jeremy say, “there she is!” 16,000 cubic tons of air was released from my lungs and I began to chuckle almost involuntarily. Jeremy was chuckling too, and said “you see? God wouldn’t let that happen to you.”

Ah, Jeremy. That HAS to go in the Book of Phrases You Should Never Say Unless You Want Something Bad To Happen, along with “I’ll be right back,” and “What could possibly go wrong?”

But it looked like he was right—my car was in plain sight, we had made it to Bay Ridge in one piece, all members of our party had been delivered to their homes. All was well! “Why don’t you get your car warmed up, and I’ll start loading the stuff,” said Jeremy. All of a sudden, the craziness of the day caught up with me and I felt exhausted. In fact, I was so tired that my fingers couldn’t even locate the keys in the key pocket of my purse. I chuckled for a second before setting the bag down, thinking, “wouldn’t THAT just beat all, if I couldn’t find my keys?” Oh, I found them, all right. In the passenger’s seat of my car. My locked car. It was midnight.

By this time I was Done, capital-D-style. We went over to a car service place just to ask for advice, and they rigged up a coat hanger for us and sent us back out into the night. That (obviously) didn’t work, and I ended up taking Jeremy’s car home with a plan to go back the next day (hopefully with the spare key) and resolve the situation. I, of course, did NOT want to take this car into my possession, especially with my track record that day, but there really wasn’t a choice. I got in the car and drove home.

If you’re thinking, “okay, that has GOT to be the end of the story,” you aren’t speaking proper English. You also haven’t read very many AGA Episodes.

I woke up the next morning, after getting about 3 and a half hours of sleep, and RAN to the window to make sure that the car was still there, which it was. I gathered all of my stuff that I needed for the day and started down to the car. Halfway down the stairs, I realized that I had forgotten a couple of things upstairs, so I turned to go back… when I had an Idea. “Hey,” I thought. “It’s cold out. What if I went down to the car, started the engine, made sure the Club thingy is securely fastened, got out of the car, locked the car, went back upstairs, finished getting what I needed to get, came back down, unlocked the car, removed the Club thingy, and drove off to work in a nice, warmed car?? It’s FOOLPROOF!”

I had to separate the car key from the keyring, since the automatic door lock thingy needed to go with me and the car key needed to stay in the car. But alas, the car would not let me lock from the outside when the car was running. So I aborted my plan, turned off the car, put the key back on the keyring, went upstairs, finished my business, came back down, got into the car, unlocked the Club thingy, and went to put the key into the ignition. Except there was no key.

I have no idea how the key leaped off the keyring like it did. But I do know why. Irony of fate.

I searched EVERYWHERE for that key. By this time I was starting to seriously panic, 1) because I was about to be late to work and 2) because if I did not find this key, I was going to have to call Jeremy and explain that I had lost the key to his car. After momentarily considering just dashing out into heavy traffic, I resumed my search. By 9:00 I realized that I had to start putting money in the meter, so I went to get some quarters… but the meter was broken. “Woo hoo!,” I thought. “Now I don’t have to pay anything!” This, of course, was before I realized that there were NO other cars parked on this stretch. And ALL of the other meters were working, which meant that I could get ticketed for "choosing" a broken meter. But I can’t move the car, because the key is missing!

What To Do If Your Car Is Parked At A Broken Meter With No Other Cars Around You And Your Keys Are Missing So That You Cannot Move It:

a) Try putting quarters in the meter anyway, so that at least you’ve done the honest thing, even thought they will ticket you for an amount greater than the GNP of a small European nation.

b) Just leave it there and go upstairs and continue your search, while running every 15 seconds back to the window to make sure no one is anywhere NEAR the vehicle.

c) Stand there and cry.

The correct answer, of course, is c). It’s always c). But, once a), b), and c) become tiring, opt for d), which is to create a nifty hand-made sign using a Sharpie and some computer paper, saying “Hi! :) This meter is broken and I cannot move the car because the keys are missing.” Then include your cell phone number so that they can call you so that you can witness them ticketing you for an amount greater than the GNP of a small European nation.

After 2 hours of searching… I found the key! Not underneath the car. Not hidden in a small nook in the stairwell, covered by a spiderweb. Not, thank God, at the bottom of a large grate that I carefully inspected using the age-old technique of laying flat on your stomach and moving an inch at a time while ever germ every created has a field day in your hair.

I found it in the bottom of my cosmetics bag.

SURGEON GENERALS WARNING: Trying To Figure Out How This Possibly Could Have Happened Could Have Detrimental Effects On The Space Time Continuum.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any space for that tattoo. The forehead is already taken.