Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I'm leaving again. See you all in a few weeks.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
My estimation of them skyrocketed this morning, however. Getting ready for work (I taught kindergarten today, which was as hilarious and wonderful as ever) I was watching MTV. I caught Fall Out Boy's new single, "I Don't Care." If you haven't seen it, it features the band members pulling off masks--their faces--to reveal other people. It's not bad.
Not bad?, you're thinking. How generic. Why is she writing about something 'not bad'? Because this video earned some major Twin Excellence Points at the end. Why?
Pete Wentz gets punched in the face and falls to the ground. The twin, who happens to loathe Pete Wentz (don't get her started) finds much joy in this. But then, it gets so much better. Whoever did the punching pulls up Pete's face (not as gross as it sounds) to reveal the aptly-named Spencer Pratt, of Hills notoriety. (If you're unsure about him, he is quite honestly the biggest douchebag in at least his ZIP code, is half of a seriously dysfunctional relationship, and is nowhere near as attractive as he thinks he is.) YAY! Spencer got punched in the face! It could only be better if yours truly got to do the punching! (Pratt is one of my Top Five Celebrities I'd Like to Punch in the Face. Who are yours?)
Well done, Fall Out Boy. Well done.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Each year I search tirelessly for new music to add to my collection, which I would put into rotation sometime around Labor Day if it wasn't considered entirely eccentric. I like to check out the suggestions that itunes and amazon.com have for me. Many a young pop star has covered a holiday classic. But nothing--nothing--could match my joy at the following:
Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson- "Baby, It's Cold Outside"
My jaw dropped. I can only assume that this song was recorded when they were in love, with little hearts and stars pouring out of them when they were together. It's a natural choice: two famous pop stars who married young so they could sleep together (oh, and because they loved each other) sing a holiday duet between a man and a woman on some sort of date. (My personal feelings for this song will remain unspoken.) It had to have been a brilliant idea. Everyone was excited! It'll sell countless copies! Record it!
Aaaaand then they got a divorce. Ouch. That's painful. And it's not even taking into account the fact that they have a television show devoted to their marriage, which anyone can watch on DVD whenever they want! (Guessing Nick and Jess do not indulge?) But this! Is so! Much better! It hides itself for most of the year. A little holiday surprise, if you will. It's one of those things that you forget about since you don't see it all the time. This song is packed away in the attic with the Christmas decorations and only gets hauled out after Thanksgiving. Unpacking the strings of lights and boxes of ornaments, you would find this song at the bottom of a trunk. 'Oh. Hey there. Um...this is awkward. Should we bring this out?...No. Maybe not. Nevermind. Hm.'
Monday, December 01, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Heard your song today. And man, it sounds like you are having a great freaking time! Nothing like being out with some friends and hearing Your Song. It does make things seem better.
But, um...I'd like to respectfully disagree with your statement that it's "gonna be ok" if you just dance. Nothing wrong with dancing! This isn't Footloose or anything. But if you look at all the parts of your night, you're actually having what most people consider to be a pretty terrible night. Maybe you forgot. Allow me?
You can't remember where you are. Or where your keys are. Or your wallet. You can't see straight. And something about your top being inside out?
One of those, and you can still have a good time. Stuff happens! Come tomorrow, unfortunately, you're going to sound like a silly high school girl who partied this weekend once you start to hear about your night from bystanders. You know, the girls who get drunk and do things which are rather embarrassing and quite stupid, but insist that oh my god, they totally had a great time and wasn't that hilarious? Oh my god, I can't believe it!
There are certain things that dancing can't fix.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Oh, hey, you're not someone I was expecting. I see you're holding a rake?
So, you're jetting off to New York and are trying to make some extra cash? That's cool...but do you think you're going about it the right way? I mean..it was a Monday. And yes, leaves do fall on a Monday. But I had all weekend to rake them up! Don't you think Thursday or Friday, when I've been at work all week and haven't considered the lawn, would be a better day?
Also, you're not as attractive or charming as your manner suggests you believe. Just FYI.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Because over 100 million Americans went out and voted today. Because John McCain gave a gracious speech in the face of defeat. Because when his supporters booed at the mention of Barack Obama, Senator McCain encouraged them to stop, even though he probably felt a little bit like joining in. Because Barack Obama reminded everyone that his daughters earned a puppy from this campaign, win or lose. Because on Monday, I got to talk to 4th and 5th graders about the importance of voting. Because they were shocked to learn that some adults are allowed to vote but don't. Because both McCain and Obama reminded us that no matter who we voted for, we are one nation and no matter who is in the Oval Office, we are STILL one nation.
And they were both right.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Sure, it's a big day. Let's see....it's Flag Day in Panama. It's Matthew McConaughey's birthday. The Twilight soundtrack CD is being released.
No? None of those? Hmmm..
OH RIGHT. It's Election Day! Go vote.
Seriously, go vote--I don't care who you vote for--and don't come back until you do!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Enter: my older brother, his wife, my older sister, her daughter (16), my twin, my mom, and myself.
I eyeball my brother, and ask if he's ok with this. He seems fine. Well, ok....
We all start wandering around, asking advice and giving opinions. You know...shopping. I notice my brother looking less confident. I ask if he's having any luck. "Ahh..." he starts. "I just realized how weird it was to be here with my mom, sisters, and niece. I don't want to see what anyone's looking at."
Later, finding some undies with IRRESISTIBLE written across the back, tell me I did not show remarkable restraint. I put them down rather than holding them high, shouting his name, and asking my big brother if he thought they were over-the-top.
A sign of maturity? It just might be.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Halfway done with my exams for the day! To everyone who unwittingly helped me procrastinate yesterday while I studied, thanks. And to those who were fully conscious of helping me procrastinate, and the two who flat out told me I didn't have to study, thanks even more. You really understand me. :)
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Good start: I got to read a couple great books to my class. (Eric Carle, I love you.)
Not so hot: I had a crier. Apparently he isn't in school much, so hasn't adjusted yet. So he spent a couple hours screaming and crying and trying to bolt out the door. (Score?) He didn't want anything to do with me, so I had to trick him into doing a puzzle with me.
Awesome: I was invited, twice, to play at one boy's house after school. It's tough, being such a heartbreaker.
Also awesome: Had a birthday in class today, which meant our snack friend brought doughnuts.
Pretty good day, overall. I know, I know--I've been MIA. I had family in town, and then I left town to see some family. Fairly eventful--details to follow!
Oh, and I finally took the recommendations of many and read Twilight. I found it to be surprisingly excellent. DO NOT TELL ME ANYTHING, since I've only read the first one. (So far.)
Friday, October 03, 2008
With the presidential election almost a month away, it's time for you to start making a decision of your own. I don't care who you choose. Vote for Barack Obama, vote for John McCain. Vote independent. But changes are made by the people who show up, so vote for someone. If you don't, I will personally make fun of you anytime you bitch about the presidency for the next 4 years. (And you will. Trust.)
BUT. If you want to vote, you have to be registered. Some states allow you to register the day of the election, but in other states the deadlines are arriving quickly. Check out this site to find out your area's deadline.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
On Sunday October 5th, I will be at the 4th Annual Macomb County Women's Expo! My fabulously talented twin, Amy, will be there displaying and selling her art. Check out this site and click on 2008 Expo for all the information you could want.
First of all, it's National Punctuation Day! I like that. But really...shouldn't every day be Punctuation Day?
Thanks to the several friends who sent me the following article about the use of rubber duckies in legit scientific work. I love it! http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/science/09/22/nasa.ducks/index.html?iref=newssearch
Nicole Kidman claims that a waterfall helped her get pregnant. Really? Now, I'm not an expert on this issue, but...Nicole? I'd venture a guess that your pregnancy was more caused by Keith Urban's sperm. Just a thought.
Clay Aiken is gay. Which is not even a little bit surprising. Yet somehow merits the cover of People magazine? How does THAT work, People? I'm all for people being honest about themselves. Good job, Clay. But still. Not. A. Surprise.
Monday, September 15, 2008
I love PBS, which is where I found this on TV last night. I caught the end. But I missed a part, which I simply had to see, after learning about it on their website. And, well...watch the clip. I think you'll know exactly why I shared this with you, my dears.
PS Dude is either 14 or 16, depending on the source you find. (I trust his MySpace, which says 16.)
TOTALLY WORTH IT.
"Dammit," I say to no one in particular. It's in the corner and I can't easily get to it to use any of my standard methods of removal. (Squishing and trapping being the two most common.) There's no one around to handle this situation for me. (Damn you, men! Why are you never around when I can actually use you??) Well, I don't know what Big Ugly Bug is. I should find out. Can't get too close, because I might find out the hard way if Big Ugly Bug is Jumping Big Ugly Bug. I don't want anything eating my face off tonight, thanks.
What to do?
I know! I'll use my generation's version of binoculars: digital camera. I take a quick photo of BUB, then zoom in as close as I can. Gross! Even worse than I imagined. It's unidentifiable. I put the camera down to regroup. Glancing back up again, it seems smaller. That's weird....
Another picture. Zoom in...ohhh, good. It wasn't one huge bug, but rather two regular sized flies. Sigh of relief!
WAIT. First picture. Second picture. It's like a flip-book. (The worst flip-book ever made.) They were on top of each other! OH MY GOD it was fly sex. I PHOTOGRAPHED (and scrutinized) INSECT PORN.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Seriously. I totally get that it's easy enough for you to go anywhere you damn well please. For the ladies, it's a little more complicated most of the time. It's a process. But just because you can do it, does that mean you have to do it?
I was at a party last weekend, and a lot of us were outside around a fire. It was a perfectly good time, and it's really important to note that the toilet in the house was perfectly functional. Why is this detail significant? I'm glad you asked. It appeared that none of the gentlemen at the party inquired as to the status of said toilet, choosing instead to figure it was out of order. And what's a guy to do when he's been hitting the keg and nature calls? Well, if the toilet isn't an option (NOTE: It was.) you can just go outside! Hooray! Everywhere I looked, there was some guy, back to the crowd, taking care of business. By my calculations, the entire perimeter of the yard, barring the section that led to the house, was tainted. Guys, seriously, we can see you. Everyone can see you. I began to worry. I do not pee in things that aren't toilets. Would I have to hold it until I got home? Things weren't desperate yet, but if I waited all night to pee...well, things could get ugly. Should I stop drinking? (Oh heavens no.) Rather than put down my cocktail, I decided to risk a trip inside, just to check on the toilet situation. My heart full of hope, things looked ok. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and there was even toilet paper--in a boy house, one can't take this amenity for granted. After some extensive research (hint: I peed.) I ascertained that the restroom was in fully working order.
Why am I telling you this? Well, because it means that all those guys were peeing outside by choice. In front of their friends, outside, in the open, because they wanted to. So I ask you: why?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Facebook, I was never shy about you being my favorite social networking site. I have forgiven a lot during our relationship. You introduced the status change, and that was kind of weird but I learned to love it. Then along came gifts, which I embraced. You allowed anyone with an email address to join, and I came around to that. Applications were added left and right and I still can't log in without being invited to add something. I learned to filter out the crap and have found some I love. One day, you finally listened and I was able to change not only my status but the accompanying verb! That was a good day. We have been through a LOT.
But THIS. Ohhhh, Facebook. What were you thinking! This new Facebook is absolutely ridiculous. I can't find anything! Why is my status in size 47 font? Where is everything? Why can't I just look at someone's whole profile at one time?
Sigh. Please don't make me go back to Friendster. Nobody is there anymore.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
You have my attention. Since B. is male and most of the [captive] audience was also male, I was curious about what he would have to share with them that they didn't already know. (I mean, by mid-20s is there still a lot of mystery? And how did B. learn the answers?) "Men think about four things." Oh. Hmm. Still listening...
4. Drugs (this includes alcohol)
Other than arguing about the order (I'll leave you to decide which one was a serious point of debate) the guys didn't have much to add to that. And just when I was thinking what a great night I was having, it got better. Oh, so much better.
"But women," B. announces, "have more. They have a top ten." I have a great number of questions already brewing in my mind about this. But I'm very entertained, so I decide to hold off.
1. What is going on with my face? (Ok, I had to laugh. I don't know that it's the number one thing I think about, but I certainly do ponder that at least once a day.)
2. Should I shave today? (Answer usually no.)
3. Nose. (Sorry? B. says that he doesn't know why, but that most women have a weird thing about their nose. I do not ask why this doesn't get folded into number one. Assume B. has his reasons.)
7. Friends. (At this point, B. launches into a tangential tirade about women going to the bathroom in packs. I try to shed some light on the situation. B. nods enthusiastically, then does an imitation of the "secret signal" we use to tell each other it's time for a bathroom conference. Wish I had a video of this.)
10. Shelter. (Men don't consider this? B.: "No, we don't really care." Ah.)
I asked a fair few questions after this, once my laughter had subsided. I learned how he'd gotten his intel. (Pretty valid, particularly once I learned that he doesn't have a lot of female friends...mainly girlfriends. That's going to really change what you see.)
In relaying this information to a good friend, she had an immediate suggestion. TK suggested that the list would be far more agreeable if #3 was included in #1. (It makes sense. Pondering one's nose is a part of asking 'what's going on with my face?') But what of #3, then?
3. Is this a date?
Brilliant. Men, do you have any idea how often we're asking this question? Unless we're with one of those guys we consider a brother or we know for sure it IS a date, we're trying to figure out if we're on a date. You hold open a door and we think date. Then you talk about another girl and it's not a date. Then you pay for dinner and it's back to a date. You see? It's amazing any of us have the will left to hold a conversation despite the exhaustion!
But of course, we don't tell you about it, which explains why B. didn't include this on his list. It's the secret answer.
I'd write more about this, but I have to go discuss it with some friends and then decide whether or not I'll shave today. (Probs not.)
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Me again. No, this isn't another rant about my old deodorant. (Not that I've moved on.) This is about your ads. Now, I don't know much about advertising. All I know is that I see a lot of ads, and I know how I feel about them. And your new commercial? The one for your "flawless" deodorant? (For the record, this is the replacement I bought. I haven't used it yet.)
It's a horrible commercial! First of all, that girl? Is really annoying. I kind of want to smack her in the face while she flaunts her armpits around the city unnecessarily. That isn't my main concern, though. And since I know you're dying to hear about it, I'll enlighten you.
It's not the kind of commercial that actually tells you anything! She says, "I'll give you 5 reasons why this deodorant will make you forget your old one." (Which I doubt.)
And then she just chats with the people around her as she flashes her pits. So if you're like me and look away once she starts to bug you, you don't notice that those reasons are printed on the screen! And then after a short wait, you realize that you haven't heard any reasons, so you look up. By then, she's onto reason number 4 or 5! So I have witnessed this commercial hundreds of times but have yet to learn why it's a superior product.
The only things I have learned? You took away my deodorant and hire irritating actresses.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Yesterday, I threw an epic hissy fit in my local Target. I'm not kidding--my mother walked away while my sister attempted to bring me down from my ledge. I was not having any of that. I am 24 years old, Secret. It is no longer socially acceptable for this to happen! Do you know why this happened?
Because of you, that's why.
Deodorant is one of those very important items in a girl's life that she doesn't mess around with. Like tampons and face wash. You search and search and search for the perfect one...and when you find it, you do not leave it. So imagine my surprise when I couldn't find my usual deodorant at CVS last week. Ah well, I figured, it's probably just out of stock. But yesterday at Target, I could no longer live in denial. If Target didn't have what I was looking for, in any scent at all, that was no fluke.
You discontinued it, didn't you?? With no warning whatsoever, you ripped it off the shelves and left me to fend for myself. You are lucky that I am not desperate for a new one yet, because if I was completely out, things would have gotten ugly.
I seriously hope that whatever new thing you've released, with its pseudo-scientific words and myriad promises, works out. Otherwise, you'll be hearing from me.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Off to finish my Shirley Temple of Doom.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
We discussed some somber topics at our meeting. Other than melanoma. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a serious problem. (In the year 2008, there will be over 62,000 new cases and over 8,000 deaths from melanoma. Scary. Sunscreen up, kiddos.) I’m talking about something different here. There has been a rumor going around the internet, and my friends cited it like real news. Here's the story: the CDC reported a 230% increase in herpes since 2007 among 17-21 year olds. A shocking figure, yes? The reason? Beer pong. People, a quick google search will reveal that this story is riduculous. A doctor would never, never suggest that "using the waterfall method" will keep you safer during a friendly game of pong! Of course beer pong is gross! Think about it! That ball goes on the ground and you just put it back in play! Some people do the rinse, but after a couple is it really doing you any good? (That'd be a no.) I hardly think we need the CDC telling us what we should already know--any game where basement debris or dirt or garage dustbunnies can get into the communal beer is, by its very nature, fairly disgusting.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Thiiiiiiis....is a hacksaw. Thank you?
Among the rest of my bounty: handy maps and books, a badge, handcuffs, and dart gun! Not shown: the blueprints of a building, a nightscope, and my sister-in-law's broken PDA.
Despite all the work the twin clearly put into this project, and the fact that it is truly awesome, I will always remember it as the birthday when Amy got me a hacksaw.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
"punch your sister now."
We approached each other from different rooms, phones open in hand, confused looks. Still waiting to hear if there was a reason for this or if the man is just touched.
In other news, I'm back from Italy! News to follow.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
I suppose my first clue (other than the name Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky Airport) was at a gift shop after I landed. I had some time to kill between landing at 3:45 and departing at 6:55.
Making my purchase, the man behind the counter rattled off a question in what I could only assume was a foreign tongue. (My first guess was French--I am not making that up.) I stared at him, trying to make sense of the situation. It could not possibly be French. That was out of the question. Or was it? I noticed a large popcorn machine behind him, then retroactively deciphered the word popcorn. OH! Is he offering me popcorn? Answer him...it has officially been too long! You look like a jackass! Say something! "No, thank you." (Though to be honest, my period sounded a lot more like a question mark, since it was a shot in the dark.) It seemed to work, as he then gave me a total (I assume) and held his hand out to take my money. To be safe, I gave him a larger bill than I knew it would be, rather than risk counting out exact change. (Just imagine the chaos...)
Eventually I stumbled my way through ordering some lunch and found my gate. A11. Oh, Gate A11. If only I had known how intimately I would come to know you...
My flight to Detroit was scheduled for 6:55, and there was also a 5:00 flight leaving for Detroit from the same gate. Seeing me there, the man at the desk told me that for a fee, I could switch over. "No, thanks," I replied. "I don't mind waiting a couple hours."
STUPID STUPID STUPID. I am like the guy in that joke who ignores all the signs from God and is then absolutely shocked when he dies. (Foreshadowing, kids.)
The plane boarded and I settled in with my book. (Wit, by Margaret Edson, read it.) Twenty or so minutes later, people came in through Gate A11. I assumed they were a new plane until I recognized them. Storms in Detroit were keeping them from taking off. Two hours later, the first Detroit group left. That left the guy at the desk to deal with our flight. We learned we were waiting on our plane, which was landing from Detroit. So naturally, it was delayed! First estimate was a 9:00pm departure. We hung out and got to know each other while people took turns in line transferring to other flights--most of our plane was only connecting in Detroit. Departure time was pushed back to 9:30. I was told that there were about 9 of us still on the flight. (We hardcore nine.) If the flight got in after a certain time, the flight crew was due their 8 hours of sleep, so we were racing the clock. Because of this, the guy was going to get the passengers off that plane and "throw the nine of you on as quickly as possible." He was going to skip all the formalities of first class, executive platinum blah blah blah, and all that.
Then...at 9:30, the airline employee (who had been helping Gate A11 get to Detroit since around 4:30) left and came back. With bags of popcorn, which he passed out to those of us still sitting around. Ohhhh, no. Treats? That cannot be good.
The announcement came only moments later. "We really regret to inform you that the 6:55 flight to Detroit has been cancelled."
I must say, the employees of Northwest Airlines were very helpful. When I pitifully asked how I was getting home, they told me exactly what to do and gave me all the information I needed. So I picked up my bag, called the hotel, and moments later found myself in the lobby of the Cincinnati Airport Holiday Inn. The man behind the desk asked if I wanted two double beds or a king sized bed. "Yeahhh, it's just me, waiting for my flight." "Alright, we'll go with the king sized. You can roll around and it might make you feel better about your flight."
Behold the restorative powers of six pillows.
It did help, a little. But not enough to soften the blow of a 5am wake-up call so you can get your ass back to the airport and Ohio. (I learned in my room that the hotel is actually IN Kentucky, so that's how close they are. Just FYI.)
In the end, everything was fine. My bag arrived in Detroit when I did, no turbulence, and we left right on time...from Gate A11.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
There is absolutely no justice in this world.
However, one of the kindergarten teachers at work brought me this home-baked treat:
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
There are a lot of reasons to keep up with this practice. When your BFF breaks up with a boyfriend, she deletes him from her life. But just in case he posts a particularly hideous picture or says something embarrassing, you're there to ride in like the Cavalry with the good news!
I'm trying to think of other humanitarian-sounding reasons for it, but really they're all just about gossip.
But you know something? I'm beginning to think stalking people on AIM (/Facebook/MySpace/etc) isn't really a good idea! Not because I feel bad or anything. Let's not lose our heads. It's handy information and you always want to keep an eye on anyone whose wedding you might have to attend one day.
So...a couple days ago someone signed onto my buddy list and I had no idea who it was. There was not even the slightest glimmer of recognition. I had nothing. It had to be a recent addition, since I had never seen it before. But that didn't really narrow it down. It's not like it's something you can ask people about! "Hey, are you into a guy with this screen name?" "Does your crazy ex girlfriend go by this name?" It just sounds bad! They're embarrassing phone calls to make! You obviously don't want to send the person an instant message! That would be even worse! Having to explain that you know them but you don't know them know them. Could they give you some personal information, please? No, I'm not a creepy stalker, but maybe you know a friend of mine? I just have your name because...she...needed...to use my computer for an AIM emergency?
See? Nothing really sounds good in that case. I finally succumbed to my curiosity and called my best friend. She was the most likely candidate. I left her a pitiful voicemail, full of self-loathe. And while she did come through with the information I needed (a horrible, creepy former suitor of hers) she also told me I was ridiculous. I think it was a loving gesture, but it's not out of the question to assume there was a small dose of serious concern in there.
But omigod you should read his away messages.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
THIS WEEKEND. The American Cancer Society is holding their annual 24-hour Relay for Life in Dearborn. Check out the website! Do it.
Reasons you should attend if you are within driving distance of Dearborn, MI:
1. Hi, it's about the fight against cancer. I shouldn't need to list any other reasons.
2. There's always a theme going on around the track and some sort of on-stage entertainment. (Excuse me, toga hour? Yes please.)
3. I will be there for the full 24 hours. This means two things. First of all, you'd get to see my lovely face. Second of all, you could come bring me coffee and make my day. I love visitors.
In all seriousness, it's a great event. It goes from 10am Saturday (May 3rd) to 10am Sunday (May 4th). This year, it will be at the Ford Community and Performing Arts Center. (That's 15801 Michigan Ave in Dearborn if you're looking to google map.)
Because we can go back to complaining about men on Monday. (Or DURING Relay, if you come see me....hint hint.)
Sunday, April 20, 2008
This kid is someone I worked with daily at the start of my job. An active child, he cannot sit for more than 30 seconds, give or take. His brain is running a million miles an hour. He's kind of a nightmare, but he makes me laugh. He initially loathed our time together, since my arrival to his classroom heralded 30 minutes of quiet work time either at the back table or in my room. And this child does not DO quiet work time. As time wore on, he would be looking toward the door at 2:40, waiting for me. He'd shout that I was late. He would jump up and get his stuff together when I arrived. So while he still denied it all, I know he enjoyed our time. He grew to love me. After a while, I began working at the after-school homework club. And my little friend was in my group, so we were seeing each other twice daily! A joy. Things were humming along nicely.
But things began deteriorating. I began working with a new student in his class. We saw each other less and less. We still had homework club, though. Until one fateful day when disaster struck. A reorganization. He was moved to a different group, while I took on a new troop of students.
Lloyd did not take it well. I was left feeling like I'd broken up with him, while he was just not ready for it. He was confused; he didn't understand why I'd abandoned him. And with no warning! I call him Lloyd because at that moment, he became my own personal Lloyd Dobler. He began shouting at me in the hallway. "TAKE ME BACK!" He was hiss it at me when I entered his classroom. "Take me back!" One day in the cafeteria, tending to my new homework flock, I heard my name in a stage whisper. I turned around and saw Lloyd looking my way. He motioned frantically, asking in whispers if he could come to my table. I began to wonder if I would open my office door and find him standing there, boombox overhead playing me Peter Gabriel songs. My little John Cusack was hurting.
He would ask if I could take him back, and one day, in a last-ditch effort to get him to sit the hell down and do some work, I said I would look into switching him into my group.
Well. That was a while back, and I am paying for it now. Last week we had some one-on-one time in my room, working on a comparison essay. But then...on Monday, he dropped the big guilt bomb. I pulled him to the back table to work.
"Are we going to your room today??"
"Nope, we're working here today."
"But didn't we get a lot of work done on Friday?"
"Yes, we did. But today we're staying here."
"Oh. When are you taking me into your group?"
"I can't." (I finally told him the truth.)
"But you promised!!"
"No, Lloyd, I never promised. I said maybe."
*Eyes big, with a serious face.* "You let me believe this whole time that you would take me back."
Oh my god. How can you not feel bad about that? You let me believe this whole time that you would take me back. Ouch. That stings.
I just hope he'll be ok. I'm sure he'll get over it. He's a tough kid.
Monday, April 14, 2008
What fresh new hell is this? YOU'VE RUINED EVERYTHING. I hope you still sleep well at night knowing that. I hope the guilt doesn't become some Poe-esque heart beating beneath the floorboards at your horrible office building, slowly driving you all mad. That'd be a shame.
Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about here. "Sign up your friends at match.com." Really?? What the hell kind of game are you playing? As if being single isn't enough of a contact sport already. Fighting off blind date offers from well-intentioned mothers, aunts, friends, and (if you happen to be me) fathers. Convincing relatives at every family function that no, you're not past your prime, but that's a delightful turn of phrase. You all thought I'd have found a man by now? Thanks, that's...sweet. And God forbid any of them should find out you ENJOY being single. They hate that.
But now...oh, now. It's so much worse! And it's your fault.
Sign up your friends. Great. Wrapped for audiences in a wrapping paper of romance with ribbons of happiness, you seem to suggest that this is the greatest thing imaginable! Picture it: your own mother, heart set on only your happiness (and her greedy, selfish desire for grandchildren) can stop nagging you about finding a girlfriend! Instead, she'll take matters into her own hands! Perfect!
Or imagine this: your dear friends, tired of always putting '+1' on your wedding invitations, can find you a permanent wedding date! (And finally drag you into the Marital Bliss Club. Bitches.) Huzzah!
I have to wonder how this idea came to fruition. Was it a unanimous decision? Or were you strong-armed into it by a couple powerful people? It doesn't make any sense. I mean, how many people would really trust their parents to write their personal ads for them? Not gonna lie, I would not. I love them, but I hardly think we are looking for the same qualities in a man.
Mom, writing my personal ad: "Seeking gentleman who values parents and family. Willing to live close to my parents and crank out grandchildren like there is no tomorrow. Values education and does not utter curse words. Hoping for someone who can break me of my bad habits, including swearing and sassing my mother. Also, someone who will tell me that my impersonation of my father is neither accurate nor funny. Feel free to tell me how pretty I am when my hair is down and I am not wearing sweatpants. Tall, non-smoker, no tattoos or piercings preferred. Thanks for your time!"
Yeah. Surely she'd rope my Mr. Perfect with THAT. Match.com, I cannot believe that anyone in their right mind would think this is a good idea. I'm appalled. STAY AWAY FROM ME.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
I told the kindergarten teachers about a potentially life-saving site today: http://www.howmanyfiveyearoldscouldyoutakeinafight.com/ . I scoffed the first time I saw it, but evidently...it's not bad information to have.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Not 30 minutes into the 7 hour day, we were paired off to practice moving a victim. Picture this: I've flipped my partner from being face-down on the floor to face-up. I'm bent over her face, listening for signs of life, holding on to her chin and forehead. (Note: she pulled through!) My ear is an inch from her mouth. I sit up to move her into a recovery position.
"So I'm Sarah."
"Well it's nice to meet you."
A nice, quick way to make new friends? Perhaps.
In other news, Fridays are Spirit Days at work. Most recently, we had Mismatch Day. How would you take it if someone told you, "You did a REALLY good job." on that sort of day? Compliment? A masked way of saying you look ugly? Both? Not sure.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
So, readers, what potential mistakes would you make tomorrow?
I might smile, or maybe keep my mouth shut when I see a public display of affection.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Unclear Text Message.
You know what I mean. We've all gotten them. The text message that leaves you thinking the sender meant something more. There's the drunk variety. The late night messages from ex boyfriends. The flirting messages from someone you might be interested in. Hell, even the misspelled ones. All sorts. And they're annoying.
Not anymore! Not when I'm done with the mobile companies, anyway. All because of The Subtext. I want my mobile to send me a post-text text, telling me exactly what the sender meant. Can you imagine how great that would be?!?
A real-life example: me, to a friend: "Why did you have to move?? You suck."
Subtext: "Dude, I totally miss you."
The best part about all this? It will put to rest one of my ever-present pet peeves. It's been a pain in the ass ever since the first man typed SEMI-COLON, END PARENTHESIS in an email to a girl.
The Winky Face. Ohhh, god, the winky face. How I loathe you, with your hidden meanings and yes, subtext. The most confusing of all text symbols or acronyms, the winky face has myriad connotations. It can be flirtatious. It can say, "I'm only kidding." It can convey a joke. Sometimes it can be a deliberate annoyance by a friend who shall remain nameless. (But you know who you are.) The winky face. (Though as much as I detest the winky face, I also secretly adore it. What would I do if I couldn't analyze a text message or e-mail? I reckon I'd faint from sheer boredom.)
But with The Subtext, the mystery would be cleared up! No more will you have to sit there in agony, wondering what he meant! Is he trying to be funny? Or is that a suggestive wink? What does it mean?? No, those days would be over.
If you work for a wireless carrier, you are morally obligated to take this to your higher-ups. I command you. (And implore you. Seriously.)
Saturday, February 23, 2008
This attitude was reflected by my family. Our first hour at the funeral home was just immediate family. And it was so quiet. Just us and gram. I stood there with my brother, looking at her. "Wait…" he said. "Is this Desperado?"
You would like for me to say no.
You would be wrong. It was a Muzak version of The Eagles. Followed by That's What Friends Are For. Yes, our final goodbye to our grandmother was set to the soundtrack of Crap Funeral Home Muzak. It felt like being in an elevator. I did learn a lesson, though. When I'm old and tell my family what I want to wear to my funeral, I'm also giving them some CD choices.
My father learned that mourners don't have their minds on pocket change. Realizing this, he took a turn around the room, sitting on any seat with a cushion. He spent the day telling stories about my grandmother while counting his ill-gotten fortune. ($1.42, if you're curious. Score.)
My brother and sister decided that Grandma would appreciate some new stories about her life. So after a brainstorming session, these two tall tales were added to her history: Did you know my grandmother invented the Arby's potato cake? However, Mr. Robert Arby stole the idea from her before she could cash in.* Also, my grandmother was a WAC in WWII both until and during her pregnancy with my mother. Only when the baby was born did she give up flying.** (Two tickets to Hell for my siblings, please.)
One cousin asked if she could bring any food to the post-funeral lunch. Then she remembered she doesn't cook. After all the guests were gone from the house, though, I found that she'd brought an alternative. A bottle of Irish booze tied up in grocery bag in my bedroom. You have to love family. (I guess she didn't want to share?)
Even though some of us couldn't keep from crying (I did not, shut up, that is a lie.) it was a nice tribute to her. I think my feisty grandma would have liked it...particularly, the hidden booze.
But not, you know, the music.
**Also a lie.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
"You know what I really hate? *Wait for reply.* People who leave their shopping carts in the middle of the parking lot. And you just know that those people would be the first to scream bloody murder *point finger accusingly for emphasis* if their car got hit by one! *Wait for murmur of agreement...there it is.*"
Monday, February 11, 2008
I like ANTM. It's entertaining enough. But there is something that bothers me...and it happens way too often. (Me, annoyed? You're shocked.) These girls--these pretty girls who have been hand-selected by Tyra Banks as Super Pretty Girls--get on camera and weep because they were "never the pretty one in school and no one ever noticed me." WHAT? Ok, maybe you have some self-esteem issues. I'll accept that. We all do. But you were "the ugly one"?? No. No, in fact, you were not. You're a MODEL. There are NO UGLY MODELS! Models are, by the very definition of what they do, PRETTY. So don't get on camera on national television and tell me, a NON-model, that "everybody thought I was ugly." Because nobody likes a liar, ladies.
Especially not an ugly one.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
What a good time.
In other news, we have this week off at school, so our Valentine celebration was yesterday. Despite my general loathe for the holiday, I like elementary school celebrations--because it's just about candy. I'm ok with that sort of priority list. I even consented to wear some pink and red for school spirit day. (I mostly wore black, so don't panic.) The nice part at their age is that it's not a romantic holiday. One of my 5th grade boys brought me an NBA Valentine...can you get LESS romantic than that? I love it!
I have to run now, because guess who isn't feeling well this morning? Oh yeah, my gram. I'll be back soon, internet. Fear not.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Or so I thought.
I guess I was wrong? I work the homework club after school (yes it IS the coolest club to join) and dash down to the cafeteria at the end of the day. Well, TODAY I got to my office at 4:30 to find not an open door, as I left it, but a closed locked door with tape across and a sign proclaiming KEEP OUT, ROOM SPRAYED. (Bonus: My office locks automatically.) (Double Bonus: My keys? Inside. Obviously.) Um...cool?
I ran around and found another teacher and borrowed her keys and warned her that if I didn't return in two minutes, she should check my office for my body. I darted in and looked like a spaz trying to get all my stuff together and figure out what work needed to come home. Then I sadly threw away the apple that was to be my snack, having visions of my colleagues finding me Snow White-style. Poisoned apple rolling away from my hand and all that.
So here is my question: why would one pesticide spray merit some warning, but the other one...not so much? (Also: will my box of Triscuits be safe to eat? Does anyone know about flying ant pesticide? No? Ok, thanks.)