Some things are more important than bitching about the shortcomings of an entire gender. (But seriously, boys, shape the hell up.)
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.)
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
I gave him a pen.
Somewhere in this city, there is a 4th grader walking around with a broken heart...because of me. While normally this would be the sort of thing I'd thrive on, I actually feel a bit guilty. I know, I know...that's not me. But alas.
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.
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
Matchmaker?
Dear match.com,
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.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
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.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Bad Swan ;)
I got a wedding invitation today. Gag! And the whore didn't even think to include "+1" on my invite! As if she didn't even think it was possible for me to FIND a date. (I totally could, FYI, but I CHOOSE not to. Damn.) Stop throwing your happiness in my face, ok? This is like making your bridesmaids wear really ugly dresses just so you feel better about yourself, only 10,000 times worse. I hope you're satisfied, Bride-to-Be.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Child-proof.
Why yes, this does scare the crap out of me. I work in an elementary school, and was not aware that I needed to hide all blunt objects in my room and consider working out some sort of teacher buddy check system.
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.
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.
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