Paranormal Decorations

I was on the phone with my BFF the other night when I noticed a new Halloween decoration--some sort of cat. It looked like there was a spring involved. As I listened to a story, I absentmindedly toyed with it.

It's more than a spring. It's awful. I do. Not. Like it. I may have shrieked in surprise. My BFF, who had not been telling a scary story, was concerned. "Um..." was her response.

When I told her what horrors had occurred, she said, "Hey, it's like that air freshener you hate." (Readers may remember my Epic Battle from earlier entries.) I shuddered at the memory. And because misery loves company, I thought you'd like to see just what sinister objects are being brought into my home. (WARNING: Not safe for children. Or the weak-at-heart. Or super lame people like me.)



Not. Ok. Happy Halloween!

PSA

This afternoon I found myself stopped at a red light. Two middle-aged gentlemen were crossing the street, which put them walking directly in front of us. And one of them stared at me. The whole time. I don't mean that he looked at me and I! Am! So! Offended! Please divert your eyes, sir!
No. It wasn't like that. I don't mean he looked at me and thought to himself, "My her hair is shiny. It's captivating!" I mean he stared directly at me the entire time he crossed the street, in a "Where in my backyard should I bury her?" sort of way. I felt unsettled and locked the doors.

By now you're thinking, Why are you telling us this, Amanda? I'm glad you asked that. I think it's a good time to pass along a little pearl of wisdom to my gentlemen readers. Ready? Pens poised over notebooks, prepared to jot this down?

When you're looking at a woman (or really, any human being in any situation) it's really important that you not look like you'll end up on the news. When you're making eye contact, tone it down. If you're looking at a woman, and her eyes are darting around like a scared woodland creature who's been cornered by a hunter...you're doing it wrong.

Thought you ought to know!

Now really.

Creed has a new song on the radio.

Stop it. Creed, just stop this now.

Fatherly advice.

"That woman was sexy...Out of your league? Son. Let women figure out why they won't screw you, don't do it for them."

I love Shit My Dad Says.

For S and CW.

When you think about your best friend getting married, it's scary. Kind of a heart-stopping "Am I having a seizure?" moment. You worry that you won't like her betrothed and you'll cringe your way through the wedding and speak to each other less until gradually you lose contact with her except a yearly card at Christmas.

When S announced her engagement to CW, I didn't have those thoughts. Sure, the basic idea is a little strange--my BFF is going to be married? Weird. But if I took up witchcraft and did some sort of spell to make S the perfect man...CW is pretty much who I'd come up with. From day one he fit into her life so nicely that it seemed they'd always been together. He embraced me with open arms, as few will do. He said all the right things and behaved in such a way as to give me nothing to complain about. (And you know I am a good complainer.) Here is a man who walked into my BFF's life and plays with her cats and loves breakfast for dinner as much as she does and makes sure we have lots of "BFF time" when I visit. I stood back, observing and gaping at him and silently hoping he wouldn't do anything to tarnish this image.

You two are sickeningly, disgustingly adorable together. The saccharine nature of your relationship leaves me feeling sick to my stomach. I am nauseated by the sight of your affection, by the sound of your pet names and endearments. When you go into couple mode in the kitchen while cooking, I find a seat near the restroom because I can actually feel the bile rising in my throat. Your pre-wedding gift to me of a "vom bucket" may have been a joke to you--but it has actually been the most useful thing you could have gotten me.

I don't have to wish you a lifetime of this disappointing, sappy behavior. I know it will happen whether or not I approve. However, in this rare case I do.
Congratulations, S+C.
<3

I can't make this up.

Today, I went into my kindergarten classroom and one of my students took my hand as if to shake it. Did he? No, he did not.


He kissed my hand.


I don't have anything witty to add to this. It was actually a rather precious moment. Particularly since he tends to be a bit of a pain in the ass. So...basically he's taking his cues from the other men I know. Way to go, B!

Attention.

I will not be watching The Office wedding tonight. I am in Indiana for the real-life wedding of my BFF. So please refrain from telling me any details about said television wedding. We can have a big double wedding recap upon my return.

Just a little wedding tidbit: BFF says she is not doing a bouquet toss. BFF = best bride ever.

Thanks, internet friends. See you Monday!

Interesting.

Forget Kidz Bop. I'm about to mastermind the next big thing in underage cover bands: Kindergarten Rock. I'll go ahead and film my class singing the hits, make a TV commercial, and then I'll prepare for all the paparazzi.

A few days ago, B. started singing "Fire Burning" by Sean Kingston. I put a stop to that, thinking it was inappropriate.

Yesterday, three of my girls were waiting for their parents to pick them up when they started a round of the Numa Numa song, which I assume was them singing the Rihanna and T.I. song that uses it. I left them alone because it's just a preposterous song and I was having a quiet laugh.

And today, one of my more energetic kindergarten friends, M., was singing (and dancing to) "Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas. He had to stop because he started singing quite loudly and we were busy finding pictures of things that start with the letter T.


It's really quite the playlist happening in my classroom.