Change Over The Waters

Exploring New Skin

2008-10-08T10:19:00.000-07:00

We decided to go to the fair in celebration of all of the "salt of the Earth" folk who typically visit the state fair.

We hadn't been in years, long before Count and I started dating, it was time for an Indian Taco.

The husband wanted a sign. A pretty little sign for the yard to advertise for the next president. Having finally made up my mind about this upcoming election, I told him we could get one.

There was a catch, there alway is.

We had to register to vote to get the signs. And we are both registered to vote. So I decided to do something I have known I've needed to do for years, and I switched political parties. Just like that, done. And, we got the signs.

But since then I've felt icky. Mother flipped, as mothers always do. The whole breaking-with-family-tradition thing. I thought at 27 I would avoid this backlash, but I guess a parent is never proud when you "rebel."

I know I made the right choice, but it is a strange closure for me and a strange thought that I am actually shifting groups. And I don't like all of the new people in this group.

And then I watched the VP debates and knew without a doubt that I had made a good choice.

And then I saw the debate last night and now all of the sudden I am not so sure.

Is it possible that I might actually be an undecided voter? Or am I just undecided about switching parties? I really need someone strong to just tell me more than what I already know so I can make the decision I was comfortable making 24 hours ago.

And, as I noted, the sign was stolen 24 after we placed it. Go America.

Lacking Motivation

2007-11-16T14:06:00.000-08:00

Cat Math.

14 Vomits + 3 diarrheas = 1 unhappy camper

Campbell's chicken broth - 30% sodium = gag

1 cancelled debate tournament + 1 free Friday evening = everything's okay

Losing an Invisible Friend

2007-11-11T12:59:00.001-08:00

There's an elephant in the room.

Dr. Randy Pausch says if there's an elephant in the room, to address it. Any by the way, on an unrelated note, I think this guy is amazing and it's well worth your time to never return here, but rather to play around in his website. His last lecture is phenomenal, and I barely deserve to be quoting him.

She's a pretty elephant. She wears a pink tutu. And ballet slippers. And she keeps beautiful eyelashes.

So, when I do as advised and adress the elephant, I find that she adores that kind of attention. What 1/2 ton balerina wouldn't? She loves me to talk about her, so I address her expecting her to go away, but she stays. And she will not be ignored.

I try but she stamps her feet and wails through her trunk. She's a diva, I know. The more she kicks, the less I eat. (whoo hoo?)

The more I poop. (uh oh)

And...worse. I woke up this morning knowing the diva must die.

I'm strangely addicted to her presence, even though she physically makes me ill.

I don't know how I'll kill her, or know if I am even able to accomplish this task, but one thing is certain, either I kill her or she kills me.

Thank You

2007-11-07T19:43:00.000-08:00

Just thought I would wish you much love on your isolation week. Thanks so much for being such a wonderful friend. We've been through alot together and I am here for you. Post when you are ready...And I can't wait to see you next Saturday!

Much love, sister, much love.

Nevermind

2007-11-07T16:18:00.001-08:00

I changed my shoes and that seemed to stop the angst.

Noontime Observations

2007-11-07T10:04:00.000-08:00

1. Heeding Perspectives--how does one heed perspectives when I am the only one speaking?

2. Can I get a pat on the back? I made the decision to not make a decison. Why are those never celebrated? Says the alchoholic to the beer bottle. Yeah, I know. It's because indecision now just means wait until the mood changes. We'll see who wins then.

3. Why does normal throw me off its back like a bar room bull?

4. Why can't I use a submission metaphor without thinking of Chris Benoit?

5. Why do I pretend I am speaking, when what's killing me is how silent I am on how I feel?

6. Fuck this.

7. Seriously.

8. Fuck this.

9. Don't ever tell me again to cheer up. Unless you want me to tell you to remove those skank ass peircings from your face.

10. Fuck this.

P is for Pissed or Provocateur

2007-11-04T07:11:00.001-08:00

There has been a nagging at my skirt and a tugging in my stomach. It's that strange achy feeling like the coffee pot has been left on or like a bill might not have been paid.

It's the feeling that sometimes accompanies shame. Like if someone looks at me long enough they'll see my bra through my shirt or know that my legs or horribly unshaven under these jeans.

I've been searching for what's pulling...

I am in Kansas City, waiting for kids to continue debating their asses off and I decide to, for, of course, posterity's sake, take a gander at the 'ol (or is it ol') blog-eroo. I can't help but be saddened and impressed at how well I used to write.

I have a keen sense of awareness that when I was doing this before that my metaphorical technique was close to flawless (how I love giving my narca-self praise!) But, the scared hairy-appendage-push-up-bra-frighted-without-legs-doe in me makes me terrified to again open myself to this vulnerability.

But I'm nautious. Without here neurotic is a good day. Overwhelmed is everyday, and the burning in my belly and Pavlov's bell rings in my head constantly reminding me that I am missing something.

I always do this.

I write. Then I get angry at the time I spend writing because it is a waste of time. I feel guilt about being on the internet because its less time to grade, be with my daughter, be with my husband, catch up with a friend. Does this mean I have chosen an internet diary over relationships?Especially the familial ones?

Or does it mean that I am tired of playing perfect to everyone except for myself? Oh, the melodrama!

Something has gone wrong.

I find myself wanting to make bad decisions. Not the little pick-your-nose-say-a-bad-word-sleep-in-late-don't-clean-the-house ones, but the cross-the-line-screw-responsibility-am-I-really-an-adult-why-can't-I-go-back-to-college ones. And I think it's because my artsy fartsy side isn't being fed. The rebel in me says that I haven't said enough bad words to keep the creative juices flowing. That for every fuck I utter that I free words like "narcissism" and "exemplify" and "germane" that refuse to come out of the corner they were pout in until I utter the secret dirty words.

Now the Schizophrenic dilemna:

Am I supposed to ignore the rebel in favor of the mother? Is this the last of my childhood dying? Am I supposed to place all of this in an emotional heart shaped box (to borrow a phrase) until I hit mid-life crisis and either run away with a blonde twenty something young girl, get a tatoo, or buy a sports car? Or do I continue this blog thing and tell little Baby Girl that "mommie has a blogging and bad word problem"?

I guess there are worse addictions, but if she were to see her mother ranting like a lunatic or worse see her mom's childish need to complain, maybe it would decrease her ability to trust me or worse, her ability to respect me.

All I know is that everytime I stop writing, I get a burning in my belly. The demons I run from start catching up. The bad decisions overshadow the good. Mike where are you? Malfoy where are you? Genderist, Bad Shoe, Counts, and Haters, huh-huh, hello? Is this thing on?

Like crawling into sweatpants. Doesn't matter how shitty or underdressed they make you look, they are always the perfect fit...So, here I am baby...signed, sealed, deliver'd. I'm yours.

Phenomenon

2007-03-17T10:00:00.000-07:00

It seems amazing to me that in spite of all modern medicine that there are still aches and pains that go unexplained. For the better part of a month, my body has been aching. I have this pain that starts somewhere in the cervix area (too much information?) and runs like a shock up the sides of my stomach. It feels like a jolt of electricity and I would swear that my little girl is scraping her hands on my underside. They cause me to stop and bear down. So I consult all of the books. None of them explain contractions this way. hmm.

Thank the gods I get to see the doctor every two weeks right now.

So I bring this mystery pain to her attention. She hasn't got much to say about it. Just that it happens, it's not a contraction, and medically there seems to be no explanation for it, because "we" (as if she goes through this with me) shouldn't be able to feel anything down there. Am I a freak? Nope. Apparently, women around the globe experience this mystery pain, but it hasn't been linked to labor, or dialation, or anything useful except another nagging pain.

I feel so fortunate to be chosen not only for morning sickness and stretch marks, but also the electro-shock treatment of my cervix. This process truly is miraculous.

One of the Perks

2007-01-16T07:53:00.000-08:00

The kids may get annoying, the other teachers may be neurotic, but there is no better job than teaching. Especially when you get the call for another snow day!

Taking Survey

2007-01-13T15:38:00.000-08:00

So there's been two things on my mind lately, both of which are largely unrelated, but hey I thought now might be the time to poll the small audience of peeps that I have out there to ask for thoughts or advice.

Scenario #1 The Lost Friend
The first is concerning an old friend. He was my best friend throughout my entire high school years and then we were still close at the beginning of college until we managed to mess things up severely by dating. Post this kind of akwardness, there was distance between us for about 3 months and then he disappeared for a couple of months. I almost refuse to go into the details of how all of this played out, but needless to say, at the end of the day we (some of his other friends and I) found him still in OKC but distant from his family and still not speaking to any of us. The end result was that he fled to avoid telling all of us that he was gay. I have thought of him for years, and I have kept up with his wherabouts based on the rumors of people-from his travels to Dallas and back-and through various jobs in the city. I recently again ran into someone who is still in close contact with one of his sisters and she said that he has a "My Space" page and her recommendation was to tell me to go check it out and see if he responds. I honestly don't know how I feel about this. I really miss him and I miss his friendship, but inevitably alot has changed between us.

Part of me wants to contact him to tell him that I love him dearly as a friend and that I would never reject him, but I don't know that any of that would even be relevant to him anymore. As a matter of fact, I don't know that he would want to confront such a painful portion of his past. I know that it would be nice to resolve some of that past, but I also don't know how a possible future friendship would precede. I've been hanging onto this information for about 2 weeks now, but I have yet to do anything. Suggestions welcome.

Scenario #2 Starting a Journal
I am more up in the air with this because I am worried about the "cheese" factor. Kate, you reminded me of this when you were talking about reading your grandparents' journals. I was thinking of how little I wanted to listen to my mother when I was going through the obnoxious pre-teen phase and how she had tons of really awesome advice that I just wasn't able to listen to because I always thought that her advice was biased against my friends or my boyfriend, etc. And I started wondering what it would be like to start a journal for my little girl. One that just carried my thoughts about womanhood, life, love, honesty, etc etc...You know, something I started before I even knew her. Something that is a way for her to see what her mom thinks about life and the world without thinking that what I am saying. There just aren't many times in a typical week that any parent gets to have heartfelt conversations with their parents about values. As a matter of fact, at least in my family, the majority of the value discussions came when an argument was in place and it seemed more like my mother was lecturing me rather than trying to show me what was important. So anywho, I want to do it, but I also don't want it to seem stupid or cheesy. Worth my time? Or just junk the thought?

Thoughts appreciated on either or both. 'Til then I'm still stuck in the house and waiting on round 3 of the weather to strike.

Let It Ice

2007-01-12T13:13:00.000-08:00

Okay, so now I am back around and I have absolutely no idea what in the world to blog about. I suppose I'll do my little life update, and wait until something more incredible inspires me this weekend.

I am now entering my 6 month of pregnancy, which is largely why I haven't blogged in awhile. Too big of a life change and I didn't want to be that person. You know, the one that becomes the non-stop whiner about babies, children, yadda yadda yadda. Unfortunately, that pretty much is what I am becoming whether I want to be or not. It's just to big of a change to think about much else.

Thank goodness t.v. has kept me occupied enough to give me something less lame than pregnancy. I have been a big fan as of late of Top Chef that airs on Bravo. I am even lame enough to read all of the celebrity/judges blogs about the show. I won't talk about it now, because once I start rambling about the show, I am unlikely to stop...however, just in case you are interested, I've linked the blogs for Top Chef in my sidebar.

Job's going great, although I am starting to realize that most jobs are largely the same. There are substantial benefits to this job, the lack of micromanagement being the primary benefit, however some drama went down this week and I was left wondering if any school system is really that different from any other. The drama, by the way, was all centered around whether or not a student is allowed to use copy machines. It took four teachers and two administraters four days and roughly 7,000 e-mails for my school to conclude it wasn't that big of a deal for kids to run a few copies. Oh, melodrama what would I do with out thee?

Not much else on the horizon, although at some point I will pull the really motherly thing an post some possible room borders and colors and you folks can help me pick out some nursery colors.

Until then, I guess I will "enjoy" the ice storm in the city and hope to God the power doesn't go out...

Too Hungry

2007-01-05T16:04:00.000-08:00

But I am going to be coming back around. I'll be posting again soon!

Happy International Pirate Day!

2006-09-19T18:00:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Mates! I have been busier (ARR!) than I can describe and worse (arr) I just haven't been wanting to get on the blog to complain, so I've been waiting (arr). I couldn't however, pass up the opportunity to wish everyone a happy International Talk Like A Pirate Day.

The Count seems only to think it's just Pirate Day as opposed to Talk Like A Pirate Day, so I responded by challenging him to a duel that ended (ARR!) in him walking the plank. Enjoy the day and I hope all is well!

Oh, and if you need proof or more information about this saltiest of all holidays, just check out this website.

My Nightmare List

2006-08-26T14:16:00.000-07:00

Genderist and I were talking last night about how vivid our dreams have been lately. So, I decided to do a dream list of some of the strangest recurring dreams that I have had. I'll leave out all of the nightmares I used to have of the Wicked Witch of the West, but other than that, these are some of my strangest and what they may or may not mean...

1. First and Most Common, The Driving Dream: I have had this dream since I was at least 6 or 7 years old (let's just say from as old as I could understand what driving was, I was having this dream). This one happens started when, before I could drive, I would be forced to drive the car and I couldn't so the car loses control. Once I was driving, I started having dreams that the car's brakes or clutch would quit working and I start rolling faster and faster towards a bridge, wall, or water. Too much fun. Scares the crap out of me every time. See Crash: Means that I am experiencing a shocking situation, or that I have beliefs that strongly disagree with someone, or that I am going to die in a car crash. The crazy part is that I've always thought I was going to die in a car crash. (Too serious for this post, maybe? )

2. My Teeth are Falling Out: This is a new one for me. I started having it last week, actually. It is so embarrassing and it's worse that going to an event naked. See Teeth: Means that I have said something foul that I regret (unlikely since I would have this dream everyday) or that my health is somehow in question or jeopardy. I have also been told it has to do with concern about appearance, which goes along with the health thing.

3. My Worst Nightmare: I had this dream only one time, but it is worth mentioning, because I never forgot about it. I was about 13 years old and I was staying at my Dad's house for a week. I went to bed and dreamed that I lived in a trailer in the woods. There are tall trees and snow everywhere. I run out and this bear is going nuts. He's mauling people and killing and I am frozen to the spot watching. I finally was able to open the door and the last thought I remember before waking was that I would spend the rest of my life fighting the bear. See bear or Polar Bear: apparently the bear signifies a life and death change, a deep introspection, or dealing with aggression, competition, or overwhelming obstacles. What's weird is that I still don't know what it is I fight daily with the bear. Maybe that's why I still remember the dream.

4. The Murders and Death Dreams: I think everyone has also had these. The dream where someone you love dearly dies. Or when a stranger dies. I went through a period of about 3 months every year in high school, I would have murder dreams where I would murder classmates or sometimes family members and the rest of the dream would be centered around trying to dispose of the body. These are the dreams that I would wake up with the most amount of guilt. See Murder or Killing: This means I have suppressed rage (surprise, surprise) that I am putting an end to an old habit, or that I have oppressed rage at the person I was killing.

5. The Strength Dream: This has been recurring for five years. It's a dream about Professional Wrestling or Wrestlers. I am either meeting a wrestler or I am a professional wrestler, or I am looking for one. Something along those lines. I don't think there's a way to look those up, but I know this dream like the back of my hand. It's my strength dream. I always have this dream as a pep talk for my self. It brings out my stronger side.

There they are. There are a few more, but you all will only read so much in a day. Let me know what you dream if you dare. And just hold back on the "I think you are psycho" comments. I definitely could live without those right now...It's good to be back around, though.

All Work and No Play...

2006-08-17T15:07:00.000-07:00

Makes Unequivocal_Prowess, much less prowess-like. See? I can't even come up with anything more witty than this.

We are four days away from school and Count and I starting two new jobs.

Four days. And if I had more time, I would count the minutes.

The worst part is that I can't wait until school starts because we will quit doing all of these "professional development" meetings that ultimately amount to bullshit. So, ironically, after the first day of school, I will have MORE time to actually do my lesson plans instead of having to do them at home AFTER I spend an entire day being lectured about remembering to be a good teacher. Why oh why does our educational system continue to demonstrate its incompotence? Ick. Enough, and hopefully, in four days, I will wander back to this world again...

I miss it, and I hope all is well with everyone! J

There goes my hopes

2006-08-10T07:25:00.000-07:00

of not being afraid of flying anymore. I was awoken this morning to text messages from the Count to check the news. I have been awake now for a grand total of 80 minutes. I've got that eerie feeling again where I don't know exactly how panicked I should be. Eloquent and I have already been on the phone this morning and it does just tend to leave this creepy feeling to know that here we are again "battling" terrorism. (Do I even put that in quotes this time?) I don't have any thoughts, yet. No political statements. After Bush speaks at 11:30 am my time, maybe I will have more to say. I guess I just wanted to say it feels like going through 9/11 all over again. Watching the crappy news to only get real updates every 4 hours, while the rest is a pounding manipulation of the same 3 sentences. I am open for who ever wants to spark this discussion...

Like A Cat

2006-08-09T09:38:00.000-07:00

There is about a million things I need to do around the house and to get ready for school. In the morning, I start my all day trainings pretty much until school starts. So what have I been doing? Sleeping. Napping. Mosey-ing around. Moving slow. And now I'm really out of time. But I absolutely love falling asleep with the t.v. in the background in the middle of the morning. It's so rare that it happens, and the cheerios made my eyes sleepy. Why am I even blogging, when I need to be at the post office? My laziness has hit a new level...

One Year

2006-08-06T08:38:00.000-07:00

It was one year ago today that Kasey and I were married. I've been waiting for this day just so that I had a good reason to share some of the wedding pictures. About this time in the morning last year, I had discovered that one of the cakes was missing strawberries. One of my friends, I actually just found out, went across town to retrieve the strawberries from a bakery. I was alone for about an hour while the rest of the girls got their hair done. I still don't know why, but for 48 hours I cried. I have never been so scared. I don't know why, I guess a part of me knew I was growing up.

When I woke up the day of the wedding, I wasn't crying anymore and I was calm, even through the strawberry incident. Kasey, on the other hand, was apparently freaking out. Bridesmaids kept coming in to inform us that he was pacing the halls. He now tells me that because everyone saw that he was nervous, so they kept crowding around him, when all he wanted was some alone time to settle his nerves. This is where I keep thinking about how big of a lie this picture is. He wasn't happy go lucky here, he was scared, too.

The ceremony and the rest of the day went off without any problems. I wish I could post the pictures of Kasey and I shoving cake into my brother-in-law's face, (which is what we did in lieu of shoving it in each other's face), or even the retaliation that he brought upon us right after the toast. But we do have a Bed and Breakfast to report to today, so I guess I can't spend all day re-living last year's event when we have festivities to attend.

I never thought I would say that it's a year later and it still feels brand new. It still feels awesome to have a day to share with someone. I can't imagine what year 2 or year 27 will feel like, but I know that today I am pumped to still be sharing my life with Kasey. And I think this is probably enough mushiness to make everyone sick, so I'm gonna go now. Maybe I'll spend the next post talking about our experience at my in-laws 30th anniversary and how I ate lamb fries, one of which still had some testicular tubing in it...Apparently, there's still a big difference between the 1st and the 30th anniversary...

Fishy! Sardine Flava'

2006-08-04T21:21:00.000-07:00

In Harry Potter: The Sorcerer's Stone, the Xbox game, there is a point where Harry eats many a bean. Sometimes he eats (mmm. curry!) and other times he eats (revolting! vomit flavor!) and now screaming in the background with what amazing voice she has, Genderist is calling (Bogey Flava'!) which is what Harry says when he eats boogers.

But funniest of all the funnies, is when he eats the red one and calls out (Fishy! Sardine Flava') in his worst Wales' accent, which isn't even true to HP, but that is another drunken (or am I) post.

All of that to say this: we are drunken beer right now. Drunken alot of it. We are girls. No boys intended. That means we drink what we like and experiment a little. We experimented with the Rasberry Woodchuck Draft Cider. Do you know what it doesn't taste like? Uh huh. Or Mmm. Hmm. You guessed it. Horse. It tastes like a fucking fish tank. Refer to my 1st post ever about what algae and angry fish tastes and or fucking smells like, because we just choked down sardine flavor in a somewhat expensive pensieve pilsner. We are pissed at fished. It is eeeeew. Stay away, flava'.

What is this A Delivery Room? What is this a Delivery Room?

2006-08-01T06:52:00.000-07:00

Apparently, I'm just the delivery girl. Here you go. Friends, enemies, and otherwise visitors, I give you another new blogger, eloquent_modesty. (Congrats! It's a boy! {Spank} {wail} {scream}) His new blog The Power Shifted is fresh and brand spankin' new. I know you all have been showing the new bloggers (and old one's, hem hem, who haven't been posting lately...count) the love. So, with nothing much better to post about lately, I continue to be the cheering section for everyone else's thoughts...

On an unrelated note, it is strange how repetitive my blog has been this summer. All of June and July were crappy crappy repetitive repetitive posts about camp and now all of late July and what appears to be most of August are/will be advertisements adverstisements for other people's posts other people's posts. It may just be me, but it feels repetitive repetitive.

If it makes you feel any better, I would be posting something having to do with bastardization again, internally that's how I've been feeling about my blog. My entire world gets filtered through this little world. I cram all of my experiences into this place, but in an effort to accommodate the multitude of readers, I have to edit most of my experiences to make them palatable to those stopping by. I am thinking of abandoning the edit button on this blog (and henceforth intentionally spelling hear here or bare bear or baer any damn way I choose to) just for the sake of returning this blog back to what I had wanted it to be, a place with meaning and damned be the haters (not "The Hater") or the readers who would be angry (not "Angry Dissenter") because I was speaking some shit. Genderist and I were discussing the other day how sometimes our blogs become pukey regurgitations of our miserable or bland days. The posts themselves are bland or inane and, in the end, the blog world becomes another way to lay our stress on the backs of others. Then, because you love us and we love you, we feel obligated to pull out our own watered down generic crappy advice that we would offer and smatter that shit all over as a way to somehow express solidarity with each other's pathetic days. Don't get me wrong, it's actually really fucking cathartic, but for me lately, it's been counter-productive. I'm just saying that for the next few weeks, this thing might get a little weird as I experiment with some new shit. (EM, key words-anger, pit of belly, must have, exchanged sugars, new power, etc...).

And, just to add a little bit of irony to the day, just enough to stick in your pocket and keep it close to your heart, I will go ahead and post the latest update on my crappy life which is: I went to call Old Job today to go ahead and tell them that since they wanted to hold me to my contract that I would voluntarily return without fighting (if you are lost in this, see Holding Pattern) and they told me that they have interviews today and asked me sit in on them. So literally, at THE LAST POSSIBLE second, there's hope that I might get to move to New Job. I like that ending to this post, anyways. There's hope.

More Shameless Promotions

2006-07-30T16:25:00.000-07:00

Because apparently I don't have a damn thing to write about lately, I will once again inform the commmunity that the Count has stepped up and started posting again lately. Props to everyone who is attempting to amuse and entertain us all. And, for like the third time in four weeks, go check him out at :

A Little Elaboration

Happy Reading!

Malfoy Is Coming

2006-07-28T11:30:00.000-07:00

All right. Time to sound like a super geek. My friend from Debate Camp is coming. Him and I used to teach together at the camp that I was at last week, but for the past 4 years he hasn't been able to come. It hasn't been that big of a deal that he was gone, it's just another symbol of things that change over time.

He's one of the friends I can talk to for hours...

He's one of the friends that I don't see often enough...

And he always comes into town and the strangest and most inopportune times, but there's no worries, that's how it always works out. This time, instead of hiding him in my home, I want to parade him all over the city so that he can meet my friends. I haven't seen him in two years and I'm excited for him to be here.

None of this is the super-Geeky part, though.

This is my friend that I started reading Harry Potter books with. The last time he came to visit, I was finishing the 4th book, Goblet of Fire. I had about 200 pages left and he asked me if I'd hit "the point where shit hits the fan." I was assuming that I hadn't because nothing seemed extraordinary yet...He told me I would know because I wouldn't be able to put the book down. I scoff at these challenges, because I read at night just before I go to sleep and regardless of how crazy a plot gets, I can always sleep it off until the next day. When we were going to bed that night, I continued to read a few chapters, and finally it happened. Shit hit the fan. My peeps that are HP fans know. Yeah, you know. It was already late when I went to lay down-sometime in the one o'clock hour and I went out to wake up Malfoy (yeah, I know we have the cheezy HP names that we use to e-mail each other, I use Madam Hootch) and he sleeps on the couch while I stay up and try to read. I AM A SLOW READER. So the book closes and I finish sometime around 5:00 a.m., and I wake him up to talk. Thus began the mania. Now, whenever a book or movie comes out, we have to coordinate our viewing schedules across states so that we can see the movie or read the book in about the same amount of time. I made the utterly SILLY decision of only buying one copy of the 6th book and it was horrible because I had to wait for the Count to read it first before I could tackle it. We called each other when we were done and read passages and conspired together about the endingof the series. I didn't think I was a sick fan of anything, but apparently of this, I am. And so it is. The first confession that I've made in at least a few months, but I love the Potter. I can't wait for the next book or movie, and I can't wait for my friend Malfoy to get here...

The Fourteenth Time..Among other things

2006-07-23T16:09:00.000-07:00

Today is the Fourteenth time I will be attempting to quit smoking. I would love to thank Kate for this, but she really just accentuated what I already know, which is that I loathe this habit. I mean, really loathe it. Except when I'm drinking and/or stressed out at camp, bored, sleepy, angry, happy, fussy, excited, you get the point. So here we go. Day 1. Yeah for Day 1. Can I get a hell yeah?

Tee hee hee. Bad shoe guy posted his first/second post(s) now and I linked his blog wrong in the index. It's fixed now, but go tell him he sucks. Or something nicer, I don't care. But either way, keep up the support for the new posters in the world...

And, M. Night doesn't suck! I have posted this all over Angry's blog, but I will post it all over mine too...the new movie rocked so much that I plan to make life a living hell for Angry over the next few weeks...this movie (Lady in the Water) was cute and it had a fat girl as one of the heros and there were really funny moments and I got scared a few times too, and there were some thinking moments too, and best of all, when we went to see it there were two full rows of pre-teens (which amounted close to 20) none of which could have been over 15, and they were ready for a scary movie, which is silly because I have yet to see a scary Shamalan movie, even though Signs had some jumpy moments, but it kept them silent after the first five minutes and I love that. Any movie that can make kids shut the hell up is worth of praise from me. I give it a full endorsement and you should see it. There. Hah. Oh and I know Shamalan's ego and bad acting sometimes distract from this movie, but I think it's no more presumtous than Steven King writing himself into the final two books of the Dark Tower Series...

Last Days

2006-07-20T08:18:00.000-07:00

This is my last two days at summer camp. We have a new blogger, but he hasn't gotten to post for his first time. Check him out in the next few, so we can give him some support. Any you guessed it, it's bad shoe guy. He's finally got his own blog. Maybe he'll post as much as the Count and the Hater do...

Here's his website: http://mildmanneredalterego.blogspot.com/

Also, I've been going to check out bipin and he's joined our little circle as well, so welcome him too if you are looking for something new: http://jumpstartbipin.blogspot.com/

Finally, I send my love to our little G who is under the knife again this morning. We decided she would have two different smiley scars-one that would smile and one that would frown, so that she could tilt towards you to give a non-verbal clue about how she feels about you...

Holding Pattern

2006-07-14T07:25:00.000-07:00

I interviewed for a job and got the job yesterday. Now I'm waiting for the news that I can be released from my contract at my old job. I'm just waiting now. They have to hire someone new before I can be released from the old job. Last night I was full of all of these regrets, but I tell you, it's amazing what sleep can do to ward off stress.

I woke up this morning ready to deal with today. I don't know at this juncture that I can deal with the stress of more than today, but one day at a time is all I need right now.

I think, despite the title of this little blog, that everyone knows the thing I do worst in this world is deal with change. I put up blinders and get pissy and stressed out. Then, when it's all over, I reflect and think, "That wasn't so bad." It's predictable. Take Camp, for example. I re-lived every grueling moment with you all and then when other people asked me if I liked it or if I would go back, I ended up replying, "We'll see..." as if, by reading my blog you would think that I would ever step foot back inside of that city, let alone on that campus.

DON'T GET ME WRONG, the events that I described were as accurate as my little mind could portray them, but what I didn't post about is all of the days where we had awesome lectures with the kids, or how many cool places Tons of Fun took us to eat, or even just the simple fact that by week 2 I got invited to sit with the rest of the staff and I even joined the Brian McBride Fan Club. I didn't even bother to explain that most of the little things I posted about were resolved the night before my novices got there. Granted, I wanted those things to be handled before I ever even got to camp, but the real moral to the story is that at least they got done.

I think that I treat my whole life the way that Hater treats his movie-going experience. He always tells everyone that before he goes to see a movie, he tries to down-play all of the hype about it so that he won't be dissapointed with the film. I think I down-play every new situation so I don't have to tell you that I'm just scared of dissapointment.

It took all of these words to tell you that I just want to leave my old job and move to my new one and I'm scared that's not gonna happen.

The Laundry List of the Week

2006-07-12T15:07:00.000-07:00

So far this week, I've:

Cleaned the closets
Moved the furniture in one bedroom
Re-arranged the paintings in the house
Hung 3 mirrors in the living room
The usual-dishes, laundry, etc.
Painted the bathroom
Tore down the hideous greenery lining the top of the kitchen cabinets
Hung new curtains
Bought rugs, a trashcan, some canvas baskets, a new lamp, and a 40 watt lightbulb
Switched the sheets to an older, but much more summery-looking set
vacuumed
Fought an epic battle with the cable man that ended with him stealing my soul and me purchasing a new cable modem
Cooked two new recipes, both predictable and average
And watched two discs of scrubs
Oh, and moved the dvds into a new cabinet holder
And put in a new bookshelf
And traded 19 old books for 19 new used books
And traded 30 cds for two classic ones (Nirvana-Bleach and Smashing Pumpkins-Rotten Apples)

And I think that sums it up.

The real question is whether or not the Count will notice any of it when he gets home.

You can tell I've lost all faith that he'll read this blog because I wanted all of this to be a surprise when he gets home...

Last question: Is anyone going to go see the new Pirates... movie? I want to, but I guess I don't want to be the only nerd in the house that is interested...

Great News! We're Brilliant!

2006-07-10T20:20:00.000-07:00

My mom called me early this morning to inform me that CBS' Sunday Morning show did a piece on blogging and it explained the difference between web pages such as "My Space" and blogs. My mom was thrilled to inform me that blogs stood for "web log." Thanks, Mom. Sometimes she learns slower than others, but then again, most days she's still miffed by the whole internet thing, so cheers to her for figuring all of this out.

The best news was that she thought she would call me to tell me that studies have already been done with this whole "blog thing" and they found that while many people have "My Space" pages, only the truly brilliant start and maintain blogs. Jyesssss. I guess I can't skip posting weeks, it may somehow reflect on my mental capability or lack thereof.

Don't worry, I'll be informing the Count as well, I'm sure this will be just the motivation he needs to get blogging again. Or not. But still, we're smart.

To quote Homer Simpson: "I am so SMART, I am so SMART. S-M-R-T. Oh, S-M-A-R-T.

Must...Kill...Cable Guy...

2006-07-10T07:57:00.000-07:00

I am just wondering if this will even post, so I won't elabortate on this situation except to say this: I am at home now and still the best internet connection that we get is from stealing wireless from the neighbors. If stolen wireless is more consistent that your cable modem, there's a problem.

Worse, I call to have this now 5 week problem addressed and I'm met with hostility. I have paid for months of internet that I can barely use, and yet I'm the "bad guy" oh, I don't think so. I better hurry and post this before the connection disappears again.

And yes, IT IS WONDERFUL TO BE HOME!!!

A Really Crappy Post

2006-07-07T11:32:00.000-07:00

This morning my suite area in my dorm room was used for lecture. There's only been 10 kids in our lab group, so we squeezed in. As the lecture goes on, my least favorite partner, who I have yet to post about, so lets do a sidebar here so I can describe Tons of Fun--

--Tons of Fun is the person that when you see, you know at Christmas time that he doubles as Jolly Old St. Nick. He's smiles from ear to ear, and his cheecks even give off a soft cherry glow. He seems to be as jovial as the obese stereotype goes, and I enjoy his giggles. Yeah, I know now why this sonofabitch was smiling when he met me, and it's not cause he plays Santa Claus, it's because that little shit knew that I would be the one doing all of the work for this lab. I cut a 50 page affirmative (which by the way, is lame in debate terms, but you don't know that, so I'll make it sound important) and I typed notes for every single lecture. If he gave the lecture, there were no notes. No structure. I am sitting here now cutting 152 pages of rape impacts and this ass is odie-doe-ing all around the dorm. AND, sidebar to the sidebar---

---I am working on being less judgemental. I guess its working...

But He drew the line when (during his roaming-not-cutting-card-14-day-break that he's been taking since he got here) he decided to drop some kids off at my pool. You know. He sunk a submarine. He pinched a loaf. Sometimes we call it number two-sies. I don't have a problem with that. I don't normally have a problem with poopers in my bathroom. Even no-working-only-nose-picking-harry-potter-playing-get-the-fuck-off-my-xbox assholes have the right to use my toilet. I'm not that heinous. And he even does the courtesy room spray, which was a nice touch. I guess he had the extra time to spare, considering he hasn't spent any time to find evidence, so I'm pleased that there was no smell violation. Then, about an hour later, it is my turn to make a deposit at the bank, so I walk to the lieu. Murder most fowl! Timmy and Tommy brown turtle are floating in the water and staring up at me. Shit! Literally. Shit. Now what do I do? You can't flush before you go to the bathroom, then he knows he's committed a party foul. So I do my business as quickly as possible. Then I reach for the toilet paper to finish it off. You knew this was coming, didn't you? Yeah, you guessed it Inspecter Morris, the bastard took all of the toilet paper. I am at this moment dripping from my own contribution, and carefully balancing over his deposit and there's no fucking toilet paper.

I do believe this carefully sums up my experience in Austin at Debate Camp. Really really shitty. Whew. I'm all punned out.

I'm Joining The Club

2006-07-05T16:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm on board with the homesickness crew. I have no idea now why I was wishing for summer because all I have wanted is to be near friends and not be alone in some random place. I miss everyone and it's time.

I'm not ready to cry yet. So I just keep getting more and more angry.

Happy 4th?

2006-07-04T14:17:00.000-07:00

It's the Count's birthday tomorrow, but we are celebrating it today. It's cloudy. I'm sick. I've been sick since Count got here. Everyone seems to be having a rough day. So I am just sending out the good vibes...

How could we not be happy when on this day:

In 1826 Thomas Jefferson and John Adams died,
AND
In 1831 James Monroe died,
AND BECAUSE HE WAS SO HAPPY
In 1845 Henry David Throueau moved into his shack on Walden Pond,
AND
In 1939 Lou Gherig said fairwell at Yankee Stadium

Don't worry though, for tomorrow the anniversary of the bikini swimsuit will make us all push out of this July gloom.

Much love all my friends and family, Happy 4th.

The biggest tease

2006-06-29T17:54:00.000-07:00

I love how debate camp involves being in classrooms all day listening to lectures and researching. Anticipating this lack of excitement, I decided to stock up on different types of gum and candy to keep me busy during labs.

I got a flavor of orbitz that I hadn't had before called "cool mint." Which, I guess was pretty cool.

I packed some tictacs because I need a hard candy interlude sometimes.

I packed the usual, which is the orange orbitz gum.

And, then on a $0.92 spending spree, I decided to purchase some skittles gum. Skittles are one of my favorite candies, so I thought the gum would be exciting and new. It was both of those things. They are a little bigger than skittles and when you pop a few in your mouth, it definetely tastes EXACTLY like a skittle. But then your brain tries to do its natural reflex of swallowing.

Gasp. Cough. Eck. Forgot and choked down set #1 of the skittles gum. Two hours later, I am now consciously aware not to swallow the gum and I begin to chew again. I tell you, the urge to swallow them is crazy. But I work through it and keep chewing the hard candy shell away. That goes away and you are left with just the xanthum and red dye #1. Yick. I guess I'll just stick with the skittles next time.

Camp Day Four

2006-06-28T22:10:00.000-07:00

Nothing much to report. As usual in life, things tend to have this way of falling together at the last minute. I thought that I had already taught myself the neat little trick of not prematurely getting stressed out, but it looks like I'll have to keep working on it.

This evening has me drained, and it is my "late night" where I get to stay up and wait for these little pieces of angel cake to go to bed. What a blessing. I will be lucky if I am to bed before 2:00 am.

It'll be fun, but if I'm lucky and before the night is through, I'll get to see some illegal activity and I can be the center of a drug bust or an underground porn ring, but mostly, I hope they all fall asleep quickly. We need Genderist to sprinkle some of her sleepy powder all over the kids, especially the ones who are laughing so hard right now the building is shaking.

So I'm driving the short bus

2006-06-27T07:03:00.000-07:00

Coming to you from camp day two. Some really awesome developments have come to my attention that I was just dying to share. No sarcasm, really awesome developments:

1. The air conditioner works so well, I shook through the night. This may seem to have a hint of the s in it, but seriously, it's been so hot here that all of the AC is bomb.

2. The shower is like standing under a waterfall. Thousands of gallons of water wasted, but the free massage on my back is great.

3. We have free wireless! Whoo hoo! And it works!

4. We found a refrigerator in our room! Jyessssssss! All of my beverages are icy cold. Now, I can get some sandwhich meat and eat good food instead of the crap downstairs.

I knew some things about this place had to kick ass...

BUT, back to business. I had to go judge my first debate round this morning. It brought me comfort that I didn't hear anything except for the commonly bad debates that I normally hear. For some reason, I expected to see superstars that would intimidate me, and that wasn't the case.

I did have one girl who cried. I was looking for her because every year there's the girl who cries and who "just wants to go home!" and I found her. I let her snuggle in my bosom and then I went to go find the camp administration to get this little gem into my lab. The Mommie Lab, the novices, the newbies, the greehorns, if you will. And Big Brother said...NO. They said that they would create a novice lab (but wait isn't that supposed to be me?) inside of the advanced lab because those kids paid money for 3 weeks, not 2 1/2, so crying girl will have to tough it out with the big kids. Better news? I will have advanced kids in my lab who have no business being there who will have to stay in novice because that's what they paid to be in. Is there a "money has corrupted the fabric of our society" rant needed here, or is it just implied?

In the end, I am driving the short "you only paid to be here for 2 1/2 weeks and not 3" bus. And instead of having the cute kids with the slanty eyes and the special gifts, I have the norms, the normies, the grab bag special. I'll still love them, and I can't help but think my kids will still have a good time. My bus may be short, but we're re-naming it the party bus from here on...I get kids first on Wednesday, so I'll let you know how it goes.

P.S. It's great to be back!

The (edit) First (edit) day of debate camp

2006-06-25T16:07:00.000-07:00

Nightmare happens this morning at 4:00 a.m. It is time to go to debate camp. (Edit arrival) (Edit leaving town) We are driving in circles to pick up pieces of our entourage. We haven't left town at 6:00 a.m.
Road trip is beautiful. I still love being awake when the sun rises, I just fucking refuse to do it voluntarily.
(Edit driving) (Edit Conversations)
Arrive in Austin sometime around 12:00 p.m. to get to registration. No breakfast, now we wait for what will soon be no lunch. We miss the 45 minute time frame for lunch while we are hauling load after load of shit to our dorm room, which happens to be on the 17th floor of a 27-flight tower. To which, not only are all of the other debate campers trying to haul 7 weeks of shit into their own tiny little crevices of hell, now also, we discover that golf camp, swimming camp, tennis camp and band camp will all be joining our platform. Sharing our 3 elevators, breathing our air conditioning, putting their own beautiful bodies in the pool-as if geeks needed their own 7 weeks of debate heaven to once again be accentuated by the very same atheletes that make them feel isolated and akward the rest of the year, now eating our same food, stealing our corners and watching us closely when we do, damn it, decide to go ahead and grab a second brownie from the desert cart. Fucking athletes. Bless them, but damn it, we've never shown up on a football field (throwback to you Kate!) and tried to start a fucking spelling bee or philosophical face-off on their turf. Arg. Random Swears. Doody. Booger. Mother Fucker. Pissy. I don't know. We are swimming literally and not-so-literally in pre-teen angst. (Edit feelings) (Edit the Meltdown) I at least know the debate kids are big enough assholes to defend themselves when the shit goes down, it's really those band kids that I feel sorry for.

And then there's the surprise benefits that accompany the trip:

The fact that those in charge are rarely around and,, if present are unwilling to alieviate the problem,

The fact that I've been here 6 1/2 hours now and still have little if no idea what the fuck I am doing here,

(Edit some surprises)

The fact that I am so surprised by some things here that I am not even at liberty to divulge them for fear that anyone would read this and have hurt feelings or hurtful thoughts or hurt, hurt, hurty mc-hurt-hurt,

The fact that we unexpectedly double for daycare,

The fact that the only other staff members I have been able to talk to are the ones I already knew,

The fact that parking will be $10.00/day despite the fact that I am staff, and subsequently being here 2 1/2 weeks puts me somewhere $200.00 in the hole, which kind of defeats the purpose-(surprise! you get to pay to be here to be paid...)

The fact that I have to post another pissy post, and

The grand mother of all surprises came this morning when I went to scratch my ear and the mother of all fires seared down my ear canal. You might as well have broken both of my legs and front teeth for what this pain was worth, and all of you know this sting because it's the blazing heat of having a pimple on the inside of your ear that you don't know about until you go sticking your finger in there. Killer.

The funniest part of this little rant is that I'm not really in all that bad of a mood about the situation, I kind of think it's funny. I can't wait to live in crazy town. Remember the set for the Surreal Life that had Amarosa and Janice Dickinson in it? Yeah, that's how I feel. Surreal Life Indeed.

Home Sick

2006-06-19T18:45:00.000-07:00

I'm here in Dallas. I am ready to go home. We got here yesterday morning around 9:00 a.m. and went to Six Flags yesterday. There's so much I want to tell, but unfortunately, I don't know what to say or how to begin. I'm here surrounded by people and I am really lonely.

I miss my friend. My best good friend in the whole world. I just want to talk to you and tell you what is going on. I am tired of working and I'm really tired of all of the meals that you wait on someone else to cook. I'm tired of leaving tips. I'm ready to pull open the fridge and throw some ground turkey in a skillet and figure something out from there. I'm tired of sandpaper toilet paper. And beds that aren't my own.

Today has gone well and the trip has been good, but I can't believe that I will only be home one day before I haul off to Austin. I don't understand how my summer is going this fast! I hope everyone is doing well out there. I still am at the point of thinking about blogging and not quite knowing what to say. I guess I'll just say that I've been thinking alot for some reason about the people that I value in my life and how I forget to tell them how important they are to me. Cheesy, I know. Eh, I'll get some sleep and by tomorrow I will be able to report about whether or not my kids made it to some final rounds. We'll keep fingers crossed until then.

I miss you LaLa. So bad I could cry today.

Crisis

2006-06-11T17:16:00.000-07:00

I just don't like the look of my blog anymore. I don't want black, and I am tired of trying to customize skins. Ick. As soon as I get home, I'll return to the default black until I figure something else out. I am happy to be going back to Oklahoma in two days. I am also 3 days away from our 2nd poker party and 5 days away from our Nationals trip to Dallas. Summer game on!

Not much else to report, still working on debate stuff and gambled away $30.00 today. Trying to take on the former mantra of Genderist and give up worrying as my pastime. So, here I sit.

Don't forget-Deadliest Catch Marathon is on Tuesday all day. Other than Ghost Hunters, Deadliest Catch is my favorite show.

I want to download some videos for my ipod while I'm gone for 4 weeks at camp. Any suggestions as to what t.v. shows I can download? I want a cool little quiz now to put in my sidebar so everyone can vote...Someone, you know who you are, needs to show me how to do that for my blog. I'll expect info from you on my way home from the airport.

And Still Too Busy

2006-06-08T19:25:00.000-07:00

So okay. Thought I would come out to LA and be bored out of my mind. Definetely not the case. The surgery on Wednesday took much longer than I thought, and by the time I have bought groceries and just helped my mom out I've still barely had time to get debate work finished. Ick. I am just hating this summer and how busy and overwhelming it's been.

On a random note, I hate the suicide feel that my blog has to it. New background soon...

Later

This is why I haven't been blogging

2006-06-04T06:58:00.000-07:00

I started working on another post an hour ago. It felt good to release some frustration yesterday. And? In typical fashion, laptop loses internet. This post lost. In its place a shell of a post. Fuck.

Bottom line: I have had so much going on lately that I feel like lashing out at everyone for not understanding how much I have to do. We decide to make time last night for friends. You've already read, I'm sure, how successful this venture has been for me lately. What happens? We end up sitting at a bar for 3 hours waiting for our friends to show up.

And then?

She shows up with her boyfriend and four other friends that she obviously had the time to submit the 3 hour "time change memo" to.

What I am I? Shit girl? The kid that smells like piss?

I've been working on a total of 11 hours of sleep over the course of 3 nights, with no hope of it getting better any time soon.

When I sleep my mind is filled with everything I haven't gotten done for Nationals or for summer camp or for either a) my new job next year or b) the new classes I was assigned at the old job for next year and even once or twice this week I have awakened thinking I was hearing ghosts (Yes, I guess the 12-hour Ghost Hunters Marathon on t.v. might have been a bad idea) but needless to say my mind is stuffed with information.

And here I sit. Not doing debate work. Hoping my life can get more complicated, and bitching, which does absolutely nothing to solve the problem in the first place.

I say again, this is why I haven't been blogging.

Elephant

2006-06-03T16:28:00.000-07:00

There's definitely an elephant in the room.

I don't have anywhere to vent, so it's going to happen here.

This post isn't going to get cheerier.

I'm sick of a whole lot of little things.

More specifically, I'm sick of a whole bunch of my friends.

I accept that I'm a moody person.

I accept that I bitch about people more than once in the course of a friendship with someone.

Do you know what I don't do?

Lie.

Do you know what else I don't do?

I don't exclude.

I give everyone about 47 chances before I get sick of them to the point where I can't stand them.

By all rights, despite my passive/aggressive behavior, I give people 2nd chances.

One of the shitty people I am dealing with right now, I invite along to social events, galas, if you will, just so that person doesn't sit alone. No one really wants her there, but I invite her because I can't image what her life would be just having to live without anyone to care for her. Doing that doesn't make me a saint. I don't like her and I talk shit about her all the time, I'm just saying that it has to get pretty bad before I actually just can't handle someone.

I have never refused to be in the presence of a group because of one person.

I don't have stipulations on what I do or don't want to do in order to "have a good time" I mostly go with the flow.

So why is it, that there seems to be no one out there willing to return the favor? Why is it that I go down my inventory of friends and they are lying, avoiding, manipulating, pouting, or just plain ignoring me right now? Please, whatever you do, don't dignify this post with any comments. None of us know each other well enough to speculate on why my life is shitty, but needless to say the bottom line is this:

I think I'm a pretty good friend. I'm flexible, easy going and if I am bitching or pissed it's usually because I'm pissed at someone else, and never usually the people who I consider friends. If I do get angry, I get over it.

I don't expect to be the princess of any event, I don't expect to be the center of everyone's world, although I am a sucker for attention. So why is it that I am sitting alone with my feelings hurt right now?

Why does it seem like the moment that I was married that all of the sudden my friendships have taken on the awkward position that dating once filled?

Why do we have to "plan events" rather than hanging out?

Why do we lie about what we are doing?

Why are we pulling this middle school bullshit of possession, of who hangs out with whom?

Since when did your partner not liking me all of the sudden mean that you don't like me?

Do you think I didn't notice you bitching about me in my own living room?

And worse than all of this, why did EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY FRIENDS choose neurosis during the exact same month?

Did the break up fairy get confused and sprinkle her chaos all over the friendships this month instead of all of the high school teenagers who should be breaking up to have a summer fling right now?

What the fuck man, what the fuck.

Oh, and thanks for stopping by, I enjoyed it, really.

And The Newest Member Is...

2006-05-21T05:14:00.000-07:00

I am so pumped because I invited Bad Shoe Guy to come play with us, and he is going to! Whoo hoo! Quite some time back, Shoe Guy and I had the conversation that he wouldn't want to keep up his own blog, but would love to post from time to time. I think that kicks ass, and I am happy to welcome him finally as a contributer. Especially since my posts have been infrequent lately. Welcome and Game On.

The Year In Review

2006-05-19T08:33:00.000-07:00

Weather: 95 degrees
Mood: Blind Fury
Number Dead: As many that stand in my way, but especially "1990s Dan" at the tag agency, he's one dead mother fucker.
Bullets Remain: The day's not finished and I've been spraying down bitches all day.

So let's review the first year of marriage:

Wedding.
Honeymoon.
Stolen Wallet.
Stolen Cell Phone.
Stolen money.
Baby.
No Baby.
The bank tries to rob me.
A friend has cancer.
Liver is bothering me.
Stolen purse, brief case, ipod, ipod case, disney shit, work keys, you name it and it's fucking gone.

This skips all of the friend-fighting, job betraying, backstabbing high school bullshit that composes the rest of my treacherous year. I am so pumped that we have 3 more months before we finalize this our first year as husband and wife. This just skims the surface of the sour stanky milk that is my life. At least the cop who came and took the report was sympathetic. He got to live. Broke into the car. In the garage. Someone should have told that sonofabitch that all he had to do was take five more steps and he could have walked right into the house and took anything he pleased, because we didn't lock the door. We don't live in "that kind of" neighborhood. Sarcasm. Someone go ahead and replace the journal that they took that was given to me by a student. Someone try and replace the UT Evidence CD. Someone give me back the notes that I took at every debate tournament that I went to, the notes that I create strategies from. Someone replace the Memphis pen that Count gave me or replace the DisneyLand pens that came from the Nightmare before Christmas store. Even go ahead and replace the gift cards, the Bath and Body spray, the vanila mint chapstick. Go ahead. Go replace it. They were gifts, presents, memories. Stolen.

And actually, some of those things can be replaced. But it means a trip to each of those places. It means doing more work that I should have to because some other lazy sonofabitch took what I earned. And once again, everyone seems to lack in the sympathy department. Apathy is more plentiful than the gas I have from last night's meal. I started to feel sorry for myself and then I started thinking it's not just me. Gender and Hater have had their shit stolen twice this year, too. Its so common now that people don't want to do a thing about it. Last time this happened, I was teary-eyed. I was upset. This time I'm not sad or scared. I'm just pissed. I don't like losing, and when it comes to this game, there is no winning. The purse and the ipod I knew was almost a eventuality. That's some hot shit. But the damn briefcase was unzipped and only had my journal and my school papers in it, along with some pens. I was at least hoping that would be laying on the lawn. I didn't get that courtesy. But we'll all just write it off and move on. Not worth getting worked up about, right? It's just stuff.

Motherfuckers.

My Time At Middle Tennessee

2006-05-12T05:00:00.000-07:00

Most of you don't know this, but there was a brief period in history where I had to quit college. I had a "peeping Tom" problem, which I believe now is referred to as voyerism, but either way, I couldn't stop watching people. It started on the night of the Rodney King beating and it just kept getting worse and worse because I was convinced that I too could catch a beating on tape. So I started carrying my video camera around with me everywhere I went. I started to get into trouble, as business don't like you filming their activity, but I decided not to quit.

Eventually, it was revealed to me that the University of Central Oklahoma wasn't going to be revealing in its criminal activity and that I would have to take my camera on the road. I stopped at all of the colleges that I had debate tournaments at, hoping that I would see something interesting. And did I ever find it!

When I finally made it to Middle Tennessee, I was following a possible cat napper-no this does not mean our criminals were sleepy, it means that they were going to steal the cats and pour gravy all over them! That's not all they are doing to these cats, either. The bastards had been stalking cats for about 3 weeks, well that's as long as I saw them do it...It was becoming apparent that this was some sort of cat napping ring. I saw the two talkative ones almost daily, but the angry one, wasn't around on the night in question.

There they are mumbling back to their castle, when he cracks open a can of gravy and starts calling to the cat. She seizes the opportunity to try to close off all possible exits. Thank goodness my camera is rolling to catch all of this, because I see the two of them trap the cat. I have been giving this particular cat boxing lessons, so that he could defend himself. Well, Mr. Nibbles implemented his training well, because by the time he was finished, the two were running and screaming away from the scene. I tried to follow them, but in my rush to get back to their cave of operations, I stumbled over Mr. Nibbles and fell, thus breaking my camera and ending my voyeristic career. I had only one remaining tape of what they did to those animals, and I am going to share it with the world now...

The Dog's Second Worst Day Ever

2006-05-09T15:00:00.000-07:00

Weather: Humid and 81 degrees.
Mood: Surprisingly cheery. Super Cheery.
Number Dead: Dare I?
Bullets Remaining: 97, I know. There's one I haven't told you about.

Following excerpt is a "from the vault" especial. This is about two years ago when the count and I were dating. It is a warm summer afternoon when the actors enter the room. The summer has been moist and fraught with the battle of the bugs, ticks, etc.

So, here we are petting the dog. I am rubbing under his neck and on his stomach. It's business as usual. I feel a lump. It's black. Not pumped. We've been battling ticks and fleas all summer because of the rain. We hadn't seen the sun for more than one day, much unlike the recent desert-like weather...

When it started to rain three days ago, my first thought when a drop hit my shoulder was that a bird had shit on me, rather than the possibility of rain. What f'ed up world do I live in where bird poop is more probable than precipitation? Moving this story right along...

I call The Count into the room. Backup is most definitely needed. I'll pull the tick if I must, but The Count loves all of these special little moments where he gets to show off his manhood (I have no idea if this is true, but it seems funny, so there you go) to pull this horrible tick from the dog's arm pit. The Count has the tweezers in his grasp and is attempting to tug the tick off. Now everybody knows that this tick isn't coming out with just a little tug.

Animal lovers around the world know, if you are going to pull a tick out, as opposed to burning it out, or "smoking it out of its hole," to use a Bushism, you are going to have to put some gusto into the tugging.

So The Count is yanking while I hold the dog, trying to pull the body apart from the head of this tick. We both keep looking at the dog, who is sitting as placid as a cow, waiting for him to squirm or panic. But not our dog, cool as a cucumber.

Get a better grip on the tweezers and keep going. What is probably 2 minutes feels like two hours of holding the dog. I don't know what finally clued us in, I guess it was when Squeaker, yes dammit his name is Squeaker, gave us The Rock's patented People's Eyebrow-you know the rock, even non-wrestling fans know The Rock-and we somehow figured out that tugging wasn't going to do the trick.

We lean in closer to get a look at the mut and his tick. The count touches it with his finger-gag. Gag again for posterity's sake. Eew. The Count and I have to have a thinking moment and then, slower than "special" kids doing Geometry, the light bulb comes on.

The tick isn't a tick. The tick is a mole.

Worse, it's a mole on a nipple.

Better than discovering that the three-headed dog was protecting the Sorcerer's Stone, the Count and I discovered that the reason why the dog wasn't squirmy or pissed is because this whole time we were gently pinching and tugging on his nipple. Fuck. Squeaker 1. The Count and Myself, 0.

Cognitive Dissonance

2006-05-03T17:51:00.000-07:00

I want to post something. I want to talk about how pissy I was at work today, but in order to do that, I have to post something worse. I have to post a bullet. I should have at the top of my blog: weather, mood, number dead, etc., etc... posted. Something happened last month, and I have to admit its one of the reason why I haven't been posting lately. I haven't really been wanting to talk about it, but now for whatever reason, I am ready to talk about it now.

Two days before my birthday, there was a 10 year old girl that went missing-Jamie Bolen. She was found one day after my birthday, dead. In the neighbor's closet. So much for amber alert. She was in a rubbermaid tub. She was obviously cut. There has been confirmation that her killer planned to eat her. That was shocking. And traumatizing, but not near as bad as listening to what was later revealed, which is that her killer, Kevin Underwood, had a blog. (I don't know that I was pumped about putting this link on this post, but I figure it's your choice to go there. Now, all of the comments on his blog mainly consist of either really pissed off people who swear he is going to hell, really sick fucks who think that killing is just as misunderstood as homosexuality, and everyone in between. If you are really curious, you should see his profile, where his blogger profile question is about cannibalism.)

The next Wednesday after my birthday, I had current events discussions in my class and we started talking about the news. All of my kids have my space pages, facebook pages, blogs, etc. Hell, look at where I am choosing to talk about this. Of course the issue of the blog came up. Apparently, there are multiple posts talking about cannibalism. I say 'apparently' but this has been confirmed by news sources. I don't have the patience to look at the sight that long. I don't know how I feel about snooping around there...But more concerning is the fact that one of his posts outlines that he intended to take either his neighbor, some older woman, or some other boy that he was watching-once again, this is all from news sources (sources, meaning I have read more than one source, just b/c I don't want to be part of the glorification entourage...who gossips about the killing...) Other posts talk about his loneliness, still others about how he hasn't been taking his medication.

And the debate begins. Should someone be watching all of this, our posts, I mean? Should someone have seen this coming? And believe it or not, I am actually not looking for your opinions on that. I mean, I would love to hear, but I'm just saying that's not why I am posting. What has gotten me into this state of cognitive dissonance is that in the middle of defending the blog world to a student who said something to the effect of "of course someone should have seen this coming," I spouted back, "Well, I post everyday about how many people I have killed. If there's someone who really pisses me off, I dedicate a post to their death." The debate continued, of course what I was saying was metaphorical, oh, of course we can tell the difference between what's real and what's not real, right? Yeah. Refer to the James Frey post. This is the reason why I am concerned. I don't really think that we do know the difference anymore. People say his, Underwood I mean, blog talks about cannibalism. But then again, right now at this moment in time, so does one of the men that is a dear friend to me. Here's his post on the case for cannibalism. Maybe we should arrest him too.

But honestly, when I reflect on this mess of a dilemma, I also wonder whether or not I too, am to blame for trivializing violence. If Underwood is guilty of glammorizing violence or fantasizing about it, then I am too. Maybe that doesn't make me a killer, but it might make me as ethically slimy as one.

Here's one of the news articles that might help give you more information. Beyond that, if you want to know more, I trust you know how to figure it out from here.

On an unrelated note, I am really thrilled that everyone has been sharing what they are reading as well. It has been awesome. I am still reading A Million Little Pieces, I am a slow reader, but I absolutely love it. I know that I had a moment, but other than about 15 pages, this has been one of the best books I have ever read. I went ahead and purchased the book for myself, and I also purchased the book that follows, My Friend Leonard. I don't know how to describe this book, you have to read it for yourself. Oh, but fast forward past the dentist part. It seems too fake.

And now, since I have hot-linked you to death, I will finish. Wait a minute, in this case is death punny? Is this the lighthearted ending to this post I was looking for? Maybe...

The Poker Party

2006-04-30T10:23:00.000-07:00

I could have sworn that I have posted before about our Christmas party, "Christmas with the Krunks," but I guess not. Genderist talked about it here. We were really disappointed in the outcome of the Christmas party because there were way too many college kids there and it felt more like a frat party than a dirty Santa party. We thought maybe we were getting too old to have parties because we had a miserable time. People were stumbling around and taking naked pictures of their "situations" which normally is very amusing to the Count and I, but this year, we were not impressed. At the end of the night they stole our good alcohol and we were left cleaning up the mess. We were pissed.

2 weeks later...

Over New Year's, we went to a poker party and I was pumped because I hadn't ever played poker before, and I ended up splitting the prize money with two other people! Everyone had a great time and we all agreed that someone else should step up and host another one.

Count and I were not inclined. We had just picked up after the 10 year old drinkers and we were pretty sure that we were still not speaking to "parties" just yet.

Over the next few months, "parties" and us took a break. We'd been to a good one, but we weren't sure if we could ever have "parties" over to our house anymore to play.

Enter the month of April.
The Count sporadically made the decision to type up an invite to a poker party. Okay, party. Game on.

Last night the same thing happened that happened at the Christmas party. People got really drunk, people stumbled around, and while no one took pictures of their "situations," there were still some ridiculous happenings-such as someone putting a dog toy on one of our guest's windshields-that made the evening strange. We still had tons of stuff to pick up this morning when we woke, but we still had a great time. We loved every minute of our little gala.

And, just because you were wondering, neither of us had any winnings to speak of-although we would like to send out a big contrats to Bad Shoe Guy, who was our evenings big winner. We left the winning to our guests. Even still, there was no alcohol missing at the end of the night and I am sure that if I could remember the last few thoughts I had about the party right before I passed out, they would have put a smile on my face. In the end, though, we had a really good time, thus proving our theory that the most important portion of any performance still requires a strict analysis of your pending audience, because in this situation it wasn't what was happening at the parties, but rather who was happening at the parties that made all of the difference.

Just Messin' Around

2006-04-16T18:20:00.000-07:00

Please ignore!

What Guys Think of Your Long Straight Hair...

Sexy, desirable, and hard to please.
A girl who's so stunning that you've got them lined up around the block!

What Do Guys Think Of Your Hair?

Shameless Promotion

2006-04-11T19:24:00.000-07:00

In an effort to help The Count out, I just wanted to let everyone know that he has a new post for the first time in a LONG time. So, go. Check it out! Have fun and happy reading!

Ugh. Retraction Action

2006-04-10T17:25:00.000-07:00

Time: 7:30p.m.
Weather: Unbearably Hot.
Mood: Eh. I'm killin' time.
Number Dead: None, although I've contemplated a few today...
Bullets Remain: 98

And the wheels fell off of the wagon. Wow. I cannot believe that I wasted a post yesterday on defending "A Million Little Pieces!" I have been happily reading this book and as I said yesterday, I have been living and loving the lies in it.

Then I got to the big dick contest. Or, what my grandmother lovingly calls the "small man syndrome."

This book has been awesome and then last night Frey went to the dentist. Not only was the dialogue forced and contrived, it was obviously false and exaggerated. I am guilty of exaggerations as much as the next fella or lady. As a matter of fact, I am prone to be the exaggerator, especially if I am wound up about something, but this guy is unreal. Every other night that I have picked up the book, I have barely been aware of the controversy. I just sucked back into the world of the story. Then, like a puppy that starts performing tricks for company, I became akwardly aware of the fiction.

This book is really something to behold. Do like I did and find someone to borrow it from or find your library card and go get it. Too much fun.

In another stroke of interestingness(yes I do reserve the right to make up my own words), I found James Frey's blog. If you want to read his comments about the Smoking Gun report, check it out here. Follow the link and then scroll down the page. Is anyone else cracking up about the fact that his website name is "Big Jim Industries?" I guess I wasn't too far off with the "Jimmy" stuff yesterday...

FTBSITTTD

2006-04-09T06:03:00.000-07:00

"Fuck the Bullshit, It's Time To Throw Down."
This is what the tattoo on James Frey's body stands for. I think it's perfect.

I think this guy definetely didn't plan on fucking over Oprah when he got this tattoo, but I couldn't think of anything more beautiful for this guy to do.

I have been fascinated with this controversey since it started. And, just in case you have been smart enough to avoid Oprah, CNN, and Larry King, just click on the Frey link above and you can get caught up.

I have been, of course, curious to read this book because of all of the controversey. The 100% Angel in me wanted to stand strong behind the Oprah book club and the rest of America and say, "Shame on you Jimmy. We gave you millions of dollars because we thought we were reading the truth and you lied to us, Jimmy. You lied." And then I remember how much I hate Oprah-someday I will get to that long tangentle post, until then, just know she's one of the people I will fight with pudding, raw meat, and chinese stars when I get to heaven. That bitch is goin' down.

Where was I?

But, the 100% Debater in me has been dying to read this book. And not just read it, but actually stand beside it. This guy not only pulled a huge stunt on the book publishers, who didn't want to publish it when it was fiction, but also, he pulled it on mine enemy, the woman who is in every soccer mom's wet dream, the woman who has also lied about her own addictions, the same woman who told a fan that she would never do a favor for one of her fans for $2,000.00 because that was pocket change compared to what she was really worth. The Debater in me keeps callin'. I remember reading Baudrillard. I remember him telling us that reality has been constructed by the media, and I think this is the perfect ironic slap on the wrists to all of us. I really want to say, "Good one, Jimmy. Through lying in your book, you have taught us the value, or rather lack of value in purchasing life stories of other people's pain. You told us that if we take pleasure in the simulation of the train wrecks of other lives then you were going to give us the ultimate of all train wrecks. We should be thanking you Jimmy. For giving us what we want. That safe and secure feeling that we get when we know that we didn't have to go through what you did. That we are a wee bit better than you. Jimmy, we love you because we read your bio back cover and we are pleased to see yet another person who can overcome adversity and grow up to have a spouse and children in the land of the free. God Bless America, Jimmy. God Bless America."

I can't help it. I love the rebel hero. I love how even morality and reality has become one large game. And I'm not fighting the games. I wasn't sure whether I was going to read the book, though. Irony or not, it's still lies. Last week, in another stroke of irony, one of my students brought it into class and she actually loaned it to me to read. Sweet! Perm! Don't have to purchase. Get to still read the dirty little lies. Hee hee hee! I love it! Last week I was complaining about how my interests are often bastardized by school, and then school paid me back by giving me the resources to check out one of my interests. Wee! It's been like winning the lottery. And I will shamelessly say, it's everything a lie should be. I'm 60 pages in and I like the way my toes feel in the mud...

The Bastardization of Everything I Love

2006-03-30T18:40:00.000-08:00

Time: To blog more often
Weather: There's been tornadoes and hail. Not in the metro, but around. The sky's yellow.
Mood: Bored. Wide Awake.
Number Dead: None to speak of.
Bullets Remaining: 98

I know. It's getting to be longer and longer in between posts. I don't quite know what to blog about this month. This is what's been naggin' me. As you well may have already predicted, I decided to teach not because of the lucrative money making opportunities, but rather because I loved the idea of working on debate for the rest of my life. I refused to get a minor or an alternate endorsement, like English or history, because I only wanted to teach debate. Idealistic. I know. Then college ended. I started grubbing for jobs. I ended up teaching the one subject I never intended to go near: stagecraft. (Those of you not in the know, that's the tech ed. class where we build the sets for the plays and musicals the drama department performs.)

I loved teaching stagecraft. Correction. I still love teaching stagecraft. I used to teach it every single class, but now I only have 1 class of it. I also teach debate now, which is what I wanted to do in the first place. The fufillment of my life's dream (truly, no sarcasm) to have a debate squad and to be coaching.

In preparation for the fufillment of my dream, I got used to, well over a decade ago, taking notes/projects/readings from all possible communication books, arguments, current events, etc. and mentally stored them for safe keeping. Waiting. For the time when it was time for my squad. No surprise there. However, as a result of my stagecraft carrer, I am mentally safekeeping a whole series of thoughts/projects/readings/viewings for all of my classes. It's exhausting.

Let me explain in an even longer winded fashion.

One of the conditions of hiring me was that I would agree to teach film studies at the end of the semester. I WAS PUMPED. Teach film? Hell yeah! Here's what I didn't know about stagecraft when I took that job: how to build a flat, how to change a bit on a drill, what a chuck key was, how to work a table saw, how to cut at an angle, you name it, and I didn't know how to do it. So this film thing, was gonna kick ass because I fo' sho' could stand around and talk about the shit that I was watching in the theatres and renting from the store. Coo'. I could do it.

So I started the mental preparation for my film unit. Every time I stumbled on a nail or drizzled another coat of paint on some kindergarten constructed piece of scenery, I would mentally escape to those weeks when we could move to film. All the films I saw became the topic of scrutiny. This actually wasn't new for me, I am usually pretty critical of the films I saw anyways and I was already one prone to watch the excentric symbolic films anyways, so I was a leg up on this whole project. First time teaching it was okay and I immediatley fell in love with this unit. Then, in an effort to increase accountability and in order to push my students, I started coupling more readings with the viewings so that basically all year round my kids are building, viewing, and reading. The wholistic learning shit, right? Yeah, right.

The problem is now, I can't turn this thing off. Everything I see, read, or ingest flows through this new filter. The teacher filter. Can I teach it? Is it appropriate to show in class? I have been lamenting for 3 days because we have been working on philosophy in debate and I am dying to show I heart Huckabees, but there's not a rat's chance in hell that I could show it to my kids, with the language and all...My mind still won't give up the ghost...It keeps pressing me to view it and show little clips of it...the "appropriate parts" damn it. While in a theatre, viewing a film for the first time, my mind ticks and the wheels grind during the whole film generating this annoying dialogue about how to cram this awesome film into my class. And it's spreading. Now it's books, moments, t.v. shows, if there's something I enjoy, I think of how to stuff it into a learning moment for my kids. Boardgames, internet quizzes, college notes, even the fucking concept of blogging I have shoved into my classroom. Strategically, this is excellent. What's-his-bucket, you know that one education guy, dudie-mc-teaches-alot, he says that kids learn exponentially faster when you can scoffold by attaching learning to what they know and by using the things kids are already interested. Whooptie fucking do. So now I get a gold star for amazing teaching, but what I realized, after discussing the Harry Potter series with my kids is that now I can't undo the "teacher thoughts." I have been working really hard on creating some private things for myself, such as the Shield. I try really hard NOT to talk about that show with my kids, but fundamentally, even though I know I will never show the Shield to my kids, my mind still thinks about the amazing camera angles and cinematography that goes into the show. I know, I know. I should be enjoying this because I am "enjoying" the show at a whole new level. Yeah. No. Don't think so. I miss the blissfully unaware moments of loving a show because it was "good." Or just the ability to be thinking about the plot of the film or the acting in the film rather than how I can teach it later.

Julie/Julia (can't remember which right now) Penelope talks about this type of containment. She talks about the root of patriarchy coming from the anglo thought that I can take what I love and shove it into a little box and claim it as mine. Game Over. Stick the flag in it and call out the name of your motherland, because what you have conquered is now your property. I thought and still think that part of what makes me a pretty okay teacher is the fact that I care enough about my profession to think about it outside of the school day, but I still feel a little sick to my stomach to think that I am shoving a whole series of things I love into my little shoe box profession. Enough verbage, I am annoyed at myself this evening and all of this sounds like whining, but I am just now wishing that I didn't love my job so much so that I could keep my business and private worlds seperate...

The Best Fight Ever

2006-03-20T18:55:00.000-08:00

Time: An hour before bed
Weather: Cold. Windy. Gloomy. Raining.
Mood: Somber. Exhausted.
Number Dead: Just one. One really annoying nurse.
Bullets Remaining: 98

I went into the lunch room. I have to microwave meals. These precious few minutes with the lunch bunch never cease to be the most exciting moments of my day. The microwave is humming its three minute song. As I wait, I am asked where I went for spring break. "Palm Springs," I reply. "I decided to gamble my money away."

The wretched nurse, Nurse Nan, twists her head around in an exorcist-type fashion. "There aren't casinos in Palm Springs," she knowingly informs me. Hmm. "Well, [Nurse Nan] there must be because I was just there."

"Well, I know California law and California law specifically outlaws gambling, so there's no way that you went to a casino in Palm Springs." I must have missed the memo: nurse by day, lawyer for the counsil of High and Mighty by night.

Now, wait a minute. Is she seriously accusing me of LYING about LOSING money over spring break? I repeat, "Well we just stayed at a casino and hotel there, so I'm pretty sure it exists." She is so incredulous at this thought, that she just turns back around and looks at the women sitting at the table with her to report that she knows all about California and how there was no gambling when she was there. As if confrontation with me wasn't worth the effort. I guess she just had to be right to someone. I might have tried logic on her, things like telling her which casino I was at, or even reminding her that most forms of gambling are illegal here, but we still have Indian casinos, but considering that Nurse Nan isn't worth my breath, I just focused on the humming of the microwave and started thinking of the title of this post.

Arount The World...Part 2

2006-03-17T16:59:00.000-08:00

Well, here I am. Returned from Palm Springs and my first gambling experience. The shopping still hasn't quit. I am now up three books, another 2 pair of shoes, 2 bras, and 4 pair of panties. I didn't shop out of anger this time. I was shopping thinking that I would reap this awesome amount of money at the casino. Har-dee-har-har. The winnings, weren't as you can tell, high. I also am fortunate enough that I didn't have to buy everything that I shopped for, I have a mother who loves to spoil me, and who loves to buy things for me. I am ready to go home to be in my own home, but I am enjoying my visit.

The first gambling experience was fun, and I enjoyed it, although I basically went through all of my money except for $10.00. I won $60 at one point and $60 at another, and then this morning I won $50, but mostly, I lost it all. I played slots and video poker and I hated playing all of them. Well, I loved it, but I hated how it made me like a mindless drone and worse than that I hated that I loved it. I started gaining this personal affection toward some of the machines that gave me money. It was nuts. I don't know that gambling should be something I do more than once in awhile. Or at least, I wouldn't ever do it every week by playing the slots.

So, now we are back from Palm Springs and we are in L.A. I am going to go out tonight and then I think we'll just hang out tomorrow. Hopefully, we are done shopping, it has started to wear me out! I am looking forward to hearing from everyone and I'll post again tomorrow...

P.S. Genderist, Mom got the shoes that we were looking at! Now our shoes will match just like our toes...

Around The World...

2006-03-15T14:51:00.000-08:00

In something like 5 days...

My little adventure started out in Oklahoma City. I travelled for 4 hours last night to a small town in Kansas that is 50 miles North and West of B.F.E. I was there to pick up my Grandmother so that we could begin our journey. We took time to catch up and I got to see my former home town. I spent the first 9 years of my life in Herington, and I usually enjoy going home. I think I still enjoyed being there, however what was bad is that I had to go to bed last night at 11:00p.m. only to wake up at 2:30a.m. to drive 90 miles back to Wichita to catch a flight to L.A. with my Grandmother which was supposed to depart at 6:30a.m.

THE AIRPORT TREATED ME LIKE A TERRORIST. As soon as I walked in, I proceeded to do what any other person would do when going through security, and I took my shoes off. I set them in the gray bin and the security guard man, I'll call him GRUMPY MCGUMP PANTS threw my shoes onto the floor. "You don't need to do that, put your shoes on." Sorry, my fucking bad for not knowing that now it was a ridiculous idea to take off my shoes in an airport. I wish someone would have sent that memo out months ago or at least sent it to EVERY OTHER AIRPORT in the world to let them know that apparently Wichita has it figured out. They know there won't be another shoe bomber. On the lighter situation, however, they weren't so sure. I was keeping my grandmother's purse in my bag and she had a lighter in her purse. They pulled me and the bag over. GUMPY MCGRUMP PANTS asks, "Is there a lighter in this bag?"
"Yeah, probably." I reach for my bag to pull it out. My hand is knocked away and he tells me "not to ever touch a bag when it is being searched." I felt so much anger that I was pretty sure that I might start yelling "bomb" or "allah" or "down with brown" anything to incite him to want to arrest me. I am starting to get airport rage. Especially, after working on about 3 hours of sleep, you have to sit behind the crying kids on the way to Denver and in front of the sonofabitch who keeps frantically typing on his laptop and punching his fingers into the keys like his fingers are fashioned out of stone. Each time he does it the chair vibrates. At some point I flirt with the idea of turning around and speaking the truth, which is that if he did that for one more mother-loving minute, I was going to puke from the seat vibrating. And if I was going to puke, then by god, I was going to puke all over the perpetrator of this airplane crime. I had to do some serious impulse buying to get some new shirts and a skirt in order to compensate for my plane rage. Don't worry, it was all on sale and I only spent $50 for 3 t-shirts, another pair of flip-flops, a blouse and a skirt.

Well, now I'm here. And tomorrow morning we will leave Los Angeles and head to Palm Springs. The traffic situation on the road had better be better than the situation on the plane, otherwise I am likely to bankrupt my account having to go on shopping sprees rather than killing sprees to displace my energy. I am hoping to catch a glimpse of Angry Dissenter sometime before I leave home, but we'll see how lucky I am...I'll keep you posted on this little adventure.

A Potpourri of Thoughts

2006-03-08T18:19:00.000-08:00

Potpourri
I never realized how weird this word looks when you are the one typing it rather than reading it.

The Blog
I know. I keep changing it. The worst part is that I am really obsessed with messing around with the template. I am convinced that at some point, I will get it to look exactly like I want it to. This is the same reason why I would NEVER have a tatoo. I keep things the same for about 10 minutes, and then it's time to change it again. I know, it's annoying. However, I did discover that I am really blessed to be able to have a huge moniter at home with which to view my blog. I went to check my blog from work and I realized how shitty it is to have to look at my blog with a smaller moniter. It was driving me nuts! I haven't fixed that problem yet, but I am really hoping that I will be able to make it how I want pretty soon...I don't know, I'm still working on it.

The Joy of Being An Oklahoman
The past 48 hours have been eerie. I walked outside yesterday, amid 80 degree weather. There's no air conditioning on right now in the school and I was sweating all over, including underneath my boobs and buttcheeks. I stood outside, when walking to my car, and there was a slight breeze. I noticed that it was sunny and yet somehow also pitch black outside. While standing there, I realized that there was a chill to the wind. Uh oh. This only means one thing. Tornadoes. By the time I made it to my car, the wind had picked up substantially and it was whipping my car all over the road on the way home. It is really scarry to feel a storm brewing. The sky gets this funky greenish yellowish color when tornadoes are coming. I got home and braced for the storm. Even Oklahoma's most famous meteorologist, Gary England, was sending out the panicked reminder about how to take caution in case the twisters strike. All for not. The tornadic winds blew, the lightning made itself appear more ominous by flashing orange instead of white, but alas, there was no storm. Sigh. We are still waiting for some rain. Now I know why 40 years in the dessert was a long time. Chinese water torture my ass, I would kill for rain, even a few drops. We're all tired of the nose bleeds. Better yet, if yesterday was a cock-tease, then today was the mother of all fucking cruel jokes because it is still thundering, it's humid, the wind is whipping, but there's still not a drop of rain. This has to end before my sanity does...

The Lunch Bunch
It all starts with Nurse Nan. Like the old television series, Emergency! I have given our school nurse this name. I hated Nurse Nan when she was on that t.v. show. I never had a good reason, or at least not one I could put my finger on, but man, I hated her. It's the same thing with the school nurse at my school. I keep trying really hard not to say something about her because I don't really have a good reason to hate her, but I can't help it, this woman drives me nuts. Mostly because she believes she is HARD CORE. She's the nurse that would love to sell you the thought that her job at the school is just as hard as triage on a battlefield in the middle of an epic battle and that she's the last living nurse to handle the dawn of the dead and dying. Every drink she has at lunch: Coke, tea, water, juice, all comes from a styrofoam cup and a straw. A cup that has no lid, mind you. So the straw isn't a result of needing the protection of a lid. Hell no. It's like she's the one that's sick, so she sips on the straw like her lips couldn't handle the force of tilting her cup up another 2 degrees to reach her mouth. Maybe she had a bad drink spill when she was in middle school and as a result now has a complex, I don't know, but just once I want to see this bitch drink out of a glass or even a can or a bottle. OH, OH, OH and I saw her drink out of a can and she used a straw then too! What's her major fucking malfunction?!? I enjoy a straw as often as the next guy, but c'mon, Nurse Nan, you are killing me softly with your straw...

I do think, however, that it might be guilt by association. Nurse Nan is accompanied by her best friend, The Handicapped Silver Spoon Princess. You know this woman, too. She's the one who worries tirelessly that there might be too many germs involved in putting cooked chicken on top of a caesar salad the night before because that situation would probably spread a sea of germs and germs cause BACTERIA, god forbid, we get ourselves INFECTED with BACTERIA. I call her The Handicapped Silver Spoon Princess because she surely feels like the whole damn school is too dirty for her, the world itself is just too filthy now-and tainted. Dust bunnies everywhere! Dirty thoughts, dirty places, dirty people, dirty business this whole trying to teach kids thing. There isn't enough Purrell in the world that could disinfect her brain from the high-minded society burden that she carries on her back. Oh wait. She wouldn't ever do heavy lifting. She must keep it in her handbag, not purse, too common. Maybe that's why she walks around with limp wrists all of the time. The weight of the world all stored in her coin purse. She is emotionally too frail to do her job well. I don't know how to describe it. I have struggled for a metaphor for days and one just refuses to come. She carries herself like a 70 year old woman because she is so DISGUSTED by her surroundings. He can't even handle using the plasticware that the school provides for lunch. She's the person who grumps up her face when she has to talk to custodians because that's like talking to patients from the leper colony. Ugh. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little thinking about how disgusting her personality is.

The third woman that makes up this little triad of joy is Soccer Mom X. The X clearly stands for extreme. Soccer Mom X has a student teacher following her around. One she feels the need to talk to much in the same way that she would talk to a deaf mute dog. Regardless of who you are, you are just another retarded child in need of advice. I was bitching about a policy change at the school, and she just wanted to jump in and fix the problem for me. When I explained that I could handle the problem on my own, her response was something like, "Well good for you! You are learning how to be like the big teachers and handle problems on your own!" I'm sorry, I'm sorry. What I meant to say is, "How would you like to suck my balls, Mr. Garrison?" (There's a South Park reference here. Don't want to be too ambiguous.) I can't handle being the baby. "I'm not a baby!" I scream as I stamp my feet on the floor, slam my fists into my legs and storm from the room. "Gah! I hate school! I can't wait until I'm done!"
Oh. Wait. Dammit, nevermind.

Women 4-7 are worthless in terms of mentioning. To me there is only an Axis of Evil. I have ignored them, and I have started eating alone in my room, but even the 5 minutes that I have to spend heating up my food in the teacher dining room is too much. The worst part is what I mentioned before, which is that there really isn't anything wrong with these women except for the fact that their personality nuances make me want to put toothpicks under my eyelids. I would take a razor blade to my retinas before I would spend another full day in the lunchroom with them...

The Oscars
For some reason, Blogger is joining in on the fun and choosing to also be a pain in the ass, so I will post my most recent thoughts here instead of on Angry's blog. I agree. That's all. Most plainly, I think Brokeback was given the shaft-truly no pun intended, I just caught it reading the 2nd time throught- for a more palatable movie.

The Vinegar
In Genderist's hair is hand's down the funniest story I have heard all week. I am still giggling a little at your pain. Well played, my friend. Well played.

Damn It!

2006-03-07T19:52:00.000-08:00

I was sitting down to post because I have alot on my mind and right as I come into the room to type, The Count comes in and screeches out that The Shield is on. I may yeild once in awhile and give up wrestling, but I will never let go of the Shield. Still reading you all from work and not able to respond...I'm still here, but I gotta go the commercial's over...

Genderist, Thanks so much for the puzzle board-it kicks serious puzzle ass!

I'm Back

2006-03-05T14:52:00.000-08:00

I know, it's been awhile. I haven't seen anyone, I haven't really been around. For the past five weeks, I have had almost back to back debate tournaments. The most important being getting ready for Districts, which is our national qualifing tournament. I am happy to report that I have two students going to Dallas this summer. I am also happy to report that other than Nationals, I only have two tournaments left, one which is this Friday and Saturday and one which is in April. Soon all of this crap will soon be done...I am so tired right now that I don't even know what to say or what to report. The Count and I woke up this morning and decided to unpack the dresser that we bought a month ago. We rearranged the furniture in our bedroom and then took another nap to recover from the weekend. My favorite quote of the weekend was this:

"Hey Baby, wanna cookie? I keep my Nutter Butter's right here in my pocket...You like that? Yeah, well you should see where I keep my Oreo's..."

Hopefully, I will be up to full speed sometime next week...

2006-02-22T18:32:00.000-08:00

I found it!!!! I found the missing puzzle piece. It fell out of a blanket, which I thought it might!!! I have the missing link...

Conumer Product Warnings

2006-02-20T17:12:00.000-08:00

It has been a lovely 3 day holiday for me. I am thankful sometimes that Oklahomans are scared of the snow and ice because if I were in Kansas, I would have been teaching today. But I held strong, and I had faith that I wouldn't be teaching today. So, as genderist's post has already proclaimed, we put together a puzzle last night. I had the last of it to put together myself, and I was bound and determined to put it together this morning. I decided when I finished it, that it might be something fun to glue and hang in the bathroom, as the whole house seems to be lacking in artwork right now. So I set off this morning to finish the puzzle. I must say that working alone is alot harder than I had imagined, especially since last night, Genderist was kind enough to seperate colors and hand them to me to piece together. This morning, I felt like I might as well be trying to cogugate verbs, because it took me four hours to do less than half of the rest of the puzzle. There's something substantially less satisfying when you are only high-fiving the dog when you find a really important puzzle piece. But patience persisted, and needless to say, I finished the puzzle. It looks great! But...just like any classic puzzler's worst nightmare, there's a piece missing. Right above those two yellow pillows. A piece of blue. I was even motivated to clean the entire house, which I did, but still to no avail, the piece is still missing. It is gone. It was worse than the Simpson's episode where the Simpson's decide to put together a puzzle and they miss the James Taylor or Paul McCartney piece...I'm just saying, be careful when you put together your next puzzle and know that those damn pieces end up everywhere.

So, after the puzzle drama, I decided that I would listen to the dog's request, and continue watching the 1st season of 24. Until today, I have only seen the 1st three episodes. It has been good, but not a necessity for me to watch, not like Lost. So I watched the 4th episode, I was starting to get hooked and by the time I made it to the 2nd dvd, I was completely sucked into the hell that is 24. Watch out. It is true, you can't watch just one episode and I'm really addicted. I am thankful that I have the dvd's right now, and that I don't have to waste my time on commercials, I don't know if my blood pressure could stand the 5 minutes in between moments of drama. I am interested in who else has seen this show, because I am pumped up about the show and I am looking for someone to talk to about it! Even as I sit here now, I am trying to decide whether or not to skip wrestling tonight in favor of more 24. I have to know how this day ends, but I know that the moment I put the next dvd in that I will be forced to watch the next disc and then I'll never get any school work done. Ah, well. I've been lazy before...

Summary of the Debate Tournament Experience

2006-02-18T16:11:00.000-08:00

I thought that just like any sport, I would highlight some of the experiences that go into my weekend. So here's my "best of" clips from the debate tournament:

Here's the highlights:
I was hit from behind in the school van.

My arch enemy was in fine form.

My future employer took to ignoring me.

It went from 40 degrees to 20 degrees in 4 hours and it started sleeting on Friday.

By Friday night, there was an inch of ice on the windshield. We had no gloves, no ice scrapers, and no heat in the van.

We borrowed scrapers, but it was still sleeting and the van was still cold, so the windshield kept sleeting over.

Only 4 of the 20-some debaters returned the next day because of the weather.

We got 5 regional qualifiers.

I watched some really bad rounds.

Favorite Quote of the Weekend:

"Well, you need to go find them...Because, right now we don't have people to monitor the halls!"

Novice blunders:
You know how it's funny to watch a baby fall on its ass a few times when it attempts to walk? Yeah, basically the same deal here...

Mispronounced Words:
Consolidates
Rhetoric
Exploitation
Concept
Recognition
Premised
Enable
hierarchical
Alternative
Evil
Inevitable
Ideology

"New Words":
Majoriliy
Communistic

And my favorite Novice quote of the weekend:
When answering the question, "Will Dick Cheney be prosecuted for the hunting accident shooting?"

"My second area of analysis is that Cheney is an important aide to the White House...I even have an article that proves this. It says that President Bush really likes Vice President Cheney..."

Anger + Beer =

2006-02-16T18:03:00.000-08:00

I have been a little frustrated. To tell the truth, I have started to discover that I am only motivated to post when I am in a bad mood or grumpy. If I am busy, or things are going well, I don't know what to say.

The truth is, this week has been pretty good. I am really happy right now in my marriage, work has been annoying, but tolerable, even my weekends have been better because I know that the competition season is about to end, and I won't be as tired anymore.

This morning I was in the mood to bitch about Eddie Sutton fans and then this afternoon I was in the mood to blog about the crazy lady who is the poster girl for the word objectification.

My day got really bad about 45 minutes before I was going to go home and I was going to blog about how much I want to take her face and grind it up against a brick wall, but then beer happened. It was great. I only had one glass, but it was enough to stop me from losing control and getting really angry.

I find myself trigger happy with my anger lately, it's almost like I am looking for a reason to be angry or to say/think something really cynical, and the truth is that I have just been happy and content. Despite this demented search, I haven't been able to muster up any anger.

It's a sad state of affairs, for me, when 1 beer can allay my temper. The truth is that I just haven't been in the mood to be pissy. I have even been kind of annoyed with the computer, because I haven't wanted to sit down long enough to find a reason to be angry. (Look, I didn't start this blog to get mad, it's just that for some reason being pissed off here was a good relief, so I kept doing it...)

I just thought I would tell all of you that while this evening I have more than a few good reasons to be pissed off, that I think instead I will snuggle with the man of my dreams and go watch some wrestling.

And, by the way, don't you even try to pin this on the fact that we just started celebrating Valentine's Day, because that has nothing to do with it...

Starbucks Twice A Day

2006-02-15T19:29:00.000-08:00

I enjoy the aroma of Starbucks in the morning when I wake up.

We delight in the taste of the Breakfast Blend.

I like to mix my mug with Vanilla Nut Coffemate creamer.

At about 9:00a.m. I get Starbucks again.

When I pee.

And I again fancy the aroma of Starbucks.

I am proud to find a comfortable place to boast about the rich and bold aroma that is my urine.

Thank God for Coffee.

My Favorite Bush Picture

2006-02-12T10:16:00.000-08:00

I'm not usually the one to post things of a political nature on my blog, but this was hilarious and I just couldn't resist. Write your own trailer summary if you choose...

Well, Here I am in a new dress

2006-02-11T07:25:00.000-08:00

I think the 8 hours that I spent changing my website to this was worth it. It was better than spending all of my money on a huge shopping spree, and yet I feel like I ended the day with a ton of new stuff. Let me know what you think about the new site, and enjoy!

By the way, my Counterpart, who has now started referring to himself as The Count (for coolness sake, I suppose) has finally given in and joined our little blog world. I posted the link wrong and I will fix it soon, but until then, you can check him out here!

Chuck Norris

2006-02-07T19:35:00.000-08:00

I forgot to mention how angry I am at the whole wide world and the world wide web right now. Apparently, I have been locked out of pop culture. My counterpart noticed someone who had these silly Chuck Norris sayings all over his debate evidence. 2 or 3 times later on, we heard more buzzings of Chuck Norris. Apparently, for the first time ever, not being a late night fan has somehow bit me in the ass. We have now discovered the new culture of Chuck Norris. If you are in the dark, did you know that:

Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother's womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard.

Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.

Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

There are no disabled people. Only people who have met Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris does not have AIDS but he gives it to people anyway.

If you have somehow missed this strange cultural phenomenon, as I myself have, go ahead and indulge yourself in more Chuck Norris Jokes. I won't tell anyone that you were in the dark, too.

It's Time

2006-02-07T18:20:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to make a decision. I've had an offer for a new job. I don't really know what to think. First of all, it's not 100% but the deal got sweetened today. I had made a request of the person who wanted me to come to sign me on to a summer institute. I found out today that he did recommend me for that institute and I have been accepted. It is an honor to hear that, but I am still a little nervous. I have spent alot of time reflecting about what I want to do and ideologically, the new place would be the place for me, but I haven't ever made a move to a new place.

When I was in high school and college, I always maintained one job at a pool for the YMCA. I tried out different summer jobs, but I always stayed at the Y as well. I never left. And things got bad. I cried the first two months at my teaching job because I wanted to go back to the pool that I worked at. When things got bad at the Y, I just held on to the belief that I would someday graduate college and find a school to teach at.

And here I am, at a school, and I think anyone who has read half of a post knows that it's not my dream job. But I don't know whether to go or stay. I've been through some really bad stuff and stayed the course through the change. The question is whether there is hope that things will get better here...You would think the answer was an easy one: go, right? I don't know. It's not just about me. I love my kids and the past few weeks I have taken a look at my surroundings trying to come up with the right answer. I know how bad things can get here-side story-today 3 of the 6 teachers I was eating lunch with were complaining about how "black people's" names are unnecessarily complicated. Why can't they just get names that are spelled or pronounced the grammatically correct way? I couldn't help but think, 'what you really mean is the "white way."- considering how many sleepless nights and unnerving vacations that I have been through, I know that this job is not the best one. The problem is that the prospect of the unknown job is terrifying. I know what I have built here and I know how good my classroom is. Let's face it. I can leave this job because I despise who I work with, but a new place could have worse problems. From a happiness perspective, I have to decide what my threshold for crappines is, as far as how bad is too bad, for a job.

Then there's the kid perspective. I am losing some seniors that are really important to me, but there's also a ton of kids in my debate classes that will return next year that I am not sure I can leave. The thought of someone else coaching them makes me sick. Unfortunately, those kids won't be there for forever either, and this opportunity only presents itself every so often.

The new job is an opportunity for me to work in the same district as I graduated high school in, which makes me proud to essentially go back and coach at my alum. It's also a chance for me to work on the type of debate that I really want to. There's some other perks about the job that make it lucrative.

In the end, I can't figure out which is more important to me: my happiness or my kids' happiness. I don't want to upset them, and I am scared to go to a new place, but I don't know how long you all will keep reading this blog if I bitch too much more about where I am at. I want to go, but I am scared of leaving and it going from bad about 1/2 of the time to being all out hell at a new place. I don't know... Your thoughts are truly appreciated with all of this.

2006-02-05T15:21:00.000-08:00

Honeymoon

Sorry, I am messing around with stuff, please ignore!

The Turkey Trophy

2006-02-05T06:21:00.000-08:00

For three weeks now, I have spent the entirety of my weekend at debate tournaments. The few weekdays between Monday and Thursday have been spent opening new purchase orders, more e-mails for entries for the contests, last minute drops from the tournament, an ever-constant battle of who is going to drive whom. I've had kids call me stupid, brilliant, witty, insane, and one even graced me with the pleasure of calling me fat.

When the fat jokes started yesterday, I knew all of us were too tired to even tell the difference between funny and unfunny. (The purpose of this exercise was to see who they could call fat before someone got a complex about it. And guess what? After two days of competition and an inordinate amount of losses for our team, someone did finally take it personal.) Then the kids moved from punch-drunk unhappiness to delirious levels of emotions only usually experienced by pregnant women.

She cried because he really meant to call her fat, she just knew it.

The next one paced the floor because she couldn't understand why she was losing.

He went into a fit of rage because everyone was being lame about the fact that they were losing.

They all mobilized against him for speaking reason, and now there's a feeling of mutiny on the ship.

They are all bored, so they form new islands of alliances and start hating each other from across the room.

I keep wanting to go hang out in the coach's lounge where there is a lot less drama (lot less drama for a drama and debate tournament, that is) but everytime I go in there, the company seems to somehow be worse than my survivor-bound students.
Plus, I have also sank to a new low because we really did lose rounds for SILLY and STUPID reasons, so I don't want to go look at all of the judges and coaches that are happy at their success.

Sad times when you would rather hang out with crying kids before you would sit near gloating coaches.

At that point, the perfume wars started. You know, the "it's really funny to spray things like Bod, Axe, and Ralph Lauren Blue and mix them with my funky nervous body sweat stains" smell?

Now our entire general area reeks. Let the drama continue.

The ex-boyfriend shows up so another one goes down crying.

Her speech was only 4 minutes long and she has never, in 4 years given a 4 minute speech, so she is crying too.

I guess because of all of the delirium in the air, another one decides to commence crying because her mother never gives her enough money and she's hungry. I gave her two bucks and sent her to the concession stand. Good Grief.

The awards assembly starts and we are ready to go home. During the awards assembly, there is supposed to be an opening skit where a monkey flies in and the Tournament Director knocks off the head of the monkey, but even that is ruined because the head falls off of the monkey before the awards even begin.

We all believe that was symbolic of our tournament experience, the head did indeed fall off the monkey.

But just like the Grinch learning the value of a Christmas miracle, I was caught off guard when I heard my name being called for The Monty Python Coach of the Year. In a stunned manner, I walked as quickly as I could to the stage to retrieve my prize. I look down and it is a turkey trophy. Not metaphorically, It really is a gold turkey, in plastic form molded to the top of a wooden base. Still kind of shocked from all of the applause and cheers, I walk back to the kids and they are screaming. Now, we investigate the turkey trophy, and all of the sudden the laughs start up.

We know why it's a turkey trophy, but I guess you don't. It's not because I am a turkey and it's not because my kids are turkeys, although it is fun to call them a bunch of turkeys and I might start using that antiquated phrase more often, however, it was just an award for Coach of The Year. The reason a turkey is on the top is because the trophy was donated. The coach trophy, and all of the champs trophies (champs is the division where people that have already placed at a tournament compete in, the rest of the kids compete in qualifying or novice) are donated from the community. Every year they use the money that they would have used to purchase trophies in Champs division and donate it to a local charity. This year the money went to a charity that tries to buy school supplies for underprivileged children. The tournament director's logic is that kids who have already placed at another tournament wouldn't mind a silly trophy instead of a realistic one. We ended up with tennis, track, and turkey trophies from that division. And from that point on, everything seemed a little brighter in all of our days. In another series of unexpected events, one of our sophomores managed to place first in an event, which I am pretty sure even surprised him. I am proud of all of my kids. Even though they drive me nuts at times, I think that I probably also drive them crazy.

We earned the turkey part of the turkey trophy and we are pumped about owning it now. I think the moral of the story is that all of us are going to go home to work LESS on our dramatic moments at tournaments, and MORE on our WE ARE HAPPY TO BE AMONG FRIENDS moments. As my eyes closed on three weeks of emotional hell, I reflected on its happy hilarious ending. Right before my mind gave way to deep comatic sleep, a smile curved across my cheeks and I reached down and tapped the black revenge bracelet on my right hand and drifted off to sleep...

Fluffy or Chubby bunnies

2006-01-31T18:47:00.000-08:00

Okay, I hate to have to post twice in a night, but I totally forgot about this happening today. Our Student Council, after admitting that they knew this game was dangerous, decided to embark on a game of "Chubby Bunny." I have seen my share of Oprah, although I am proud to say I don't watch her anymore (reasons I hate Oprah are a seperate post entirely) but needless to say, there have been deaths attributed to this game because when you play a game where the object is to stick as many marshmellows in your mouth as possible and without chewing, say chubby or fluffy bunny or even pudgy bunny, that at the same time, the marshmellows are melting in the back of your mouth and causing an airway obstruction dangerous enough that once it were to happen, it would seal off your throat. It's not like choking on the quarter that you stuck in your mouth in second grade, it's like the grease that dries to the walls of your sink pipes. The irony is that while I am going to tell someone how lame it was to laugh about a game that really is deadly, I miss the portion of the "pep assembly" where students were playing with packing peanuts. They didn't get all of the peanuts off of the gym floor and when the pom girls came out to do their tribute to the nineties one of the girls went sliding on some of the peanuts and broke her ass. Overall, I thought the pom girl busting some tail was alot funnier than the kids choking down marshmellow bits.

Confessions

2006-01-31T17:10:00.000-08:00

In the words of Usher, "These are my confessions."

I must confess,
I live most of my day thinking about what I will post to my blog. I'll see a strange sign and wonder if there are 50 words that would be worth combining enough to mention it.

I must confess,
I have been in the mood for Coldplay after a long anger break with the band. I don't know why, but when I used to get drunk in the bar, my favorite song to play was Scientist. If you have ever heard the song, you know it's not usually the bar anthem. It should also follow that my other favorite song was Black Betty by (should I pause long enough for you to recall?) Ram Jam. You know that it is pathetic when you used to take special pride in announcing your arrival to your favorite bar by playing that song on the juke and waiting for the bartenders seek you out. I knew it was time to quit going there when one night I was told, after deciding that I would just put on a t-shirt and shorts to wear out, that "it was weird seeing me in regular clothes." And what would regular clothes be, might I add? "Don't worry," she clarified. "You know what I mean. You are usually in bar slut clothes, but tonight you are in regular clothes." This coming from someone I had only seen in the bar, not someone that I had even known by name.

Let it also be told,
I bought a black statement band that says "revenge" on it from a store in DisneyLand. There's something dirty about getting a revenge bracelet from there. I know who it refers to. I also wonder how many people ever pay attention to what it says, because I have been wearing it since Christmas and only one person has done a double take.

I also hate to admit this,but
I did pick the outcome of the golden globes better than Angry Dissenter. Okay, yeah. This might be an open challenge. Maybe I have the strong need now to kick your ass at something, but I think I have skills. Mad skills.

It shall now be revealed that,
I still get insecure when my newest and bestest girlfriend doesn't call on a weekend. I am afraid she will eventually break up with me.

I should also mention,
Because of this friendship, for some reason, I now look for new board games that we can spend the evening drinking to.

This might have been mentioned before, but
Last summer my anxiety about flying turned into unadulterated fear. I usually cry and pray during one take off or descent into or out of a place. When flying alone, I have even stooped to holding a 10 year old's hand when I was scared. A 10 year old stranger too. Her dad was sitting in front of us and as tears streamed down my face I told her that we were holding hands because I didn't want her to be afraid anymore. It upsets me when someone doesn't tell me that they are flying because I like to watch the news for any possible plane crashes. It might be amusing, but there's always this part of me that isn't kidding and the part of me that grows more paranoid as each day passes by...

Okay, the real reason why I am confessing,
I spent roughly 90 minutes on a post last night that I posted for 30 minutes before I saved it as a draft. It's a really long and mostly just a wordy compliment to someone, well three someone's, but nevermind. It's a thank you for all of the work that this person did for me a week ago. Probably a thanks that isn't a big deal, but unfortunately, I still remember all of those times when I was dating someone and I confessed how important they were to me and then they looked at me like I broke all of the rules, ever had one of those? You know, you thought called him because you thought you were saying something sweet or genuine and instead, you find your name all of his friends' phones under the "psycho bitch, don't return calls" title? I think I might be too old now to make friends. It's really hard to say to someone, "You really rock." Nothing complicated, just, "I think you are cool." So after much contemplation, my paranoia and fear of being put on the "mentally unstable" list caused me to save it away. Sorry that my insecurities stood in the way of a post that was probably too long to be worth reading anyways...

Now I have to go before this one becomes too long...

Trapped, Part 2

2006-01-30T20:07:00.000-08:00

Still stuck at work, barely having time to read blogs, and unable to post to any of them. Still here reading, just not doing much posting. Hope all is well, later...

It's Kind of Like Pot Roast...

2006-01-23T05:23:00.000-08:00

You start off this Sunday in the mood to cook. "What a wonderful day to cook," you think, "The weather is cold and if I cook something big tonight, I won't have to do anything tomorrow." You set out to get your ingredients. Looks like tonight is going to be a roast night for you. Little beef stew flavoring, little beef, little potatoes, little celery, little carrots. Despite the little portions you have put in, the crock pot is full. You wait for it to develop all day. You keep sneaking to the kitchen to "stir it one more time" even though we all know crock pot meals don't need to be stirred. You sneak a carrot at 1:00 only to find it still raw. Your stomach aches at 4:00 when the carrots are now cooked, but the potatoes always take longer and tonight they seem to be taking their time. By 7:00, you are ravenous. You devour your meal, yburning your mouth in no less than 3 places. "Good meal, good meal," you congratulate yourself as the winner of this little game. Time to push all of the beer and water out of the way to make room for the crock pot full of tasty leftovers.

Day two: You warm your food up in the microwave or your oven and while you are eating it, though it is tasty the second time, you hold to the reminiscing positive thought that yesterday's decision to cook roast was indeed a good decision. Belly full from the second night of animal, you stumble into the kitchen to do dishes. "Ach, I don't want to do them, I am full," you rationalize, "The whole purpose of having leftovers tonight was so that I didn't have to do work." It's time to make decisions. Time to start cleaning the dishes, but you decide instead of washing the crock pot bowl or instead of jamming it into the already full dishwasher, to just return it to the back corner of your counter where the warmer is. "Tomorrow when it is again a workday," you promise, "I will wash out that crock pot."

But Tuesday is busy. And so is Wednesday and you begin to think of all that has to be finished before the weekend, by Thursday, you haven't even entered the kitchen because LIFE HAS MOVED ON. At some point the thought of pot roast is gone. You remember eating it, you remember your good Sunday decision, but by the weekend, that crock pot is safely far from your memory.

It's now Wednesday of the following week. There's a chance of snow and the wind has taken that biting attitude with you where each time it blows it feels like it is scraping off your epidermis with a fine edged razor blade. "Chili," you think, "will be the perfect way to end this bitter cold." Quickly dashing to the store, you gather your beans and jalapeños (yes, there are supposed to be jalapeños in chili) and you drive home with the warmth of chili in your heart.

You race into the forgotten kitchen. Your ingredients have been lined neatly across the counter and there's a nano-second's worth of pause before you remove the lid to the crock pot. Then, "Ach, gulp, ack! Ack," as you choke on the smell. The outside is bitter cold, but the warmth of your house and the former condensation from the lid of the crock pot has trapped this cacophony of smells into your little place of heaven and now your eyes are watering and your mouth and throat keep doing that involuntary puking spasm. You step closer to it again, knowing now that something has to be done. "Gulp, ack, OOOOh! EEEEEWW!" You run from the kitchen again. All right. Sigh. Time to hold your breath and finish this. Face turning blue, you find the farthest corner of your back yard, hopefully close to the neighbors chows, where you can dump this moldy bloody mess. And, as you are standing outside, 10 feet away from the crock pot with your garden hose, spraying down this mess, you scold yourself and keep bitterly thinking, "Why couldn't I have just used the damn stove to cook my chili?"

And so let it be said: When you unexpectedly run into your ex in a public place, the one you cooed over, the one that for a moment in your lifetime that you would have died for, that it feels like running into the maggoty pot roast and I, oops, I mean you, are left with the thought that you will NEVER eat meat again.

Now, read it again, and tell me I am wrong. And, in the spirit of M. Night Shamalan, I have shaded red all of the places that are clues.

The System

2006-01-18T12:07:00.000-08:00

As we speak, I am waiting for the bank to determine that I am not a criminal. Not your ordinary run of the mill kind of week I guess.

On Friday, I deposited an older check (By older, I mean that it was written in November) that my mom had given me. By Friday evening, the bank had suspended all ability to use the bank account. Saturday, Sunday, and Monday I continued to have NO ABILITY to withdraw or use one red cent in my account while the bankers enjoyed a three day weekend. I doubt that while any of them were enjoying their holiday that they took time to even think about MLK Jr.

By Tuesday, after making 5 phone calls and being on hold a total of 3.75 hours combined wait time, my account was still not up to par. Instead of speaking to a national bank representative (by the way, this should be reason enough why you should never belong to a banking chain) I decided to talk to a local bank rep. It was explained to me that the bank suspended my account for suspected fradulent activity. Nope not that someone ELSE was a criminal, but rather that I WAS THE CRIMINAL.

The reason? Because when I cashed the older check, my mom had already written 20-some other checks, so it looks like I stole a check from her and then waited to cash it.

The kicker? My mom holds an account with this same national chain. Not only that, but MY NAME IS ON HER ACCOUNT AS WELL.

So let me get this straight, I am being accused of stealing money from myself?

It gets worse.

After the "internal investigation" occured, the decision has been made that the check was suspicious, so now they have decided to close my checking account. "What about all of the money in the account?" I ask. "What about the fact that I have direct deposit and my check will be arriving at the bank tomorrow?" I demand.

Witty, shitty response? That I will recieve a check MINUS the $60.00 check account closing fee, will be sent to me in 30 days. "What about the bills?" I now cry, because anger has given way to defeat.

The response? "Thank you for choosing ______________ and have a nice day." Click.

I went to a local branch. I can't stop the direct deposit. My local banker thinks the national chain is full of shit, but when he calls the woman I was speaking to, she is out to lunch. Devastating lives seems to work up an appetite. He'll call me at 2:00p.m. It's 2:10p.m. and I have heard no response. The Local Banker Man told me not to fret as I bawled my way out the door. He says, "But while you are waiting you should go try to open a new checking account, because if our internal agency decides that this is fraud, they will fax the information to every other bank that is a chain in the nation and you won't be able to bank anywhere." I just look at him.

The comforting part? He tells me that I shouldn't allow this to get me upset, because even though he is an employee, the same kind of mistake has happened to him before.

The moral? Old checks from family members aren't worth it. Tear them up and ask them to write a new one or just move on with your life. Oh, that and if a bank advertises itself as the strongest and best nationwide chain with 24 hour bank internet access and nationwide ATM availability, spit in their face and put them on your shit list, because it is always too good to be true.

I've been Tagged

2006-01-15T17:32:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I've already put this on Genderist's website, but it's no fair to tag me. I was never quick at anything except running my mouth. I was the kid that was slow like a turtle and only the fat kids would even dare to tag me because everyone knew that if I was tagged, the game would end because I couldn't catch up to anything. Kids would actually get bored. Just know I am only answering this because I am getting tagged and I want to be a good sport.

5 Jobs You Have Had in Your Life
lifeguard
Swim Team Coach
Childcare Worker
Debate Camp Counselor (sounds cool, doesn't it)
Teacher

5 Movies You Could Watch Over and Over
Elf
I Am Sam
The Nightmare Before Christmas
Aladdin
Signs

5 Places You've Lived
Herington, KS
Edmond, OK (at my Grandpa's House)
Edmond, OK (in the projects)
Edmond, OK (in a rented house)
Edmond, OK (in a small cottage)

5 T.V. Shows You Love To Watch
1.Raw
2. Detective Vic Mackey in The Shield
3. Charmed
4. Spongebob SquarePants
5. Lost

5 Places You Have Been On Vacation
San Fransisco, CA
Orlando, FL to DisneyWorld
Cancun, Mexico
Los Angeles, CA

5 Websites You Visit Daily
Haiku Of The Id
If You Can't Think of Anything Nice To Say...
The Tudor Rose
Google
My Bank Acct Webpage

5 of Your Favorite Foods
Macaroni and Cheese
Ramen Noodles
Chicken Pad Thai
Bean Burritos
Dan Dan Noodle Bowl

5 Places You'd Rather Be
Nude Beach
In L.A. with my Mom
In KS when it is snowing and sledding down Clay Hill
In the Sixth year of my life reading "Scary Stories to Tell In The Dark" with my best friends, Adam and Kaylee.
In August back on my Honeymoon in DisneyWorld getting accidentally drunk. (Can you tell yet that I have a thing for the small black mouse? )

5 Albums You Can't Live Without
Stone Temple Pilots-Core
Nirvana-Unplugged in New York
Tori Amos-Little Earthquakes
Tori Amos-Under The Pink
Deee-Lite-Dewdrops in the Garden
*Notice how precious few of these artists are even mentioned in my music post? Weird.

5 Folks I'm Tagging
I'm the slow kid, remember? I can't catch anyone to tag, so game over.

The History of Music Through My Eyes

2006-01-12T17:02:00.000-08:00

It's true. I started thinking about all of the movies that have been discussed online, and I was thinking that I would take time to share what music I listen to. So the last two CDs that I have purchased? John Fogerty-The Long Road Home and Nickelback-All the Right Reasons. Before I go any further, I should say that I have to admit, to most people, my music choices are lame. So I suck, I don't know what to say. Mostly, I like Rock. It drives me nuts when people say, "I like a little bit of everything." Mostly, I think that phrase annoys me because all of us usually like a little bit of everything. At some point, I tried to think of a better way to classify what I like. There isn't a particular genre that I don't like, except for punk and the newer version of punk-the punk-pop stuff. I don't know what that's called.

I have loved listening to music. Since about the time I was 7, I have paid attention to it. At about this time by brother was around 15 and he was into Metallica, Def Leppard, Motley Crue, and Cinderella. One of my favorite pictures is with him in his bedroom with all of his 80s metal posters on his wall. Because I was at that phase in my life where everything I did was to impress him, I learned to like all of these bands. When I played the ever popular game, M.A.S.H., I always opted to hope for the coveted job of bodyguard and the prized husband in Vince Neil. He was the great love of my life before I reached 10. In this way, I have found that most people are surprised that I was listening to metal at the time, but I'm proud to admit it.

It seemed natural, then, to transition from loving metal as a youth to falling into the grunge scene in the 90s. I was pretty sure that I was the only person in the world that truly understood Nirvana. I couldn't bring myself to read the suicide note left by Kurt when it was posted in Rolling Stone, I had myself convinced that he wouldn't have wanted that. For some reason as well, ages 12-15 happened to be the time when my mom had married a old dirty hippie (trust me, she'd have less positive things to label him now) and he would take me to all of these great concerts. I am priviledged enough to say that at the ripe old age of 11, I went to see my first concert: Guns'N'Roses with Smashing Pumpkins as the opener. **Yet another great Oklahoma moment was watching them get booed off of the stage because right after the first two songs, Billy Corgan had the audacity to scream "Hail Satan" in the middle of the bible belt.** Apparently, their manager must have told them to back off from that routine because the second time I saw them, they were more the cynical frail ultra liberals that were trapped in their own world of desperation, rather than the angry fuck authority band. I also got to see the Black Crowes, Megadeath, Metallica, Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, and Bush. I laugh now at the Bush concert, because that was about the time that everybody got a hankering to try the moshing and crowd surfing thing. Back in those days (now how much do I sound like an old cooter) only the really "hard core" concert goers would dare the mosh circle. Lesser known bands that were openers at this time included No Doubt, Reverend Horton Heat, and Candlebox. Whew.

After the grunge fog cleared, I was left in a musical limbo where I didn't know what to listen to. For the second time in my life however, I went through a phase of idol worship. My friend Sara, was into the club scene and Oklahoma City used to host this under 18 club, Star Seven. I started going to the club with her at 16. And for some reason I really caught on to the music. I started my now infamous collection of Deee-lite CDs, and then I started going to the "darker" house electronica, such as Chemical Brothers and Underworld. From there I followed a boyfriend into the P.J. Harvey, Mazzy Star and Liz Phair world. By then, rock started making a comeback, but it was these new lame bitch-bands like Blink 182, Weezer, and Presidents of the United States of America. We needed a cheerier version of rock after grunge, I guess. I got angry and started listening to pop.

This began the demise of music coolness. I missed the heaviness of rock and I couldn't figure out any new good electronica bands to listen to, so I turned to Justin Timberlake and crew to become my new block rockin' beats. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. At some point, I even turned to listening to Hanson. Which, to paraphrase Scott Ian, lead singer of Anthrax, there's no good reason to hate Hanson, they were a talented group of young boys. If a rocker the likes of Scott Ian can love Hanson, then so could I.

Thank god I discovered professional wrestling. It is there where I found Disturbed, Godsmack, Saliva, and Drowning Pool. And no, I've never been a Korn fan. Nor have I ever been a big Tool fan. So now, I ask, why have I ended up with such lame music tastes? I'm not proud to say that I own Nickelback, it seems like pop-rock to me, if it wasn't for damn song Photograph, I would have never requested the album. I don't know when I started hating everything I heard. Now, just like every other krusty old-rocker, I would rather listen to the "bands from the old days" rather than try to like some new band. Even now, I would prefer to give Poison's Greatest Hits a spin in the dusty CD player rather than try to give Aviril Lavine a chance. As a matter of fact, I was pretty disturbed when I gave Papa Roach a whirl after the single, "Getting Away with Murder," thinking that the rest of the CD would have a harder flavor, but instead I got songs like "Scars" where the band talks about their weaknesses including thins such as "caring too much." At the risk of sounding like one of my students, WTF, man. WTF.

So here ends my History of Music. I have started going back in time and listening to the old rock foggies (no pun intended) and I have actually enjoyed the CCR classics. New rock pisses me off, I don't have the energy to find all of the underground club groups and Brittany Spears and Ashley Simpson have effectively turned me away from pop. It sounds crazy to say that the last two concerts that I graced were the Van Halen concert and the Motley Crue: Red, White, and Crue Tour. It was odd, because while we were standing in line to get into the Ford Center, we were whispering about how this hard core couple had brought their daughter, who couldn't have been more than six, to the concert. My counterpart thought this was amusing, considering that this girl is now no older than I was back when I was a huge Crue fan...Such is my history of music. I'm open to hear what you think I should be listening to, at this point, I'm willing to try anything new so that my music coolness can once again be established.

Retraction And the End of the Whole Mess

2006-01-11T15:06:00.000-08:00

While I'm not one for going back, especially after the post like the one I put forth last night, I will say that I recieved a post from Antique-esse. It was a description of how I was mistaken in the way that I interpreted comments that were made to my fat bet post. In response, I will say this: First, I didn't intend to the delete the original comments that you made to this blog. In fact, I read and re-read the comments that you made, trying to interpret them in any other way in an effort to understand why someone would be rude and yet pleasant at the same time. I stand by what I said last night. The comments that I made to you were rude and offensive, and I intended them to be because what was said hurt. Before I decided to lash out with the angriest post that I have managed in history, I will say that my first thought was to delete the comment and then forget about it. My bad. But I do not feel that I, in any way, re-interpreted the quotes that were posted by you to my website. They were almost word for word. I can't apologize for my anger and I stand by everything that I said, but if I have been mistaken this entire time, and I have truly grossly misrepresented another person's statements, then it is wrong for me not to apologize. If that is the case, then it is I who owes the apology, and not you. I've never been as pissed off as I was last night, and honestly, I can't say that I'm not still pretty pissed off now. But when you are around people night and day who criticize you for who you are and what you believe, it becomes more and more likely that you are less likely to believe that others have a benevolent intent when they make strange statements that somehow amount to something less offensive than what they were. If this doesn't make fucking sense to any of you, sorry, it barely makes sense to me. For the sake of all of this being over, I will say that if someone like Antique-esse can be the kind of person to read all of the shit that I posted last night, and still manage to respond with a kind and gentle "I'm sorry," then I suppose it means that I, too am rational enough to say that if there was a misinterpretation on my part, that I have behaved like an ass. For the sake of the four of you that did read my anger last night, I am sorry if what I said was truly a misunderstanding. For the sake of equality, I too deleted all of my comments from last night, in hopes that only the few people that viewed my blog will be the only ones who remeber it. I am ready to move on, and still for the sake of what's best, I understand if you never even come back to read all of this. It's times like these that I think back to the rage post and I remember why I abandoned all of my anger in the first place. I give up. From here on out, a much nicer girl...

The Fat Bet

2006-01-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

I am really sorry. I know that I haven't been doing this at all lately. I must admit that I am the weakest person in the world when it comes to schedule changes. I start acting like Kyle's cousin Kyle in South Park and I am worried about meanial things like hemrroids rather than relaxing and going sleddin'. The start of the year has been strange. First of all, we had to return to school with the same students rather than switching because our semester doesn't end until next week. It's crazy because I've spent alot of time over the break creating new units and lesson plans. Now, when it's time to go back, I have to go back to the same shitheads and try to re-teach them how to tell their heads from their asses. To make matters worse, one of my bosses who I will name the Mega Beast(think Drop Dead Fred + 100 years of life and you will have mentally stumbled upon one of mine enemy) makes the decision to evaluate me the day that we come back from break. Fun times. Let me tell you that if you are ever in aposition of power over someone and you want to be able to totally mess with their minds, right before they go on vacation, tell them that you will be doing a huge evaluation THE DAY that they return to work. It leaves a lasting impression. It's like what Dane Cook was talking about when he said that the best way to leave a lasting impression on the world is to find some small kid and their ice cream and go up to that kid an smash it. Look at him in the eyes and say "You will remember this forever." And that's about what happened. The Mega Beast smashed my Christmas ice cream and when I cried, she laughed and walked away, saying, "You will fucking remember this forever." My Christmas vacation became the good moments sprinkled on top of my waking and sleeping nightmare. I'd be laughing or giggling, smiling, playing, and then it would rush through my head like a premonition (mega beast) and I would lose a couple of beats. Try to continue what I am doing (mega beast) but any time there was a moment's pause (mega beast) and during commercials or long moments in the bathroom (mega beast). I don't know why she is such a tall demon to me now. The worst part is that she conjured some kind of sleeping curse where at night I wouldn't dream about the evaluation, I would dream about (mega beast) students. Sometimes the students were being (mega beast) bastards and I couldn't get them to respect my authoritae, and others, (mega beast) were about the students that I hate most, I mean the ones that I fucking loathe, were confessing their love to me and coming on to me. Considering that I was reading a James Patterson book about murder, I doubt that my dreams were coming from what I saw everyday, but regardless, that bitch is going down for doing this to me. Fine then. I guess I will just bring it. Much like Cartman, when he realized that Scott Tennerman must die, I know now what I must do. I must beat the beast at her own game. Plan devised. No one will get in my way. So it's definetley time to get a break from work. I get the call that Brokeback Mtn. is at the mall. Remember: I live in Oklahoma, getting this movie has been a battle of epic proportions. Before this conglomeration of whatever all of this is continues, I should say that I intentionally waited until this morning to talk about it. It's that hard to watch. And not akward hard. I think I'm gonna cry until I throw up hard. I don't want to try to describe it. If you want an accurate description of the movie, no one does it better than Angry Dissenter. So, if you want to know more, check it out here. Needless to say, I lost a friend because he decided to run away from me rather than tell me he was gay, and I cried for the loss of him last night as much as I cried for the movie. It was strange because for that moment in time I remembered what it was like to be the girlfriend of someone who loves you, but who isn't attracted to you. Lots of memories from the other side of that experience, I guess. I really can't talk about this film without crying. See it. You won't be dissapointed, unless you are THAT kind of Republican. And then, I wouldn't pay you to see it, because you'd just mess it up. Moving right along to the GRAND FINALE. Are you ready? In the middle of my day sometime after Ticket to Hell #7 and sometime before Brokeback, I stumbled upon a new competition. Remember my love for competition. Think Back. If I had my old blog I could link you back, but that still tastes like bitterness, so I'll move on. Apparently, there is some new kind of competition at work where all of the teachers put $10 into a pool and the person that loses the most amount of weight by March 10th gets that pool of money. Hmm. One teacher, bless her heart, put her money into the pot, "not because I think I will win, but to encourage the other teachers to take care of themselves." Wow. Needless to say, I have this thing in the bag. I'm young and they're old. They're fat but I'm fatter. Their body can't lose the weight, but I just had a wedding and so I know how to diet and there's nothing they can do about it! wuahahahaha! The money is so mine. You'll be calling me for money soon, I can feel it. I just can't help but think that asking teachers to do things for money is kind of like enticing the retarded kids by providing a laser light show, but I'm down for the ride...

The Final Christmas Present

2006-01-01T12:56:00.000-08:00

So, I found out that when you purchase a DVD Recorder, that the one thing that it doesn't do is record DVDs. This will be fun to explain when I return it...

Happy New Year

2005-12-31T14:54:00.000-08:00

I am home and thank god, I am done with the family obligations for this year. If there could be any more socially akward moments in my life, I am not sure how. New Year's Eve is here and I think that for the first time in a long time, I will make New Year's Resolutions. Actually, I have them made, I just decided to do like other people and wait 'til the 1st to implement them, it's that whole pick a date to start doing something thing...

1. Give thanks before each of my meals.
2. The whole work out thing.
3. Make it happen.

I don't know. Most importantly, I want to make it happen. I used to say that all of the time, but now I am pretty serious about it. I am tired of living my life afraid. There are calculated risks that it is time for me to take and I am ready. Be Safe and happy 06!

Semper Fi

2005-12-29T09:19:00.000-08:00

I heard a great story last night that seemed silly enough to share. It takes a back story to tell, but I think it's worth it. (This story was created with the help of Bad Shoe Guy-let's give credit where credit is due.)

There is a story that floats around the Education circuit that I was first introduced to during my senior year of college. It is intened to be inspirational, and the short version goes something like this: A man is found standing on the beach throwing what appearsto be stones into the ocean, when another man comes up to him. He inquires as to what the man is doing, and the man replies, "In a few hours the tide will receede and all of these starfish will be left to die. I am throwing them back into the ocean so that they can live." Distressed at the man's statement, the observer says, "But there's miles and miles of starfish on this beach. What you are doing won't make a difference." The thrower looks up at him and smiles. He holds one up to the observer and says, "Tell that to this one." This story has always gotten on my nerves. It's inspiring and wonderful, until you hear it for the sixth time and you try to let it have the same meaning. Well, that and you experience your first year of teaching and you know that those blessed little high school students aren't starfish, they are more like stingrays or jellyfish. But all fish metaphors aside, I heard a story that parallels this and is just insulting enough to give me great pleasure.

Story number two, which I believe is better because it is true: A young girl is working in a restaurant when she comes upon a gluttonous couple. They order many things to eat, they are ravenous. Many appetizers and bread sticks later, the couple's food arrives. They again bolt thier food like fat girls at an eating contest. When the waiter comes back to pick up the plate, she notices that the man has eaten everything on his plate except for one bite of shrimp. She looks at him and smiles. "There's only one bite left on your plate. Don't you want it?" The man politely smiles back and says, "No thanks. I am stuffed." The young girl proceeds to pick up the plate, "Too bad you don't have room," she looks at the shrimp again, "I guess this little guy died in vain." And she walks off.

I don't know why this story feels like sweet justice, but for some reason it tastes like buttercream cupcakes in my mouth.

Bart: B-7
Homer: Ow, You sunk my scrabbleship
(Lisa walks in)
Lisa: Scrabbleship! That's not even a real game!
Homer: Tell that to the brave men who just lost their lives. Semper Fi!

I'll be gone until Saturday, see you later...

This Is My Christmas Vacation

2005-12-28T07:27:00.000-08:00

I'm back and I am thrilled to be home. Actually, I am back for the next 48 hours before we go to the next location: the in-laws. Erg. Guess I won't be doing much checking of my blog there. Thank goodness that's only a 2-day trip. And I say that not because I hate my in-laws, it's just that we always see them after flying to L.A. and after being gone from home for six days and I don't want to travel anymore. It will be weird when we reverse this for next year and we fly after spending four days out of town. This is the update on the vacation so far:

Flight 551. The flight was overbooked. Conveniently, there was too much fog to take off, when, after 30 minutes, no one would give up their seats. After we all cram into the close quarters, there was a bomb on the plane and we had to de-board the plane so they could bring in security. Funny how after there was a bomb on the plane, there were also suspiciously many more people who were willing to give up their seats for a later flight. I think this might be the new proceedure for dealing with over-booked flights-just tell the customers there might be terrorists on the plane and less than 1/2 mile flight visibility and you have more than a few who will give up a few of thier precious hours to give the seats to someone else. But we were excited, so we got back on the plane.

The Grove. We walked from Beverly and Santa Monica Blvd. to Fairfax and 3rd. I'm still claiming that this walk was no less than 2 miles. It's at least 10 blocks. And I have no good sense of distance, but I know it took close to an hour to get there. I ate some really awesome Greek food at the Farmer's Market and we looked at the crazy tall Christmas Tree. I thought about Angry Dissenter and we even entertained the possibility of going to go see a movie there, but we were too excited to sit still. By 3:00, it we decided we would wait for my mom to come pick us up, which made us feel all of 13 years old, but needless to say, she was running late, so we decided to go ahead and walk over to the Beverly Center, which is right by Cedar's, which is on Beverly and 3rd. My feet hurt before we even got to DisneyLand.

Jason Schwartzman. That's right. We passed him while walking to the Beverly Center. I only caught the back of him, while my counterpart was nudging me and freaking out. We have a "leave celebrities alone" policy. So we didn't do anything crazy except text friends with this uneventful news.

DisneyLand Magic Kingdom. The castle is like a child's plaything compared to the one at DisneyWorld. "it's a small world" was awesome, but not as awesome as they said it would be. The best part of the Magic Kingdom is that they transformed the Haunted Mansion into "the Nightmare before Christmas" and it was wicked! I wished the line was longer because they were playing the soundtrack to the movie the whole time we were in line. And there was an entire shop devoted to Jack and the movie. I'm a huge fan, so it naturally made my day. The newly rennovated space mountain was fun, the parade was great, and they cancelled the fireworks at night. The snow, however, was the coolest thing ever! It was small condensed bubbles, that felt like actual snow and tasted like soap.

DisneyLand's California Adventure. Ahh, Soarin. If you have not ever done this, you have to go to DisneyWorld or DisneyLand to do this. This is a 50 ft. tall OmniDome-type thing that gives the simulated experience of hang-gliding over Californina. You are lifted in the air and you move when the camera moves, the wind blows in your face and you can smell each of the places that you are at. This by far is always my favorite ride. It's thrilling, but all of the smells and sights leave you very relaxed. We rode it twice. The Aladdin show was nothing short of spectacular. You have to appreciate it because most live Disney shows are a mere re-creation of the movie with the same cheesy lines performed live. This was not the case. The story line they used was consistent with the Broadway musical that is or was done and the Genie does these long impromptu lines in the middle of the show which include quips about Churros, Desperate Housewives, and Harry Potter. Even Iago did gave props to the audience. It made the experience unique and seperate from the animated cartoon. If you are a technical theatre buff like my nerdy self, you will also appreciate the flying magic carpet, the 25 ft. tall flats, the trap doors and the fact that the entirety of the set is all lifted into the fly loft. The whole set is on battens, which is impressive. I set a personal best record and I decided to go for it and ride the roller coaster with my friend. I know this is going to sound twisted, but I found strength to ride some of the scarrier rides because my wild friend kept screaming about wetting her pants. Too much fun.
Flight 1461. This was on the Airbus from L.A. to Denver. This is the 2nd largest plane I have ever been in. I guess United figured they owed me after the bomb scare incident. (Now might be the right time to mention that I am deathly afraid of planes and that one of my few recurring nightmares is being in a plane crash and plummetting to my death, which is why it is a miracle that I even fly after seeing "Lost") It sat nine across with a middle aisle and I couldn't touch the ceiling of the plane. It was huge and freakin' sweet. I did pretty well, and I never even cried or threw up once. I did squeeze off some tears on flight 551. The wild friend, aka wild one, just laughed at me during that flight. She really likes it when people are under stress and she takes those opportunities to laugh at all of us. That's why it was hilarious to see her afraid of space mountain. Hee hee hee. Bitch.

Home. At 1:00a.m. this morning. To the dog who was crying and who was so tired that he rolled off the bed in his sleep twice last night. It was a rough week for Squeaker. That's right. My dog's name is squeaker. It's not as bad as the guy in Old Navy who's dog's name was spanky. And it was some pit-bull-looking dog. How demeaning.

The chronology will continue soon...

P.S. Apparently, my counterpart wants me to add that this is an Eeyore hat, or at least that's what he thought it was until some 7 year old asked him where he got the Stitch hat. So, even though he is seemingly wearing Stitch ears, my counterpart has requested that because Stitch is a Son-of-a-bitch, that you henceforth only recognize his love for Eeyore and not Stitch. There's a story behind that, but I've already wasted too much space.

M-I-C-K-E-Y

2005-12-22T06:06:00.000-08:00

So we're off this morning to head to DisneyLand for the holidays. We've heard that it's more fun than Christmas in Tennesstupid, so we are going to go try it. The rumor is that for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day that the park will simulate snow. We didn't get gifts this year. Well small ones, but not big ones. We are going to go play on the rides and celebrate Christmas with the family and friends that we love dearly. I'm not gonna lie. I am pumped up about the whole deal. We did DisneyWorld for our honeymoon and I can honestly say that we really have talked about how much fun it was since we got back. I guess it's the whole childhood nostalgia thing, but I don't care. The only dilemma I have now is about what two movies to see while I am in L.A....shameless attempt to get you to post? Yeah, probably.

M-I-C

See you real soon

K-E-Y

Why? Because I like all of you

M-o-u-s-e

And I'll return on the 28th.

Christmas Jeer

2005-12-21T16:28:00.000-08:00

Apparently, there are a few good things about Christmas:

1. I am on the nice list with 2,952 nice entries and 676 naughty entries.

2. My elf name is Batty Bing-A-Ling and my counterpart's name is Sparky Bing-A-Ling.

3. My secret santa gift is The Death Star (from Star Wars)

To experience some great Christmas Jeer, click on the links in the sidebar.

Spreading Christmas Cheer

2005-12-21T14:52:00.000-08:00

There's a word that I loathe. Of all the words that I loathe, this one now safely takes the spot of number one. (see below)

Disasterous words that make my mind ache and my ears ring:

10. schnoze (nose)
9. otay (okay, with a 't' instead of a 'k')
8. yummy (as in, "That sounds so yummy to eat")
7. hyper (as in, "I'm so hyper from all of the Starbucks I have been drinking)
6. professional (as in, "Try being less childish and more professional" Which really means, stop having fun and act like you are better than everyone else)
5. Giggidy. (Funny when Quagmire says it, not funny when you say it)
4. gay (as in, "That's so gay" or "Dude, quit being gay")
3. humps ("my hump, my hump my hump. my lovely lady lumps.")
2. Kwinky-dink ("You have a red dress like me! That's such a kwinky-dink)
1. Christma-hanza-kwan-ika (nothing in parenthesis, rant to follow below)

This word that is supposed to mean "have a happy holiday, regardless of what you celebrate this season" makes my blood boil. And do you know what? I am a Christian and I do believe in Jesus, but I tell you what, I don't believe that a holiday that has pagan origins should be confused with Jesus. I am angry at two main groups of people, which is why I suppose this word leaves me fuming.

Group One

The people that think this is somehow a new way to create a conglomeration of religions and that this is the new greeting to people so that you don't fuck up and tell someone who is Jewish "Merry Christmas." The bat signal lights the sky outside because even Comissioner Gordon knows that the only reason Chris---------ka was started is because Virgin Mobile had the keen concept that if they could convince all people that they were included in this ridiculous feast of commerciality (you better believe that I just created a new word) that they too would now feel the obligation to buy for friends, family, and gods. If it's Chrisma-----ka, then no one has an excuse to be benched during this game day race. What could be worse than that, Batman? The fact that people are stupid enough to buy into it. This is worse than swatch watches and slouched socks. Holy pathetic trend, Batman! Is it possible that people and not just corporations are going to actually tell their friends and family Merry Christ------waka? You mean to tell me that you can't remember that your best friend, the one who you have known since you were to, the one that has come to your house for the Christmas party for the last eight years actually celebrates Kwanza and not Christmas? Your long term memory is so pathetic that you can't come up with the answer when wishing people a happy holiday? You can't figure it out? Too much pressure not to fuck up, huh? Dont' want to mess up the biggest play of the game? How many people out there are going to lose thier minds if someone accidentally messes up and says "Happy Chanukah" instead of "Merry Christmas." Oh, this language is a fine way for all of us to be unintrusive and lazy. Don't inquire what people do or don't celebrate. Don't take time to get to know people. Make lame wild assertions with stupid phrases. And I thought supercalifragalisticexpialadocious was stupid. Imagine someone seeing Mary Poppins and actually now using that phrase when trying to sound precocious. Fun times. When, my friends, will we learn that we don't have to do everything that the t.v. tells us to?

Group Two

Christians who are trying to argue that Jesus has been taken out of the season. And do you know what? They are right. But they are right for the wrong reasons. In previous rants, I have wasted emotional energy on how it is silly that we celebrate on a day that is not actually Jesus' birthday, just so that we could align with the pagans back in the 300s. Ever since then, 300 A.D., Christmas has been about feeding lies to the masses. Please, those of you that keep trying to yell that "Jesus is the reason for the Season, " please from a fellow Christain, please stop. We don't want Jesus commercialized. We don't want Toys 'R' Us marketing mangers and showing the "California Raisin True Christmas Story." While idealogically, this would be beneficial, there is something about Capitalism that makes everything it touches cheap. I hate the word Chrisma----hanik---a worse than I think any other human on this planet, but don't condemn it because it took Jesus out of Christmas, that damage was done long ago. I'm not saying don't celebrate Jesus' birth, but please don't ask for the real Christmas story to be subjected to any more torture. Leave the PC bastards alone. And the biggest reason to leave them alone? Because you know, at its core, it's just about giving. And loving. And even if this word somehow rears its head on Wikipedia two years from now and becomes a staple in our society, at least we will try to be a giving culture and a loving culture and that will be okay. Although I just may have to take a hanger to my eardrums if that is the case.

In the words of Buddy the Elf, "there's room for everyone on the nice list" so I guess I'll just hope that after all of my complaining that I am still there. Oh look! I still am!

Ticket to Hell #3

2005-12-20T21:19:00.000-08:00

So far, every other ticket to hell has been based on my all-too-free flowing speech. This next ticket comes from my actions and not my words.

Here we are and I'm 22. Yes, this was just two years ago. I thought I was smart. It seems like I should have had all of my wits about me at this point.

The scenario: Each day, I am responsible to pick up a young beautiful deaf girl who has to go to a special day care after school for her hearing. The bus can't take her there, and her parents can't pick her up until six, which is why they need me. So I get paid a hefty fee each month, just to drive 25 miles a day to take this girl to her day care. She is in the 2nd grade. It is the last day of the school for my deaf friend and I go to pick her up from school and she's not there. I see her teacher and I ask her where she is at. She tells me that she never came to school that day and that she thinks she just might have started her vacation early. While the teacher and I are talking, the teacher tells me that she thinks her parents would be just the type of people who would be oblivious to how important the last day of school is for a young student who won't see their friends for an entire summer. I agree with her. I think her parents are those kind of people too. Shameful people. At about 6:00p.m. that evening, I get a call from her parents. They ask me why my beautiful friend never went to school that day. We go through the whole what do you mean she wasn't at school thing and after the confusion is cleared, her mother concludes by saying, we dropped her off at 7:30a.m. just like we were supposed to, what I want to know is why you didn't pick her up at 8:15a.m. to take her to school? Oh shit. Now the memory hits. The phone call the night before. The mother asking if I can get her from daycare to school in the morning. I agree. And then? I go drink and sleep until noon. I go about my day and then go to pick up my friend at 3:00p.m. and the story has been told from that point....

Ticket to Hell #3: The reminder that drinking causes temporary memory loss. Never say you'll do something and then go drink. Especially when it is your beautiful deaf friend's last day of their second grade year. And, just in case, never bad mouth parents of your friend even if there is even an inkling of doubt in your mind about their effectiveness. Chances are, you suck way more than their parents do.

Ticket to Hell #2

2005-12-20T21:08:00.000-08:00

As if I hadn't learned my lesson...there's a second ticket to Hell. Actually, there's way more than two, and some of them aren't near as harmless as these, but here's a start:Now I happen to be 19 and still pretty damn stupid because here we are again, I am on another debate trip, which I don't think I mentioned last time that I was on a debate trip, but I was, so there. We are now in Springfield, MO.

We go into a Chili's. I think 1 1/2 years of college have now given me infinite knowledge and consequently, infinite wit. I'm cool. I'm college.

We are seated in a booth and some stupid son of a bitch has his Oakley's on in the restaurant. Stupid. And here he is with his Zack (or is it Zach or Zac?) Morris, Saved by the Bell, haircut. And it's always bastards like this that think they are as cute as Hollywood actors and that they get some kind of free pass to do what the hell they damn well please. Come to think of it, what the hell gives actors the right to shield themselves indoors? Clearly those $200.00 sunglasses do wonders to maintain your privacy...I think I should say something, this is bullshit... (Everyone turns around to look at the man I am speaking of) What pains me is that it has to be the Oakley’s...Jana...I mean I don't give a shit about his $200.00 sunglasses, if he put them on top of his head I would still get the point and see that he's...Jana...rich enough to have glasses...Jana! What? That guy is blind. (Blink, Blink)I get it now. I see the dog at his feet. I see him struggling to put his fingers on his plate to find his hamburger. I get it now. Damn. Twice now in a restaurant. Twice with the laughter and the wit and the just talking to get attention. Damn.

Ticket to Hell #2: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...

Ticket to Hell # 1

2005-12-20T21:06:00.000-08:00

A ticket to Hell is a special little fellow. He is never bought and only ever earned. A dear friend told me once that I could always choose not to use my tickets, but I'm not sure they'll work that way.The first one comes from when I was the ripe old age of 17.I have always had the habit of speaking my mind. Worse than that, I have had the worse habit of speaking outlandish or brash things that I think will amuse my cohorts.

We were in St. Louis, at some restaurant I don't remember, and we are already slightly irritated at the fact that we couldn't get a table. Of course we are complaining now, and we are ready to get some service. I don't remember what comments were made; all I remember is that everyone was griping. It was my turn.Our hostess comes and takes us to our table, which happens to be outside. Shit. It's the middle of the summer, who wants to be outside? I start in. Who the hell know what's said...The hostess walks away and here I go: What woman would be stupid enough to walk around in those heels? As if that dress isn't hideous enough, we could be spared seeing all nine months of her pregnancy fat. Someone get her a tailor...and so on and so forth.Everyone laughs, and just like a bad Spongebob Squarepants episode, I think it's funny that other people are laughing with me. Now the waiter walks up. Excuse me, sir, but someone needs to tell that girl that we weren't really curious about how soon she was going to give birth. Maybe she wants to tuck some of that shit away and wear clothes that make her look like less of a stripper...laughs, giggles. He smiles. Then he says, that hostess over there is my wife and I think she looks beautiful. Gulp. Please don't spit in my food.

Ticket to Hell #1: Is a reminder that humor is only funny when what you are saying NEVER gets back to the person you are talking about. When in public places and speaking of people you never know, always assume they can hear you.

From the Vault (re)explained

2005-12-20T20:52:00.000-08:00

This is something I started on my old blog page that I need to revive for those of you just now joining me that may have missed out on the fun. Those of you that have been around can just disregard.

I have chosen on nights where I don't want to talk about my boring crappy life to revisit stories of the less than mundane in what I will now refer to as the "From the Vault" series.

From the vault is a reference to one of my most favorite things: professional wrestling. Every year in March, the WWE always shows old clips from previous Wrestlemania matches to get the audience pumped up enough to purchase the upcoming PPV. In the spirit of the WWE, I am starting my own vault, which is a "best of the best" and "best of the worst" moments of my life. Here they are. Just take caution when you read them, and know that for each mistake that I have made in the past, there are sure to be two or more that will follow in the present or the future. Hopefully, however, they won't be the same damn mistakes.

I think I'm gonna be sick...

2005-12-19T19:00:00.000-08:00

At some point I realized that some of the things I say seem pretty asenine to some people. It's crazy because when I started doing this thing, I wanted everyone to read it. I called and told everyone that I had this blog and I invited everyone, including my counterpart's parents to come read. I didn't think they'd take it seriously and it is my fault for talking about my husband's balls where everyone on this green earth could read about it.

So do I apologize or even attempt to clean up my blog? Nope. I ran away. We called his brother and had him erase all of the links on his parent's computer and the result is this now, very new-feeling home. I am wanting very badly to laugh about this and say its no big deal, but it kind of is.

Someone told me at one point that I shouldn't do this if I didn't want everyone to read it. I've always disagreed with that. While I invite everyone to read what I write, there are some people that I don't want to see these parts of me. It's like walking in on your parents having sex. No one wants to see that. Your parents having a fight. Don't want to hear it. Your mom smoking one night when she gets drunk. Kind of makes you sick to your stomach.

All of this is my oneryness, it's my anger, it's my drunken moments, my embarassing moments, my sordid past, and it's small pieces of my boring life. I don't know that everyone does get invited to this party. I don't know that everyone wants to be here. There's a special and raw/naive/childish/immature/artistic/gothic/tragic/cynnical/bitchy part that the fam can't really be a part of. It's my bad, but now, when I think about what they've seen, I feel shame. They think that it's embarrasing, but largely funny. To me, I feel like the 7 year old that got caught with my pants down exploring myself for the first time.

I don't know if I'm upset or just pissed that I'm having to start a new blog all over. Ironically, it's my "21st" post. And I feel emotionally hung over, like I've been doing shots of embarassment all damn day. Here's to hoping the akwardness goes away soon. Gulp. C'mon, you know that you've been caught doing something embarassing that you got busted for. (In two months, after I tell you what tickets to hell #'s 3-6 are, I will conclude by telling you that ticket to hell #7 is talking about your in-laws' son's balls on the internet.)

December Archives

2005-12-19T15:27:00.000-08:00

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head...
For a few weeks now the dog has come out of the bathroom with drops of water on his head. It's always been in the morning. We take showers before we go to work, much to the chagrin of the dog, who hates waiting outside the door while we soak up all the heated steamy air. After awhile, I started feeling sorry for him, so we decided to let him come in while we shower. He is a good dog. He waits right outside of the shower door. I always get out of the shower first, so I never think about what happens in the few minutes following this ritual. Then, the dog appears with drops on his head. For awhile, I just assumed he was standing too close to the shower door and that the drops were from the shower. But why is he never wet when I get out? At some point, we finally figured out what the problem was. I must prepare you, because it would seem slightly personal. If you are faint of heart, then you should pass up the end to this anecdote. It seems that when my counterpart exits the shower, the dog runs over to kiss and lick his feet and toes. This places him under the drippings of my counterpart's counterparts. Upon reflection, I am just trying to figure out if this is more embarrasing for my husband or for my dog.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 7:31 PM 4 comments
Monday, December 12, 2005

This is my prayer...
A little birdie told me today that there's a possibility that there's a riot that's about to happen. I am really confused about what to say. I see now that Stan Tookie Williams is going to be executed tonight at Midnight and that Governor Shwarzenegger denied his clemency. My stomach is sick thinking about this situation. I don't know what to say or what to think. I don't want to take this time to make a statement about what the death penalty does or whether or not it's the right action to take. I just know that my heartbeat quickens when I think about what the state can do. Worse than that, I don't want to think of the possibility that violence is on the verge of a death that is less than 8 hours away. My prayer is that a horrible situation doesn't turn worse, but at the same time I know that something has to give. I think of Paris. I remember Rodney King. I know nothing but how frail this whole system is. I can only hope that if William's death is now imminent, that his death will continue to bring understanding about how important life and redemption can be. I can only hope that the protests stay peaceful. And I dearly pray that some fucking day we will be smart enough not to keep putting ourselves in this situation over and over. I can't stop typing, but I still can't think of anything to say. If you want to share your thoughts, please do so. I am open to your input. For more information, see: http://www.savetookie.org/
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 9:51 PM 3 comments
Sunday, December 11, 2005

Searching for a Kansan...
For as long as I can remember, we always waited for the day when we would see Santa's Workshop. Each year, my brother, sister, and I would wait until the evening news was done, because a miniature superstar was about to appear in our world. It was Santa and Toy Boy. Every night for 30 minutes, the CBS affiliate-I believe based out of Witcita-would have a thirty minute show with some mall looking Santa Claus and some puppet/jack-in-the-box that would tell you all of the things you would love to have for Christmas. I don't remember the function of this program, it was definetley supposed to be for kids, but it seems like the show also told you where to buy these things, I don't know...I just know that at the end the last thing the program would do before ending, was zoom in on a little calendar that would show us how many days were left until Christmas. All was good with the world, and I could go to sleep because tomorrow I would see Santa and Toy Boy again and again up until the day that I got presents and who the hell needs Santa and Toy Boy when you've got new shit to play with? So I ditched the bastards right after Christmas and I wouldn't think about them until the following December...I didn't realize how precious this memory was for me until I moved away from Kansas. At some point, I remember mentioning in my new elementary school how I used to see Santa and Toy Boy and over and over again, no one has ever seen the show and more disturbingly, everybody wants to know who the hell Toy Boy is... By the way, don't try to Google it, he wasn't that kind of toy boy.So here I am. Twenty-four. And when I think of it, I try to find people that remember this show. So far, since I have moved, I have yet to meet someone who knows or remembers this program. I am searching for a Kansan who might have seen this program that aired sometime in the 80s who remembers...Having searched high and low, I found this website that actually has the first of what I think might be the first of this series in the show. If this description is accurate, and I believe it is, then there should be more than just Kansans that remember Santa and Toy Boy. If you know who these people are, please let me know. It would be nice to know that I am not the only one who remembers Santa and Toy Boy.(For more information on Toy Boy, please refer to The Real Toy Boy.)
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 7:49 AM 2 comments
Tuesday, December 06, 2005

From the Vault Explained...
Okay. I've had a really bad couple of days. If I wanted to get myself real worked up, I would sit here and bitch about it, but I've been trying to quit smoking for three months now and I find that bitching just makes me want to smoke again… I've have wanted to do this for some time, so here goes. Being the wrestling fan that I am, I always love watching t.v. during Wrestlemania season because they are always going to show clips from the vault, which happen to be these really old clips of awesome previous Wrestlemanias. I have decided to borrow this phrase for the nights when I don't want to talk about my crappy situation at present and instead will share a story from my past. Largely random, and hopefully entertaining or maybe depressing, these are the stories from times long long ago but not really that far away...If you are curious, continue reading below.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 8:17 PM 1 comments

Ticket to Hell #1
A ticket to Hell is a special little fellow. He is never bought and only ever earned. A dear friend told me once that I could always choose not to use my tickets, but I'm not sure they'll work that way.The first one comes from when I was the ripe old age of 17.I have always had the habit of speaking my mind. Worse than that, I have had the worse habit of speaking outlandish or brash things that I think will amuse my cohorts. We were in St. Louis, at some restaurant I don't remember, and we are already slightly irritated at the fact that we couldn't get a table. Of course we are complaining now, and we are ready to get some service. I don't remember what comments were made; all I remember is that everyone was griping. It was my turn.Our hostess comes and takes us to our table, which happens to be outside. Shit. It's the middle of the summer, who wants to be outside? I start in. Who the hell know what's said...The hostess walks away and here I go: What woman would be stupid enough to walk around in those heels? As if that dress isn't hideous enough, we could be spared seeing all nine months of her pregnancy fat. Someone get her a tailor...and so on and so forth.Everyone laughs, and just like a bad Spongebob Squarepants episode, I think it's funny that other people are laughing with me. Now the waiter walks up. Excuse me, sir, but someone needs to tell that girl that we weren't really curious about how soon she was going to give birth. Maybe she wants to tuck some of that shit away and wear clothes that make her look like less of a stripper...laughs, giggles. He smiles. Then he says, that hostess over there is my wife and I think she looks beautiful. Gulp. Please don't spit in my food.Ticket to Hell #1: Is a reminder that humor is only funny when what you are saying NEVER gets back to the person you are talking about. When in public places and speaking of people you never know, always assume they can hear you.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 7:58 PM 0 comments

Ticket to Hell #2
As if I hadn't learned my lesson...there's a second ticket to Hell. Actually, there's way more than two, and some of them aren't near as harmless as these, but here's a start:Now I happen to be 19 and still pretty damn stupid because here we are again, I am on another debate trip, which I don't think I mentioned last time that I was on a debate trip, but I was, so there. We are now in Springfield, MO. We go into a Chili's. I think 1 1/2 years of college have now given me infinite knowledge and consequently, infinite wit. I'm cool. I'm college.We are seated in a booth and some stupid son of a bitch has his Oakley's on in the restaurant. Stupid. And here he is with his Zack (or is it Zach or Zac?) Morris, Saved by the Bell, haircut. And it's always bastards like this that think they are as cute as Hollywood actors and that they get some kind of free pass to do what the hell they damn well please. Come to think of it, what the hell gives actors the right to shield themselves indoors? Clearly those $200.00 sunglasses do wonders to maintain your privacy...I think I should say something, this is bullshit... (Everyone turns around to look at the man I am speaking of) What pains me is that it has to be the Oakley’s...Jana...I mean I don't give a shit about his $200.00 sunglasses, if he put them on top of his head I would still get the point and see that he's...Jana...rich enough to have glasses...Jana! What? That guy is blind. (Blink, Blink)I get it now. I see the dog at his feet. I see him struggling to put his fingers on his plate to find his hamburger. I get it now. Damn. Twice now in a restaurant. Twice with the laughter and the wit and the just talking to get attention. Damn.Ticket to Hell #2: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 7:10 PM 3 comments
Friday, December 02, 2005

Hi, My Name Is...
Not slim shady. But I've been thinking this week. At the risk of sounding too mushy, I will just say that there are a few of you out there that I can't wait to read what you've written every day or every few days. P.S. If you want to know who those few people are, look at the sidebar. But anyways, I am fortunate enough to know you or to at least be able to associate your posts with a name. And for some reason, that brings me this strange sort of comfort. Like I know who you are. I'm not real big on revealing a whole lot about myself, mostly because I have tons of students who can outsmart me any day in the IT department, and I would like for the longest amount of time possible to keep this website away from their prying eyes. All that being said, we were talking today in class and I learned that over half of my students don't even know what my first name is. This cracks me up, because its not like it's hidden from them, but it was my little ego check that reminded me that those bastards really aren't trying to hunt me down or pry into my life. I just thought I would take the time, for those of you who check up on this website, to introduce myself. Hi, My Name is Jana. It's nice to meet you. And Angry Dissenter, I will be in L.A. over Christmas. I'll be chasing down Mickey on Christmas day. If I could fit Genderist and The Hater in my suitcase I would. For those of you who are new, a hello to you too. And my name is still Jana. It's German. If you want to say it in German, it's pronounced like yana. In English, it sounds like Anna with a J. As an interesting side note to any policy debaters out there, my name has 1N and 2A's, just like my speaker positions used to be... Now I am going to go do some serious social drinking because while one long week is done, another is on the horizon...
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 10:06 PM 3 comments

November Archives

2005-12-19T15:24:00.000-08:00

Trapped
I am writing now, because for the first time in a few nights, I finally have time to sit down and write. Not to speak again of the holiday, but it is always hard when family is in town because you have to merge your normal habits and routines with other people's routines. I appreciated the visit with my family, but I was ready to be back to my life. Strangely enough, I haven't hit that point yet. I keep waiting for my week to return to normal, and my routines keep getting changed.This week happens to be a really busy one. Not only that, but I am pretty sure that I hate my job. I have been complaining about my job for a few months now, but I never thought it was anything serious. I came back after the break and instead of being irritated about the usual things, it's like I lost my will to care about it anymore. We have our fall show in three days. I have been practically living at the school. I'm not really stressed out about it. At this point last year, I would be going crazy out of my mind with last minute with changes and necessary items that need to be fixed and this year I am just bored and tired. I have a few million battles that I could fight to make my job better, but instead, I just hate it. And I'm even too tired to complain about it anymore. More than anything, I just want to go home, spend the normal 2 hours messing around on the computer, fix dinner, catch up with my counterpart and then whatever else until bed. Instead, it's been something different every night. I'm barely getting dinner in before I pass out from exhaustion. I'm done with the half-assed whining. That's not why I wanted to write this.The reason why I am posting this is because with the rare exception of today, I doubt I will be around for the next four days. I have found out how to read everyone's blogs that I like to read over my lunch at work, but unfortunately because of the network, I can't post anything to your sites or to my own. Trust me, I have been reading, I am just rendered speechless. I really do feel like someone has stolen for this week the small piece of my life that isn't stressful. I am here. I am reading. I just doubt I will be posting. Or responding to your posts. Hopefully the next thing I write will be less dull. Hopefully. There was a quote from the book that I was reading the other day where a mother says to her daughter that the only way to get over the hard parts of life is to go right through them. This week and next will be my attempt to get through a couple hard parts. I'll be talking to you later.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 8:23 PM 3 comments

A "Secret" Post For Genderist
Okay,I know this is strange, but I think it is interesting because you were telling me about a dilemma last week and something happened this morning that made me think about it. I got an e-mail from my bridesmaid-you know the one I have spent way too much of my time bitching about? The one that caused me to have orange angst and paranoia when it comes to friendships. Now I have complexities and trust issues. Ugh. But still. I got the e-mail. It was all about us hanging out just like old times. Old times? I think just the statements that I have just made above make things pretty fucking clear about how fond I am of the old times. I responded by saying that there's alot I thought we should discuss before we do a whole lot together-I was eluding to me, the husband, and the loss. She responded by elaborating another two paragraphs about how her life was pretty rough lately because she had been sick for three weeks. Always her. Always her problems. I'd had enough. I remember telling you one time that it was okay to be angry. And while you didn't help me out by telling me that "Walk the Line" sucked, I am really hoping you'll tell me that I still get to be angry. Or hurt. At least tell me I can still be hurt.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 8:14 PM 1 comments
Saturday, November 26, 2005

The Blitz
The decision was made for the first time ever to give this a try. What could it possibly hurt? My mom has been looking for a laptop for awhile and who are we bothering by trying to get one on sale? We set our alarms for 4:00, considering that we only live a 1/2 block away from our nearest Wal-Mart Supercenter. I am pretty excited at this point because(All right. Venting break. I just accidentally erased this post when I was about two sentences away from ending it. So now if this post sounds forced or awkward, it's because I am trying to re-create what was a pretty good of my account, but now I have The Rage working in me, so I don't know that it will come off in the way I would like it to. Sorry.)there is something uniquely spicy about waking up in the remaining witching hours to go shopping. I was more restless than I am the night before Christmas. At least then you know your Christmas presents are waiting under the tree, unlike now, where who knows what we could end the day with? There's a soothsayer in my story, just like in the old Greek tragedies, that warns us that our journey may not end as we expected. As a former Wal-Mart employee of 20 years, she warns us that people usually start lining up at midnight to get this stuff. We spit on her midnight.We woke up at 4:00 as planned, we drove the 1/2 block to the store and the parking lot was full. Not middle of the day full, but I am surprised we are vying for a spot, full. Look, I am getting ready to say something that I won't ever say again, but when we got to Wal-Mart and found our places in line, it looked like Red-Neck-Homa, which consequently normally gets on my last nerves when people make fun of our state because it has so much more than ignorant people...All that being ranted, Every Tom, Dick, and Cletus were out in line. Apparently, they thought that there was no way they could get sales from their local Wal-Marts, and so they made the trek to the city to get the goods. There was a woman in line behind us that had teeth like the Grinch (see above). I swear there were maggots and mold forming and crawling in between her teeth. After checking for my scar (see MISSING?!?) I found out from her that there were only 15 laptops. What?!? Why in the name of Davey Jones' locker didn't I see this one coming? I know that I am inexperienced in the ways of blitzes, but c'mon. Fifteen?!? I thought maybe they'd only have 100 or something, but not 15! How naive. At this point, the veterans of this little sport let me know that apparently I definitely needed to get my info straight before venturing out because last year one of the Best Buys had the same kind of deal and there were only 5 laptops. 5. Now I feel asinine to be up so early. Now there's nothing to be gained. And I won't even go into how painful it was to wait for the next hour to reach the point in the line where they started turning us away because they were sold out. To read more about my experience, see: Shopping Frenzy.In the end, Target and Bath and Body Works produced some pretty sweet sales that we loved taking advantage of. And I really do think that I would wake up that early again, but that's only because I love watching people trying to control chaos. It reminds me that we are only as civilized as we tell each other we are. In the end, we are still animals and killers. Except now, instead of fighting over territory, we fight over toys. And we still fight for territory. Wait. Where am I going with this? Yeah, it was fun. I think. People are nuts. But I'll still defend our crazy ways to the bitter end, so bring your cynical comments about the destruction of Christmas, or about how bad it is that people fight each other, I'm Ready.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 9:30 AM 3 comments
Thursday, November 24, 2005

Teaching a Jew the meaning of Christmas
It seems strange to me that the other day I had my friend over to my house. We'll call him the bad shoe guy-mostly because of his sense of style, or lack thereof. So, the bad shoe guy comes over to help me hang up a dartboard that he had given us and while we are working on it, he notices that my home has the beginnings of our Christmas decorations up. (See The Damn Angst Quiz) While he was gazing at the decorations, he noticed one special trinket: The Abominable. Being the fan that I am, I have a knick knack. He says, "That guy was awesome in Monsters, Inc." Which is interesting because the knick knacks I have are on a red mat, in a house with Christmas decorations, and sitting next to five other knick knacks that are from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. I reply to the bad shoe guy, "That Abominable is from Rudolph, not Monsters, Inc." His response: "There's an Abominable Snowman in Rudolph?" WHAT PLANET DID YOU JUST COME FROM?!? That's like saying, "There's a witch in the Wizard of Oz?" or "There's a rabbit in Alice in Wonderland?"I can't even remember the series of witty and brilliant responses that I had that were intended to humiliate him for forgetting the coolest part of the t.v. show. Then, he dropped the bomb. And just to be punny, I'll say he dropped the A-bom. He says, "I'm Jewish, of course I've never seen Rudolph." To which I again reply, WHAT PLANET DID YOU JUST COME FROM?!? At this point, I happen to be thinking to myself, "Well, I am Christian but that didn't stop me from watching Real Sex on HBO when I was a kid." (Yes, you sexist bastards, girls watch that shit, too.) Why did I watch Real Sex? Not because I was interested, but because that was ALL THAT WAS ON past ten on the channel and if you weren't watching cable past ten, then you were watching infomercials and you can only watch those for so many years... You couldn't avoid the show. If you watched HBO in the nineties, you had at least watched one clip from Real Sex. (Thank you HBO for being my sex ed teacher, you taught me well.) So, despite being Jewish, how do you manage to avoid a show that has been on for 41 years? You have to live in one pretty big Jewish Cave to avoid that shit. Especially considering that bad shoe guy has been alive 28 of those 41 years. C'mon. The argument continues, and again and again his only retort is that he didn't see it because he was Jewish. Which brings me to my next complaint: How in the BLUE HELL did Christianity become synonymous with Santa Claus? I don't recall signing that sonofabitch's paychecks. If my sources are correct, the belief in Santa Claus is just as pagan as worshiping Osiris or the Golden Calf. And don't feed me this crap about how we get him because of the whole St. Nicholas thing, either. There's no way that our Saints somehow mean that we get pegged with eight (nine including Rudolph) reindeer and magical elves that fulfill toy fantasies. This is precisely why I have a large beef with Constantine and his decision to have pagan holidays coincide with Christian ones, i.e. changing the celebration of Christ's birth and coupling it with the pagan ritual that somehow involves trees, and right now all that eludes me and I will rant about it some other time. My point being: this Jew has no excuse to pin Rudolph on me and he needs to get off his ass and watch it. In the end, he tries to convince me that both abominable's are one in the same, which is why he shouldn't have to go back and watch the show. Once again I have to chop the bad shoe guy down to size by countering that only hard core Rudolph fans would know that they can't be the same because the Abominable in Rudolph lost his teeth when the gay dentist elf pulled them out right before he went over the cliff, or Herbie did some serious caps before his Monsters debut...Are they the same? I am open for your thoughts...And even more titillating for the brain...Is Donald Sutherland the true Abominable? Maybe you are the one who holds the key to unlock this unsolved mystery...P.S. I am not really anti-semetic and I would appreciate you holding back on the hate mail.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 8:17 PM 2 comments
Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Water Polo Plus Relevance
More than a few years back, I took at Water Polo class at the college I attended. Notice, I'm not sporting the school pride by announcing my alum. Jerks. Where was I?I had made the decision to cheat the system by taking Beginning Swimming, which is kind of a joke considering that I am a lifeguard. Okay, wait. Sometimes that doesn't mean jack taco because some teens become guards to see how much humor they can find in a fat culture trying to squish their back and belly fat into spandex. And I definitely am that guard, but I also happen to be a damn good swimmer. Please note that my swimming is pretty and not fast. I don't want the random haters tryin' to challenge me to some kind of swim off, because I've only done that once and I will not lose $250.00 again. I ask again, where was I at? Beginning Swimming. Right.I took the class because I knew that I could find reasonable success in the class. It was really fun. Being the egomaniac that I am, it was nice to once again be "King of the Hill." Did I mention that I don't tolerate competition well? I drank an entire bottle of KC Masterpiece once not because I was dared, but because someone wasn't listening to me when I told them that I loved BBQ sauce, so I drank it in the middle of the restaurants to gain his attention. Continuing on...We were playing water polo.Screams and shouts were echoing of the moldy over-chlorinated pool. After the festivities, we were all pleased with the days performance. Everyone was paddling to the side when I looked up, there was my 60 year old gym professor screaming at us to apologize to each other. Someone must have forgot to tell her that generation x doesn't play nice. "It's not personal, it's business." Needless to say, she made us all hold hands and look each other in the eyes and say, "If during the course of this game, I have somehow offended you or hurt your feelings, I truly apologize for myself and my actions." It seemed silly then, but as I walked away from the game, I mentally catalogued this memory thinking that I some day might need it.Right now, I feel the need to say that this weekend I hung out with some new friends and some old friends. And for some reason, I think I might have offended you. To you I say, "If for some reason during the course of this weekend I made you feel uncomfortable, or if I offended you in any way, I truly apologize for myself and my actions."And I want to eat food again sometime under much less complicated circumstances, friend.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 5:39 PM 3 comments
Sunday, November 20, 2005

The Damn Angst Quiz
Okay, so apparently Angry Dissenter wins the poorly designed and quickly thought out prize for the most amusing 10 minutes of my day, because I was supposed to right now be writing some kind of post about the comforts of home and how pleased I am going to be to see my counterpart tomorrow, and instead I take the damn angst quiz, which when I read it, happens to be right at the place that I am at right now. I have spent the better part of 6 months struggling with the loyalties of friendships, just like the website told me I was. I just had that conversation with a friend over a Carmel White Fudge Shake this morning. Needless to say, I was suprised to see how accurate it was. I must say this was cooler than reading a fortune cookie after dinner to find out what I was going to be doing later that evening "in bed." Check it out at Angry Dissenter's website. You won't be dissapointed. And, just so I don't feel like I abandoned the evening's original purpose, you all should know the house is now decorated in a Christmasy fashion. And it smells more like cinamon and pumpkin than rank beer and dog pee.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 9:56 PM 3 comments
Saturday, November 19, 2005

Anger Hangover (subtitled: Ha Ha the Boys are Gone)
So apparently I had a lot of frustration on my mind yesterday. It has been a really hard week. I've had bosses yelling at me, a few co-workers have been nagging me, one of my favorite wrestlers died, and of course, my husband and I lost our baby. It feels good to finally say that to someone. I needed to get a lot off of my chest and for those of you that read that last post, thanks. I just needed someone to listen. It must have had a really cleansing effect because I woke up this morning and now I am ready to listen to Christmas songs and I am ready to bake some cookies or something. Having read genderist's post about the fudge, however, I think that I will hold off on doing anything too complicated. Maybe I'll just leave the cooking to her.It is strange because a few of my friends and I have been waiting for this weekend because our husbands would be out of town. Needless to say, we were looking forward to a grrrrl's night out. And I guess I could cheat you and tell you that we went to a bar, because we did. At 7:00p.m. But then we left at 7:05p.m. Some nights you have to do your eating before your drinking. We head to get some nourishment, if you call fried pickles nourishment, and then decided to stop by Target to get some Coke for the real drinking. What did we end up doing? Spending the night playing in the Superstore. I bought this wicked awesome two-disc Christmas CD for $9.99 and it is great. Well, if you think Christmas is awesome, that is. Well, and it's awesome for a nine dollar CD. You can't have expectations too high when you find it on a clearance shelf. Needless to say, our night of debotchery ended with everyone going to bed long before the sun went down and no drinking was to be seen. Maybe that's why I am up at 8:00 a.m. posting. Whew. I don't know how many more crazy grrrl nights I can handle with the men gone.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 8:15 AM 1 comments
Friday, November 18, 2005

An Attempt to Reconcile with The Rage (Revised)
I no longer have doubts that pop culture and t.v. have been my primal and soul guiders for the majority of my life. It's funny that my earliest memory is being scared to watch the Def Leppard video "Pour Some Sugar On Me" because the one-armed drummer always gave me nightmares. Don't ask me why a one-armed man is scary...I have had an almost two year old dilemma that I have been struggling with and I thought that I would share it. It is at this point that I should issue a brief warning: I am not in the mood to work for the 'big words' to come into my roaming little mind today. As a result, I am more than sure that a fair amount of the 'naughty' words will be spoken in this post. If your eyes will burn from the insult, please move on.Back to the dilemma...Most people would tell you that I used to have an abundance of ego. I was pretty sure that I was the most amazing thing in the world and I also equipped myself with a sharp tongue so that any person that got in my way would quickly wish they had never crossed my path. There is more than one person who would attest to my temper. I am also sure that there is more than one person that still hates me because of this. But that's the thing: at the time, I didn't care. You either were or weren't important to me. You either worshipped me or you got the hell out of my way. The weird thing is that when you act like that, there are actually a ton of people who are stupid enough to hang around you just because they want to see you go nuts and fly off the handle...this in and of itself is a foreign concept now. It seems like all of the sudden I woke up and the Feelings Fairy took off with my fucking mojo. At some point, I came to the sick realization that the things I said might actually hurt someone else's feelings. Most people at this point would tell me that maybe I was just growing up. I would like to momentarily ignore this statement. Somehow, for damn sure it was unintentional, I went through this ridiculous "spiritual" journey where I learned that all people deserve to be respected and that all people should struggle to take control of their lives and that the way we control our lives and our destinies is by owning our actions. While this may seem really trivial, it is amazing how many people don't grasp this concept. AND IT IS WITH THAT IN MIND, that I would like to throw a brief shout out to Dr. Phil. That son of a bitch was kind enough to teach me responsibility and I can see that he must have forgotten to teach the rest of the damn world because I am the only person who bought that bullshit. I wrote in my self-discovery journal and I meditated on my defining moments, and at the end of the day, I was the only one searching out my feelings. Everybody else was watching Seinfeld.Time passed on and I started my dream job, and you know what happens now? I take responsibility. I try to tell the truth. I try to be kind. I try to compromise. I try to understand people. I make excuses for other people's poor or strange behavior. And I do this because I hold to the hope that all of us must be fragile. That all of us are trying to make this world better. What do I get in return? High School Drama. And no, the irony of the fact that I work in a high school in the theatre department is not lost on me. There is someone in this world who would read this and say that I am a better person for being kind. Say that I am making some kind of positive effort. There are probably even more people that are wondering what exactly it is that I am crying about, but for right now I wish the positivity police would jump off my back so that I could go back to being pissed off. And then I would find those people and tell them to take me to the fucking fairy that stole my anger. It is literally draining me of all of my energy to be as angry as I am now. I'm having to listen to really crappy music, just to keep focused on the anger. I just want to go back. I just want to say, what I want when I want, and to hell with the emotional damage that it may cause. I want The Rage back. It seems like an irrational request, but at least I wouldn't spend the majority of my adult life like the way I am now, which is feeling like a tool. Feeling like a victim to lies, manipulation, and gossip. Feeling like the majority of the people I deal with are the ones who snuggle themselves to sleep at night with the lie that they tell to themselves about how they are truly better than those with whom they would betray. I MISS THE ILLUSION. At the same time, my ever so special Feelings Fairy tells me to abandon The Rage. She holds a drop of sunshine in her hand and has smiley face stickers on her shirt. I hate her so much. I want my cigarette smoking, too tragic to deal with you, authority bucking mojo to return. She's the one I miss. She's the one who doesn't have to scrub the toilets and the bathtub in the morning. She doesn't have to pull down the poorly hung Halloween decorations. She's the time of my life that I never get to go back to. I think I will call her Adolescence.All that being said, I would just like to add that I knew that t.v. was controlling most of my life when I had a dilemma as pressing as the one that seems to be nagging me now and the best reference I have to explain to you what I am going through is from the movie "Hope Floats" when people keep telling Birdie that she needs to be audacious and bold like she used to be. Thank you Sandra Bullock and famous-country-singer-who-I-can't-think-of-your-name. Thank you for leaving me with such an intellectually satisfying way to generate a metaphor for my life.Homer Simpson: In case you couldn't tell, I was being sarcastic.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 11:54 PM 3 comments
Thursday, November 17, 2005

The Efficiency of Spell Check
I am pretty sure that as time goes on that my spelling will no doubt get worse as my memory fades, however, I found this irony last night and thought it was worth sharing...Because my confidence is so low in my spelling ability, I have made the decision to spell check all posts. This is when I discovered that the spell check on this program doesn't recognize the word blog. It seems like there should be more to say here, but instead I will use Nelson's voice to fully color my thoughts, "Ha Ha! Your spell check doesn't know the word blog, and this is a blog"Nelson: "Smell you later."Bart: "Yeah, smell you later."
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 5:24 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, November 16, 2005

MISSING!?!
I have lost a lot of things in my time: my sanity, my virginity, and even occasionally my car keys. But never have I lost a scar. Oh, stop it. I already know what you are thinking: It faded, right? Look, I am not the the smartest turnip in the turnip truck (no, thank you, Dan Rather, for such an insightful metaphor) but I know the difference between fading and disappearing. This morning I woke up, I grabbed some pretty cheap pants that have a button that just happens to rub right where my belly button scar is. Flashback to 2001: I have my gall bladder removed because surgery seemed like a fun thing to do in the very merry month of May. When it is finished, I am left with a bumpy L-shaped scar that looks like a maggot that is trying to die at the bottom of my stomach. I have six "maggots" from this particular surgery, and after the fading-see I know what fading is-the scars turn from purple to white. This particular scar has been the biggest of my six. Flashback to present day: back in my bedroom with the cheap pants with the cheap button that always rubs on my belly button and the maggot scar. I was annoyed with this when I was dressing this morning, however I dismissed it and decided that the cheap pants were the option for the morning. Side Note: Ever notice how when you aren't in the mood to play dress up for your job, that you REALLY aren't in the mood? I mean, if I know I'm going to look bad for the day, I don't just half-ass it, I mean I put my whole heart into looking bad...So the day of looking bad goes on...and so on and so forth...but now the majority of the evening is through and I am ready to take a bath. After sitting in the tub and glancing past my dirty pillows, I notice that the scar is gone. It's not a different color, it's not smaller or a new shape, it's just gone. So here's my plea: If anyone has seen my belly button scar, please immediately respond. It was lost between the hours of 7:15a.m. and 7:30p.m. I'm not asking for any money and I won't tell anyone that you took it, but I want my damn scar back.As an after thought, not having the time or records to keep track of my own belly button scars, I thought I would post Alyssa Milano's belly button in place of mine, just because. I am a big charmed fan, maybe that's why I did it.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 9:08 PM 2 comments
Monday, November 14, 2005

Thoughts from a fan
I don't know quite how to start this post. This past week has been really long for my family. We have suffered a loss in our family and we have been hiding from most of the world. It has been strange because I haven't wanted to talk to anyone about it. We have received all of these kind phone calls and visits from friends and loved ones and I have just been wanting everyone to get the hell away from me and leave me alone. Yesterday evening, I received a call from my brother and he informed me of the death of WWE Superstar Eddie Gurrero. It was surreal to hear that somewhere else at this moment, there is someone else in the world that is experiencing grief.Just in case you are a fan or you are just curious to know, Eddie was found yesterday (Sunday) morning dead in his hotel room in Minneapolis. The cause of his death is unknown. More information and thoughts about Eddie can be found at http://www.wwe.com/I don't have anything special to say about Eddie Gurrero, other than that he was an awesome wrestler and had an amazing ring presence. Mostly, I just want to say that I was a fan. I also wanted to take the moment to say that it amazed me to see other wrestlers talk about their personal relationships with Gurrero, rather than talking about him as a wrestler. Being in a similar situation right now, I have a deep respect for people who could face millions of fans and express deeply personal emotions. I know it has been hard for me to face even a few people and for these men and women to face the public less than 24 hours after his death and continue to perform and speak seems deeply commendable to me and I just thought I would throw out the love.Part of my heart says that I have to close by saying this: if you haven't experienced professional wrestling, I don't expect you to do so now. I also don't expect anyone to all of the sudden have some kind of profound respect for the event. Either you get it and you love it or you don't. I feel fortunate to be a fan. I have found that this too, like the other loves of my life, come in these tight community packages, where even though I am one in a million people that loves this, I have no doubt that any other fan of this activity wouldn't understand exactly how I feel at this moment. Ultimately, I am no one special. But yet, the bonds that grief creates seem to blend us all together as a community, as supporters, as fans. Rest in peace, Eddie.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 9:52 PM 3 comments
Saturday, November 12, 2005

A Breif Author's Note:
Picks suck. They really really suck.
posted by Unequivocal_Prowess at 4:26 PM 1 comments

One Fish, Two Fish
I have been thinking alot lately about how strange it is that I love almost all pets-except one. The fish. I actually have a recurring dream that I have to pick up one of the fish from the floor with my hands and return it to its tank. I didn't ask for the fish, that's for damn sure. But through a long story, which I will not include, I have four fish and a ten gallon tank. Correction: I have four fish remaining. There were something like ten or fifteen at one point, but I've been succesfully watching them die off for two years.Don't get me wrong, these same fish would be great if they were in someone else's home or they were actually being taken care of, but I don't have the time or the love for the creatures to want to help them out. They get food, sometimes new water, sometimes new filters, sometimes I wipe the algae from the tank. Mostly, I wait for them to die. So, I watch and wait.
I am pretty sure that one of them is refusing to die just on sheer principle. I'm okay with that. I was relating this to my friend the other day and he told me it would be less painful if I just put the poor fish out of their misery and flushed them, but there seems to be some kind of ethical dilemna in actively killing the fish versus letting them live in the slums. That's really what it is, right? They aren't unhealthy or swimming in parasites-I even exterminated the tank once from unwanted snails-I don't let them get "swim bladder" or "fish pneumonia" or any other disease. But I wish that they could just lose their will to live and move on to the next place. I would even write a eulogy if it would make them feel better. Especially the big silver one, I hate him the most. I know the other three are pretty laid back and they would accept my half-assed attempt at fish care, but the silver one, Mr. Big is what I'll call him, he watches me. He knows my intentions and because he does, he refuses to die. Maybe in the end, my crappy care is worse than a quick death. But for now, the ambiguity of the situation is comfort enough for me.

Same Great Blog, Brand New Location

2005-12-19T15:11:00.000-08:00

So for reasons hence undisclosed, I have decided to change the address of my website. I started this little ditty with the need to speak freely away from those who would possibly be hurt by what I say. Therefore, we begin again and hopefully I can play hide and seek from the ones that found me.