I Can't Decide

I really HAVE to stop watching those celebrity gossip shows. Today there are TWO images stuck in my head, neither of which should ever have been planted there, and I'm not sure which is worse:

1. Britney Spears sitting down in a micro mini skirt, spread eagle, with no panties on...

AND

2. Rosie O'Donnell on "The View" (also known as "The Show Nobody Watches For Excellent Reasons") holding up a pair of her own personal SuperSized Granny Panties asking Britney if she'd like to borrow them...

I'm sticking with the History Channel from now on-I'd rather sleep with visions of The Donner Party dancing in my head than either of the above.

POP QUIZ!

Good Luck! And keep your eyes on your own paper!



1. Who's the LEAST attractive?

A. Tori Spelling.
B. Sarah Jessica Parker.
C. The Fat Lady in the movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?."
D. Larry King.
E. All of the Above.
F. All of the Above Except C Because We Don't Know Her Name.

2. Why is Pluto No Longer a Planet?

A. It Forget to Pay its Annual Planetary Membership Fee.
B. It was Harboring Terrorists and Weapons of Mass Destruction.
C. It Didn't Have a Cool Name, Like Uranus.
D. Because Planet Earth is Full of Dorks.
E. Because Disney Had a Trademark on its Name and Was Threatening a Lawsuit.

3. How Much Wood Could A Woodchuck Chuck if a Woodchuck Could Chuck Wood?

A. A Lot.
B. A Little.
C. Just Enough to Get You Through a Mild Winter.
D. How the Hell Am I Supposed To Know? Ask a Woodchuck Dentist.

4. Why Do People Dislike The Current United States President So Much?

A. Because He's Dumb.
B. Because He's Retarded.
C. Because He's An Idiot.
D. Because He's A Moron.
E. We All Know What "E" is. Except Our President.

5. Who's Creepiest?

A. Michael Jackson.
B. O.J. Simpson.
C. All of Those Pedophiles They Snag on "Dateline."
D. The Jerky Kid I Once had in Class Who Used His Digital Camera To Take Pictures Up Girls Skirts.
E. The Jerky Kid's Father.
F. E Only.

6. Why do people LIKE Sarah Jessica Parker So Much?

A. I Don't Know.
B. Beats Me.
C. Can't Figure That One Out.
D. THAT'S a Mystery!
E. People Actually LIKE Sarah Jessica Parker?

7. Why CAN'T Iran Have Nuclear Weapons?

A. Because It Didn't Finish All of Its Dinner.
B. Because It Brought Home a Bad Report Card.
C. Because It Ignored Its Curfew Last Saturday Night.
D. Because It Might Actually Use Them.
E. Because.

8. What's so "Special" About the Special Olympics?

A. They serve Juice Boxes.
B. Everyone Gets a Medal.
C. There Aren't Really Any Athletes There.
D. The Medal Contenders All Get To Ride to the Event on Really Neat Short busses.
E. A & C Only.

9. What's Better?

A. Legally Prescribed Medications.
B. Illegally Acquired Medications.
C. $7.00 Bottles of Wine.
D. All Three Mixed Together During a Weekend at George Clooney's Villa in Italy.
E. Duh. D Only.

10. If You Had to Choose One of the Following, Who Should Be the Next President of The United States?

A. Me.
B. Charles Manson.
C. Me.
D. Son of Sam
E. Me.
F. Again, Duh. A,C, & E Only.

Christmas Freaks

There must be like a million people, in my neighborhood alone, who finished their turkey dinners, shoved grandma in the handicapped access van and dumped her off at the old folks home, and said "Glad THAT boring holiday is over. Yipee!!! Time to decorate for Christmas!!!"

Is there some kind of a Christmas decorating race that I don't know about?

Because literally the day after Thanksgiving it was like Holy Shit Christmas EVERYWHERE. And I'm not talking about a couple of strings of festive lights wrapped around a bush or two-I'm taking about houses that are the Christmas decorating equivalent of a Madonna concert-all flashy and over the top, lights perfectly arranged over the house, trees, yard, cars, kids.....and these folks pulled this off in one night????

And now there are those popular inflatable Christmas characters that are as big as the Hindeburg and about as adorable as that huge Pillsbury Doughboy in GhostBusters-they're creepy. I haven't seen an inflatable Manger Scene yet, but I'm sure they're out there somewhere with the Baby Jesus, once inflated, the size of your average NBA player.

I like Christmas and all, but does your house REALLY have to illuminate an entire county to prove your holiday spirit? And if one of those fucking inflatable creatures gets loose and comes after me (they come alive at night...I just know it) I'm suing.

And The Retard Of The Day Award Goes To

JEN! (Real Name: Jen-but she's too retarded to find her way here).

Jen is one of my students, and she likes to enter my classroom daily in full dramatic mode and launch into a diatribe about whatever crisis she happens to be experiencing at the moment. And it always involves WAY too much information.

We don't laugh with her...we laugh AT her.

Today, we endured the following:

JEN: (rushing into class late and all flustered): "OH MY GOD!!! I've got a urinary tract infection!!!!"

ME: "Thanks for sharing Jen. But you're late. Where's your pass?"

JEN: "I don't have one!! But Really!!! Now I'm gonna have to go the doctor and he'll have to stick his hand up my privates!!! And I KNOW I'm gonna end up with some kidney disease...does anyone have a kidney they want to donate to me???"

ME: "Deep healing breath Jen. You're not going to end up with a kidney disease. Where's your pass again?"

JEN: "I didn't get one one!!! I was at the nurse's office..Call her! And Oh My God-What if I get Cobblestones???"

Swear to God.

Homecoming Humiliation

I'm gonna keep this brief, because those of you who read my posts know way more about me than you really want/need to know. Don't give me any guff...it's my own fault.

You know I'm a teacher.

Every year before the BIG GAME, my school celebrates Homecoming. Part of our "festivities" involves skits performed by each of the four classes.

Since we are now an offically "broke" school, one of the classes did a skit where the theme was "How to raise money for our Officially Broke School."

Junior Class Skit: (More detailed than what I'm giving you here, but I SAID I was keeping it brief.)

Onstage, a booth with MY name on it and a student who was playing "me."

She was dressed like me.
Did her hair like me.
SOUNDED like me.
It was scary.

And then she began to strut around the stage all dramatically, flailing her arms whenever possible while waving a CD in the air and, in a REALLY LOUD voice yelled

"My name is Miss B-Down! Does anyone want to buy one of my daughter's CD'S???? She can sing Pop, Country, Hip-Hop!!!" I don't remember what else she said because I was laughing...just a LITTLE loudly. That kid nailed me.

However, I do have a few reviews:

1. I'm Italian...my hands just automatically do what they do. It's in the genes.

2. I may be a little dramatic in class, but I'm defintely not THAT loud! I've never heard a complaint from anyone in Utah asking me to keep in down during my lectures.

3. My daughter, had she been present, would have immediately put herself up for adoption.

I love my job...short money AND public humiliation.

Paris Hilton's Big Moment

Paris Hilton,as we know, is a very accomplished woman. During her relatively short life (well, I don't actually know how old she is, but let's agree she's youngish) she has managed to:

1. Be born into a very rich family
2. Shop
3. Appear at every party ever given everywhere (except my daughter's 11th birthday party- but we didn't have many celebrity 11 year olds there, so I'll excuse Paris for not showing up)
4. Get engaged a few times (even once to a guy with the same name as her! Now THAT'S something!)
5. Write a book (with some words in it)
6. Star in a couple of movies. I think
7. Make a CD which stayed at the top of the charts for, say, 1 minute and 35 seconds
8. Get her very own personal DUI conviction

Whew. I could just go on and on, but obviously Paris is ONE Renaissance lady!

Anyway, I was reading today about an incident that may be the absolute highlight of Paris's career. She was at a concert/party hosted by Rapper WXYZ-Jay. Paris was scheduled to lip sync a couple of her own songs later in the evening. Naturally she got a little bored while the host rapper was singing, so she spent a couple of hours gazing at herself in her compact mirror and swilling vodka drinks.

So when her turn came to fake sing, she got up on stage, the music started, and then she puked. Barfed. Threw up her vodka martini's all over the stage! Bravo Paris!!! Who needs Courtney Love or Anna Nicole Smith when you can get THAT kind of performance!

No wonder I'm President of her Fan Club!

If We're Gonna HAVE To Draft

You know how they're talking about reinstituting the draft so we can win our War of Glory in Iraq? Well, I'm all over it as long as they "selectively" call certain people/groups to defend our country against whatever it is we're fighting against (or for...can't keep track).

My Personal Selective Service List?

1. All of those people who camped out in front of Best Buys across the country so they could get a PlayStation 3. They're obviously well trained for war, and seem to have a lot of time on their hands.

2. Kids With Cans in front of stores...and toss in those Salvation Army guys too.

3. Everyone who works for the Fox News Network. Double bonus: THEY get to prove their patriotism, and WE don't have to put up with them anymore.

4. Rush Limbaugh-Yeah. Ok. He can bring his Viagra AND his Oxycotin.

5. Paris Hilton..It's "Hot" in Iraq.

6. Tom Cruise: Isn't it time he came out and declared his love for men in uniform? I mean, his country?

7. George W.'s Mother "Babs." She can arrive in style, on a specially designed Air Force One Broom.

8. That obnoxious kid in my 6th Period class that I wish I could legally have castrated so he can never reproduce.

9. Anyone who alphabatizes their CD collection or needs to see a therapist because the peas got mixed in with the potatos on their dinner plate. THOSE folks would bring order.

10. And of course (how could I forget?): My ex-husband. Maybe he'd end up in Tom Cruise's "Company."

Luke, Laura and Other Soapy Dramas

Some of you may remember this storyline from the soap General Hospital. (Hop into your "FlashBack Machine" and program it for, say, 1981)

Laura, young with blonde hair, a confused innocent look on her face and perpetually quivering lips, worked at the "Disco" in Port Charles. (duh...you know..the city where General Hospital is?)

Anyway, the "Disco" was owned by an outsider tough guy named Luke. Luke developed an obsession with Laura (or was it love?) and behaved towards her in a manner that today would have sent Laura directly to the Port Charles courthouse for a restraining order.

So during one episode Luke decided "screw this" (literally) and after the "Disco" closed, he raped her (or did he?). And as most courtships go, the "rape" (or was it?) blossomed into a deep and unwavering love between Luke and Laura (I actually remember Laura saying in one episode "I'm drowning in a sea of confusion." How can you forget such poignant words?) and culminated in their wedding, which was watched by a zillion people.

Why do I bring this up? Well, the other day I was watching a talk show and Luke and Laura were on it. Since I haven't actually SEEN the show in over 20 years, I've missed a few things in the plotline. But apparently this is the latest:

Laura was in a coma (Vacation Time!!!!).
Luke got remarried.
Laura came out of her coma.
Luke dumps current wife and now he and Laura are getting married...again.

What do the producers think? That we're gonna get all nostalgic and watch them get married AGAIN?

Nope. I gave up soaps a LONG time ago after watching another soap opera and waiting an entire summer for some character to get rescued from a well while her evil twin sister took over her life.
From June to September:

Lance: (to Evil Twin Sister April he thinks is his wife but who really tossed his wife down a well) "Sabrina, you just aren't yourself lately. Is there anything wrong?"

April-Evil Twin Sister Posing as Sabrina: (thinking quickly on her Evil Twin Sister feet): "No Lance. You're right. I haven't been myself lately... because I'm carrying your child. Our love child!"

Lance: (gathering her in his arms) "Oh Sabrina! You've just made me the happiest man in the world!"

And they embrace, as April stares into the camera with that Evil Twin Sister look in her eyes.

Me: (to the television) "Sabrina's stuck in a well Lance, you fucking idiot!!! And April's not pregnant!!! Just wait for the 'miscarriage,' you jerk!!!"

Ummm. Excuse me. Got a little carried away there.

Anyway, I'm done with soaps-who needs that kind of stress in their lives?

Poetry Anyone?

Like every Deep Thinker, when I'm feeling blue I take out my journal, a pen, and then swallow a couple of my legally prescribed medications. Whoops! I meant to say "and then I write." Silly Me!!! Writing is liberating, as every Deep Thinker knows.

While everyone doesn't love poetry or understand its nuances, please bear with me and allow me share some of my innermost feelings via the cathartic magic of words-and don't be upset if you don't "get it" at first-it's just the nature of poetry-it takes most people years to cultivate a true appreciation:

There once was a gal named B-Down
Who's smile turned into a frown
So she popped a good med
Which worked great for her head
And that frown just turned right upside down

Thanks. I like to think that Emily Dickinson has a soulmate in Cyberpace.

Wait a minute....Back Up!!! I just sounded like a Lesbian (Not that there's anything wrong with that...thank-you Seinfeld) But Emily's DEAD and I like guys. MAN-these meds kick butt REALLY fast.

So let me try again:

A second ago I was blue
But suddenly life is brand new
Saying Emily's name
Doesn't make me the same
As the poet who loved Gertrude or Sue

Whew! I'm headed to the local truckstop immediately! My kids need ONE active straight parent, so I need to do my part.

And remind me not to Deep Think anymore-it always gets me into trouble.
But am I a poet or what????

SNOOZE

It occurred to me today just how amazingly boring my life is. If there was a "Boring Life Index," mine would fall somewhere in the "Critical" range.

More boring than C-Span. More boring than locally televised Selectman's Meetings. More boring than church, baby showers, and lettuce sandwiches.

Don't believe me? Well, the proof is in the Vanilla pudding:

1. Same job for 20 years.
2. I drive a Ford. Taurus. I can't even find it in the grocery store parking lot because there's always three dozen other cars that look exactly like it.
3. No boyfriend.
4. A couple of kids who are at that stage where my role is pretty much to drop them off and pick them up places. In my Ford Taurus.
5. The highlight of my day is reading the local paper: Obituaries and Police Blotter first.

Let me assure you that I'm not PERSONALLY boring... No Sireee! I'm super NON-BORING, in fact.! I'm like a frat party and the scariest roller coaster you ever went on all wrapped up in one person. And you can take THAT to the bank (which opens at 9 A.M. sharp and closes at 6 P.M except on Wednesdays and Saturdays).

So don't try to tell me I'm in denial about my "Boring" problem and then do some kind of "Intervention" thing on me. Nope. Not necessay for THIS totally non-boring gal!

But out of curiousity, is there some kind of rehab center for Boring People? Because I have this friend...

Correction

I have been informed by Brother Richard that the motorcycle he purchased is not registered for street riding (you may all safely resume your regular driving habits now)-it's a RACING bike.

This, of course, means that Richard now has a motorcycle that he's EXPECTED to drive at 160 M.P.H. The upside is that Richard may now drive around in circles really fast LEGALLY. The downside is that I am soon to be minus one sibling.

I also got the CORRECT version of the Richard/Robert vacation story. Apparently they were going to Jamaica, and Richard figured "who would suspect anyone of smuggling drugs INTO Jamaica?" When they arrived, it was hot and the customs line was long, and Robert was a little "cranky." So Richard, being the kind soul that he is, offered to "ease Robert's burden" by swapping luggage (Richard, apparently, "travels light").

At some point during the wait, Richard whispered to Robert "By the way, I'm holding." And Robert started to grumble stuff like "I knew you'd get us in trouble..." So when the guy at customs hollered "NEXT!" Richard said to Robert "Don't worry. It's in MY bag." And then he dashed off, leaving Robert standing in line with a "kinda funny look on his face" when he realized he was carrying Richard's luggage.

I don't know exactly what happened on the way home, but it involved Richard being escorted into the "special room" by custom officials.

GET OFF THE ROADS IMMEDIATELY!!!!!

My brother Richard sent me a very frightening picture today: A motorcycle. In HIS garage.

The picture was accompanied by the following note:

"Some people think I might get hurt."

THINK?????

I'm sort of hoping that it's just a really cool exercise bike, but I know better-if it wasn't fast and/or dangerous, Richard would never have purchased it.

There's a couple things you need to understand about Richard:

1. He Doesn't Believe In Speed Limits

ME: (As Panicked Passenger in Richard's Car): "Could you slow down??? Please???"

RICHARD: "Chill Out! Highways are DESIGNED for speed." (Gas pedal pressed to the floor of the car) "Let's see what we can get this baby to do!"

ME: (Now huddled in the fetal position) "PLEEEASE????"

2. He Doesn't Believe In Basic Rules

When I was young and REALLY stupid, I actually allowed Richard to give me a ride on one of his motorcycles-let's just say it may have been the longest 15 minutes of my life. And he took extra special care that I got the FULL joyful experience...driving like there was an invading army behind us we had to escape from, turning corners so sharply that I could practically feel the concrete on my totally exposed arm...and as if THAT wasn't enough, he actually turned his head around when "driving," looked at me as I was screaming and my eyes were popping out of their sockets to yell "HAVING FUN YET????"

I have now learned to never go on a moving object with Richard. I wouldn't even go on the Teacup ride at Disneyland with him-he'd somehow manage to make it scary.

But let this be a warning to all of you. Don't worry about Terrorist attacks. Don't worry that Iran has Nuclear weapons.

DO worry about the fact the Richard has a motorcycle in his garage. It may very well be on a road near you soon.

I Stole This Too!

All I can say is, luckily, there are no Comic Book Experts here reading this, because I stole the idea from, I think, MAD Magazine. But who would know, since there are no Comic Book People reading this piece anyway? Right????

Years ago, MAD Magazine (which nobody in this 'National Geographic' crowd has read in forever, because there's no Comic Book People around THIS spot!!!) did a regular segment called "The World's Thinnest Books." Or something like that.

So I thought I would contribute-the Comic Book Folks will never find out anyway. Right???

The World's Thinnest Books:


1. "Hoagy's Guide to Bargain Shopping."

2. "B-Down's Keys To Finding the Perfect Husband."

3. "The Sunny Side of Hitler"

4. "Chef Joanne's Lunch Cookbook"

5. "Putting Your Best Mugface Forward," by Nick Nolte

6. "Michael Jackson's Tips On Childrearing"

7. "The Life and Times of Jon Benet Ramsy" (Ok-that's a bit sick, but I couldn't resist)

8. "How to Keep Your Marriage Alive," by Elizabeth Taylor

9. "Muslims Who Love America"

10. "The Domestic and Foreign Policy Successes of President George W. Bush."

Whew. Feel free to contribute-just don't tell any of those Comic Book People.

I Heart The Great Big Store

Totally unrelated to today's subject: Go see Borat. Wicked funny!!!!

Anyway....

I had to go to the local Sam's Club to buy 5,652,000 gallons of bottled water for a school dance I stupidly agreed to sponsor. Sam's was my only option other than draining the local drinking water resevoir, so off I went.

It's been a while since I've been to Sam's, but man that place is BIG. And it's full of STUFF. BIG stuff!

I suddenly became really happy when I walked through the door. After my card was checked by the Friendly Sam's Club Store Greeter, I felt like Dorothy after she emerged from her black and white house and found herself in OZ where everything was in color.

I was in the land of unashamed conspicuous consumption and I loved it!

As you know, you can't buy ONE of anything practical at a place like Sam's because everything's packaged so you can survive in bomb shelter for three years:

Need Toilet paper? 6,500 rolls for $12.99.
Tampons? One box will last you until you reach Menopause.
Laundry Detergent? Buckets so large you'd be afraid to open them without wearing a HazMat suit.
Juice Boxes? Just grab a couple of packages and you'll be set until your kid is old enough to drink beer.

If I were rich I'd go there everyday and, I dunno, just BUY stuff. Stuff I needed, stuff I didn't need...and I'd bring it all home, marvel at the sheer amount of stuff I had, and thank God I'm an American.

But I had a mission, so I grabbed a grocery cart equivalent of a flatbed truck, loaded it up with water, and hauled it into my car. Bummer. I was at the DisneyLand of capitalism, and all I got was water.

But I'll be back-and I ain't buying water next time.

The Shrink of All Shrinks

First of all, please excuse my absence. I have a note from my dead parents explaining that my computer was being retarded and I couldn't write at the taxpayers expense while at school because all of THOSE computers were being retarded too.

Anyway, this MUST have been the advertisement placed in the papers when my school (the same one that hired a one legged track coach) was looking for a Psychologist:

Wanted: School Psychologist with experience in both testing and counseling at risk students. The candidate must be a Vietnam Veteran with a severe case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, swear profusely, speak and move at approximately 150 miles per hour, sleep at night surrounded by guns, knives, and various martial arts weapons, and be willing to share his past and current drug use with anyone who happens to be within earshot. Salary negotiable.

This pretty much describes OUR school Psychologist, whom we have dubbed John "Fucking" Smith (Real Name: "You Ain't Getting That Out of Me Because I'm Not Quite That Stupid.") He's basically the most insane person I've ever known, but he satisfies one very important professional standard: he entertains me.

Dr. John is noted for doing some of the following:

1. Randomly strolling into my classroom while I was pointing something out on a map and saying "What the fuck is this? Why are you making these poor kids stare at this fucking map? I HATED when teachers made me look at those Godamn things!" (I then introduced him to my mortified students and suggested they not become mentally ill because they might end up having to see him.)

2. Telling students about being in Vietnam, dropping Acid, and killing "Gooks."

3. Being pulled over by the cops for driving like a maniac (I think he pays the equivalent of the Gross Domestic Product of Uruguay for car insurance) and ripping up the ticket in front of the cop and telling him "I'm a crazy son of a bitch and you can shove this ticket up your ass." And getting away with it.

4. My favorite: The jerk who's responsible for our 19th century technology went into his office one day and said "Get up. I'm taking all of the karate sites off of your computer." Dr. John, needless to say, told him to get the fuck out of his office and if he ever came near him again he'd tear his gay ass apart.

So why hasn't he been fired yet, you might ask? Because he's actually good with the kids, we all like him, and the powers that be are probably afraid of a lawsuit (and value their lives).

Besides, every workplace needs a self-proclaimed but fun mental case around. Even if he happens to be the resident Psychologist.

My Newest Newest Brilliant Idea

Ok. THIS plan is foolproof.

Since celebrities seem to be on an African Adoption Mission lately, I've decided to go to some destitute African country (just pick one-they're all miserable places), find an orphanage, look all cute and poor and wait until some really rich celebrity shows up and is so moved by my cuteness and poorness that they adopt me (maybe I'll try eating a bowl full of that white stuff with my hands when the celebrities arrive...who can resist an orphan eating something that looks like paste?)

I mean, technically I AM an orphan, and Brad and Angelina haven't adopted anyone in at least a week, so they're about ready.

And then I'll go "home" with my new family on a private jet and I'll get:

A Nanny: I really don't NEED a nanny, but I'll take one if it comes with the package. Maybe she can just do my laundry or something.

A Personal Chef: "Will Filet Mignon be acceptable for dinner tonight Miss?" (Of course, since I'd be rich now I'd also have to become Anorexic. "Just a salad please Chef Boyardee.")

Maids

A Bunch of Cool Houses

Designer Clothes

Trips Around the World

And, of course, a REALLY cute picture of me with my new family on the cover of People Magazine

If I had my preference, I'd like to be adopted by George Clooney. But we orphans can't be too picky.

Singing a Happy Tune

If you're not a MA resident, then you might not be as excited as I am.

I watched the Great Debate between "What's Her Name" Healy and Deval Patrick tonight. They both want to be Governor of Massachusetts, and "What's Her Name" Healy's only advantage is that she's taller than Deval Patrick. And her husband's wicked rich.

Current Absentee Governor Guy Smiley was not in attendance.

How do you spell "Republican" again?

L.O.S.E.R.S