Technology Gal

I already e-mailed this tale to one of my many sisters.

But she doesn't count. She's a Stupidhead and probably doesn't remember reading it anyway. If she can actually READ that is...there were vowels and other complicated stuff involved, so I'm not too concerned.

So, youngest daughter did a dance with a friend at her Middle School Talent Show.

They worked very hard...practiced for weeks. Bought matching costumes. It was a very big deal.

But then I was entrusted to videotape the event. I had the camera and I practiced. Over and over and over...

When the big night came, I was so nervous with this 20th century technology that I felt like a bomber pilot about to embark on a mission.

Long story short:

Focus
Curtain
Blur
Oh There She Is!
Blur
Curtain
Back of the Head of Person in Front of Me
Blur

I'm available for weddings, anniversaries, or any other priceless event you would like saved for a lifetime.

1-800-technology loser.

Happy Convenience Store Lady

I was at a local convenince store the other day-"convenient" means you pay $1.50 for a bottle of Diet Coke because you're too lazy to go to an actual grocery store where that same bottle will cost you 50 cents.

Anyway, as I put my items on the counter I noticed that the clerk seemed unusually happy. She was singing and smiling as she rang up my stuff and I thought "she's either the most grateful person in the country to have this crappy $7.25 per hour job or she's on something I WANT."

After I paid I said "Thank-You."

And she said to me "I Love You."

Swear to God.

It was an awkward moment.

How was I supposed to respond to THAT? Say "I Love You Too???"

Well I don't love her...I don't even know her...and I wasn't about to lead her on that way.

So I just laughed and made a speedy exit. I think I did the right thing, don't you?

Baby It's Cold Outside

I work with a woman who was telling us today about her experience spending two weeks at base camp on Mt. Everest.

So I asked her a very simple question: "Why did you do that?"

I don't even like starting my car in the morning during the winter.

Yet she puposefully went to one of the coldest places on the planet and, just to make sure she was acceptably uncomfortable, climbed to about 14,000 feet where simple amenities, such as oxygen, are not available and hung out for a while. Not exactly MY idea of a vacation. (But she was a "Hell Hole Traveler"-defined as someone who felt the need to spend years visiting every miserable place on earth she could get to. I have another colleague who decided to pack up and teach for two years in MONGOLIA...What's WRONG with these people? Haven't they heard of warm sandy beaches with hammocks and drinks with umbrellas in them???)

Anyway, I'm digressing here. I simply wanted to register exactly how much I hate winter. Winter has no reason to exist. I'm opposed to everything it stands for. If winter were to run against Dick Cheney in the next election, well, I'd put on a very bright orange vest and vote against winter.

A few weeks ago I was really excited about Global Warming or El Nino or whatever it was that gave us 60 degree weekends. So what if polar icecaps were melting-it just means our kids will all have oceanfront property someday. It was beautiful-I don't care what Al Gore says. HE can just take a trip to the Bahamas-I'm stuck here.

But then stupid winter showed up. Again. Cold, miserable, ugly, evil winter.

I'm counting on the Democrats to do something about this nasty problem. And if they can't fix this seasonal issue then at the very least they should give me a two week all taxpayer expense paid trip to Tahiti.

Because I'm a good American, and I hate winter more than anyone else.

Name Meshing

I just read an article about "Billary." Would somebody PLEASE alert reporters that this name meshing thing is no longer clever?

It all started with Ben Afflect and Jennifer Lopez's zillion dollar in your face romance-I can't remember what their name mesh was (Bennifer? Blowpez?) but all of a sudden every journalist decided this was the coolest idea in the world. Almost as cool as ending every conspiracy/problem with the word "gate," as in:

Hockeygate (parents killing eachother at their 8 year old's hockey games)
LittleLeaguegate (same as above, only involving wooden bats)
Other "gates" I can't remember right now.

But back to name meshing. We've got "Brangelina," "TomKat," and now "Billary???"

Knock it off journalists! It's old! It's over! It wasn't then, and isn't now, even remotely smart.

Although if you're looking for a new name mesh, I'd like to suggest "Janzel." Or maybe "Cloonic." Just in case.

Now I've Gotta Retire

Simple reason: there's too much T.V. I need to watch.
For a while I managed to fit work into my busy T.V. schedule. When American Idol started up again, things got a little stressful but I've been down this road before and was able to juggle.

But then my friend Joanie (Person of the Year 2006) did something unspeakable: she got me (and my kids) addicted to that show "Lost" this weekend. Some friend...she's nothing more than a "pusher." Get em hooked and they keep needing more. Why didn't you just stick a needle full of heroin directly into my veins Joanie?????

I'd never seen "Lost" until my so-called-friend Joanie decided to purchase the entire first season on dvd. It's sort of like Gilligan's Island for the
21st Century. A bunch of people get stranded on a remote island and after several months the men only have stubble on their faces and the women still manage to make their bikini waxing and teeth whitening appointments. Only it's much more realistic than Gilligan's Island because...

1. Nobody wears evening gowns every day like Ginger did.

2. Instead of finding Japanese soldiers who think they're still fighting WWII, this crew discovers their little island is inhabited by polar bears, possible monsters, and "Others."

3. People "hook up," if you catch my drift. I mean, we all knew there were "sparks" between the Professor and MaryAnne, but that show was made before sex was invented.

And unlike Gilligan's Island, where you could watch one episode and possibly skip the next without missing anything (yeah right...who did THAT? but I won't tell) "Lost" keeps you hanging week to week. I'm behind two seasons already and now I have no choice. I have to catch up.

It's cruel.

Maybe I'll just quit my job, put my children up for adoption and go on television disability.

There is such a thing....right? Please?

NOT on Hiatus

Sorry guys....

I have been very busy with two crucial occupations:

1. Midterms. These are defined as very long tests designed to determine exactly how little your students have been listening to you over the past several months.

They are very reaffirming professionally, and each year we gather as a department and determine who gets the MVP award for the stupidest, most fucking clueless answer to a question possible.

My favorite is still "Managusta," which is apparently a country in Europe that played a significant role in both World Wars because it was sited several times in one student's essay a couple of years ago. (I believe she now works for the Managusta Tourist Board which must offer the same perks as she received during her high school years- an endless supply of illegal drugs.)

AND

2. Having a Nervous Breakdown. This activity is far less fun than writing Midterms and reading retarded answers. My life is now officially worse than anyone else's on the planet. And don't start on me about Katrina victims and Dafur...I am simply relaying facts based on the scientific evidence gathered by ME.

I think I may be moving to Managusta soon.

Guilt Song for Nooprah

Ode to nooprah...to the tune of "Where Have All The Flowers Gone" because he is, deep down, a peace loving anti-war activist. And he ditched us.


Where has our nooprah gone
Long time writing
Where has our nooprah gone
Oh he's got work
Faithful readers are upset
Since he got high speed internet
Will he ever return?
Will he ever return....

Where have all his readers gone
Since his notice?
Where have all his readers gone
He doesn't care
He's got comic books to sell
The rest of us can go to hell
Will he ever return?
Will he ever return....

Where will buddy Hoagy go
Without nooprah?
Where will buddy Hoagy go
With all his tales
We hope he wasn't just a lie
And our fancy lad will stay close by
Will he ever return?
Will he ever return...

Where has our nooprah gone
Long time writing
Where has our nooprah gone
Sweet Potato pie
He's got better things to do
Than to talk to me and you
Will he ever return?
Will he ever return......


Last word: Reagan didn't end the Cold war.

Not Trainable

I went to the MLK Jr. Breakfast. I even got there on time. In bad weather. On my day off.

Bad Sign Number 1: Upon registering, I was told that adults should sit in the seats with red napkins, kids in the seats with the green ones.

Bad Sign Number 2: There were piles of different colored strings of yarn in the middle of each table.

Bad Sign Number 3: In the program of events, I saw the words "icebreaker activity" and "diversity activity."

I needed coffee immediately.

Let's just say I'm a pretty good sport.

I did the "icebreaker activity."
I politely listened to prayers and speakers.
I did the "diversity activity."
I sang "We Shall Overcome." While holding hands with the people at my table.
I will never go again.

But as a side note, sitting at my table was a group of African American girls with their chaperone. Since we are not exactly an "ethnically diverse" community (rough estimate: 99.9999% white), I just assumed they were from one of the neighboring cities.

Luckily I assumed quietly, because they were all from one of the area's most exclusive and expensive private boarding schools. Whoopsie.

Who needs diversity training anyway?

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

Yippee.

Usually I have it OFF, and I'm grateful to the entire Civil Rights Movement for that.

But I was "asked" to represent my school at an annual Martin Luther King Jr. BREAKFAST.

Which means 7:30 A.M.

And Martin Luther King Jr. isn't even going to be there (HE got to call in dead)- just some guy I've never heard of who'll be talking about "diversity."

I hate diversity.
I hate 7:30 A.M. on my day off.
I hate the Civil Rights Movement now.
I don't mind breakfast,as long as it's not in the morning. On my day off.

And if I have to engage in any "Diversity Activities" I'm gonna start getting all Kramerish.

Missing Mike

For about 18 years I worked with a guy named Mike. And then he retired. Now I don't like my job anymore.

Mike is my American Idol.

He looks like Bill Parcels, and sorta acts like him too.

He was the Head Football Coach at my school.

He's a "guy's guy."

He taught History classes.

He always said exactly what was on his mind to his colleagues, his bosses, newspaper reporters, parents...he pissed a lot of people off during his career because he has a no-nonsense regard for honesty.

And he doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks about him.

I miss Mike.

Remember the stereotypical "Teacher Who Just Wants to Coach But Doesn't Know What He's Doing In The Classroom" from your high school days? Stupid people were quick to place Mike in that category. Not that HE gave a shit, but I know better.

Mike is one of the most astute historians I have ever known. I watched him in action on more occasions than I can count. No need for bells and whistles. He'd just walk into a classroom, sit down, fold his arms and start talking.

Whatever the subject, he just KNEW it. Names, dates, themes....I'm reasonably smart, but to listen to this guy unravel the convoluted and incestuous lineage of Queen Victoria or present an overview of every Tsar of Russia (dates of reigns included) from the top of head was frankly amazing. He's the historian's equivalent of RAINMAN-only normal. And he mesmorized us with his stories.

I miss Mike.

But he's now become a sort of legand in our Hallowed Halls for other reasons:

1. The time he killed a dog. (GREAT story and totally Mike. The dog was attacking his athletes while they were running. Mike asked the owner to please restrain his dog while the kids were running. The owner was niether polite nor accomodating. So the next time the dog attacked them, Mike and his assistant coach killed the dog, brought it to the owner's door and said "I asked you once to restrain your dog. You refused. So go ahead and slap me on the wrist with an animal abuse charge.")

I miss Mike.

2. Fight in the Cafeteria at school. Mike tries to get the boys to stop swinging at eachother with no luck. So he took one of them and sat on him. The kid said "Coach, you're embarrasing me."

I miss Mike.

3. Me, as Department Head, strolling into his homeroom and noticing a couple of girls wearing "quesionable attire" and saying (obviously sarcastically) "Mr. C... I believe you might have some fashion violations here. I think some action is in order." And he holds his Boston Globe up in front of his face and says "I don't see a thing." (Me then whispering in his ear 'Come on...just peek...')

I miss Mike.

4. Discipline Techniques? Very basic. He walked into a classroom and every kid was scared.

I miss Mike.

He's not dead or anything-I just don't see him as much anymore. And I have TONS of more Mike stories...

But he's really a softie and privately took care of kids in need in his own home without ever mentioning a word about it. It's not his style because he doesn't care what people think about him.

Wouldn't you miss this guy?

We Already Know

Don't bother watching the president's speech tonite because it's just gonna go like this (abbreviated version):

Ceremonial entrance into The Chambers to the music of "God Save The Queen."(The Sex Pistols)

Applause.

President: "We have reached a crucial point in our War on Terror and Evildoers across the globe."

Applause.

President: "Despite the dedicated service of our fine men and women in uniform, we have proven that, with resolve, we can use our military might instead of diplomacy and turn a sovereign nation into a cesspool of violence and poverty."

Applause. (Pan to uniformed veteran in audience who can't clap because he hasn't figured out exactly how to use his orthopedic arms yet)

President: "My fellow Americans, we haven't just given the Iraqi people countless thousands of civilian casualties, intractable sectarian violence, and piles of rubble where their homes once stood. We've given them something far more precious. We've given them Democracy."

Applause.

President: "But The American people spoke clearly in the previous election. You said you want to take a new course in our war against
Terror and Evil. You want our troops out of Iraq."

Loud Applause.

President: "That committee of old guys my daddy helped put together to keep my approval ratings from sinking below Hoover's gave me a report. I read most of it. It said get our troops the hell out of Iraq."

Loud Applause.

President: "And even though the First Lady is still a little miffed about that whole Oscar de la Renta thing, she wants our troops out of Iraq. I think."

Loud Applause.

President: "As your leader and the Commander-in-Chief, I want to assure my fellow Americans that I hear you."

Very Loud Applause.

President: "So I intend to propose immediately to the new leadership in the House and the Senate that we increase our troop presence in Iraq."

(Guy with orthopedic arms tries to clap)

There's probably something much more intelligent and realistic to watch on the Disney Channel.

PIES AND IPODS

Driving around with kids is simply not fun. When they're babies, they sleep (sometimes) but after that it's mostly a nightmare:

Toddler Phase: Fuss, cry, pull over, change a diaper, pray.

Preschool Phase: Sing "Down By The Bay" 600 times, listen to endless made-up knock-knock jokes:

KID: Knock-Knock
YOU: Who's There?
KID: Adam
YOU: Adam Who?
KID: Adam just peed his pants!!!! (Kid cracks up and repeats same joke several dozen times)

SO entertaining, especially during long trips, that you start searching your purse for something to slip into their juiceboxes.

In Between Phase: "Are we there yet?" "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

Preteen/Teenage Phase: Fight, change radio stations, fight some more....

So today, we had about a 40 minute drive to oldest daughter's track meet. After about a half hour of listening to oldest daughter's now memorized "I hate track I have cramps I don't wanna go" monologue and numerous vile rap songs on the radio, I said:

"Hey, there's a diner on the way that has the best pie you've ever tasted. How about we get some on the way home?"

Youngest: "I don't really like pie.
Oldest: "Me neither."
Me: "Oh trust me, you'll like this pie."

The idea sorta intrigued them though, because they know I'm not much of pie person myself.

But I'm not talking about your standard issue pie here-this place must order its pies directly from heaven. If Einstein were a baker, he would've worked at this diner making pies. They have the Gold Standard of all pies, the Pulitzer Prize Winner of pies, pies civilizations have fought wars over....

So on the way home, we stopped at the diner and they each got a huge piece of pie to go. Banana Cream. (I, of course, did not get a piece because one cannot safely drive at night while blind AND while eating the world's most amazing pie.)

Before we left the parking lot, they both tasted their banana cream pie.

Youngest: "OH MY GOD!"
Oldest: "This is FREAKISHLY good!"
Me: "Told ya. Hey-don't you guys have your IPODS in your backpacks?"

Need I say more? No radio, no fighting....just a couple of happy pie eating kids listening quietly to their IPODS.

No parenting advice needed here, thank-you.

30 Miles Per Hour Gal

Many years ago I was pulled over by a Dedicated Police Officer for driving like 40 in a 30 Mile Per Hour Zone. He was all hidden in camouflage because those 30 Miles Per Hour spots are clearly warzones. So when the flashing blues from NeverLand came screeching up behind me in full action packed drama film motion, I nearly had a heart attack. The only thing missing was Bruce Willis and a SWAT Team.

Dedicated Police Officer: "Licence and registration please."
Me: (Providing both) "Oh. Sorry. Was I driving too fast?"

I have a friend who's mother was pulled over once and asked a similar question. And the Dedicated Officer said "No. We often pull people over to let them know how well they're driving." Sorta liked THAT response!

Anyway, the Dedicated Officer disappeared for a while into his Nasa Equipped car, taking his sweet time checking out my background knowing full well I was sitting around waiting, sweating, wondering...

"Shit! Do I have any outstanding parking tickets? Is my insurance up to date? Have I committed any armed robberies recently???"

FINALLY he sauntered back and said

"Maam, you realize you were doing 40 in a 30 Mile Per Hour Zone?"

This was NOT a question, by the way-it was a somber and serious assessment of "Just the facts, Maam."

ME: (Wanting to say "Well, KUDOS to YOU for nabbing the 40 Miles Per Hour Gal instead of the Green Mountain Serial Killer".)

But instead I went the (smart) kiss-up gal route and said "I apologize. I had the music up and didn't realize how fast I was going blah blah blah." Am I allowed to use the word "obsequious" here? No way was I gonna get a ticket.

Dedicated Officer: "I'll let you off with a warning this time." Obviously that armed robbery hadn't made its way to their computers yet.

So for the next few days I actually attempted to drive 30 Miles Per Hour in 30 Miles Per Hour Zones. Do you realize how SLOW 30 Miles Per Hour is? People behind me were ready to kill me, and I was frankly ready to kill myself. The experiment didn't last very long.

Flash Forward some years later...I have BECOME the 30 Miles Per Hour Gal. I drive the speed limit ALL THE TIME. It's very scary-like looking in the mirror in the morning and realizing "Oh My God! I've turned into my mother!!!"

I don't know how, why, or exactly when this happened, but if you're behind me on the road don't crawl up my ass with your highbeams on and try to give me any shit-it's genetically out of my control. Consider me the person who's keeping YOU from getting surrounded by a SWAT Team on your way home from work. Otherwise, I might just abruptly stop and let my teenage daughter loose on you.

Still Lovin the Fight

The public feud between Rosie O'Donnell and Donald Trump makes me proud to be an American.

Rosie: (on "The View," a show which noone actually views): "Donald Trump has a combover."

Donald: (Anywhere he can be heard): "Rosie's a big fat slob."

Rosie: "Trump's a pimp."

Donald: " Rosie's a loser. And a fatass. Maybe I'll send one of my 'supermodels' (as opposed to 'regular' models) over to her house to steal her girlfriend."

I like the whole tenor of the argument-it's the type of restrained, intellectual debate you would expect from public figures whose I.Q.s, if merged, might manage to make it past the double digit range.

If I were mediating this conflict, I would do the following:

1. Time-Outs for both of them, especially during "free play" periods.
2. No recess for a week.
3. Niether would be able to be "Line Leader" for the rest of the year.
4. Require them to write, in neat penmanship, letters to Santa explaining how they've been naughty and what they can do to get back on the "Nice" list.

And if that didn't work, then maybe a Pay-Per-View boxing match would do the trick. With Mike Tyson as referee, of course.

Sybil? Madonna? Oh...It's Scooter

I'm sure I only gave birth to two daughters, but somehow I ended up with three.

My oldest has somehow splintered into (at least) two people.

The one I KNOW never shuts up, will say anything to anyone, and is in a constant state of manic rapid fire motion.

Typical after school conversations go like this:

Me: "How was school honey?"
Daughter:" Good enough." (Pulls out ipod): "Listentothissongmomlistentothissongmomlistentothissongmom...."
Rolls down window in car and yells to a friend walking "Hey K YOU SEXY BITCH!!!!!"

"CanwegotoDunkinsINEEDtogotoDunkinsI'vebeendyingforDunkinsalldaycanwepleeeeeasegotoDunkins....Oh my God you wouldn't believe what happened today I nearly peed myself laughing in fact I think I did pee myself..."

And that's just the ride home. Once we arrive, I get a detailed play by play of the day's events performed dramatically at lightening speed with frequent subject changes:

"We were in gym playing badminton and me and Amanda are such losers at badminton that we have to use the Retard Rackets... sometimes we call them SPED Sticks.... and we still ended up crashing into eachother.... But Oh My God mom there's this really shy boy and he's tiny and I always bust boys by saying their first AND last names and when he was walking down the hall I said to him 'Hey Cameron Smith, my left tit is winking at you' and he got all embarrassed and didn't know what to say and I felt wicked bad for him...and then I dropped my books in the hall after lunch and there was this kid behind me and I said to him 'Are you gonna help me or just stand there and stare at my butt crack....'"

Yup. That's the girl I know. Yeah yeah yeah....she's a brazen potty mouth who knows she's "hot" and uses that status to say whatever she feels like to whomever. And when I get a nanosecond I register my objections. I want her to be KIND, but her version of kind is to scare the shit out of anyone who gives her little sister crap. That's HER job. But I must admit that I sorta like her moxy and frankly I find her amusing.

She can actually be quite clever WITHOUT being crass...she recently took a sentimental song about a girl's longing for a real relationship with her father and changed the lyrics so it was about a girl's longing for McDonald's to open and sang it to me...it was so funny I almost stole it (I'll share it later though).

But last night ANOTHER daughter emerged. A vulnerable one. She decided she wanted to quit the track team. After a lengthy mother/daughter heart to heart we finally got to the essence of the matter: she is AFRAID to run in front of a lot of people (or do ANYTHING, including sing, in front of people). THAT from the girl who can tell a virtual stranger that her left tit is winking at him? Teenagers are inexplicable creatures. Again, I'm very lucky to be medicated.

She ultimately agreed to stick it out for the season. Good choice. But when I picked her up from school today she said to me (before "Hello") "I just want you to tell dad that I'll finish the season but I'm not a homosexual who runs around in circles for points. That's HIM, not me."

Now THAT'S the girl I know. Madonna has some serious competition here.

God and Science and Crap

Ok. Enough of this retarded debate between Creationists/ Intelligent Design folks and Evolutionists.

We ALL know who's right-if there were some formal debate between the two teams and there was a million dollar trip around the world new house new car "meet your favorite celebrity" state of the art washer and dryer for the winners, I'd sure be sitting with the science geeks.

Here's the shocker-Evolution is not some huge SCIENTIFIC controversy-it's just that some deep thinkers wearing vestaments decided they wanted to wear lab coats too. And that's just a fashion clash.

The way I see it, if there's a God and a Heaven, I'm defintely getting in. AND I'll be sitting in First Class on my way there. But I don't want to hang around for eternity playing a harp. I expect a REAL Heaven with:

Chocolate Cream Pie
Cheesecakes
Sandy Beaches
Heated Swimming Pools
Lots of Cool Clothes That I Look Really Hot In
Lots of Hot Guys Who Appreciate How Hot I Look In My Cool Clothes
Accessories
Lobsters...

I'm picturing a sort of "Virgin Islands" Heaven. And NO WAY would God make me actually work. Jobs? In Heaven? A billion years until retirement? We're talking HEAVEN here...the Angels Union would be all over His case.

And if the science geeks are right (which they are) then I guess we're all in the same boat.

I'll try to contact Jon Edwards (not the one who's running for president-the other one, who hears messages from the afterlife and tells people stuff like "Your grandmother really didn't mean to call you a useless waste of oxygen that night in the kitchen when you came home at 3 A.M. in January 2001 totally trashed with a guy who had tatooes on his face.").

Promise to let you know how it goes. But meanwhile, I sure would like that washer and dryer. Are you listening God? Or do you need a (Scientifically Invented) earpiece?