Ohhhh it's such a funny resolution. We all know I'm incapable of sticking to it. But it was an adorable glimmer of hope, wasn't it?
Well, the first semester is finally over, and I'm enjoying the end of my winter break. Christmas has come and gone, and overall it was a very nice one. My parents bought us a Wii, which is delightful in every conceivable way to me. I got to see some family I've not seen in a while, and I got to spend some time with my new brothers to get to know them better. (Yes, let's all acknowledge that it's a little weird, but I suppose there are stranger scenarios in the world.)
While visiting family, my cousins Jadrid and Brennie gave me two pricess quotes of the day, so eat them up while you've got this rare appearance from me!
1. Jadrid, who is 8, was telling us about having seen the movie Step Brothers (his parents had rented it without first screening it for the kiddies....ohhhh, unwise). Apparently, there is a part of the movie where one character accuses the other of putting his man bits on his drum. Jadrid, recounting the line from the movie, said, "I know it was you! You put your pesticles on my drum!" I want to hug him and squeeze him so he never grows up. Pesticles. Heh.
2. Brennie is now 4, and his dad wants people to start calling him by his given name, Brendan, so he'll seem more grown-up or something like that. I don't know. I get it, but at the same time it's like, "Dude, he's 4. If were' still calling him Brennie when he's 14, then that's a problem...but right now I think we've got a free pass until he's 5 or 6." Anyway, so my mom asked Brennie what he thought of the name situation. "Do you want me to call you Brennie or Brendan?" she asked. His reponse, without hesitation: "You can call me Flower if you want to." agh, it makes my uterus hurt.
We returned home to discover that the strange sounds we had been hearing (and trying to ignore) for weeks are, in fact, feral cats living in the crawl space under our house. "Oh, Cor! Just your luck!" you exclaim. To that I respond with a hearty laugh and "I know, right? Allllll in a day's work for the Master Jukemeister." How could such a thing happen, you wonder! How could the cats have access to the crawl space? I'll tell you how.
You see, before we agreed to buy this house, we had the owners fix some ducting in the crawl space. Apparently, their contractor couldn't be bothered putting the access door back on the crawl space entrance, because, you know, mustering up those 5 seconds of effort is exhausting. So since the crawl space door is under the deck, and since we had no reason to go under the deck to check the door (until, of course, we heard cats fighting under our living room floor), we had no reason assume anything was askew down there for the two months it was wide open. Silly, stupid Cor. I sometimes get complacent and forget my mantra: never underestimate the destructive power of one incompetent boob.
So anyway, we've now hired this guy who specializes in humane trap and release methods to catch these cats and get rid of them for us, and so far we've caught two of God knows how many cats. Total cost so far--$200. All because of an asshole who couldn't bother closing a simple crawl space door. *sigh* More on that continuing saga later.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
The Beast Stirs
Yes, I'm an ass. It's been ages. Beyond ages. It's been an utterly reprehensible amount of time since I last posted something. In truth, I've been quite busy, but also you should know just for honesty's sake that I've been spending a lot of time tooling around and procrastinating. I'd apologize, but I think we all know by now that this pattern of timewasting is just a part of my nature. (There was also lots of real work and a move to a new house in all of that time away, but I don't feel like recounting any of that, as the 5 people who actually read this blog and care already know about all of that.)
While I have nothing of substance to note tonight, I do just want to illustrate that I am, in fact, still alive. Also, I'm hoping to come back soon with some good funnies from my students' journals.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go shuffle some papers around for an hour before bed and delude myself into believing that was productive work.
While I have nothing of substance to note tonight, I do just want to illustrate that I am, in fact, still alive. Also, I'm hoping to come back soon with some good funnies from my students' journals.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go shuffle some papers around for an hour before bed and delude myself into believing that was productive work.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Tids and Bits
I have no story for a formal post right now, but I thought I'd pass on some things I found funny recently. First, a sign we passed on the way to a baseball game several weeks ago:
Second, we went out to eat last weekend and ordered an appetizer dish called the "assorted platter." Imagine my glee at getting the check and seeing the "ass plater" on it:
Finally, some notes on funny things my students have said. I make them keep a writing journal in my class. Every day, they have to respond to a prompt I write on the board. These are some of my favorites from the last three weeks:
Question--If you woke up tomorrow with one new quality or ability, what would it be?
Answer: When I wake up tomorrow, I wish to be ridiculously good looking. I chose this for several reasons. A few of my reasons include girls, charisma, and stellar poses. Any female would drool at the sight of my eyes, which would be similar to a waterfall shimmering in a blazing sun. Charisma would allow me to easily raise any grade from a D to an A. Being charismatic is a trait that simply hovers over any man with extremely good looks. Last, stellar poses would give me a chance to further show off my ridiculously-good-lookingness
Question--If you could give one piece of advice to any person in history, what would it be?
Answer 1: I would tell Einstein to fix his hair. It's hard for people to take him seriously when he doesn't look professional.
Answer 2: I would tell the guy who invented cake that he should never mix vegetables with cake. Carrot cake? I honestly want to hit that guy.
Answer 3: I would tell a pirate, "Eat oranges, and tell your friends." (I think this is a reference to preventing scurvy, but the wording made me laugh so hard.)
Answer 4: I would tell the Beatles to donate 85% of their sales to me so I could increase their popularity among mothers and nuns.
Consider them your quotes of the day.
Second, we went out to eat last weekend and ordered an appetizer dish called the "assorted platter." Imagine my glee at getting the check and seeing the "ass plater" on it:
Finally, some notes on funny things my students have said. I make them keep a writing journal in my class. Every day, they have to respond to a prompt I write on the board. These are some of my favorites from the last three weeks:
Question--If you woke up tomorrow with one new quality or ability, what would it be?
Answer: When I wake up tomorrow, I wish to be ridiculously good looking. I chose this for several reasons. A few of my reasons include girls, charisma, and stellar poses. Any female would drool at the sight of my eyes, which would be similar to a waterfall shimmering in a blazing sun. Charisma would allow me to easily raise any grade from a D to an A. Being charismatic is a trait that simply hovers over any man with extremely good looks. Last, stellar poses would give me a chance to further show off my ridiculously-good-lookingness
Question--If you could give one piece of advice to any person in history, what would it be?
Answer 1: I would tell Einstein to fix his hair. It's hard for people to take him seriously when he doesn't look professional.
Answer 2: I would tell the guy who invented cake that he should never mix vegetables with cake. Carrot cake? I honestly want to hit that guy.
Answer 3: I would tell a pirate, "Eat oranges, and tell your friends." (I think this is a reference to preventing scurvy, but the wording made me laugh so hard.)
Answer 4: I would tell the Beatles to donate 85% of their sales to me so I could increase their popularity among mothers and nuns.
Consider them your quotes of the day.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Sometimes I Have No Title
Am I the only person who thinks Tom Brokaw's voice has become a caricature of itself? It's gotten so weird! Throatier than it has ever been. It's like he's doing an impression of himself. You must listen to it sometime. I'd find a clip of him speaking to illustrate my point, but you know the routine; I can't be bothered.
We're up to the third week of school, and so far things are going ok. The kids are still pretty good, and they're starting to assert their unique personalities. Funny stories (a select few to be chronicled here) will appear soon.
Quote of the day:
I have a student who is an incredible "helper." He always has resources at the ready to help people, whether it be handouts (odd) or computer guides. (Today he offered another student--whose zipper on his shorts broke--a spare pair of PANTS. I couldn't help myself; I had to stop class to inquire about the circumstances that led to him always keeping an extra change of clothes with him, just in case someone needed to borrow them.) Anyway, he was in the computer lab, and another student raised his hand asking for help with a printing problem. As I began to scoot off my seat to go over to to help, "Helper Kid" (this will not be his official nickname) commenced an enthusiastic skip-run across the entire length of the computer lab. "Sit down, I've got it!" he said to me mid-jaunt. "I'm a NERRRRRRDDDD!"
We're up to the third week of school, and so far things are going ok. The kids are still pretty good, and they're starting to assert their unique personalities. Funny stories (a select few to be chronicled here) will appear soon.
Quote of the day:
I have a student who is an incredible "helper." He always has resources at the ready to help people, whether it be handouts (odd) or computer guides. (Today he offered another student--whose zipper on his shorts broke--a spare pair of PANTS. I couldn't help myself; I had to stop class to inquire about the circumstances that led to him always keeping an extra change of clothes with him, just in case someone needed to borrow them.) Anyway, he was in the computer lab, and another student raised his hand asking for help with a printing problem. As I began to scoot off my seat to go over to to help, "Helper Kid" (this will not be his official nickname) commenced an enthusiastic skip-run across the entire length of the computer lab. "Sit down, I've got it!" he said to me mid-jaunt. "I'm a NERRRRRRDDDD!"
Friday, August 15, 2008
I've Been Doing This Like Three Days Now and I'm Pretty Good at It
Well, kids. I've successfully finished my first week of teaching and I still have my sanity. All in all, it's been a good week. The kids are great for the most part, and the staff has been really helpful. I am a pretty happy camper right now in regards to the job. Exhausted, of course, and still nervous about doing a good job, but so far so good.
In other news, my birthday was Tuesday, and imagine my joy today to have received my annual $5 birthday check from my grandparents. Now, it's not that I'm ungrateful about the money; it's just that my grandparents have money and they're just cheap. Frankly, it's more of a nuisance to take the check to the bank than anything else. Additionally, ever since I got married they have spelled my new last name wrong on every single birthday check. You'd think they'd get it by now. So anyway, I think I'll be saving this year's $5 birthday check as a souvenir to screw up their checkbook balancing....muhahaha.
In other news, my birthday was Tuesday, and imagine my joy today to have received my annual $5 birthday check from my grandparents. Now, it's not that I'm ungrateful about the money; it's just that my grandparents have money and they're just cheap. Frankly, it's more of a nuisance to take the check to the bank than anything else. Additionally, ever since I got married they have spelled my new last name wrong on every single birthday check. You'd think they'd get it by now. So anyway, I think I'll be saving this year's $5 birthday check as a souvenir to screw up their checkbook balancing....muhahaha.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Karma Karma Karma Karma Karma Chameleon
Have you ever had a painful haircut? Not emotionally painful, like the time when a "stylist" left me with a rat tail as a child because she thought it was cute. Not emotionally painful like the time I agreed to let my husband cut my hair and he proceeded to grab my low ponytail and cut the whole thing off, proclaiming "Done!" when he finished. No, I mean physically painful.
I didn't think it was possible to experience a physically agonizing haircut...until today. The haircut I received today is proof beyond a reasonable doubt that karma is real and it's a bitch. Every bad thing I've ever done in my life came back to me today. For starters, I should've realized something was askew when I walked into this national chain salon and immediately noticed that the median age of all of the customers was somewhere in the neighborhood of 60. When I finally settled into the chair to have my hair cut, the stylist's eyes lit up with glee at the thought of being able to cut my hair with a razor instead of scissors. (The old people, she said, are wary of the razor.)
She wet down my hair and started hacking away with the razor. About a minute in, she informed me (I swear) that the woman who had her hair cut before me had been exposed to lice over the weekend and had been complaining about her head itching. Oh, lovely. Thanks, master jukemeister!
She pressed on. My hair began to dry, but she did not re-wet it. No, no. She just went on with her razor, systematically pulling every hair in my scalp one-by-one as we lost lubrication and buffering from the water. For minutes I winced and groaned with each pass she made, and she, of course, was oblivious to my agony. Why didn't I speak up? She was in the zone with her razor, overzealously lopping off more and more hair, and I stupidly thought each pass had--just HAD--to be the last one. Why didn't she react to my groans and facial expressions? Because she's obviously a dolt. Regardless, my scalp still feels like someone lit my head on fire.
When she finished, I paid and left hurriedly, lest she find a way to torture me more. I came home and straightened my hair, only to discover she gave me the exact haircut my mom had for two years, which I made fun of ceaselessly for its general poofiness and helmet nature. Think "classic mom hair." Ugh. I should've known better! Median age of 60 up in that place, after all! If that's not bad enough, she didn't even leave it long enough for me to put it into a ponytail for it to grow out for a while. Curses!
On a final, unrelated note, our local meteorologist just referred to the weather as "sultry" six times during the forecast. I don't know about you, but that's both an excessive number of references and a totally inappropriate word choice...unless of course the weather plans to be making bedroom eyes at us in the next few days.
I didn't think it was possible to experience a physically agonizing haircut...until today. The haircut I received today is proof beyond a reasonable doubt that karma is real and it's a bitch. Every bad thing I've ever done in my life came back to me today. For starters, I should've realized something was askew when I walked into this national chain salon and immediately noticed that the median age of all of the customers was somewhere in the neighborhood of 60. When I finally settled into the chair to have my hair cut, the stylist's eyes lit up with glee at the thought of being able to cut my hair with a razor instead of scissors. (The old people, she said, are wary of the razor.)
She wet down my hair and started hacking away with the razor. About a minute in, she informed me (I swear) that the woman who had her hair cut before me had been exposed to lice over the weekend and had been complaining about her head itching. Oh, lovely. Thanks, master jukemeister!
She pressed on. My hair began to dry, but she did not re-wet it. No, no. She just went on with her razor, systematically pulling every hair in my scalp one-by-one as we lost lubrication and buffering from the water. For minutes I winced and groaned with each pass she made, and she, of course, was oblivious to my agony. Why didn't I speak up? She was in the zone with her razor, overzealously lopping off more and more hair, and I stupidly thought each pass had--just HAD--to be the last one. Why didn't she react to my groans and facial expressions? Because she's obviously a dolt. Regardless, my scalp still feels like someone lit my head on fire.
When she finished, I paid and left hurriedly, lest she find a way to torture me more. I came home and straightened my hair, only to discover she gave me the exact haircut my mom had for two years, which I made fun of ceaselessly for its general poofiness and helmet nature. Think "classic mom hair." Ugh. I should've known better! Median age of 60 up in that place, after all! If that's not bad enough, she didn't even leave it long enough for me to put it into a ponytail for it to grow out for a while. Curses!
On a final, unrelated note, our local meteorologist just referred to the weather as "sultry" six times during the forecast. I don't know about you, but that's both an excessive number of references and a totally inappropriate word choice...unless of course the weather plans to be making bedroom eyes at us in the next few days.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Freak-a-leek
We went to Walmart tonight. Don't ask why. You know I'm anti-Walmart, but sometimes there's just no other place open to buy tires and wine at the same time. Our local Walmart is especially vile because 1. it's always disgustingly busy regardless of the time of day or day of the week, and 2. it seems to draw the most interesting specimens out of the woodwork.
Tonight we saw a middle-aged man with an impressive ponytail that would've made Walker, Texas Ranger weep with joy. He also wore camouflage pants and a sizeable pocket knife. He smiled at me as he browsed through $5 DVDs.
The best one today, though, was a drunk with (I swear) a tattoo of a smiley face on the end of his nose. Ok, I can't prove it was a tattoo. God almighty, I hope it was only pen or something, but this little part of me just knows it was a tattoo...the kind of thing done hastily on a dare for $10 and a case of Busch Light.
It's people like that that make me feel obligated to have children of my own one day. Someone has to step up to help keep the delicate balance in the epic humanitarian battle against stupidity.
Tonight we saw a middle-aged man with an impressive ponytail that would've made Walker, Texas Ranger weep with joy. He also wore camouflage pants and a sizeable pocket knife. He smiled at me as he browsed through $5 DVDs.
The best one today, though, was a drunk with (I swear) a tattoo of a smiley face on the end of his nose. Ok, I can't prove it was a tattoo. God almighty, I hope it was only pen or something, but this little part of me just knows it was a tattoo...the kind of thing done hastily on a dare for $10 and a case of Busch Light.
It's people like that that make me feel obligated to have children of my own one day. Someone has to step up to help keep the delicate balance in the epic humanitarian battle against stupidity.
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