I like teaching and all, but.....

I'd much rather be a mariachi! Back to work today and it was not as heinous as I thought it'd be. Started off by translating a couple of behavior reports that had been written in Spanish and discovered that young Antonio has an unfortunate habit of asking girls to show him their boobs. This might come in handy later in life, kid, but right now you're in the 3rd grade and you need to knock that shit off. Then it was off to a meeting where I'm not really sure what I was supposed to be doing/saying so I just kind of sat as close as I could to the giant fake plant in the corner hoping to kind of disguise myself with the foliage. Then there was a baby shower for a couple of the teachers who are having babies. Booze was an inappropriate gift choice on my end, I can see that now, but it seemed like a really good idea and/or the only thing I had on hand.

The little rascals come back to school tomorrow and I'm trying to remember how to go hours on end without saying the f word.

Oh yeah, speaking of babies: you can buy pregnancy tests at the dollar store! And guess what? My friend, Pregosaurus Rex says they work! I'm sure there is some kind of social commentary involved in the sale of pregnancy tests at a dollar store, but I'm far too tired for that right now.

Cease and desist

Things happening on/in or around my house:

new roommate moving in
dog-sitting hyperactive 5 yr old boxer
fish-sitting comatose beta
fucking roofers replacing the fucking roof
whining
using of internet
not buying of christmas presents for family. woops.

A departure

I'm done blogging about work, duh, its Christmas break. So instead let me update you: I'm currently losing a game of cribbage and the riding on the outcome of this game is one month of not shaving my armpits. I think this is going to do wonders for my already stellar dating record. HOWEVER....if by some miracle of unknown proportions I happen to win, then my degenerate roommate has to shave his legs every other day for a month. Either way, I'll post some pictures for your viewing (dis)pleasure.

I'm also watching my friends' beta fish,Jurgen, while they're out of town. They left me the following instructions "Don't kill Jurgen." Also, I'm not sure they were aware of how hard it is to transport a full-to-the-brim fishtank in the car. I was giving my friend, Steen, a ride home and made him come with me to get the fish. The fishwater spilled all over Steen's lap, which was awesome because when he got out of the car it looked like he had wet his pants. Super funny. Anyway, I had to drop Steen off and then proceed the rest of the way holding the fish tank still with one hand and driving with the other. I finally get home after several blocks of driving 8mph only to discover that the stupid beta food has spilled in my coat pocket . So, yeah, I might kill Jurgen.

What my neighbors think/know about me:

Despite living in a duplex where two bedroom walls and one bathroom wall are shared, I hear precious little from THE OTHER SIDE (capitalized for effect). What I do hear leads me to believe that Michelle on THE OTHER SIDE shares my sense of feng shui and put her bed exactly where I put mine, but the mirror-image. What leads me to believe this? Waking up to the sound of my neighbor banging just as I've fallen into a REALLY NICE, DEEP SLEEP. Super. Anyway, I've been ruminating on what my neighbors might hear from me and what it might lead them to believe.

What my neighbor hears:
1) The sound of fingernail clippers four times a week.
2) The same CD played over and over.
3) "STUPID FUCKING KHAKIS!"
4) My alarm clock in the morning, approximately 5 times.

What my neighbor therefore believes:
1) That my fingernails grow really fast.
2) That I only have one CD and questionable taste in music.
3) That I am in a fight with a pair of pants.
4) That I am an asshole.

The veracity of their deductions:
1) Not true, I am just really anal about the length of my fingernails.
2) Sort of true, I listen to some really lame crap sometimes.
3) Yes, I hate khakis and ironing khakis and wearing khakis and I am going to murder their inventor in their sleep with my unironed khakis.
4) Also true.

You're right, 27 year olds do have good judgment

Things I told people whilst celebrating my 27th birthday:

1) I am getting married tomorrow.
2) I am pregnant.
3) My name is Lynette.

Things that I took from Tiny's Tavern whilst celebrating my 27th birthday:

1) A framed picture of someone's dog.

The motherland!

I have returned to the land of Busch Light and patriotic-themed lighters for my younger brother's wedding and I think that to compare my journey to the abridged version of Homer's Odyssey would be apt. The bride-to-be's dad and step-mom took us to dinner last night at the Height's Supper Club, the nicest place in town. My dad ordered a smoked pork chop the size of a car battery and I think everyone else had the chicken cordon bleu with a side of hashbrowns covered in nacho cheese sauce (delicious). After dinner I sojourned to Cedar Rapids for an evening of college football and light beer with my friends and some of their friends who have names like 'Shooter' and 'Randy' and make lots of gay jokes, which is refreshing after living in an erudite, socialist, environmentally sensitive university town for so long. Their dog Wrigley has been trained to take a dog treat out of a human mouth so a fair amount of dog-kissing went on last night as well.

My mom and I are going to get pedicures here in a second and I think I'll ask for a discount seeing as I only have 7.5 toenails to pedicure. Tonight is the rehearsal dinner, so I should probably get started on some sort of inappropriate toast to make. Later.

Quickly approaching old age

I signed up for a retirement savings account today. Only 33.5 more years of teaching! Yes!

This was a good week...my only non-Latino student, a boy whose family is from Laos, brought me this SWEET cd that his older brother made. Does anyone need a copy of Laotian pop/rock? Are you sure?

My students are pretty terrific, and so is my job, despite things like coworkers assuming that a student is "a little slow" because they don't speak the English. (Voice in my head: "Hmmm...you do speak English but you're MORE than a little slow. You're FUCKING BRAINLESS.") ((Voice in my mouth: "Uhhhh...I need to go make some copies.")

I managed to get out of playing in staff-student softball game at the middle school, but I didn't totally luck out as I wound up "supervising" students. Loosely translated: find the kid yelling inappropriate things and sit by them. A good time was had by all.

In my non-teacher life, I'm off to run a marathon this weekend and hopefully beat Palin's astonishingly good time. If I can't do that, I'll settle for enjoying myself and not crapping my pants.