Expletives Deleted.

It is one thing to poison the minds of our youth. It is another thing entirely, to broadcast your evil-doing to the entire school.
I was in my office today across the hall from the offending teacher whose Vietnam video was approaching decibels previously known only as "outside voices." It's not just the volume, but the words, such as would make me blush to type. (Including a string so profane that I thought about calling the principal.)
Hm, I wondered.
Do the parents of these children know that the kind of language we reprimand them for in the halls is the kind we are feeding to them as US History?
Prob'ly not. Just guessing.
Once again, my concern is not the well-being of the impressionable minds, merely the disturbance it causes me trying to do my work (like right now. Obviously this is work-related.)
All I'm saying is show a little @#*! respect, you #%^ piece of (*!#@.

Oh yeah, and congratulations to SARA and ADAM for finally getting engaged. Don't send your future children to school here.

Chronicles of Froogy McFrugalson

In order to defend myself properly and publicly, I've done a bit of research. Matt and I were debating the cost of vent versus air conditioning.
I refuse air conditioning to him regularly. Sometimes I do it to save money, sometimes just to make him mad--it is so effective.
Last night he put his window down and sent out his giant Gadget limbs to slow us down.
Two things waste gas: air conditioning AND windows all the way down. Another situation in which we are BOTH right (I hate these; I am competitive):
Meineke Car Car Center says, "Limit use of air conditioning. Air conditioning is a huge fuel waster. On cool mornings and evenings, do without. Keep in mind though, that driving with windows wide open creates enough drag to decrease gas mileage. Find a balance between the two."
Aha.
And now I will win a different argument: "Avoid long idles. Turn off the engine if you anticipate a lengthy wait. Instead of idling at a drive-up window, park the car and go in. Idling burns more gas than restarting the engine. Limit car warmups in winter." (These words are from the Environmental Protection Agency.)
I bring this up because it is also car-related. I rarely deal with automotive matters in this forum.
Matt always tells me that it's better just to leave the car running as he searches for his man-bag and his cell phone and his wallet and his miscellany.
Not so, dear friend, not so.

Pride of the Windy City

Me: Look, I put hot sauce on spaghetti! Best spaghetti ever.
Dad: Have you ever had a three-way?
Choke. Pause. Blink, blink.
Me: ....
Dad: That mean anything to you other than a sexual way?
Shake head. Blink.
Dad: This place in Chicago used to...they had...they made a...chili...
Me: ...Skyline chili?
Race downstairs to computer. Type, type.

Walk Jog Run Hobble

I went for a run three days ago. It was ambitious, seeing as how my health club attendance has degenerated into nothingness. Actual, purposeful non-attendance. Like this: take my money, you bastard people. I won't even go to your club!
(That just doesn't make sense, as I am one frugal beyotch.)
Anyway, I hadn't gotten my run on for a while.
It was, in truth, more of a jog.
A 15 minute jog.
I should point out that I am one of those people who look pained during exercise. One of those people that you sort of pray for as they truck along. "God, please don't let that person pass out before they get where they're going." I know this because I pray for people like me.
To compound embarassment:
Since then, I have hobbled around on both inclined and flat surfaces. Me= an old woman. And when I was really pissed at a student yesterday, I had to walk him to the office like nothing was wrong. Never let them see you sweat! Nooooo!!! I sweat all the time!
I hobbled so fast that at the end I should have stretched again. After our meeting, I had to punch my thigh in order to release the muscle, allowing me to stand. I pretended that the punch was out of frustration.
"How could you let me down like this?" I said, "I'm so frustrated." Thump. Whimper. Stand.

Tom, you're scaring me. No, seriously. Stop it.

As excited as Tom Cruise is over Katie Holmes, I am excited to introduce to you:
MY NEW CABLE MODEM.
Thanks to my Poppa for making this entry possible. FROM HOME!

An Honored Guest

Welcome, Monica!
I hope you made it ok.
Have some lemonade. Isn't it nice here?
Yeah. I like it.
So...take a look around. There are a couple of pieces on here about you, yes. But don't worry, I haven't posted yet about last night when you said that you don't wear NASCAR jumpsuits, although you did order one and never got it.
That's just between you and me and schooners of Miller Lite at Friday's.
Remember last night when Jay thrust himself in the path of a broken glass?
Yeah, that was funny.
Remember when you asked if you should start a blog and we all laughed?
Well, I need you to start a blog.
A couple of reasons, really. Firstly, once a week is just not often enough to hear your stories. Secondly, I've been writing about you for long enough that people deserve to get it right from the source. I realize of course that means I'll be taking fewer notes when we're together, but I'm willing to sacrifice my material for the good of the people. Plus, I'll just refer them to your site. Get it?
Ok, let's have some cake.

Case of Mistaken Identity

From a series of emails to and fro Matt this weekend.
AWKWARD.

-----Original Message-----
Hey Matt!
Thanks again for driving us around last night. We had a lot of fun and you are quite a hoot! You are a good sport...I hope we did not get you into trouble! I saw your photography and I think it is great. I LOVE the tree at St. John's...that is my favorite so far. You will be very successful at whatever you choose to do, I know it! Have a great rest of the weekend...and no more spanking! :)
Hugs,
Cherie

------Matt's Message------
I'm really sorry if I am making a mistake or have totally forgot something, but I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I don’t think you have the right person J Last night I was with a group of my friends from college, and I don’t remember any spanking.
This is all pretty funny actually. Who were you trying to reach?
Matt

-----Original Message-----
LOL!!! OH MY GOD!...I'm so sorry!! There is a photographer in Dallas (Matt Blum!) who moonlights as a driver for the Hotel ZaZa and my girlfriends and I used him last night because we stayed there for a girls night out!! He slapped one of us on the ass to get out of the car and we all thought it was a hoot. He is actually a great guy...I was just ribbing him. Please accept my most sincere apologies (even though I am laughing my own ass off). I OBVIOUSLY went to the wrong website! I hope I did not offend you! By the way...I did love the tree photo!! Keep up the good work?
Warmest (and embarrassed!) Regards,
Cherie :)

At Bat

Kicking so much ass!
Team Chalk rocks again.
I love playing on a team that wins. I love playing on a team that doesn't make fun of me (anymore) for my batting stance. I love when the left-handed hitters STILL don't send the ball flying toward me in far right field.
It reminds me of one of my favorite roles in college. In one of Steve Martin's brilliant pieces, I got to play this woman who enters a bar frantically searching for someone. She exits shortly thereafter; still frantic, still searching.
Here is the point: I had all of the fun and none of the pressure.
You know what else it's like? Babysitting.
Babysitters hang out and play. Then the baby pukes and poops and cries. Finally, when you can't take it any longer, the mom and dad come home, releasing you from the prison that is childcare and left field and and lead roles.

Deflecting

Why is it still raining, God? -Me

Wehh...Uh...I, um...Monica stuck something up her butt! -God

Ok. That quote may be not entirely accurate. I could have misread the signs, but PROBABLY NOT.

Monica in another starring role. Or, A "Suppos' It" 'tory

As she ages, Monica continues to test her body in time trials. What does 24 beers in 12 hours do do her that it NEVER used to? We sat around the table as she spun us a tale of such horror. Do I dare repeat it herein?!

"There were drinks and drinks and drinks" and then there was puke. So much vomit expelled that she had "nothing, nothing, nothing" left to give. Until.
My God, until, she had to decide either to face the $2000 deductible or die: "It was either $2000 or stick something up my butt." This is the kind of situation that befalls the improperly insured. IT COULD HAVE BEEN ME.
Thankfully, blessedly, her father (the dentist), was able to prescribe the cheaper solution. That is to say, cheap in dollars--costly in emotional trauma.

Now, Dear Reader, we ask you to thoughtfully examine our query: would you rather pay $2000, or insert your own suppository?

"The prescription was for 6 of them, but I only needed one. So if anyone ever has that problem..." -Monica

Verbal: In which I employ all of my fancy new GRE words.

A saturnine haze surrounded the building and oppressed the obsequious trees which bent toward the fecund ground. She spoke vituperative words against you which I, restive, ignored. The rain pounded my jejune head.

That was solemn. And let me just say, I'm frickin totally poetic right now.
Give me a topic and watch me go!

In other news, it's Reunion Week for this girl.
Hooray for old friends coming back to my inbox. My heart is bursting open. People: I could injest you.

SuperLitePlus

There's a tampon in my pocket and I don't care...uh huh...
Tampon in my pocket and I don't care, uh huh.
Tampon in my pocket and I don't care
Until I accidently pass it off to a student
Oh
Tampon in my pocket and I don't care, uh huh.

In other news, I got my dot and its coincidental coinciding with rainy do-nothing weather led to a Felicity binge last night. I'm not proud of it, but this blog is no place for pride. I just wanted to come right out and say, "Yes, Dad. Mom and I watch it twice a night and no, the episodes are not 30 minutes each. They're hour-long. I'm wasting time and brain cells!!!"
Just for fun, let's review some of my addictions:
1. Felicity
2. Chapstick--that's universally addictive shit. I didn't start that fire.
3. Making excuses for my procrastination
4. Email checking. Just in case that small icon doesn't show up by some technical mis-firing. I have to know!
5. MPR and its affiliates.
6. Legwarmers
7. Post-it notes

Working for the Man. Getting screwed by the Man's Insurance Plan.

My insurance card is not laminated. It is so symbolic (emblematic?) of the coverage this plan provides, which is to say, THE BARE MINIMUM.
You people are killing me. I cannot go to the hospital. I cannot go to the eye doctor. I cannot get sick or die because nobody will pay for it.
DAMMIT.
If I passed out right now, hit my desk, and toppled over, the mice would fall out of the ceiling and eat me before this health plan could file and refuse my claim.
It sounds bleak because it is.

Hey! Technology!

I watched myself graduate yesterday. You can, too! Click here. I was able to confirm that I did NOT trip when I crossed the stage. Dazzling an entire audience yet again with my incredible ability to walk under pressure.
It's been almost exactly a year since the fake diploma walk. I was feeling the devilish pull self-pity and went lurking back to my old haunt: the CSB/SJU home page.
God.
I am so pathetic.
The fact that I'm able to admit this to you, Dear Reader, is unprecedented (but not considering what you already know about my sensitive knuckles and peely lips).
Anyway, hooray for the class of '04. And '05, I'll recognize you publicly next year. Right about the time you start feeling sad for yourself, you sorry bastards.

Eating olives doesn't have to be the pits.

Big ups to my new favorite concept restaurant:
112 eatery
Even after a disastrous turn with some ahi tuna and Roquefort dressing, I went back for more! And that was just my first time there!
Zing!
They took back my dish and gave me grouper--sounds a little like a disease--but I'll tell you, I'd catch it again!
Double zing! (That was one zing for the disease humor, one zing for the pun of catching a fish.)
I didn't have any wine this time, but I did have water APLENTY. They also give you little seasoned almonds, olives soaked appropriately in olive oil, and bread. Just for sitting down.
The place is great. The staff is knowledgeable, the location is perfect, and it has restored my faith in gnocchi.
Not that you're not great, Friday's. I mean, I love your $ .99 salsa and chip Monday night special.
(pause)
Oh, now you're mad.
(pause)
TGIF, That's not what I meant. Don't be upset. Nothing can take Monday nights away from us.
(pause)
I know. I love you, too.

Love to hate them. Hate to love them. Errrr...

I alternately love and loathe teenagers. They are impressively immature and then at times, clever beyond compare.
Exhibit A: Concert Behavior
I was starting to get a little peevish when the house lights went down last night and neighboring viewers began to call out for their moms in the dark. Curse you, high school boys! Why must you laugh at your friends asininity and spill your contraband Skittles down the concrete stairs? You suck.
But then during a particularly heartfelt rock jam, several students whipped out cell phones rather than lighters in appreciation. The safest way to show approval. And my laugh-o-meter said "yes" with a silent fist pump.

I have standards(ized)!

Let's say that I wanted to become a mountain climber.
If I were going to take a 10 hour hike (in total) and I walked a solid 2 km per hour (I use km because I love those wacky units, not because this problem is from an SAT study book). Anyway, let's say the way down took me about 3 km per hour. How far is it to the summit of the mountain?
I'll give you some choices, just for fun.
a. 8
b. 10
c. 12
d. 20
e. 24
And then I'll make you sit at the bar with your friends and family and you can talk about my expedition without ever really finding the answer until someone much younger explains it to you. And then you don't want to be a mountain climber or do anything that might involve math for the rest of your life because you start to remember how much trouble you had with subtraction flash cards in second grade.
The answer is c. Like you could ever figure that out.

Captain's Log. Stardate...stop it, you freak!

He's been hiding it from me. I mean, I knew he liked computers and reading photography manuals.
But I just wasn't ready for what I saw: when I stopped by yesterday, he was watching Star Trek.
(sob)
And it's just (sob)
That he didn't even (gasp)
Tell me.
I don't even know you anymore.

In other news, before bed last night, I put Neosporin on my knuckles, bound them in Saran Wrap, and kept everything in place by wearing winter gloves. Surprisingly, they were no less dry and cracked when I awoke.

Tounge, Tongue.
Potato, Some Kind of Vegetable Which Can Be Shot Out of a Gun Into a Lake for My Entertainment.
Let's call the whole thing off, Mudzilla.

But I digress, because my new office-mate has put on what I imagine can only be a Yanni tribute CD. Does Yanni do piano for candle lit dinners?
Please.
Help.
Drowning in musical sludge. Like quicksand, but slower.
Slowsand.
The funny and most painful part is that about two weeks ago we suffered from a bout of country music. I spoke up (I heart conflict) and told him anything was ok as long as it wasn't country. I realize now what I meant was, "Anything I select is ok. And it won't be country. Or Yanni. Or anything else you enjoy."

Manic Sunday, more like. F'in crazies.

Yesterday, among other bizzarities, it was snowing Dippin Dots. On May 1. Carly nearly ran outside with a bottle of Hershey's syrup.
2. Hari Krishna
My dad's post-church rant was about the multitude of shampoo bottles and razor handles in the shower. In the midst of his rant, he starts tapping his thumb and middle fingers together chanting "Hari Krishna." We eventually all join in.
3. Guy shlumped over at Target.
As we pack our loot in the trunk I spy a child (small. 2 or 3 years old, max.) spinning the wheel of a running parked car. There is a strange figure beside him that looks suspiciously... dead. I think to myself, Self, this is one of those times when you can either be a bystander or a child-saver. I choose the child, by God. I get out of the car and go up to the driver's side window and look in to see a motionless lump. So I tap on the window and the little one sees me and hides behind the seat.
Suddenly, the motionless lump looks up at me, disturber of sleep. Holy Heck, I need a new pair of underoos. "Sorry," I say, "just checking."
4 (and final). Improv show with crazy disappearing men and the stage-licker.
Brave New Workshop last night for their $1 Sunday night show during which a young lady is presented and then attacked by birthday cake. So the cake bearer cleans the stage. WITH HER TOUNGE. Oh, and three men leave during a scene and never come back.
If I knew enough Spanish to exclaim, I would say, "What kind of crap is this for a Sunday?"