Nonaward

To all my fellow TAKS-grade teachers at our campus - I am so sorry none of us got a "fun" award at the ceremony on Friday. As the glorious certificates were passed out one by one, it became sadly apparent that we had forgotten to have "fun" these last few weeks. We all shook our heads and clucked our tongues and repeated our never-failing mantra, "We don't have time because we teach TAKS." Perhaps it was the overwhelming pressure of the test that kept us from publicly ridiculing each other. Maybe we just couldn't think of anything creative and cute because teaching in a testing grade sucks all the creativity out of you. (The Martha Stewart Award? - DEFINITELY none of us!) It could be possible that we were so busy hi-jacking the potluck luncheon with pizza delivery that we didn't really give a sh1t about receiving an award. Since we were remiss in recognizing each other for our accomplishments such as Glee Club, Verbal Abusiveness, Hasselhoff Interpretive Dance, or Hot Flashes, I have come up with one blanket award to get us all at once. *Sober up! I'm not giving you a REAL blanket, ok?*

Drum roll, please..............

All 12 of us are the lucky recipients of the...............

Jaded Apathetic Can'tthinkofanything Kindoflazy Slacker Half-a$$ed Indifferent and Tired award!

Yes!!! We are all receiving JACKSHIT!

I am happy to offer this distinguished accolade as my end-of-year gift to you all. Please feel free to share with your loved ones how you received JACKSHIT this year at school. Wake the dog! Phone the neighbors! You got JACKSHIT!

As part of your award, you may save the JACKSHIT logo below and paste to your social networking profile to let everyone on your friends list know what 175 days of teaching school could get you if you apply yourself!

You may be interested in an additional service I will provide. For the nominal fee of $9.95, I will notify the local news agencies via note-tied-around-a-brick-through-their-window that you have received the coveted award of JACKSHIT! Please note that I carry less than *let me check my purse* $6.72 in change and there will be no refunds if you are dissatisfied with my service.

Because you are now in an elite group of others who have received JACKSHIT, you are also eligible to purchase (for a nominal fee of $19.95) all sorts of JACKSHIT paraphernalia. We are happy to offer this year's JACKSHIT awardees a document file of a certificate that you may print yourself.  It is emblazoned with the illustrious JACKSHIT logo and may contain your name if I can remember it.  (Since I didn't think enough of you all to get you a real award, do you really think that I care if I get your name right?)

*** BTW: I just totally spelled paraphernalia without any mistakes popping the red line underneath from teh the spell checker***

If you insist on having an actual tangible award sent to you, then (for the nominal fee of $31.95 - the precise cost of a large bottle of Deep Eddy vodka) I will get the closest scrap of paper and a crayon or pen or eyeliner pencil or whatever and, with no regard to color, accuracy, or scale, I will scrawl the dayum circle-with-a-line-through-it picture on the paper for you. 

Now.  Go forth and enjoy your summer!

MEMO To: DonnyCat Re: Rubbing Me the Wrong Way

DonnyCat,

After numerous failed attempts to make you understand that there are moments when your 14.6 pounds of affection is misguided and unwelcome, I am submitting these new "Cat Rules" in effect immediately.

1) If I am doing yoga, DO NOT RUB AGAINST ME!
2) If I am putting lotion on my legs, DO NOT RUB AGAINST ME!
3) If I am trying to sleepily meander my way down a dark hallway at 5 a.m. to get to the kitchen for coffee, DO NOT RUB AGAINST ME!
4) If our juxtaposition is such that your tail is near my head, DO NOT RUB AGAINST ME!
5) If I am in the bathroom and I am seated on your white drinking fountain that we humans call the toilet, I would appreciate you and the dog and the other two cats staying out. I appreciate your support and concern, but I'm ok in there by myself, and I think I can handle it on my own. Really. Because, although y'all just go out in the middle of the yard without a care in the world as to who witnesses your bodily processes, I would prefer a bit of privacy and that you DO NOT RUB AGAINST ME!

Sincerely,
Your Human

The End

Ok. So there is yet another whackaloon predicting the end of the world 

I am SOOOOOOO not prepared for this. If it is truly the Rapture, then I'll be gone and I'll be worrying for nothing, but if it is merely an apocalypse I am NOT ready.

Here is my tentative to-do list for tomorrow after I go pick up Lurch.

1. Figure out what to wear. I have not one solitary thing in my closet that would be new and exciting enough to welcome the end of the world. I must go shopping.

2. Have the right shoes. After making the HUGE mistake of wearing heels to the bomb scare a few years ago, I am NOT getting caught standing around or walking anywhere, much less running from zombies and the like, in shoes that are pretty but not practical. It is difficult to find a pair of shoes that will fill both of these requisites. I must go shopping.

3. Stock up on some food. Right now the best we have to survive on is 2 cans of salmon, some spaghetti, half a box of Frosted Cheerios, 3/4 bottle of Deep Eddy vodka, 4 bananas, some pimento cheese, and a case of beer. Good Gawd, that's really sad - it's like frat house food. There are some tomatoes in the garden but they are still pretty green, and if the apocalypse has any nuclear undertones whatsoever, those tomatoes will be all radioactive and shi+ like Attack of the Killer Tomatoes or something so we can't eat them anyway! I must go shopping.

4. Make playlist on my ipod of end-of-the-world-themed songs:
Rapture - Blondie
End of the World - Skeeter Davis
It's the End of the World as We Know It - REM
All H3ll's Breaking Loose - KISS
Only the Good Die Young - Billy Joel
Jessie's Girl - Rick Springfield (because it will be the national anthem when I take over as Princess of the Leftover World.)
When It's Over - Loverboy
Freaks Come Out at Night - Whodini (in case there ARE zombies)
Dead Man's Party - Oingo Boingo and
Last Dance - Donna Summer

This is a good start, but one of my ear buds to my ipod is smashed and has wires hanging out of it precariously so that I might actually SURVIVE the apocalypse and then be accidentally electrocuted by my ipod while listening to my end-of-the-world-themed playlist. Which would suck. Cuz then I couldn't wear my cute new post-apocalyptic shoes. I must go shopping.

My other option is to wait until the world is actually in the throes of its post-apocalyptic chaos and then just go loot all the stuff I need.

Fast Times

The most Jeff Spicoli conversation I ever had with one of my children:

Chunk: We need a snack. 

Me: I know.  You know what would be good?  Bagels and cream cheese.

Chunk: That would be good.

Me: Hey my car is fixed we could take my car. 

Chunk: Yeah.

Me: But I don’t think I have any money in my purse.

Chunk: I just have a dollar. 

Me: Oh.  Well let’s just watch Kitchen Nightmares. 

I swear – we sound like a couple of stoners. 

I Would Like to Thank...

First, thanks to the student who gave me the bag of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies for Teacher Appreciation Week this morning. They are gone. Along with this week's efforts to lose weight.

Next, thanks to MyPoolBoy for the beautiful bottle of cheap Merlot that accompanied the box of dishwashing detergent back from your trip to the store. Unlike the cookies, it is not gone yet, but I'm working on it. Perhaps this will deter any further suffering that you might incur due to my current hormonal state, including the unfortunate play-by-play I related to you this morning concerning my menstrual cycle and its surrounding conditions and/or circumstances. (Sorry 'bout that!) BTW - the wine has been opened, the Cascade has not.

Finally, thanks to a Facebook friend for sharing the link to this clip. I must say that although nothing ever leaves ME completely speechless, this little gem left me scratching my head and barely managing to muster a "wow" from an already compromised state of semi-consciousness this evening (remember - Milano cookies + Merlot + hormones).



I hereby solemnly vow to Felix that this fabulous ditty will be our anthem for karaoke night at the coast this year since we always sleep together and there are plenty of stories to tell about THAT - Keebler Elf dreams, kicking, clothing arguments, David Hasselhoff dreams, and presumed phone sex. Pee-peeing the bed is about the ONLY thing that hasn't happened yet!

Anyway, I tracked through the related videos on the sidebar of this one and discovered that this effed-up little VonTrapp family actually were a big hit throughout Europe in the 80s and 90s. How did I miss this? Without a doubt, Moses/Gandalf/Father Time as your back-up singer is a pretty big score!

So, clicking on the sidebar videos led me to a fabulous video of a song of theirs called "One More Freaking Dollar." Which I hereby declare my undying, unadulterated, unabashed, and unsober (Merlot, remember?) love for. And the lead singer on the video is a cutie. Except at that point of his life he was also JAILBAIT and that would make me a sinner of some sort.

Upon further clicking I discovered that he cut off the Sebastian Bach hairstyle and grew into a legal-sized man and was still a cutie. And a monk. Like, a monk in a monastery, not the TV detective. That FOR SURE makes me a sinner.