me: mother!
me: mother, may i sleep with danger?
me: this is an important question that the lifetime movie network feels i should be asking you
me: mother why will you not answer this question! i need to know what to tell lifetime television for women
mom: hi
me: mom are you watching keith olbermann
mom: sorry
me: hehe
me: answer my question, mother may i sleep with danger?
mom: depends on how good he is
mom: not watching olbermann
me: nice
mom: what is he doing?
me: ah he's been on lately
me: i mean on like he is ON!
me: on his GAME
mom: OBAMA ON?
mom: or smashing the Bush
mom: Cheney
me: he's smashing the bush
me: barack obama is my friend on twitter, which is a social networking site on which i give no personal information about myself except that i love top chef.
me: i don't even use my real name
me: but anyway, friends with barack obama. totally rad.
mom: running with the right crowd
Teacher: No calculators for this one. You have something far more powerful than a calculator with you.
Student: What?
Teacher: Me!
7th grade boy: OOOOOOOOoooooOOOOH! You got MATHED!
Whenever I move to a "new" part of the country (and this has only happened twice), my first spring in that part of the country is fucking miserable due to allergies. My first spring in central IL, my nose was stuffed the whole time. Back in MN for my first spring -- you guessed it. Fuckin' allergies. I shouldn't have them next year, but this year, I'm going to both jobs totally stoned on Benedryl.
An unexpected advantage to this, however, is that I sleep like the dead. This morning, Pineapple was attempting to commiserate with me about the loud-ass girls downstairs (apparently they were up all night screaming and playing loud music) and I was like, "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"You didn't hear that? I had to turn on the humidifyer to drown them out."
"No, but to be fair, I've worked a lot this week and I'm totally wacked out on allergy meds."
Well, anyway, three weeks from now, the girls downstairs will be moving out. Shortly after that, we're throwing a party. The party is MOSTLY due to our birthdays (mine: may 29th, LBCS june 4th, Pineapple june 11th), mostly due to Big Life Events (schools! finishing thesis!) but let's face it, it's partially a farewell to annoying neighbors.
Big dank.
It's like my kids know JUST how much bullshit I can handle before they decide to throw me a bone and be fucking awesome. I've been working with this one eighth grade girl for the whole time I've been at the school -- she was a lot quieter than other students and I started pulling her and two other girls aside to work with me, since they were getting lost in what's a pretty wild classroom. When I started working with her second quarter, her average in the class was a D. This was because she couldn't understand the homework, no matter how hard she tried... so I got in the habit of checking her homework with her once a day before she turned it in. Her grade started to rise a bit and though I still help her out everyday, she definitely has more confidence in math.
This isn't just any eighth grade math, this is like, stuff with exponents and shit that baffled me a bit when we started on it. I actually had to reteach myself how to do it so I could help her out. Last week, the day before the "check-up" (what they call tests), she and I sat down for a few minutes so I could explain with her one-on-one the difference between using x as an exponent and just multiplying a number by x, and when to write the exponent as x-1, and how to enter this in a calculator so she can read a table. And, you know what? Apparently I taught it WELL. Because she ate that test for lunch. She pwned it. She got an A+.
"I'm so stinkin' proud of you," I told her.
She grinned at me, which was great to see because she's normally a very stoic teen. "Thanks!"
And then I had to reteach myself scientific notation so I could explain it to her.
I know I mostly present my kids as quirky, fun and insightful characters -- and for the most part they are. But I downplay the fact that I deal with some shitheads, and I tend to assume that because MOST children are normal, ALL children are normal. I'm just saying, while you're out there looking for positives you will occasionally fail to realize that one of these kids will betray your trust and hand you a "joke" electro-shock pen that jolts the FUCK out of your hand and is probably more dangerous than a Swiss Army knife.
What do you do in this situation? You confiscate the thing, haul the kid's ass down to the principal's office, is what. And you feel fucking awful that you had to do it, when you look at his somewhat frightened eyes, but so wildly justified in your actions because what the HELL did he expect you'd do? Laugh it off?
"It doesn't shock that much!" he protested, and I was like, kid, I've been struck by lightning and I've touched a metal doorhandle in winter, and it was closer to the former than the latter. That's not a prank buzzer and MY HAND IS STILL SORE! And when the principal called his mom, well, it became apparent that this was already A Matter Of Discussion At Home, re: I Thought I Told You To Not Take THAT To School.
So he got suspended.
The rest of the kids I worked with that day wondered why I was a little more crabby than usual.
Pineapple: I don't get the furor over Rev. Wright. Pat Robertson says way more controversial stuff all the time, and Rev. Hagee supports John McCain, and he says WORSE!
Me: Yeah, but he says it whitely.
Me: It's ok, I have some pens.
7th Grade Boy: OH! I want this one *snatches at a pink pen*
Me: You like pink?
7th Grade Girl: You is fruity, fam.
---
Tiny Asian 7th Grade Boy: MISS T! Are you going to be here next year?
Me: Uh, I don't know... yet.
Tiny Asian 7th Grade Boy: You don't KNOW yet? What kind of answer is that? *punches me in the shoulder* I don't like you anymore. *punches his best friend who is standing next to him in the shoulder* You too.
The sun seems to be coming out, which is good because it's been miserably gray and rainy for several days now. Yesterday, it was cold enough that we had the stuff that is not quite rain and not quite snow but can only be described as Cloud Barf. It fell from the sky, then got carried by the wind until it was blowing in the faces of all us poor saps who have chosen Siberia as our home. But nonetheless, the grass is green and the buds on the trees have burst open, and by my birthday, it'll be warm enough for me to sleep on the Orch.
YES.
---
LBCS just got home from work with stories about coked-out-patients and their hoochie-baby-mamas. It's times like this that I realize being an ER nurse is about fifty times more interesting than any job I will ever do. Sure, my students will always say interesting and funny things, but it isn't likely any of them will come to school coke-addled.
"I learned one thing tonight," LBCS said. "I don't want to be a cocaine-dealer."
"Why not?" I asked, as if this were a legitimate career choice that she was turning down in favor of grad school.
"Well, I couldn't stand to be around cokeheads. They're crazy. This guy was crawling up the walls."
See? INTERESTING! It's too bad sick people give me the heebie-jeebies.
---
Speaking of birthdays... which I was before that interlude about LBCS's job... this house needs to plan a party. Our birthdays are within two weeks of each others (mine first, then LBCS, then Pineapple) and we all have things to celebrate -- Grad School gettin' in, thesis-finishin', twenty-six turnin', you know, the usual. And Skunkmunkie is going to Japan for a while, like a CHOAD, so it has to be before he leaves the country. Otherwise, who will pick up ice? I ask you that.
Seriously.
SERIOUSLY.
Slightly ADHD 7th Grade Boy: Miss T! I heard you do this weird thing with your eyes!
Me: I do. *remove glasses, show crazy eye trick*
Slightly ADHD 7th Grade Boy: Whoa. That's crazy. Can you do anything else?
Somewhat Spooky 7th Grade Boy: She can also beat the crap out of you!!
OK! New reality show drinking game -- Watch a Top Chef (this current season) Marathon -- take a shot whenever Spike refers to his junk. HOLY SHIT. He keeps talking about his dangle! Like, how it takes nuts, and I don't mean, you know, peanuts or walnuts, but sheer testicular fortitude to be a chef! And he keeps talking about how he has to SHOW his balls when he cooks. All I can think is, man, keep them tucked in when you're around food! I don't want to think about your satchel getting anywhere near that butternut squash soup.
Anyway, so how does he announce he's going to show his balls tonight? He makes a souffle. NOTHING SAYS CAJONES LIKE FLUFFY EGG WHITES!
YEAH!
YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
