Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Marriage According to Kids

I believe this has gone around and around the internets, but that doesn't mean I can't post it. Considering I spend my days with kids, and I'm not married, I felt this was a very topical post for me. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm in the midst of a holiday sugar coma and can't think of a coherent thing to say.
Shut up.


You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
Alan, age 10

No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry, God decides it all and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
Kirsten, age 10


Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
Camille, age 10

No age is good to get married at. You got to be a fool to get married.
Freddie, age 6


You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
Derrick, age 8


Both don't want any more kids.
Lori, age 8


Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
Lynnette, age 8

On the first date, they just tell each other lies, and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
Martin, age 10


I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.
Craig, age 9


When they're rich.
Pam, age 7

The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
Curt, age 7

The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.
Howard, age 8


I don't know which is better, but I'll tell you one thing. I'm never going to have sex with my wife. I don't want to be all grossed out.
Theodore, age 8

It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
Anita, age 9


There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
Kelvin, age 8

And the #1 Favorite is........


Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.
Ricky, age 10

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Bring On Da Funny

Sharkbait got in a fight the other day. Ironically, he got into a fight with last year's Sharkbait - who I used to refer to as The Whiner. Yes, it seems that I am doomed to have one student in my class every year who is so obnoxious, so annoying, so all-around icky, that having him in my class makes me question my decision to become an educator. I never wrote about The Whiner because it was too exhausting to think about him outside of work, and also there was really no good material on him. He just was, and still is, a major pain in the ass. Only now he's taller, so there's more of him to dislike. It scares me that I will have a kid like this every year, but I have a very bad feeling it's my destiny. It must be a Murphy's Law thing, or maybe the universe is pissed at me for not perpetuating the species.

There is, however, one big difference between Sharkbait and The Whiner. When Sharkbait is not being loud, rude, and horrible, he is an extremely funny little kid. He is still the bane of my existence and a professional pain in the ass, but his ability to make me laugh has proven to be a lifesaver - and by that I mean it is the only reason he is still alive. And of course, it's wrong to hurt children. Also, I'm deathly afraid of prison.

I have another boy in my class who is the polar opposite of Sharkbait. I'll refer to him as Lil Obama. He is smart, sweet, helpful, and extremely well-spoken for a six year old. Well he will be when his front teeth come back in. Lil Obama also has something else going for him, he too is an extremely funny little kid.

I laugh a lot in my class. Kids are funny in general, and I always make sure to laugh with them, and not at them. OK, sometimes I do laugh at them. Like whenever Sharkbait wears his plaid shorts and polo shirt to school and I ask him if he's got an after school tee-off time. My kids have come to appreciate the humor in our class, and they turn themselves inside out to be the source of my chuckles. And this leads me to yesterday in class.

Sharkbait had made himself a crown in the Art Center. He came up to proudly show me his masterpiece - a piece of paper glued end to end with his name scrawled across it. It perched precariously atop his head. He could barely take a step without it falling down. He gave me a smirk, waiting for me to abuse him. He knew it was awful, and he was dying to get me going.

Me: Nice hat.

Sharkbait: It's my birthday crown.

Me: Nice crown.

Sharkbait: Isn't it great? (at this point the crown falls off and blows across the room. He runs to catch it, runs back to me, and places it back on his head, waiting for me to tell him how bad it is)

Me: It would be better if it fit around your head instead of on top of it, you know, so you could actually wear it.

Sharkbait: The paper was too small.

Me: I'm not surprised. No way you could get that thing around your great big head.

At this point, we have an audience. You can't have a 10 second conversation in a room full of six year olds without all of them wanting in on it. Sharkbait, aware of his audience, screws up his face into a big pout, and replies dramatically:

How could you be so cruel to me!!!

And then promptly pretends to burst into tears. Five seconds later we were both laughing hysterically. All the other kids started laughing too, though they didn't really get the joke like we did. Only one child didn't laugh - Lil Obama. He was mad with envy. MAD! He wasn't used to seeing me laugh like that at anybody but him. I could see he was preparing to one-up Sharkbait. He gave me a look and then mumbled something.

Me: What was that?

Lil Obama: (mumbling still) must be funnier....must be funnier....Sharkbait's stealin' my funny.

Stealing my funny. At this point, I'm losing it. All I can think about is how can I get a video camera in here right this minute.

Me: Stealing your funny???

Lil Obama: Sharkbait's stealin' my funny!

Sharkbait: (from across the room) You got a problem, Lil Obama?

Lil Obama: Yeah! You're stealin' my funny!

Lil Obama walks over to Sharkbait. They stand toe to toe, staring each other down. You can cut the tension with a pair of child-safe scissors. Lil Obama baring his toothless snarl, Sharkbait wearing his retarded crown, the students waiting in breathless anticipation, and me on the verge of wetting myself.

Sharkbait: I'm stealing your funny? Well bring it on then! Bring on da funny!

Lil Obama: Yeah? I'll bring it!

For the next five minutes the two of them proceeded to twist, contort, snarl, wiggle, jump, shake, scratch, cross eyes, pick noses, roll around with their legs waving in the air, give self-imposed wedgies - anything to break the other down with time-tested Three Stooges humor. It was a Funny-Off. I was absolutely weeping by the end of it. I couldn't have stopped them if I wanted to. And why would I want to stop a classic moment like that? They don't come around very often.

Especially with Sharkbait.

Bring on da funny!

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Dumb and Dumber

I found this story in Strange News on my Yahoo! page. Yes, the man starring in the story is clearly dumber than a bag of hammers, but what disturbed me more was how pathetically written this piece was. Now don't get me wrong, I am no grammar expert, but I am not an Associated Press writer either. I always assumed that these writers had to have some sort of expertise in ....you know...writing. My mistake.

Man calls 911 to report stolen drugs

Mon Dec 11, 4:59 PM ET

WICHITA, Kan. - A Wichita man called 911 to report he was the victim of an armed robbery. The theft? A pound of marijuana worth about $1,100 that he had been trying to sell at his home. At his home? Was he trying to sell it to his brothers and sisters? His mom? Grampa? Maybe Gramma needs it for her hip. Also, shouldn't there be some commas in that last sentence?

The victim told police Thursday that a buyer had pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and stole the drugs. Everything about this sentence is wrong. Did the victim tell the police on Thursday? Or did the buyer rob him on Thursday? Why is Thursday an integral part of this one-sentence paragraph? And don't get me started on "had pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and stole the drugs." Learn how to use a verb, asshat.

Police brought in a drug-sniffing dog to the house and located more marijuana and drug paraphernalia. So they brought in a drug-sniffing dog to the house? Not out? Or around? Redundant much? And how much more marijuana? Be specific, you work for a news organization, dipshit.

The victim was booked into Sedgwick County jail on several charges, including possession with the intent to sell drug. Intent to sell drug. Drug is the singular of drugs - the word that should have been used in this sentence. I'm guessing our writer used that word because there was only one drug being sold. Or because he was on drug.

The thief has not been found. Alleged thief! You imbecilic, no-talent moron!!

I can only hope the alleged dealer goes to jail for being an idiot, the alleged thief goes to jail for being a scumbag, and the alleged writer of this story gets fired and gets a job digging ditches.


In other dumb news, maybe fired publisher Judith Regan can get a job working for Mel Gibson.

Friday, December 15, 2006

That's Why They Call Them Crushes...

Today is Reveal Your Blog Crush Day, a concept conceived by two of my favorite chicks in blogdom, Ms Sizzle and The Ramblin' Sandra. On this day, bloggers from all over are revealing their crushes in the blogosphere. I'm late to the big reveal. It was a hellish day, which I will bitch about later. Right now I just want some wine and to not back out of my commitment to admit to my crush. The problem is, I have a few. That should really be no surprise to anyone, as most of you know I'm incredibly fickle. But let me make something clear, I do not necessarily want to have sex with any of these people...errr...bloggers. I just enjoy their writing and look forward to seeing what they have to say. But then again, sex could be an option if they weren't married. Or geographically undesirable. Or if they were actually human. Or if I actually knew what they looked like. Just remember, if you aren't listed here, that doesn't mean I don't crush on you. I may be too embarrassed to reveal my true lascivious feelings in the open.

  1. Rich of G3T Films: Not only is he a talented filmmaker, but he lives in my favorite city in my favorite country. We both have had disturbing windpipe injuries, and have both considered murdering our brothers. The 10,000 mile distance only adds to his allure, as there is no chance of ever actually meeting him at some ridiculous blogger convention.

  2. Danny of Jew Eat Yet?: I have only just discovered Danny of Jew Eat Yet? His writing is brilliant, his Jewishness hilarious, and his love and pride for his daughter makes my ovaries ache. After finding out that we both spent the same weekend with miserable colds watching That Girl on TV Land, how could I not crush on him?

  3. Todd of Death Wore A Feathered Mullet: Todd has been with me since my first week of blogging. He started out sweet and nice and even a little flirty, but then he discovered a certain word, and all hell broke loose. That's when my crush began. Any man who can use the C word as a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb - without being the least bit offensive - is my kind of guy. Too bad he doesn't have a blogroll.

  4. Michael of Skinny Legs and All : Even though he ran off and got married (to someone else!) without telling me, I still adore him. He is full of political righteousness, but is never insulting or belittling. He is more aware of world events than most broadcast news anchors. He is a well-traveled, successful, smart, true blue New Yorker who loves Italy as much as I do. And he is a true gentleman as well. Call me when your marriage falls apart! I wish you well in your future!

  5. Billy of Living the Romantic Comedy: Not only is Billy a published author and well-known screenwriter, but he is my new favorite film critic as well. I was truly floored and beyond flattered when I discovered he had linked me on his blog. And I do think, as he does, that he and I are married in some alternate universe. I'm sure he got me a beautiful ring.

And no list of mine would be complete without special mention of Monkey of Monkey's Deep Thoughts: Come on. Look at that fine face! Drink in his mind boggling movies! Listen to that velvety voice! Check out his humongous hoo-hah! I dare you not to fall in love with the Monkey. And Purple ain't so bad either.

There are others, but I don't want to look too slutty.

Shut up.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Yet Another Childhood Survey

Purloined from Lushy:

Are you a child of the 70s, 80s, or 90s?
The 70's. God, I'm old.

Where were you born?
The Jersey Shore.

What city did you grow up in?
A little beach side town on the Jersey Shore.

Did you enjoy your childhood?

When you were a kid what did you want to be when you grew up?
The first female football coach in the NFL. Seriously.

What do you want to be now?
Over sexed and independently wealthy.

Name the first memorable vacation you took as a kid?
When I was about six, my mother, brother, and I drove to Florida to visit my oldest brother in college. I was actually quite good for most of the trip, until I saw the giant Welcome to Florida sign, and then I started the ubiquitous "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" That lasted for the next nine hours until we got to Sarasota. Who knew Florida was so long?

What was your first best friend or friends' name?
Lori F. We found each other the first day of kindergarten. The teacher lined us up by height, and Lori and I were last. Being the two shrimps of the class, we found it wise to stick together.

Are they still your friend?
We stayed friends all the way through high school, where we continued to be the shrimps of the class. I haven't seen her in years. If I were to run into her, I would tackle her with all the delight of a slobbering puppy.

Can you name all the schools you ever attended?
Of course, I'm not that old.
You don't want me to do it here, do you?

Who was your first crush?
Richie H. in kindergarten. I started young. Even at five I could appreciate big blue eyes and long lush eyelashes. We walked to and from school together with our moms and I would pretend we were married. This did not please Lori F, as she too had an eye for the cuties. Fortunately, we never allowed boys to get in the way of our friendship.

Were you closer to your Mom or Dad as a kid?
I was always closer to my mom, but like Lushy, I longed to be closer to my dad. Daddy issues anyone?

Do you have any embarrassing school stories to share?
I used to beat up boys. Like, a lot.

What was the first record, tape or CD you remember buying?
Shadow Dancing by Andy Gibb.
Shut up.

Were you scared of anything?
I was afraid of our basement. It had all these creepy little rooms and closets from its former glory days as a speakeasy. Even though it was my favorite place to play, I still remember being petrified when it was time to go back upstairs. For some reason I had it in my head that if my feet were on the basement floor when I turned out the lights, the Boogie Man could get me. The lights had to be turned off before you went up the stairs, which posed quite the dilemma. So I would stand on the bottom step and lean over as far as I could so I could turn out the lights and not actually be touching the floor. I almost fell on my face on a daily basis doing this, but the Boogie Man never got his grubby paws on me. Suck it Boogie Man!

What was your favorite class in elementary school?
The first year the government started doling out money for the Gifted programs, I was tested and immediately sent to be in the new "Special" class. There were only a few of us in this little room, and I don't think our teacher, Mr. K, had a fucking clue what to do with us. I can still see the Incentive Chart on the wall covered with bright shiny stars to keep us interested. We were meant to put on some sort of play for the school, but that never happened. In fact, suddenly Gifted class just stopped and nobody ever told us why. It wasn't until I was about 30 years old that my mother gently explained to me that my beloved Mr. K had had a nervous breakdown and had been carted off in the Twinkie Mobile. I blame myself.

Broke any bones or had any freaky accidents as a kid?
I was quite the little athlete as a child, mostly because I thought I was a boy until the twins arrived. The two major injuries I remember were both sports related.
Injury One: in my valiant effort to avoid getting hit in Dodgeball, I slid across the gym on my shoulder and wound up slamming head first into a bench. You should have seen the look on the school nurse's face when she saw me - subdural hematoma anyone?
Injury Two: I was playing Kickball with the boys for the world championship (of the playground). I was in third grade at the time, and not only was I the only girl allowed to play, but I was the pitcher as well. The last one up was a fourth grade boy who snickered derisively when he saw that a girl was pitching. He kicked the ball right at me with all his might. I stood my ground, held my arms out, and literally caught the ball with my neck. I toppled over onto my back with the ball but never let go. We won!! Everyone was screaming and cheering and going wild until they realized I couldn't get up. The ball hit me so hard that I literally could not move, speak, or breathe. The aforementioned and now traumatized nurse actually thought that it had fractured my windpipe. Fortunately I was ok - after a week or so of bed rest.
The important point to remember here is that we won the game - because of me. That's all that matters. Windpipes come and go, but glory on the playground lasts forever.

Did you play house or pretend to be a super hero?
I did it all baby. I was a thoroughly modern woman.

Friday, December 08, 2006

Things I Have Learned From Relationships with Men

  1. How to drive on the left side of the road.
  2. How to drink Jack Daniels without making a face.
  3. Liking football does not make me less feminine.
  4. Tequila. Bad.
  5. Strawberry Body Butter. Good.
  6. Dimples make me weak.
  7. I am worth fighting for.
  8. If a man tells you he is not good enough for you, believe him.
  9. Men can't read minds.
  10. He either loves you or he doesn't. He's not "afraid" or "freaked out" or "going through a bad time."
  11. Stay away from bartenders and musicians.
  12. Being vulnerable will not kill you.
  13. How he looks is not as important as how he treats you.
  14. It's ok that I'm not perfect. So I have a bit of a potty mouth, deal with it.
  15. Always fight fair.
  16. After a break-up, do not leave the house unless you look fabulous.
  17. A king sized bed is an absolute necessity.
  18. Humor is hot.
  19. Smart is sexy.
  20. Sex is fun. Laugh. Enjoy. Don't hold back.
  21. Morning sex is better than coffee to get you going.
  22. It's ok to let him take care of you.
  23. Being alone is better than being in a bad relationship.
  24. Being alone is not the same as being lonely.
  25. Settling is not an option.

Inspired by This Fish. She did ten things, but I'm older, so I figure I should have learned more by now.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Crash Test Dummies

Dear Volkswagen,

Your "crash" commercials are on my last nerve. I hate them with every last fiber of my being. The only thing that could make them worse was if you had David Spade as your spokesman. Do you really think that showing people getting smashed into by some idiot on the road is going to encourage us to buy your product? I mean, seriously, where is the logic here? "Oh look, a traffic accident. My worst nightmare. Let's go car shopping." The moment a commercial comes on where two people are chatting away in their car, I change the channel. I'd rather watch bug-eating asshats on Fear Factor than suffer through another one of your inane ads.

These spots do not make me want to buy a Volkswagen, in fact, I am going to pronounce right here and now that I will never, EVER, buy a Volkswagen. I don't care if you invent a car that runs on dirty tap water, I'm not buying it because I hate your commercials that much. Not only do I not want to buy a car after watching your one of your advertisements, but I actually feel like getting into my car and ramming into a Volkswagen just for the hell of it.

Now go find an ad company that has a fucking clue. Maybe you should hire the company that created the spot below. This is funny. This is entertaining. And I am now going to Starbuck's to have myself a coffee cause the ad is that good. Let that be a lesson to you.

You better hope I don't see a VW on my way over there.

Signed, A Disgusted Viewer

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Virgo - The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I have to say, these pretty much sum me up. Except for the argumentative part. I'm not argumentative. Seriously, I'm not!

Shut up.