Let the Fun Begin

Yeah. It's like that.

Filming in 5, 4, 3, 2....6a.m.

I live in the middle of nowhere. Seriously. Smack. Dab. Nowhere. This is not far from my house. I could probably throw a rock from my driveway and hit this Joshua tree. (I have a really good arm)

Naturally you would think, that considering our remote location, traffic wouldn't be much of a problem for us.

You'd be wrong.

Every once and a while, Hollywood comes and borrows our wide open space. Normally, I don't mind sharing my desert skyline with the world. We welcomed Bill and Ted, The Flintstones and the Great Captain Kirk.

I can't even count the commercials and country music videos that have used this gas station as their backdrop.

That's great. I have no problem with that. It's actually kind of fun to slow down, take a mental picture, and try to pick out what movie it is that we have driven past and seen in the making.

But what does bug the crap out of me is this street. The bane of my existance.


Out here in the desert, we live with the reality of 'one way in, one way out.'

This causes me some trouble in that, EVERY TIME I am running late for school, the fools at Fear Factor, decide that they need a stretch of open road for a group of idiots to jump from one moving semi to another.

Therefore, the only direct and convenient way to get to work is closed. It wouldn't be so bad if they would put a sign up before you make the fatal and final turn. From the last left hand turn, to where you find the film crew, closed road and inevitably have to turn around, the drive to work is elongated by about 8 miles. And ohhhhhhh does it tick me off!

Fear Factor shouldn't really get all the blame. Sometimes it is the people from CSI Las Vegas. Sometimes it's a full length movie crews. Knowing that I am going to have to listen to a group of zero period students moaning about how I could dare leave them outside for 6.2 seconds longer than they expected REALLY makes me crazy.

Seriously....what Hollywood actors are awake, let alone out in the boon-docks and ready to begin filming at 6 in the bloody a.m. when I am trying to get to zero period ontime?

Sprung From The Clink With Questions

No I have not been in prison, thankyouverymuch. Your lack of interest in my well being is a bit underwhelming, but whatever. I'll get over it. I have more to write about my super-chaotic morning, but right now all I have to know is this...

Do any of the professional dancers on dancing with the stars even have butt cracks at all? Some of the outfits they wear are little more than well placed, sequined handkerchiefs...that dip very, very low....but their cracks never peek out.

I am starting to think that they must be some superhuman form that works so efficiently that they have no need for a functioning pooper.

If they are not some sort of alien life form that lacks the need for a butt crack, I would like to invite them to my classroom so that they can teach the kids, girls or boys, how to keep their butt crack covered up in ANY circumstance. These people are professionals!

911, What's Your Emergency?

Call it a healthy respect for the long arm of the law or neurosis, but I pocket dialed 911 today and I expect that I will be arrested at any moment for making prank phone calls. If you don't hear from me soon, it's cause I'm doing hard time.

I'll Settle For This

Here is my guarantee to all those worried about my marital status. I will marry the first guy that I find and can convince to do this at our reception.

I'm all in. The bar has been set.

*Since it looks like Johnny is spoken for, the field is wide open, gentlemen.

The Final Countdown

Today begins the countdown to the end of my 20's. Six months from now, I will be 30. It's my unbirthday. I'm not too worried about it at the moment. I've sent out a few forerunners, and they say it ain't so bad.

Nonetheless


If you feel so inclined, you can start saving for gifts. I will get a wishlist going soon. But know that I like things that shine and sparkle. And things that involve plane tickets. So yeah- saving up would be appreciated.

And could someone get on a countdown chain? You know, rip one off each day till the Big Day. That'd be great. Thanks.

After all, it's my birthday.

I Lean Like a Cholo

I think that I was just indirectly propositioned by one of my students. New kid said, "Hey Miss, I think I should introduce you to some of my older hommies. They have shaved heads and are all tatt'd up. I bet you'd be down with the g's."

My big problem with this statement, OLDER homies?!?! What the heck is that supposed to mean?

However, I am a little worried that this kid, in the three days that I have known him, has peered into my personal life with laser-like accuracy. Who's he been talkin' to?

I've been down that road. Uptight Mormon girl + Gangster= Heartache (for me) and frustration (for them). Even if he is a gangster with a heart of gold. That's just how I roll.

Stains that Remain

How is it that some stains never seem to disappear? Scrub and scrub but that damn spot never seems to go away. Out, damn'd spot! out, I say! Disobedient, blasted spots.

For the past little while, I have taken to a plan of denial. "No I don't have feelings for him. I never did. That was just merely helping to pass the time." Obviously, a defence mechanism of sorts. Ignore it and it goes away, right? RIGHT? That plan seems to fall apart when you run into them unexpectedly and the carpet gets pulled out from under you all over again.

Being that I grew up in the family that I did, where Wrestlemania XXIV was as regular an occurrence as the changing of the guards, I can tell you that it feels exactly like being kicked in the stomach. The nausea, lack of breath, sudden cold sweat...exactly the same. All at once you are no longer the clever, intelligent, confident lady that you once prided yourself in being. But now, you are a weak and fragile creature who wants desperately for what she can't have and wonders about what could have been. The aching comes and consumes with a voracity that is hard to explain. And you hate yourself, just a little, for being so easily derailed.

I wonder if this is strictly a female phenomenon or if guys just don't let on that they are affected the same way. If they aren't, lucky b@stards.

Namaste, My.....Butt

Every once in a while I have to do things that I absolutely hate just to remind myself the degree to which I hate them.


Hot yoga. One of those things.

One of my younger, thinner, more energetic friends was all jazzed about it. Having done it before, I knew that it sucked. Hard. Regardless, it seemed easier to tell her yes once than to be badgered about it, from here to eternity.

I am not sure how or why yoga people are so serious, but how do you not laugh when someone asks you to basically stick your head up your own butt? I should not be invited to yoga. EVER. So friends, please know that I am who I am. I am not the yoga studio type. I ruin the 'energy.' I can't take myself that seriously. Especially when it is 103 degrees and I am sweating like ...*something very sweaty!

*I had a few options of things to put there, but they seem a little more vulgar than is appropriate in print.


And fire breathing? Don't even get me started on fire breathing.

Only Option?

I am really not one to be superpolitically active, or much interested in the economy. But I read this today and it just makes me wonder.

I wonder how one gets to the point where, *insert sordid activity here,* seems to be the "only option." I realize France doesn't have a monopoly on social problems. We have plenty of people making similar choices here in the states. Heck, some of them are related to me. I just don't get it. It doesn't seem to me that the failing economy is not the only problem at work.

What is the internal conversation that takes place? How do people talk themselves into things that can't make them feel good on just a basic human level? Aside from the obvious, "Well, I'd rather turn tricks than be homeless," thought.

I guess that the thing that bothers me most is that everybody seems to do this to some degree. Not necessarily turn to prostitution in exchange for housing. Haven't done that since 'nam. But, why do we talk ourselves out of becoming more than what we currently are? Why not hold out for some thing better, be it a job, relationship, excercise, etc. Sure, sometimes people trade down out of what seems to be necessity, but not always. I guess that is the group that I wonder about. Probably because in many ways, that's me. I wonder how I trade down and give up great things for good things.

Laugh on, Little Babies

I like little babies, especially little laughing babies.

Freakin' Monkeys

Some day's I am the monkey. Today however, I am definately the dog. Freakin' monkeys.

Muchos Gracias, Mexico

Some things just fall naturally into list form. I would like to call this one,

Pienso Que, I'll Pass.

1) If you go to get a facial while at a 'resort' south of the border, you better have a plan for your swimsuit straps. One might figure, "Ehhhhh it's a facial. How much skin need be exposed?"

When just south of Tijuana, the correct answer to that is.....all of it. All of it, right down to your belly button, in fact. I have honestly never seen a woman's hands work as quickly. I walked in, sat down, and without a word or a moments notice my halter top was untied and down around my waist. Needless to say, teenage boys world wide could take a lesson from her. But I, a near 30 year old hetero-woman, was less than impressed with this particular showcase of her skills. I was a bit taken a back, but ehhhh I've got nice boobs. And it's Mexico, what do I care?

2)Two of my comrades signed up for massages. They were scheduled for the same time, but who would have thought that the same time slot automatically meant couples massage? One more lesson learned en Mexico.

As the story goes, they undressed, covered up with what amounted to a glorified hand towel, and dove enthusiastically into their massages. Both of the masseuse's proceeded to move and tuck the towel as various body parts were needed. The two shuffled back to our spot at the pool ashen faced and stinking with shame. Very few details were offered up, but as a group we decided that it is definitely crack that makes you naked.

Maury, I've never been naked with a coworker. Can you say the same?

3)All beaches in Mexico are NOT created equally. Some are filled with white sand, blue water and beautiful people. Some reek of sewage, house burned up cars and are threatened by the collapse of shanties teetering on the cliffs above. However, the excess of jagged rocks does make for handy bottle openers. If bleeding and open wounds in Mexico are your idea of a good time.

4) Vacations should not include sitting at a road block while machine gun toting soldiers, fully dressed in fatigues, poke into and around your car windows.

5) Riding horses on the beach is very idyllic and romantic in theory. In reality, horses crap. A lot.

6) Even if there is a long, thick, black hair in your fajitas, you still have to pay for them. And Los Cantantes will linger for their tip regardless of whether or not they received the international head nod meaning, "Hey-come on over here and sing to me. That's not awkward at all!"

7) Apparently, little Mexican men have the authority to close America. With just a rope across the freeway, one cone, an 8 1/2x11 sheet of paper with the word 'closed' scribbled across, anyone has the ability to close my mother country.

So, no. I will not be spending my spring break south of the border. I haven't washed my hands of Mexico en total. But I certainly have washed my hands of Baja California. A girl can only take so much adventure.

**Having a list of only 7 really bothers me, but whatever, I'm tapped out.

A Sad Realization

It didn't really bother me that the clock in my bedroom was an hour wrong. Turns out...it REALLY bothers me when the clock in my car is off. This year seems to be the first, in recent history, that I have not had a 'man-type thing' readily available to fix said problem.

Judge me if you will, but I can't figure it out. I will not admit defeat and resort to checking with the owners manual.

By my count, the score is now:
Me-1
The Man-1

Guess I better get busy makin' some friends. In the mean time, I suppose I should put some feelers out there. Let them make the first move. You know, help make them feel useful....I hear guys like that.

Gentlemen, I'd love your help.



Seriously.


I'm a helpless girl.


I'm not proud.

Testament to Perseverance

For approximately six months the clock above my closet has been an hour off. My little way of stickin it to The Man. Sure, it has screwed me up occasionally on days that were a little slow, because I could never quite remember if it was an hour fast or an hour slow. However, most of my days are full enough that it is the minute hand that matters, not the hour.

I can't even describe the pride that washed over me today when I got up for church and realized that I had won. My clock is now right again. It's the little victories that matter.

Current Score

Me-1
The Man-0

You're not Sick. You're Single

Most of my (non)dating life can be summed up here.


So when this little gem made it my way a few days ago, I've gotta say, I had very mixed feelings.

Like Maury said, it boils down to the age old debate of, "Do I settle and get married, or wait for Prince Charming and die alone?"I don't fancy myself overly optimistic, but this still made me feel like I had been kicked in the stomach. I read with an eye for satire, but I think that she was serious. And that really scares me.

I understand the premise of her thoughts, many people are destined to be single due to their misconceptions about what 'love' is and what marriage is supposed to be. Beyond that, I have decided that chick is a FREAKING LOON.

Being one who has an idea about the Plan, I REFUSE to believe that this lady is onto anything that even remotely resembles the right track. She has some good points. Love isn't always going to be fireworks, wine and roses. False expectations lead many to unhappiness, but I really don't think that she has struck the right balance between mature compromise and settling for whatever is available. That being said, I have a really hard time believing that the reason I am single is because I have set the bar TOO high.

Another idea that I jump on board whole-heartedly with is how very obnoxious it is to be told how lucky I am to be single. Yeah, yeah,I know that I have had many opportunities for travel and education that would have never come about had I been married. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for each and every one of them, but give it a rest!

For 1) that's kind of patronizing and 2) it's crap. Do you really think that my vacation pictures are, in any way, a fair trade for a family and posterity? Super cool vacations only keep you warm at night for so long. (And really- if your husbands are so terrible, leave them....send them along my way. Especially if they're hot!)

I don't think that the picture is as bleak as she has painted it. I don't think that it is nearly as black and white as she would have us believe. If I ever plan on sleeping again, I am going to have to tell myself that there are many shades of grey being ignored here. If that doesn't work, I'll just pop another ambien or two.

Anyhow-If this is what kicks her skirt up, then good for her. I guess. I just wonder how she plans on selling her package to perspective suitors.

"Hey, Mr. Just Barely Good Enough, I've got nothing better goin' on. Why not just get married so we each have someone legally bound to keep our household pets from feasting on our rotting flesh?"

Who on earth would sign on for that? Would you marry someone if you knew you were just their Mr/Miss Good Enough?

Sell your crazy elsewhere. I'm all stocked up here.

Tragically Un-Hip

I saw this on a friends web page and I have been mesmerized by it ever since.


As I am one of the least hip people on the planet, I have no idea who it is. That doesn't stop me from loving it to tiny bits and pieces. His voice is amazing. He sounds so vulnerable, so personal. I almost feel awkward watching, like I am intruding.

Anyhow- watch and enjoy. Then tell Joanna thank you!

Robbed by the Gestapo

I let the Tech Nazi's take my computer today to update some software....thieving rat bastards deleted my I-tunes. How do they know Carly Simon, Jon BonJovi, Ludacris and Death Cab for Cutie aren't integral to my students learning?

This means war.

Glutton for Punishment

I have spoken before about how one of my biggest fears is lighting my hair on fire.

I realize now that the runner up to Grand Fear Numero Uno is grating my fingers/knuckles with a peeler.

On Sunday, while making this delectable little treat, I did that very thing. It was probably God's way of telling me that I had no business making these twice, in as many day's....but I didn't let that little set back detour me.

However, Wednesday, three days later, my finger still throbs as a testament to the evils of gluttony.

Popular. I Know About Popular.

If any of you have a spare copy of 'How to Win Friends and Influence People' lying around, you may need to send it my way. I gotta say, I have been doing a piss poor job at getting along with people as of late. There has been much of jumping down peoples throats, biting heads off, etc. Children don't walk past my house...THEY RUN. Fine, I exaggerate, a little. But you get the general idea.

I can pin down a few of the reasons behind my prickly pear exterior, but nevertheless, I am in need of a real attitude adjustment. (That's not really a request for you to tell me what I should or should not be doing....just me thinking as I type.) I just seem to lack the energy required to maintain a good attitude.

I should probably just commit and get myself some sparkly red shoes. I like red. And sparkles. And flying monkeys to do my bidding would probably make my life exponentially mo-bettah. So that's what I'm looking into.

Are You Reading This?

I think my professor might be.

As I have mentioned before, one of my semester long assignments is to observe and keep a moon journal. I feel compelled to mock this assignment on a number of levels. I guess it is supposed to hone our powers of observation or some such nonsense.

Seriously, and if she was such a keen observer, she would have noticed that she put 4of the biggest jokers in the same group. Admittedly, we have had a good time with this nonsense. Last week, we got chastised for not taking our assignment as seriously as she would like.

Worst part...we were actually working and discussing the moon when she yelled at us! I am overwhelmed with righteous indignation.