Thursday, May 31, 2007
It's so good to know you've got the UN and Amnesty International on the case. I fully expect all of this to be wiped out by the time my daughter goes to college and appreciates the fact that her risks pale in comparison to that of her 'sisters' on the other side of the globe. Of course I won't let her live on campus, I got enough sexual harrassment on an American college campus (by students and staff) to figure out we are never really safe, but we do what we can.
Oh boy, she's going to hate me.
Subject: Teachers and drinking. It is no secret that teachers consume alcohol and sometime in large quantities. Sometimes it is just socializing after the football game or parent-teacher conference, but most of the time it is a way to forget the spoiled kids they deal with for 8 hours a day 185 days a year. Below is how the average subject teacher may drink.
English: Females will drink wine or martinis. Generally is a slow drinker and will only have a few before going, mostly Guinness, Bass, or Stella. Usually English teachers are the last ones to the bar and the first ones to leave.
Fine Arts: Their title says it all. Sophisticated people prefer sophisticated drinks. They often ask for something the bar doesn't have and then settles for a mixed drink or lite beer (in a glass). They often doodle on a napkin which may eventually turn into a lesson plan.
Business: They usually drink mixed cocktails or high end beer. They will engage in conversation usually about something they saw on CNBC or read in the Business section of the Tribune. Also known to drink their fellow teachers under the table after an especially bad day.
Science: Science teachers will vary by field of study, but many of them can tell you the process in which the alcohol they are drinking was created. Some are very simple people and just drink beer and like to have fun while doing so. Some are very sophisticated and will drink high end Martini's or Cosmopolitans. Many drink like they teach: "let's try something, see what happens, then analyze it and maybe repeat the process looking for similar results give or take one standard deviation."
PE/Health/Driver's ED: They drink beer, off the tap, out of a bottle,by the pitcher and it doesn't matter the brand as long as it's cold.They will also be the first to order shots and order plenty. Often times you will find them playing darts, pool, or anything competitive. Generally they are the aggressive ones and will approach many individuals trying to "Score". They are the first ones into the bar and the last ones to leave.
Math: These teachers think they are cool because they know exactly what 15% is of any tab and tip exactly that. The women will drink wine or something mixed with diet soda. The men are beer drinkers but lightweights compared to the PE or Social Studies staff.
Social Studies/History/Govt. etc: These teachers like to play trivia and generally drink beer. Lots and lots of it. They usually relate well with the PE and Business staff and will get to the bar early and will stay late.
Foreign Language: These teachers will order something from their native language and try to look cool. They may engage in conversation other than in English with the bar patrons or staff. They generally arrive late and leave early.
Special Education: Drink to get drunk and they don't care what kind of booze it is. If you had their day you would too. These teachers should have an alcohol per diem written into their contract.
Other Electives (Computers, Shop, Auto, Home Ec): Don't go the bar with these teachers unless you're ready to spend the night. Like the SPECIAL ED crowd, they often have the students that nobody else really wants--not necessarily the college-bound crew. They drink heavily and it doesn't matter what it is, give them a break because you don't want to be them and you don't want to get into it with them when they're drunk, which is often.
ADMINISTRATION: Should buy the 1st round but generally don't. They usually have 1 or 2 drinks and leave early, before they bond TOO much with the staff. Males will have a beer and try to fit in with their teachers. Females will drink something lighter or fancier and will also leave early or just never show up. However, all bets are off if the administrator used to be PE/Health/Driver Ed before going over to the Dark Side. Those will drink you under the table.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
I wonder how schools with metal detectors function...? Hmm...
A series of skeletons by Hyungkoo Lee that may look a little familiar to you... Can you guess which Warner Bros star has been stripped to his bare bones in each one? Traumatise your kids and have them guess too!
Friday, May 25, 2007
TeacherLady: Really? What happened? Who was it?
ST: Some skinny white kid with a 'fro with a dirty little mustache. Upper classman. Real jerk. He was cussing out the seniors outside my door, so I told him to quiet down and leave, and he starts yelling "Fuck you! Motherfucker!"
TL: Wow. Okay. Bit extreme.
ST: Oh he was going off on everyone. So I'm leaving later on and he's by the buses yelling "Fuck you!" at me again and another teacher calls him by name and says "Don't make it worse" and he said "I'm already getting suspended so I'm getting my money's worth- Suck my dick, bitch!"
Whatever happened to tucking a tail between one's legs when one gets in trouble? I guess this guy didn't have the room what with the colossal balls he seemed to have in the way.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
I feel a little bad that the changing face of young Arab singers is moving towards a more... Well... Slutty look because it only reinforces what traditional Arabs perceive to be the evil influence of the West.
Why be a Bratz tart...
When you can be a fabulous Fulla?
Actually, it's really hard to find pictures of the non-hijab-wearing Fulla doll, since the media is far more excited about the extremes than a true representation- surprise surprise- but I was pleasantly surprised by the (what I would call) 'modestly' dressed dolls who were classy as opposed to... Whorish.
I shall have to buy one the next time I'm back home so my little girl can throw it away and scream about how she wants a real Bratz doll like all her friends and how she hates me and my fascist attitude towards parenting and if I'm so in love with the ideals of the 'motherland' that I should just go back there and that I'm a hypocrite anyway because I've got my own share of tight little outfits and low cut blouses and GOD why are parents so retarded? They, like, totally forget that they were young once and if I'd only listen to what her boyfriend Seth has to say, I'd realize he's a really sweet guy and stop making fun of his lisp because he can't help it since he got his tongue split, and when am I going to get off her back and let her start taking the pill and get a tattoo like all the other 7th graders?
Oh I'm sorry. I sometimes get flashes of the future and a little part of me dies.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
In science class, which seems to be an apt place to bring up subjects of an anatomical nature (despite not being a biology class), student 1 yet again managed to dredge up a real ice-breaker for parties:
Student 1: What do you call it when you have both the meat and the girl parts?
Science teacher:… A hermaphrodite. (His eyes dart towards me. He knows material for a few teacher-only meetings is coming our way). Why do you ask?
Student 1: How is that possible?
Science teacher: The person is born with both parts, but one usually works better than the other so they… become one sex only. Through surgery.
Student 1: So I might have been like that??
Student 2: Boy, if I had both I’d have sex with myself all day long.
(TeacherLady thinks: And that’s different how…?)
Student 1: Na man, you could get pregnant... Do you think I could grow boobs?
I silently pray these students never get anyone pregnant. Ever.
You can talk to me until you're Pacific Blue in the face about the talent required for abstract art such as this, but I think too many "appreciators of art" are afraid of really speaking their mind for fear of looking stupid, which they already do in their poncy berets, black turtleneck sweaters, soul patches, and shades indoors (Apparently all art appreciators are beatniks from the 1950s).
It's shit. It's okay to think it's shit. I've seen abstract I do like, and THIS AIN'T IT, sweetcheeks. It's not clever, innovative, or delightfully unsettling and unpredictable to my visual senses and expectations. Even if someone did like it because it matched their awful sofa set, who on Earth would actually believe it's worth $72.8m???
I despise artists who try too hard to be different. They try so hard to defy expectations that they even deny that they're trying. They probably wouldn't want to be classed as "anarchists" because that would imply they belong to a group with shared beliefs.
Exhibit A: The Wikipedia entry:
Mark Rothko born Marcus Rothkowitz (September 25, 1903 – February 25, 1970) was a Latvian-born American painter and printmaker who is classified as an abstract expressionist, although he rejected not only the label but even being an abstract painter.
Wow. He must be fun at parties.
You can tell I'm not the type of person to put any worth into celebrity discarded garbage either. If I had John Lennon's snot-filled hanky, I'd sell it. I wouldn't frame it, pray to it, make music videos starring it, I'd just make some idiot pay for something that involved no talent at all, as they are wont to do.
At the end of the day, they're only human. Their talent may be worthy of recognition (OR NOT), but at the end of the day... Celebrities eat Hot Pockets, poo (quite soon after the Hot Pockets), scratch their arses, and sing in the shower like the rest of us.
Take a look at Rothko's other pieces, and try your best to convince me otherwise.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Today I was asked a question, not for the first time, that makes me feel just that little bit older:
"Are you married to your baby daddy?"
I try to be hip. I'm down with my G's. I ain't no lame-ass punk. I gots my wageezies (or however the hell you spell that). But... Am I married to the father of my child? Seriously? I could only imagine how my teachers would have reacted if I had asked them the same question. My cheek would probably still be hurting to this day.
Instead, I hesitated for a moment and said "Yes, we're married." And she said "oh", as though my case were a delightful departure from the norm, perhaps with the thought that I must be some sort of Super Woman for being able to keep my man to myself. I guess this means I should get back to being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. AGAIN.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
You know how when you learn a new word, it seems to crop up time and again soon after? It seems my exposure to the whole concept of ganja is sprouting weed stories all around me.
Student 1 (of the infamous Gardening Time incident and unsuccessful drug bust): What if you don't remember anything since 13 years old?
I guess we can thus extrapolate when he started puffing his brain cells away! Drugs are bad, m'kay?
Frankly, I'd be nervous about reading those essays. More than once, you read a kid's biography and you learn something so horrific, you no longer wonder why the kid seems so angry at the world. You'd be surprised at how big and tough they make themselves out to be in the classroom in contrast to the scared, lonely, angry, or depressed child they willingly reveal themselves to be to the one adult they know will always be there for them no matter how shitty they act.
I remember Queen Latifah, or so I nicknamed her for her uncanny resemblance to the songstress, and how hard she acted in front of her peers- boasting about how her dog was put into a dog fight, but the stupid thing had got itself killed.
She mentioned it more than once.
Then, in an essay to me, she wrote about how her father had taken her puppy without her knowledge or permission and put it into that one dog fight that had got it mauled to death and that she missed her puppy very much.
Or the girl whose mother beat her, or the other girl whose father raped her, and the countless others we don't even know about.
Perhaps when my daughter is older, I should have her write essays about me... You never learn so much about the stupidity of adult mankind as when you read the writings of a child.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
"Are you willing to travel one way?"
"Were you bullied as a child?"
"Do you suffer from any pre-existing condition? (Like we really care, Red Shirt.)"
"Are you morbidly obese? We need more human shields and the skinny dudes just aren't cutting it."
"Do you have- or would you like us to assign you- a cool nickname by which the press can use when the US is hunting your ass down? You can't take "Dr. Evil", we don't want another copyright infringement mess. You can't take "Osama's Right Hand Man" either. Yet. Once we're down to you, it can be your turn. And you can't take "Harbinger of Death" either, because that's mine and I'm sick of people trying to steal my ideas."
"Do you like kittens? Anyone who says 'no' to this just isn't right in the head and we don't want some fucking loony on the job."
In the world of gamers, sentences are strung together using combinations of words you would never have dreamed of before...
May I present to you last week's beauty...
"I took a midget to the chest... And almost died!"
"The Demonic Nazi Cow Rustlers of New York? It's all so clear to me now."
I'm glad, at least, that I don't game with anyone as loony as the chaps described in this thread where people share descriptions of the creepiest people they've ever gamed with. Our friends directed me to this website, so if I read any post about a creepy Arab chick, I'm going to feel obligated to stalk all of them and unleash some badass spells on their butts.
Seriously, I'm lame, but not THAT lame. I know my WIS isn't that high... I know because I checked out my real life stats on this page. Their system is flawed, however, because if they think going to college makes you a smarter person, they haven't been to college lately. I'd never seen so many idiots gathered in one place short of a political rally.
Monday, May 14, 2007
I can see how it wouldn't be to every one's tastes, but it certainly matched mine! I was reminded of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (even in the title, where the transition from stage to screen meant an inclusion of a new word- 'picture' or 'movie'), Little Shop of Horrors in the depiction of the romanticised American youth of yester-year against a B horror movie backdrop with grotesque theatrical lighting, and the tongue-in-cheek overacting of Trey Parker or even Bruce Campbell came to mind too. The larger chorus numbers echoed the sweaty adolescent chanting and tribal dancing of Hair. Mix all these ingredients and you have a whole lot of fun!
I've always had a strange attraction to the grotesque theatrics of productions such as those, as well as to characters like Joel Grey's Emcee in Cabaret, the overly made-up dancers in Strictly Ballroom or Moulin Rouge. I think it's the underlying lust under a seemingly innocent facade that I find enticingly naughty and exciting!
I heartily add it to my list of movies and my husband and I joke about making it our next submission to the local community theatre group we direct and act with.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Dear Mr Noone,
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You’ll realise how good it feels to let go. Wonderful days with beautiful new ideas lie before you. Our online catalogue ‘One Life’ will show you the latest and most important visual trends and will inspire you to fresh, stunning ideas.
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Horst Zsifkovits Vice President of Sales Central and Northern Europe "
I love it when I gain a new perspective through the shining young men and women of tomorrow.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Doubtlessly, I'll be able to expand upon this topic as life continues to trundle on.
These backstage blogs have some nice footage of the talent involved, snippets of music, and a wonderful look at the costumes and acrobatics. I'm not sure when I'll next be in London, but I'd definitely go see this.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
We often joked amongst ourselves as to what would happen if we didn’t do them, and one of us has just found out.
“They put it in my file!”
“Seriously? I always wondered what would happen.”
“They told me I have to do them all. Now. I said ‘I don’t have time for that!’”
“Yeah, the rest of us bums don’t do any work, that’s how we have the time…!”
“I called over and asked them- 'if I do them now, would you take it out of my file?' ”
“She started freaking out and said (in his best falsetto) ‘No, we can’t do that! You should have done them before. Just get them done.’… I’ve worked here for years and done them so many times! I WROTE the one on sexual harassment!”
“So what did you say?”
“I said ‘I just won’t do them then, and by the way, what type of panties are you wearing’ HAHAHAHA!”
The great thing about this guy is that I’m not even sure if he’s joking about the last line or not!
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Monday, May 07, 2007
My sisters-in-law invited me along to their friend's sleepover party, and not having been to a sleepover since I was a teenager, I joked that we should have a pillow fight in skimpy camis ala John Hughes 80's teen sex comedy.
For lack of camis, we did it in our bras. And took pictures. May they never see the light of day.
Prior to that, we had decided that the instructions in tampon boxes could be misleading and unclear, and so some of us volunteered to demonstrate correct usage of the sanitary items (we were all fully clothed, so don't be TOO grossed out). I decided that all good teachers utilize non-examples as well, and so as one woman posed with the aforementioned item poised at her ear, one of my sisters-in-law stood next to her waggling her index finger indicating that the usage was incorrect. You can probably guess where else was an inappropriate position for the tampon to be.
It was liberating to be a teenager again, and it's definitely something every woman should do. You don't necessarily have to do the tampon thing per se, but being a teenager without all the stupid hang-ups and laughing for the sake of your sanity is a beautiful thing.
Friday, May 04, 2007
A white student was reading aloud a passage in the book and the word "negro" came up.
MLP was jarred out of his reverie.
MLP: What did you say?
History teacher: Sit down.
MLP: He can't say that...!
History teacher: SIT down, MLP.
MLP (addressing the white kid): It's ON motherfucker. Say it to my goddamn face!
History teacher: Right. Get out. Now.
MLP shouts more profanity on his way past the white kid and out the door. The principal is passing by and he's quickly briefed by the history teacher who is trying to keep his class going. The principal explains MLP's error to him out in the hall.
Moments later, MLP pokes his head in the room and in an almost jovial, but very sincere tone he pipes:
Now if he could only get the real 'n' word out of his own vocabulary, we may be getting somewhere!
Wow. And I thought Bratz dolls would give the girls of today enough of a lesson in whoredom!
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Oh alright. It's not THAT bad, but I'm still charging them for the use of my ferry service for me to get to them every time they have a question. It cuts down on the stupid, lazy questions when they know they have to pay for it.
When I was pregnant, I would always sit back at my desk while my students worked on their various assignments in my room so that any time they had a question, I would make a big show of hauling my vaguely mother-Earth physique over to them, huffing and puffing the whole way. The number of pointless questions dropped dramatically, thanks to the presence of actual empathy and the awareness that asking what a question means before even reading it may not be a justifiable reason to make the lady with the ever widening ass to hyperventilate her way over.
When I think about it, my pregnancy came in handy in other ways too... Rather than being the stick-in-the-mud to be ignored when I said something along the lines of "watch your language", I could instead say "Oh my! Shh.. The baby will hear!" and get a smile out of them as well as an apology.
I also used it as a form of contraception. I actually told some curious female students who gushed with comments like "Oh I can't wait to have a baby!" about the wonders of the episiotomy.
"They cut you... THERE?"
"Yup, if the baby's too big, or you're too small, they make a cut THERE. If they don't, they're a big chance you just RIP. And I've heard the stitches can sting for a while afterwards... And going to the bathroom..? Woohoo!"
I stood back and watched in delight as the girls took their horrified expressions over to their friends and the look spread like wildfire.
I hope I ruined the chances of many teenage sweaty encounters for at least a week. I may be on to something in the area of teaching abstinence to 15 year olds. I'm sure someone could get a hold of enlarged color photographs to act as visual aids...
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
I'd much rather see his graffiti than the shite I see that's not even legible- the big bubbly lettering that looks vaguely girly but you know it was done by some 16 year old who thinks he's as hard as nails. You're not cool and you're not making a name for yourself when no one can bloody read what you've written!
It's one of my favorite short films and it sums up our fears of becoming what we hate- forgetting about the little pleasures we took in life before we "grew up".
We don't have to count ourselves amongst "those" people. We've still got plenty of trees to climb nd games of pretend to play. Like now. I'm pretending I'm going to pick up that pencil and start drawing again. I will. Really. Maybe NEXT weekend.