Disclaimer: Some content is inappropriate for readers under 18 years of age or those offended by swear words, references to sexuality, atheism, and libertarianism.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Sheer Class.

Sadly, it's not uncommon for us 9th grade teachers to have pregnant students in the class, quite often they get pregnant over the summer in between their 8th and 9th grade years and I never know quite how to respond to them. I hardly feel comfortable squealing "Congratulations!" like I would to a colleague, but we seem to be at an age where we're expected to never say or do anything that may damage a student's ego, so I can hardly visibly wince and say "Yeesh. Your mother must be proud. What the hell are you doing, having sex at 14 or 15 anyway? Gross... Don't you still watch Nickelodeon?"

Now, I know I can't judge all pregnant teenagers the same way, but I'm certainly entitled to an opinion that this charming little lady inspired in me:

Pregnant Teen: (Groans and rubs her exposed belly as she hikes up her t-shirt all the way up under her breasts) Man, I love me some dick.

Friend: Shh, there's teachers...

Pregnant Teen: I don't care. I LOVE DICK and that's why I got this way...


I wish I were joking, or at least exaggerating or paraphrasing, but I'm not. She bears her bump more as an announcement to her enjoyment of sex rather than as a symbol of her love of children and the desire to nurture her own and the dream of raising the child with a partner she felt worthy of the privilege.

She's messed up. Her kid will be messed up.

And the fantastic cycle of shitty parenting, abuse or neglect, and preventable disabilities continues.

Super Mario Theme Music on Bottles


http://view.break.com/487616 - Watch more free videos

I've seen this before, but I'm still in awe. Now I'm just craving mushrooms of the 1up variety...

Thursday, May 29, 2008

To (Hopefully) Catch a Thief.



So some bastard/s broke into as many cars as he/they could in our neighborhood 3am on Wednesday, stole a bunch of stuff, including one lady's CD collection, a bunch of people's petty cash, our restaurant gift cards we keep in the car for outings, and one poor family's car itself. Normally our car is locked, but due to heavy rain and a bit of a crisis at the time, my poor husband neglected to lock the car. But, in the end, this worked entirely in our favor and I shall tell you why...

My husband had called to give me the news while I was at work on Wednesday, as I hadn't noticed anything was amiss when I left that morning. Cops had come by and unsuccessfully tried to lift prints of all the cars. They explained that the rain made it difficult to get anything substantial off of the exteriors and that the materials that made up the interiors were not very conducive to preserving usable prints. So they turned up with "zip". I was disheartened to say the least.

On my way home from work that day, I was annoyed thinking about how helpless we were in this situation and how irritating it was that the cops seems just as helpless given the circumstances. I drove to one of the restaurants we had gift certificates for and asked the bored looking employee if anyone had used any gift cards that day. Explaining my story seemed to perk her up and she excitedly brought out two gift cards that had been used that day. I stared at them and felt stupid not knowing how this would really help me. She pointed out that on each card is a unique serial number. Great! I'd go home and look into my e-mails for the receipts of my purchased gift cards and see if they gave serial numbers. They didn't, but my husband called the place I bought them from to see if they had the numbers. They did! I called all the restaurants we could remember buying gift certificates for and gave them our serial numbers, our phone number, and the cops' phone number.

Two hours later, we got a call from the one lady I had met in person. She told us excitedly that someone had come in and used one of our gift cards! He was on camera and they had called the cops to let them know! The detectives had left for the night, but we were told they would call us today to let us know what they find.

I so hope the camera footage isn't all grainy and useless like the ones you see on TV where you think that guy could be your neighbor or your own mother and you'd never be able to tell for certain.

Needless to say, I did a happy dance when I got the news, punched the air, and yelled various things like "YEAH BITCHES! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET! FUCKERS! HAHAHA!"

I look forward to hearing from the fuzz.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Wii Fit!


I’m in love. Since having to quit belly dancing for a little while, I’ve been actively engaged in the less than effective sport of channel surfing, so I was absolutely delighted when my darling husband was able to acquire Wii Fit for us. I love my husband for being so fantastic, and I love my Wii Fit because of my expanding ass and thighs.

I was never the type to make use of a gym. The cost, the humiliation, and the time required are more than I am willing to concede. Due to a long term shoulder injury acquired during the last show I was in this year (my rotator cuff is slightly screwed), I wouldn’t be able to make use of a lot of gym facilities anyway. Wii Fit is the best thing for me. I can track my weight, BMI, and even my skill at each individual activity.

Normally the only motivation for me to run would be to retrieve my daughter from the edge of a busy road or else to escape from the clutches of an evil maniacal villain. Not wanting to have to experience either in order to get my ass in gear, I was delighted to actually feel inspired to jog/run with Wii Fit. The additional motivation of unlocking new activities and difficulty levels is enough to spur this gamer on.

Two weeks ago, the only exercise I did was to walk into the woods with my daughter and carry her over the muddier bits in an attempt to benefit from the Jedi-and-his-midget-master method of burning calories. Didn’t work. I was especially unsuccessful at doing that flip with her on my shoulders. Kept falling off… Anyway, this past week, I worked out an hour and a half total. Yay me! I may lose these blasted saddlebags after all!

The only tweaking my husband and I agreed would be a bonus to Wii Fit would be to add a dominatrix style hard ass trainer who threatens to spank you if you fail your goal... Or achieve it... Whatever floats your boat, baby.

Abuse by "Peacekeepers"

Don't stories like these make you want to kill? This report by Save the Children UK made me want to scream in frustration. We do what we can, we bemoan our limitations, and yet the little ointment we have to offer these poor suffering children has a bunch of freaking hideous flies in it. What the hell is going on?? Where did things go so wrong that the people who are supposed to care, supposed to want to protect these children, are the ones destroying their lives? Save the Children UK proposes the creation of a global watchdog... Has the world gone insane? Do we now have to have human rights interest groups to monitor human rights interest groups? Watchers watching watchers? How sad is that?
I applaud Save the Children UK for forcing the international community to take notice of this ugly truth, but it certainly speaks of the sad state of affairs the world has come to when this kind of information comes to light and that there truly is no one in this world those poor children can trust and rely on.
I still heartily encourage you to search for the charity of your choice to make this world a little bit better for your having been in it. My husband and I sponsor a child through Save the Children (I found they spent the money more effectively than many other children's charities) and a woman through Women for Women International. I've been happy with both and sincerely hope the child and woman are too.

Friday, May 23, 2008

The Many Faces of "Tainty".

I have only had the honor of seeing Tainty strut his funky stuff four times, but I continue to be impressed by his artistic versatility. Since my trick I pulled on his “keepers”, I have since seen him:

  1. Wave the American flag and sway to “Born in the U.S.A.” in honor of the day I announced my passing the citizenship test
  2. Riding the back of a dead, preserved, vacuum sealed cat in a bag (courtesy of the science department)
  3. Dance in the hands of an honored staff member (whose retirement we celebrated today), much to the surprise of CandyComrade.
There are so many occasions to celebrate, our options are endless... Hmm... If only I had a teeny fedora...

I have also been entertaining myself by occasionally scribbling down monologues in the vein of The Office but from teacher characters of my imagination. They're probably only funny to me, but I'm enjoying myself, so what the hey. If they were half-way decent, I would consider asking my colleagues to act them out for a camera, but I'm figuring we don't really need YouTube time like that...

Speaking of YouTube, I cracked up the other day when I heard a teacher teasing his student:

"You wanna act up like that, we can take it to the hallway. You see that camera? It'll be all over YouTube."

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Teeth!


I finally got around to watching the movie Teeth. (IMDB link here). It's a concept that could so easily either make a really great movie, or a load of utter shite. Luckily, this one is of the former variety.

While I'm definitely no misandrist, I do believe in justice, but I flinched just as much as any man at the scenes where certain chaps were deprived of their manhoods. Literally. One is reminded of the extreme imagery of Hard Candy with the depiction of the innocent, Little Red Riding Hood figure set against a backdrop of Big Bad Wolves but then gets her revenge by "tackling" her enemy. (Like my pun? Lame, I know.) The biggest difference is that Teeth has laughs to offer. Granted it's not a full out comedy, but given the subject matter you'd expect it to be at least a little silly.

I felt that Mitchell Lichtenstein balanced just the right ratio of comedy to drama to horror. Not too funny, because frankly, it's no laughing matter to think of some poor sod losing his penis to a toothy vagina, but it doesn't take itself so seriously that you're deprived of wonderful lines such as "It's TRUE! Vagina Dentata! Vagina Dentata!" Very much reminiscent of the panicked chaos of monster movies of years gone by, which we are reminded of in moments where the characters are shown watching such movies throughout the film.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Mind Games?

Our school psychologist really is a very special man. We have an enormous number of children who clearly exhibit signs of mental illness but as they have never been formally identified or diagnosed, they tend to just fill up our discipline lists until something someone gets up off their ass and they get identified. Only after consulting with counselors, teachers, administrators, parents, shamans, telephone psychics, chicken entrails, and the stars do we steel ourselves to the inevitable conversation with our school psychologist.

It only took one full year, but I finally got My Little Project identified as having special needs. Of course he failed everything in the mean time and had to repeat the grade, but hey… Better late than never, right? Forget the statistics on the number of kids who repeat a grade who end up dropping out.

But I digress. The main thrust of today’s little story involves a girl who has grown accustomed to the looming shadow of authority, is the reason we have her parole officer on speed dial, and has known the fear of trying to decide if her police issued anklet will electrocute her in the shower or not. She’s a colorful personality to say the least. We have tried everything under the sun to motivate her, but with a home life like hers, we may hear of a snowball fight in hell before we see a lasting positive change in her life. Now, don’t get me wrong… I haven’t given up all hope for her making progress, just that it’s extremely unlikely if things remain as they are. We resigned ourselves to the fact that we’d have to get in touch with our clueless psychologist. He was to observe her in her science class. At least this time he asked which student she was at the start of the period. I recall an instance where he was to observe a student in his class and waited until the end of the class to ask which kid it was he was meant to be watching, only to discover that the kid wasn’t even at school that day. I kid you not.

He asked which girl was Yolanda and was calmly informed that Yolanda isn’t even her name. In fact, her name isn’t even remotely LIKE Yolanda, and anyway, she hadn’t returned from jail yet. After she had returned, she was sent to his office for their first meeting. At the end of that day, our psychologist approached my colleague:

Psychologist: So I met with her today.

Science Teacher: (realized the idiot has forgotten her name again)… Yes?

Psychologist: Well it was going really well, until she asked to go to the restroom and never came back… (Science Teacher tries not to laugh at both the scenario and the genuinely confused look on the psychologists face. Obviously, the guy has yet to face reality.)

But then comes my favorite part.

Psychologist: I don’t understand it… She’s SUCH a pretty girl…

They stood there in silence for a few moments before my colleague promptly abandoned the conversation, leaving the mind-bogglingly stupid statement to hang in the air like a sagging, semi-deflated helium balloon that says “CREEPY” all over it.

What the hell…?

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

When It's Best To Say Nothing At All.

The day after I passed my citizenship test, I was so flustered that I locked my keys (camel key chain and all) in my car for the first time in my life.

Fortunately, I was already at work, have AAA membership, and had the whole day ahead of me to regain access to my car. Apparently, a student had seen me out with the kind gentleman who was helping to open my car up.

Dodgy Student: Hey TeacherLady, did you have people at your car today?

TeacherLady: Yeah, I locked myself out.

Dodgy Student: Hey, you shoulda called me, I got the hanger in my locker!



However, one of my favorite incidents when pleading the 5th may have been a wiser choice was in this conversation:


Girl: Do you ever get stressed in your job?

TeacherLady: Yes, very.

Girl: What do you do?

TeacherLady: I just go home, put a dent in the sofa and watch some TV with my husband after playing and reading with my daughter for a bit. I feel bad for my daughter because, frankly, I lose most of my patience here at work. I try my best, but work takes a lot out of me. (Trying to guilt them into behaving better. It’s kind of charming how naïve I can be sometimes. You got a bridge to sell me?)

Girl: You should just smoke some weed. (she mimes taking a toke and leans back in her chair with her eyes half closed.)

TeacherLady: Er no. I’ve never smoked weed. Chocolate and TV will suite me fine.

Girl: Really?

Second Girl: Really? You’ve never smoked weed? Not even on New Year’s?

THAT'S the one! That’s the line that will make me laugh every time I think of it. Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner! The implication that a parent has, at some point, said “Oh go on, it’s New Year’s Eve, you can have a puff” to a girl who was 14 last New Year’s Eve. Ho-ly crap. It’s sad and funny at the same time.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Reality Is What You Make Of It.


Did you know that my students have the power to bend reality with the power of their minds? I have one student in particular who is quite deft at his ability to alter the very fabric of the universe using only his thoughts. Here is one of the many examples of his spectacular feat:

He is standing up in science class, with his t-shirt in his hand, dancing in an attempt to display his bare chest to the rest of the class. He's singing some song that involves the lyrics "My shirt off, my shirt off..." etc.

Science Teacher: What are you doing? Why is your shirt off?

Pinocchio: My shirt isn't off.

Science Teacher: It's off and in your right hand.

Pinocchio: No it isn't.

Impressive, no?

I've had troubles with this kid all year because no matter how blatant his behavior, and regardless of the fact that you were a witness to his actions, he will look you in the eye and totally deny he did anything at all. I'm guessing his career choices come down to lawyer, politician, actor, or chronic repeat offender #24601.

Friday, May 09, 2008

Passed the Test!


I pass my citizenship test yesterday, so I'm on my way to becoming an American citizen. For those who may be interested in following a similar path, I have come up with a list of ideas that contributed to my complete success.

1)
DO NOT suck up by wearing red, white, and blue or an "I Love America" t-shirt. It'll look like you're trying too hard, as though you've got something to hide. Instead, wear a burqa. It's like reverse psychology. You show you've got nothing to hide by hiding everything in plain sight.

2) DO NOT wear a fanny pack/bum bag under your clothes.

3)
DO NOT use the word "infidel" or "jihad", even in casual, cordial conversation about last night's game.

4)
DO NOT tell the interviewer you don't give a flying fuck at a rolling donut about his daughter/son/grandson/or himself (or in my case, ALL of the above). Just smile, nod, make empty, vapid, clichéd responses and try hard not to think about how expensive your parking fee is racking itself up to in the meantime.

5)
DO NOT think too hard or for too long when the interviewer questions you about any possible criminal past. Nor is it advisable to respond with "not that anyone knows of..."

6) DO NOT assume that doing the Basic Instinct leg cross is a sure fire way of expediting matters.

7) Nor a low cut top.

8) Nor a mini-skirt.

9) Nor laying yourself over the desk and crying out "Oh give it to me, big boy, make me squeal Yankee Doodle Dandy, baby!" That may work when getting a Green Card, but they raise the bar when it comes to actual citizenship.

10) DO NOT get the theme song from Team America: World Police stuck in your head so steadfastly that you have to use every fiber of your being to avoid belting out "AMERICA! FUCK YEAH!" Wait until you get back into your car.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Baby Mama.

Our school psychologist is clearly a being from another planet. There is no other way to explain the sheer magnitude of his inability to grasp the social and cultural practices of the human race. Last week, this conversation took place between him and BlueEyes, a special education colleague of mine.

Psychologist From Outer Space: Could I ask you a question?

BlueEyes: Sure.

Psychologist From Outer Space: What does... "Baby mama" mean?

BlueEyes: Uh. It means... The baby's... Mama... (the Psychologist squints and leans forward to imply his interest in what his patient... Er, I mean colleague, is saying. The pause indicates he may need more explanation). It just doesn't have the possessive.

Psychologist From Outer Space: Ah. So the mother doesn't take possession of the child.

BlueEyes: Er. No. I meant it's just "Baby Mama" without the apostrophe s.

Psychologist From Outer Space: Ah, I see. Thank you. (He wanders back to his room as if in a haze, no doubt about to radio back to the Mother Ship to share his new findings.)


Just once, I'd like this man to actually do his freaking job. Just once I'd like him to get the students' names right. Just once, I'd like him to get a freaking clue.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

TeacherLady and the Curse of the Monkey King


There are some traditions that must never be toyed with. For instance, I would rather slam my hand in a car door rather than dare not eat a Cadbury Cream egg at Easter time, no matter how much I want to puke after I've overindulged on them... I would never watch the Amazing Race without a toasted bagel smothered in Nutella, and I would never eat Fanfare chocolates (when they were available... SOB!) without sucking out the lovely, melty hazelnut chocolate in the middle... Sigh... Okay, now I sound like a fat-ass seeing as all my traditions revolve around hedonistic eating habits... But anyway, you get my point.

There is one such tradition that I dared to violate this week, and I have paid the price. The tradition is this: My good friend CandyComrade has a classroom that adjoins with the ScienceTeacher I work with. The doors between them are the kind that can be opened in two parts, the top or the bottom halves or both. Every Friday, in honor of her ability to project her voice well, they swing open the top portion of the door and parade a small toy monkey back and forth, squeezing it to make the sound that they claim sounds exactly like CandyComrade. They have delighted in doing this every Friday for the past 8 months. Until now. You see, their new idea was to have guest monkey squeezers come on down and share in the moment. This week, they asked me. I was hesitant, knowing how irritated Candy and her students get at the furry little primate's various dance routines accompanied by the howling, but I accepted thinking I'd figure something out. Whatever I did, I was going to make someone mad.

I e-mailed her my plan in the morning. I told her I was to be the guest monkey squeezer and that she should position herself near the door and quickly grab the monkey from me and take him hostage.

Oh, it's at this point that I must let you know that the monkey has a name. It's Tainty. "Taint" has become quite a popular word in my circles of friends, and quite rightly so. It's a great little noun.

I knew the "boys" would be angry, but I wasn't quite prepared for their zealous need to reclaim Tainty. One of them shoved me aside and chased Candy around her class. He saw my fork, seized it, and continued to chase after Candy. Another one bribed Candy's class with the offer of five dollars to anyone who could recapture Tainty. Candy countered that offer with a threat of writing up anyone who did return Tainty. Tainty was recaptured, then kidnapped back again by the very same student (playing both sides of the game, smart move) and he ended up being crucified on one of Candy's walls as a signal that the "boys" were messing with the wrong chicks. Uh. It was Tainty who was crucified, not the kid.

Anyway, I am henceforth to be known as "Benedict Arnold" by all three of the "boys" and it makes me laugh.

I guess I'll never be asked to be a guest monkey squeezer anymore. Bummer.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Out Of The Mouths of Babes



This video was shared on Discarded Lies and I absolutely adore it. How ghetto is that council woman? And how brilliant, how charming, and how succinct! I bet her teacher loves her. I also bet she points out any little mistake her teacher may make. I love kids like that. Smart asses.