DeadpanAnn (old blogger version)

Carpet's in. It looks pretty good. The only part we're not totally happy with is the living room.

Did I ever tell you about the living room? We have a sunken living room, and the carpet goes one foot up the wall, presumably because that's the only way to have the chair rail at the same height in that room as it is in the other rooms, or maybe because the butt ass ugly wallpaper crap the former owner put on the bottom of the wall wasn't long enough to go from chair rail to floor because of the extra foot of wall. Anyway, putting carpet a foot up the wall in sunken living rooms is apparently a common thing.

It looked okay with the old carpet, but I wanted to get rid of it and just redo the walls and everything at one time. TH said we should leave it up there for now because A) we didn't know what would be revealed when the carpet was pulled off the wall and B) we eventually want to get rid of the paneling in there and put up sheet rock.

We didn't pull the carpet off the wall because it was glued. The installers had to do it. TH said when they pulled it off, the wall underneath was nothing but boards nailed in. Boards of random shapes, sizes, and colors. It's unclear whether they're nailed on top of paneling, or what. Anyway, they just put carpet over it, but the new carpet doesn't look right like that. Okay, I realize that I'm complaining that carpet doesn't look good on the wall, but like I said, this is supposedly a fairly common practice. But apparently not all types of carpet are suitable for this. It just looks...odd. We'll get used to it.

The carpet in the rest of the house looks really good, and it's making me even more eager to get rid of the old decor on the walls. If I could get rid of the maroon and teal circa 1990 crap and get some neutral colors on the walls and a couple of nice lamps, it might start to look like grown ups live here. The living room's gonna require lots of work. It'll be a hell of a project, and even though I would like to get it done before we start procreating, I dare not press TH about it right now. He was here all day with the installers (whose lack of attention to detail undoubtedly drove him up a wall, no pun intended) and when I walked in from work, he looked like he was ready to shoot someone. Or himself. Or both. Which is not really good because the guns are all out of their usual hiding spots right now, and within sight and reach.

If we ever buy another house, which I can only hope we eventually do, I can think of a few things that I will NOT settle for.

Our next house will not have/be:

old carpet
outdated decor on the walls
wall paper of any sort
linoleum anywhere (there's linoleum in both of the bathrooms, and it sucks)
paneling
sunken living room
strange closet doors
brown trim
trim that has paint drops on it because stupid ass rednecks screwed it up
rednecks across (or down) the street
biggest house on the street
in a neighborhood
giant pile of abandoned debris in the back yard
jacked up landscaping
textured ceilings
outdated lighting fixtures
only one possible place to put the t.v.
weird foot-high brick ledge in the living room
wood burning stove/heater in living room (Either put a real fireplace in, or just leave the idea alone.)
old garage door

That's right. I want new carpet, freshly painted neutral walls, white trim, normal closet doors, and updated everything. I also want all new appliances. And no neighbors. So I basically want to build a new house in the country.

I think we should stop spending money on toys and start saving for our mansion on a hill.

Labels: this house is trying to kill me

The dance was interesting. I spent the entire night standing outside the doorway talking to a male coworker and a Scotch-Irish cop. A real Scotch-Irish, not just a white cracker who says he's Scotch-Irish because his great great great somebody was. It was the most interesting conversation I've had in a long, long time. The guy has lived all over the world, and from what I could tell he loves two things: movies and talking. He had great stories about the different places he's lived, which include Israel and Greece and New Zealand. He also had great stories about people he's arrested or worked with in his job, which includes the serial killer from Hattiesburg, who he recently transported to Whitfield to be evaluated. That trial starts tomorrow. The guy killed some people in Hattiesburg and took them to Kansas in a freezer. The woman who helped him has already been tried, and got the death penalty.

The reason we were outside the whole time during the dance is because as the kids approached the building, they tended to congregate outside the door. We wanted them to either be inside the gym or leave the campus, so I guess we were on parking lot duty. None of the kids did anything wrong, but a parent was almost arrested when she came to get her child. She couldn't find the kid and was angry, and walked through a group of cops cursing and smelling like whiskey. One of the cops told her to use appropriate language and show some respect for the police, and she smarted off at him. I was positive that they were going to cuff her and stuff her, but one of the cops said something about there being no room at the county jail, and said to just let it go. Her daughter is in my class, and now that I've met the mother I understand why the kid is depressed and doesn't care about school. If that bitch was my mom, I'd have a hard time perking up for grammar too.

Tim bought me a motorcycle yesterday. It's a 99 Harley Sportster. I mentioned it in my last post. He said the engine has to be rebuilt. You can get a brand new engine for $2000-ish, so even if we had to replace the engine it'd still be a good deal. TH said used Sportsters don't go for less than $4000 around here, so we figure we'll be ahead of the game if we can get this one running for less than $3000. I'm excited because I want a real bike to ride, but I'm reserving my excitement for when the thing is actually running. I'll get excited when I can sit on it and crank it up.

One more day with no carpet or furniture, and then we'll spend the next week trying to get things back to normal. I have no clean work clothes, and couldn't even tell you where they are right now. This new carpet better look good.

In two hours, I'll be chaperoning a middle school Halloween dance. I wanted to dress up. The best suggestion I got was "Comma Chameleon." Alas, I was too lazy to make it happen, and will be wearing my homecoming t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

TH is in Brooklyn right now looking at a motorcycle. This old man has a 99 Harley Sportster for $800. He claims he bought it to fix it up, but then got hurt and no longer has any reason to bother fixing it. The engine needs work, but the guy has all the parts. The other drawback is that the title is a bonded title. We don't know everything about that, but I managed to find some facts online and it doesn't seem like a total deal breaker, necessarily. I have a Honda that I ride around the yard and up and down our road, but it's not real street worthy. If TH gets me the Sportster, I can really ride. Assuming this guy is telling the truth about it and it's not just some pile of junk.

My wrist has suffered some unknown injury. About three weeks ago, it started hurting for no apparent reason. I just woke up one day, and it was killing me. TH claims that I slept on it funny. He said I had it bent somehow and was laying on it, and that he tried several times to get me to move. Whatever happened, it still hurts. It will get better, and then it'll suddenly hurt again. I can't twist it or squeeze anything or lift anything. I've been wearing this brace for a few days, but it actually seems to be making it worse. Typing is painful. It's gonna take me longer to get ready for the dance, so I gotta get going soon.

I'm sure to come back from THIS with some blogging material.

The carpet's gone, and I can't tell you how happy I was to see the last of that filthy junk go out the door. The more carpet we pulled back, the more we understood why we have been sneezing for...ever.

Concrete floors and no furniture 'til Monday. The mattress is all that remains.

I need yer help!

On Saturday night I have to chaperone the Halloween dance at school. It's a costume party, and there's a contest. I want to dress up. Thing is, I want to be something English teachery. At first I thought about dressing up like some literary character, but TH thinks it'd be funny to go as a dangling modifier or something.

Best idea on what to be (and how to make it work) gets a prize. The prize of my appreciation. C'mon!!!

TH and I frequently sleep in separate rooms when we're both working. It's not that we don't want to sleep together; it's just easier that way. When we do sleep together on work nights, one of us usually gets up and goes to the other bed in the middle of the night out of sheer desperation to get some sleep before the alarm goes off. I guess it's not typical newlywed behavior, but it works for us. One of these days we're gonna get a bigger bed, and force ourselves to get used to each other.

Anyway, the bed from the guest room is now leaning against the wall in the entry way, so we had no choice but to share a bed last night. It was after 11:00 when I fell asleep. At about 1:30 I woke up briefly and felt nauseated. The house smelled like strawberry scented Lysol. TH thinks the stuff smells better than regular Lysol, and he'd gone on a spraying spree in the house because of what the dogs had done earlier. It smells like vomit to me. Frankly, I'd rather smell dog shit.

I fell back asleep, and woke up again less than an hour later. My forehead was wet and my stomach was hurting. the house still smelled like vomit. I fell asleep again. Maybe half an hour later, I was awake again and my stomach was doing violent things. This time, TH was in bed next to me. Little did he know, he was in for a long night. We both were.

My stomach ached all night long. Every time I laid down, I felt like I was either going to vomit or have explosive diarrhea, so I'd get up and go to the bathroom but nothing would happen. I drank half a bottle of anti-nausea liquid, which didn't help much. From about 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., I went back and forth between lying down and praying for relief to sitting on the toilet holding a garbage can and praying that I could just puke.

Around 5 a.m., it finally started to feel better. I fell back asleep and got about another hour. Getting up for work at 6:00 was a drag, and my stomach still felt fragile. I wanted to call in sick, but I called in sick last Tuesday and the Tuesday before. The first time, I actually woke up feeling bad. (In hindsight, I didn't feel that bad. TODAY I felt BAD!) But last week I just wanted to spend the day with TH. We went carpet shopping and what not. Regardless, I couldn't call in sick for a third consecutive Tuesday, so I stopped at Wal Mart for some Pepto on the way to work. I dared not drink any coffee, and breakfast was out of the question. I drank some cold water and a few gulps of the pink stuff, and forged ahead into a day of hyperactive, disrespectful, hard headed young'uns.

By about halfway through first period, I felt much better. The kids were super great today because they got to use computers, so that made it so much easier. I think my little knuckleheads are coming around. They even seem to like me a little. Hell, I like a few of them. Even with three hours of sleep and a gut full of Pepto.

I hope TH ran into some luck too. He didn't get much more sleep than I did-- plus he had to listen to me whine and grunt all night.

Labels: explosive diarrhea, teacher life

While we're both at work, the dogs are in a crate in the laundry room. Today when I got home, they were out. They had busted out of the crate and found the freedom they'd always longed for-- the freedom to roam unsupervised in the house to chew up and shit on all of our most precious possessions. Among the items destroyed are two pair of sandals (one by shit, one by chew), a computer mouse, a candle that we received as a wedding present, and the carpet.

If we were not getting new carpet in a week, we'd still be getting new carpet sometime soon, if ya get my drift. How could two small animals produce that much shit in only a few hours? That is a question I probably don't want answered.

Five minutes after I got to my classroom today, a student walked in. This kid gets detention every freakin' day. I've met with his mother before, and she was kinda hostile and hard to please. Five minutes after he walked in, his mother walked in. She said she was going to sit with him all day. Then the counselor called my room, and the mother went to meet with the counselor. Then an office worker brought me a form saying that I had been scheduled for a conference with the mother during my planning period.

Hurray! Any teacher's single greatest joy in life is learning that her one semi-free hour of the day is now doomed to be spent defending herself against an ill informed parent. It's one of those little things that makes you wish there was a Xanax dispenser in the teacher's lounge it all worthwhile!

Fast forward to planning period/conference. I would love to go into great detail about the ins and outs of this meeting, but what it boils down to is that I was forced to endure an hour of defending myself against accusations that are designed (by the parent) to take the responsibility from the child and place it on yours truly. Fortunately, enough information was revealed in that hour that I wasn't completely up against a wall in the end.

Speaking of being against a wall, we have no furniture, so I'm sitting in the floor with my back against a wall and the laptop in my lap. It's not real comfortable, and I'm tired. This post was supposed to be more...uh...complete, but I gotta make that lost hour up somewhere.

Gotta problem with it? See the counselor for an appointment.

I stole this from Hillbilly Mom, who stole it from Diva, who probably stole it from someone else. At least we're all honest about our tendency to steal ideas from people.

Four Jobs I've Held:

1. Middle School English teacher
2. Loss Prevention Agent (i.e. Corporate Spy)
3. Waffle House waitress
4. Direct care worker w/ developmentally disabled folks

I have to say that English teacher is the best so far, despite the daily headaches.


Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:

1. Maria Full of Grace
2. Shaun of the Dead
3. Adaptation
4. Superbad

Those are probably not my four favorite films of all time, but they're all re-watchable.


Four TV Shows I Watch:

1. The First 48
2. COPS
3. The Soup
4. Scrubs

I don't watch any shows religiously, but I'll stop what I'm doing for The First 48 or The Soup.


Four Places I've Lived

1. Nesbit, MS (West Nesbit in tha house beyotch!)
2. Hattiesburg, MS
3. Memphis, TN
4. Yazoo Shitty, MS

Hattiesburg is my favorite, and Yazoo is my least favorite. Memphis is a close, close second. I'd rather go live in Y.C. again than live in most parts of Memphis, but I was in a decent neighborhood when I lived there.


Four Favorite Foods

1. Fried chicken
2. sushi
3. turnip greens with cornbread
4. anything made from potatoes, even though I can't have them anymore.


Four Websites I Visit Daily

1. Hillbilly Mansion (I hear ya, sista)
2. http://www.comcast.net/
3. a local website that shall remain nameless (and linkless)
4. my employer's website, because it's necessary.


Four Colors I Like

1. Green
2. Red
3. Brown
4. Blue


Four Places I Would Love to be Right Now:

1. a bar, drinking a beer and talking to people
2. a swanky hotel room with my honey and some dirty lingerie
3. a doctor's office, finding out that I've lost 60 pounds and am pregnant
4. here at home with my man


Four Stupid Ass Names I Would Never Give my Children (yeah I changed that one a little)

1. Braden
2. Payson
3. Skylar
4. Jordan

Thanks, HM. I needed that.

Labels: memes

We're moving furniture out, and it's the computer's turn. If I can't get the laptop hooked up to the internet, it might be a few days.

It's just as well. I sliced my finger yesterday, so typing's kinda hard right now.

See y'all later, bitches.

TH went back to seal the deal on the new carpet yesterday, but the kind we chose turned out to be discontinued. They also miraculously increased the price by about $600. I love how no matter what you're trying to buy, that's how it goes. At first, it's one price. You base your decision on that price, but the closer you get to signing the check, the higher the number gets.

Anyway, we went back together today, and we finally did seal the deal on a different type of carpet. No, it's not the nine dollar carpet. I wouldn't stand for it, and in the end, TH agreed.

They're coming to install it on Monday the 29th. TH is off that day. Tomorrow is the last day we'll both be off, so all the heavy stuff has to be moved off the carpet by then. We started on it tonight.

The first thing we did was clear off the coffee table and move it to the garage. When TH lifted it, a mountain of trash was exposed. There was an amazing variety of objects hiding under there, just waiting to be rediscovered. A dozen bottle caps testified to the number of cokes TH drinks on the couch, a couple of missing essays from my 6th period class proved that teachers DO lose things (thank goodness I'm impossibly behind on grading, because I hadn't yet confronted the kids on the missing essays), and a smoked pig's ear reminded us of what a pain in the ass it was to retrieve Sweet Tea's lost treasures from under the couch or the coffee table.

Anytime you move a piece of furniture, you expect to find some things beneath it, but this was ridiculous.

So I took a picture.



Yeah, we have a weird coffee table. It's hollow and TH had magazines stored inside of it, which is why I didn't move it when I steam cleaned the carpet a month or so ago. I used to think it was too bachelor-esque, but now I think it's cool.

We also got the big couch moved to the garage. The love seat is staying in the living room for now, but will probably get moved tomorrow. We have no idea where all this stuff will go, but the big challenge is going to be moving the treadmill. It weighs a ton. I hope it goes to the laundry room and stays in exile forever with the free weights. I do not like having exercise equipment in the living room.

Also on the list of things to move: everything in the bedrooms and the "office." That means 2 queen size beds, three dressers, a book shelf filled with books, a computer desk with computer, two filing cabinets, and some other crap.

Anyone wanna come over tomorrow?

Labels: this house is trying to kill me

What'd you tell my mom?
She came home really pissed off,
you white cracker snitch!

Labels: junior haiku

It's report card day?
Can't I get some extra work?
This is so unfair.

Labels: junior haiku

Today at work I was bitten on the ass by a fire ant. The school yard is dotted with ant hills, so it's no wonder I came too close to one during today's outdoor pep rally, but what's really amazing is that it made it all the way up my leg and into my underwear before it started injecting me with its fiery venom. The dance team happened to be doing a routine at the exact moment I realized there was a venomous insect inside my underwear, and I went across the yard in front of the stage, arms flailing, shaking my legs. Doing a dance of my own. The ants in my pants dance.

Man, that sucked.

Tomorrow will be a day of reckoning for many. It's report card day. The kids don't come to school, but the parents have to come get report cards. They're also supposed to come meet with us as needed. During the faculty meeting today, one of the guidance counselors gave explicit directions on what to do if (when) a parent becomes irate.

Can't wait!

Labels: teacher life, the kids are all right (but the parents need a good ass whuppin)

TH and I went shopping for carpet today. We've been planning to get new carpet for a long, long time, but there has always been a reason not to do it. Sweet Tea was house trained, but every once in a while she'd have a moment. For example, a cat in her favorite sleeping spot, my parents spending the night in the guest bedroom, or me ignoring her pleas for attention were all perfect excuses for her to express her disgust by poppin' a squat in the hallway. We put off getting new carpet because I knew that TH's head would just explode the first time she peed on it. Then I'd have to redo the walls, too. No good.

And let's not forget the Great Plumbing Debaucle of 2005/2006/2007. What fool would have new carpet installed when the hallway might mysteriously fill with water at any given time? Not these fools, I tell ya.

Well, now Sweet Tea is no longer with us, God rest her sweet little dog soul, and the plumbing debaucle appears to have finally been un-baucled. So we're moving forward on the list of things to fix in the house, and carpet is at the top.

We went to Walter's in Laurel, because they're cheaper than everyone else. We've made a decision on what carpet we want, and TH is going back on Friday to pay for it and set up the installation. This weekend we'll be clearing rooms out, even though they won't be here to install it for 2 weeks. This is the last weekend he'll have off work before they come to install it, and everything has to be off the carpet, or else we have to pay extra.

The carpet I wanted costs $20.25 per square yard. The carpet TH wanted costs $9 per square yard. Let's just say you can tell the difference. We compromised, and I settled on some very, very similar carpet that's $13 per square yard. TH had better not go up there Friday and order that nine dollar carpet.

I repeat. TH had better not go up there Friday and order that nine dollar carpet.

Think of our unborn child, whose tender little baby feet will take their first steps on the carpet of your choice! Make it medium quality, thirteen dollar carpet. Because you're not a nine dollar parent.

The only reason I was willing to meet him halfway is because if we save a little on the carpet, we can get a new dining room table and chairs without going (much) over the amount we had originally planned to spend just on carpet.

We really, really need a new table and chairs. TH bought a table on sale at a salvage place right after we met 5 years ago, and thought he could find the chairs elsewhere later, but never could find suitable chairs. We've been sitting in folding chairs and on a few wobbly wooden ones that have been passed down to the family's various needy children over the years. It's kinda embarrassing when people come over and you have to hand them a steel folding chair-- the kind they use to bash each other in the head on rasslin'. And the table doesn't really fit our dining room. It's long and rectangular, and even though it's nice to have plenty of table room when people are here, I think we need one that's round or oval. Our dining room is open w/ the kitchen, and it's sort of a long rectangle. The long, rectangular table accentuates the long rectangularness of the kitchen. I'm not a gay man with an eye for "staging" a house, but I'm thinkin' we need to do something to offset the long rectangularness.

So, thirteen dollar carpet it is.

But not nine.

Next on the list? The screened in back porch that's no longer screened in. It shall be screened in. And after that? We get a big, new, super nice, king size bed. I can't wait get my head banged into a real headboard instead of just the wall! That's high class!

Maybe we'll get a padded headboard...

Labels: married life, this house is trying to kill me

Our movies got here yesterday. TH got "Sex and Fury," a Japanese film from the 70's that was a huge (HUGE) inspiration for Tarantino's Kill Bill. (By huge, I mean he ripped off whole parts of the film.) It was also semi pornographic. LOTS of creepy sex scenes. There was a plot, but I don't know what it was. The plot wasn't essential to one's overall enjoyment of the film.

Here. Read part of a review I just found on it. It pretty much says exactly what I'd say if I were a movie reviewer person, which I'm not.

Sex and Fury doesn't make much sense if viewed as a narrative. However, everything falls into place when you assume that telling a coherent story in a consistent manner was of no importance, but getting viewers to turn off their televisions and head out to a theater, was. It is filled with anything that couldn't be seen on broadcast TV. There's nudity, consensual sex, rape, lesbianism, bondage, whipping, violence, scatological humor, and lots and lots of blood, sometimes spraying into the air. It is all haphazardly put together, as if master director Norifumi Suzuki just didn't care (my guess is that he didn't; sometimes you just do it for the paycheck). The story doesn't hold together and requires an absurd number of coincidences to function to the extent that it does. Irrelevant subplots pop up and disappear, as do characters. Both the heroes and the villains take insanely stupid actions with no explanation. It is all capped by the most inappropriate music I've heard in a film: acid rock backing a massive swordfight, harp music to go with a sexual assault, and elevator music over a protracted death scene.

But that doesn't mean Sex and Fury isn't fun. One of three movies that can claim to be direct sources (as opposed to the many indirect sources) for Quinton Tarantino's Kill Bill (the others being Lady Snowblood and Thriller, A Cruel Picture, also starring Christina Lindberg), it is joyful in its carnage. On occasion, Suzuki would almost accidentally create the kind of artistry that would suffuse his latter picture, School of the Holy Beast. One of the films set pieces is an exciting and bizarre swordfight between a completely nude Ochô and a gang of yakuza. Meticulously staged and beautifully shot, it is worth the price of admission on its own.

I have to admit that TH has a real talent for picking out great trash movies. My movies won't be nearly as entertaining.

My new movies from Netflix were supposed to get here "on or around" yesterday, but they didn't. It really sucks that they're gonna show up tomorrow, and I'm not going to have time to watch them until the weekend. This weekend would've been a good time because I didn't do much. I got my lesson plans done, mopped the floor, cleaned out the litter box, cooked a casserole, folded some clothes, and that's about it. TH is off next weekend, but I don't think he'll be into my movies of choice. Besides, I want to go see 3:10 to Yuma, so the dvds might have to wait even longer.

Last night I spent a lot of time sitting on my bed next to an open window with my books and materials spread out in front of me, and my laptop whirring in my lap. Lesson plans. I worked for about two hours, wrote about half my plans for the week, and then cleared off the bed and got ready to go to sleep. While I was working, I thought I heard something outside the window, but decided I was being paranoid.

I started to close the window, but it was cool outside, and I thought it'd be nice to keep the AC off and take advantage of the weather. I laid down on the bed with the light still on, and I heard foot steps outside the window. It sounded like a person walking-- not an animal. The steps were in twos, and they were slow, deliberate steps, and they came right up to my window. I held my breath and listened. I heard it again. Some leaves have fallen, and the grass is kinda crunchy, and it was a crystal clear sound. I looked over toward the window, and as soon as I did, I heard the steps move away from the window much more quickly than they'd come up to it. I jumped up and slammed the window shut and locked it and dropped the blinds. I grabbed the phone and got the hell out of that room.

First, I called TH at work. He said to call the police, so I did. They came out and looked around, but of course they didn't find anything. I felt like a total tool, and I felt like they thought I was just a paranoid woman, but they looked all over our property and didn't try to make me feel stupid or anything. They said they'd ride by a few times during the night, and told me to call back if I heard anything else.

TH came home from work an hour early, and I didn't relax until he got here. I know someone was outside that window. I didn't see them, but I heard them. A deer or other wild animal wouldn't have come up that close to the house, and the dogs were locked up inside. Besides, all of those things have four legs. This had two.

The shotgun is loaded.

Okay, I'm in a better mood now. It never takes long. Ask the Husband.

Here are some not-really-all-that-random thoughts for you.

Wrinkles are more stubborn when you're running late. (The wrinkles on my SHIRT. Don't hate me because my semi attractive face is still wrinkle free.)

A quarter tank of gas at 5 p.m. on Thursday is 1/100 of a tank at 7:00 a.m. on Friday. The gas light belches conspicuously.

Between 7 and 8, rednecks with four-wheelers on trailers hog up all the gas pumps like they've got somewhere important to be.

If you're really itching to get in and get out, there will be a 21 year old in front of you paying for a cappucino, Skittles, and two packs of tooty fruity Trident with a freakin' American Express card.

If you leave late, you risk getting behind the school bus.

If you spend the entire drive to work clenching your teeth and imagining what unbearable consequences your tardiness will earn you, you'll get to work only to find that you're among the first ten to arrive for the day, and you've got 20 minutes to spare.

As soon as you relax and come up with a new plan for the next 20 minutes, the teacher down the hall who doesn't know the difference between a mouse and a keyboard will come to you with 19 minutes worth of questions about how to attach a file to an email.

Man, I'm tired. Today was another free dress day for our kids. The kind of free dress day that's not free. They had to pay a few bucks for an armband at the front gate. Kinda like at the fair. It's not a coincidence that school is like a circus on free dress days.

We are sharing lesson plans now, and today when I looked at the schedule I realized that it's not really giving me a break from planning at all. In fact, it's putting more pressure on, because now there's another teacher relying on me to have decent plans three days earlier than I've been turning in my half-assed ones. The plans I'm responsible for were due today. I realized this yesterday, and didn't get them done. I told the other teacher I'd try to email them in the morning, but I don't see it happening. I'm still waiting for someone to tell me where I'm supposed to find the time to do all nine thousand hours worth of work I'm expected to do in a week. When that answer comes through, I'll be on top of the world.

The Delta may be a hopeless, stinky armpit of poverty and despair, but at least nobody was up my ass every minute. There are perks to working in a place with low standards and expectations after all, I guess.

I kid. Sorta.

I thought maybe if I started a post, I'd get in a better mood. Turns out I'm just in the mood to bitch-- and not in a funny way-- so I'm just gonna log off and go look for a mood altering substance of some sort.

My movie turned out to be two hours of thinly veiled gun control propaganda. Damn you, Brad Pitt!

Today I woke up with a pounding headache and explosive diarrhea. I called in sick, and went back to bed. When I woke up at 10:00, I was feeling much better.

The day hasn't been everything I hoped for. I went to the laundromat to wash a couple of big comforters that won't fit into my washer, and I've been picking up some around the house and cooking lots of food so we'll have stuff to heat up for a few days.

I need to go to the teacher supply store-- my kids say they want to decorate our room-- but I'm scared I'll see a fellow teacher there and they'll rat me out for not being at home on the toilet.

We just got Netflix a couple of weeks ago, and I've got a movie to watch.

I bought my husband some Vera Wang for Men a few months ago. At first, I only slightly liked it, but it started growing on me. Just a few minutes ago, I sprayed it onto the bed so it'd smell like him when I fall asleep.

I'll probably sneeze all night. (Worth it!)

Mmmmmm...fresh wang!

Not much to tell at the moment, but that won't stop me from talking. Err typing.

TH was off work today. He mowed the lawn while I went to do the grocery shopping. I also stopped at the teacher supply store, thinking perhaps I could be a better teacher if I just had more stuff. Maybe there was some magical item there that would help me. Yesterday during one of my makeup classes, the kids got so loud at one point that all three adjoining teachers stuck their heads in to see what was wrong. I had to send five of them out. The students, not the teachers. It was an embarrassing event and I've been thinking about it all day today.

Sometimes things just fall apart. That's what I get for planning a day with very little structure. I was trying to help the little brats. A lot of my kids have failing grades, and it's mostly because they've got missing assignments. To spare myself the trouble of doing the paperwork required when you fail someone make sure no deserving child was left behind, I decided to give them a makeup day. I looked up everyone's grades to see what they needed, and I printed out the assignments or acceptable substitute assignments and laid them out in a nice line on a table. I also wrote the titles of the assignments on the board. When the kids got there, I went through each assignment and called out the names of the kids who needed to do it. I told them to turn each thing in at the makeup basket when they were finished, and to go on to the next assignment. While they were doing this, I was trying to get some grades entered into the computer so I could give them a more realistic idea of their current averages.

Could they follow those directions? No.

Could they stay on task without me hovering over them? No.

My desk was constantly surrounded by kids asking what they needed to do next, or shoving their completed assignments in my face even though I'd said FIFTY FCKING TIMES to turn it in to the makeup basket on the counter. The ones who weren't up in my face were in their seats talking. I repeatedly had to ask them to quiet down and get back to work, but the longer the class went on, the more chaotic it got. At one point, about six kids got up, and I shouted, "SIT DOWN AND STOP TALKING NNOOWWW!" Then everyone freaks out that the teacher has lost her cool, and acts like I'm the wicked witch of the South for raising my voice at them, like I'm supposed to act like Barney all the damn time regardless of what they do. Pisses me the fk off.

I will never give them another makeup day. Ever.

It might not have been as bad as it was, but the whole day was crazy for everyone because it was free dress day. Normally they wear uniforms, but we're having our United Way campaign right now, so the kids could wear blue jeans and t-shirts if they donated $3. Almost all of them did. It provided a beautiful example of what uniforms are good for. As one kid said during first period, "It doesn't even feel like a school day today!" And they didn't act like it was one either. If we have another free dress day, I might call in sick.

Anyway, maybe the chaos of fifth period wasn't 100% my fault, but I still feel bad for losing my cool with them.

Sometimes it's like I just can't win. They don't listen and they don't do their work, so they end up with zeros and low test scores, which translate to F's. But if I give them the F they earned, *I* have to do a ton of paperwork to show that I did this and that intervention to help the child succeed. So I go against everything I believe in about teaching personal responsibility, and give them the chance to basically undo the damage they've done over the last nine weeks, and what do they do? They spend the whole time doing the same shit they've been doing for nine weeks-- fking off.

It's a little difficult to NOT get pissed off when you find yourself being worked to death to help people who truly don't give a rat's ass anyway.

Anyway, I guess I needed to get that off my chest.

In other news, I think I have athlete's foot. JOY.

After I got back from trying to purchase a solution to my problems, TH and I went to Lowe's to buy some plywood so he could temporarily fix the exterior door to the shop, which Sweet Tea destroyed so long ago. We can't find a suitable replacement, so we're just rigging it for now. I also bought some shower board, because I heard that you can write on it w/ dry erase marker. Some education guru told us about it in a workshop a long time ago. You have it cut into squares and let your kids use them. They like doing anything different, so they can do their bell ringer sentences on whiteboard at their desks instead of on paper, or they can write down their answers and hold them up when we're reviewing, or whatever. I couldn't find anyone there to cut it for me, but TH says he can cut it but it just might not be cut into perfect squares. If I don't stay on him about it, it might not be cut into anything at all.

When I was a middle school student, most of my teachers used red ink pens. When I did poorly on something, I wouldn't even look at what I had done wrong on an assignment because I was so put off by the fact that my paper looked like it had been dipped in blood. Even if the teacher wrote me an encouraging note, it read as condescending and snappy.

I had one teacher somewhere along the way who used green. Much less threatening. I could actually read what she wrote and figure out what I had done wrong without feeling stupid. Her use of a green ink pen actually made me like her more. So when I started teaching, I started using green ink pens. I occasionally use a red one, but not on anything that the kids need to correct. If it's got red ink on it, chances are it's getting filed instead of being returned to the student. Unless I have no choice because something horrible has happened to my green ink pen.

Before school started, I began looking for certain supplies, including green ink pens. There were none to be found! Not even Wal-Mart carried green ink pens. What's that about? The green ink pens used to be stocked right next to the red ones. Is there a low demand for green ink pens? Have we educators become so frustrated and angry that only red can convey our disgust?

I finally found a green pen, but I had to buy a pack of four pens to get it. The pack had one green, one blue, one black, and one red.

I wear a lanyard with my teacher i.d. and my keys, and I always hook my beloved green ink pen on there too, so it's close to my heart. All I had to do was reach for him, and he was there, ready to spare some disadvantaged child the pain of having his paper covered in red ink. We were partners, Greenie and I.

Thursday while my kids were testing, I went to the front of the room to check their binders. I had a stack of "from your teacher" notes, and planned to write down what each kid needed to do to get their binders in order, and leave the note in the binders for them. On the first note, I wrote, "Put all loose papers in appropriate sections!" The word "sections" looked a little lighter. On the next one, I had to stop and shake Greenie to get the whole note written. On the one after that, Greenie made a sputtering sound, and I heard the last of his breath eek out as his overworked body went limp in my hand.

At first, I couldn't accept the truth. I started to put him back in my desk drawer, thinking maybe he just needed a good night of sleep. But that would only lead to more disappointment the next day, so I buried him in the trash can.

For the rest of that day and the next, I kept reaching for him only to remember that he's gone. He's gone, and he'll never be back.

R.I.P., Greenie. You were the last of a dying breed.

Labels: not so good news, teacher life

Mississippi is the fattest state, you know. It's no wonder, what with all the fried stuff and complete and total lack of nutritional education. For years I thought I was doing my body a favor by eating lots and lots of potatoes. Hey, I was eating my vegetables. And butter is in the dairy group, right? Every meat my mother cooked was served on a layer of paper towels. Stop judging me and pass the salt.

My new diet is still going strong. It's been about three weeks, I guess. I lost track. Speaking of LOSING, I've lost somewhere between 5 and 8 pounds. There are about 2 pounds that seem to come and go as they please regardless of what I do, so I'm not sure of the exact amount that's actually come off my fat ass, but I know I'm making progress. Slow, slow progress. Little kids still make beeping sounds when I back up in Wal Mart, and probably will for months and months, but I'll just be happy with my 5 to 8 pounds of progress for now. Sometimes I feel hungry, but most afternoons I realize I haven't eaten much of anything and decide I've got to eat something. I think it's getting easier. We ate at a restaurant yesterday, but stayed completely loyal to our plan. Still, we won't do that more than once a month or so.

TH hasn't weighed himself, but he seems to have lost weight too. His face looks a little more slim to me. He denies it, but I say he's getting more kissable by the day.

Today I had a meeting after work, and was supremely disappointed when I couldn't use my laptop. I had it up and running and ready to go, and it turned out that I didn't need it. I had to shut it down and pick up a pen and paper. The other teachers laughed at me because I was so eager to use it, and the only thing it came in handy for was checking the time because the clock in the classroom had died. Eight hundred dollar clock.

I can't wait until the next time we have to spend the day in the library or someone else's classroom and I get to break it out and be super productive while everyone else falls behind. Muwahahahahahahahah!

Today I did a makeup day with my first and second period class. The others took a 9 weeks test. The makeup classes were exhausting, and tomorrow I've got four of them. I'm tired to the point of delirium, but there are pork chops in the oven and I'd prefer not to burn the house down.

Tune in tomorrow night for a thrilling post about my beloved green ink pen.

Labels: diary of a fat ass

Nine weeks exams start tomorrow. Some of my kids take it tomorrow, and some take it Friday. Today we spent the entire day reviewing and working on a rather rigorous "study guide."

They did a fair job. Most of them, anyway.

Some of them just aren't going to catch on no matter what I do. Need an example of why I think this? I can think of a few. First, a little background.

I taught them three methods for fixing run-on sentences. They are:

1. Use a semicolon between the two complete thoughts,
2. Use a comma and a conjunction between the two complete thoughts, or
3. Put a period at the end of the first complete thought and capitalize the first word of the second one, making the run-on into two separate sentences.

(Yes, I realize there's a fourth method. I was just trying to keep it simple because I didn't think they'd use the fourth method, which involves words like "therefore" and "however." Those aren't really in their vocab yet.)

They also have been practicing fixing fragments. When talking about fragments, I told them that a fragment is a piece of a sentence. I used the illustration of a broken lamp. If I drop my mother's lamp and it breaks into pieces, I have fragments of that lamp in the floor. To make it whole again, I have to glue the pieces together to make it complete. A fragment of a sentence needs some missing piece that it has to have in order to be complete. Simple enough?

Read on. But first, stop to thank the good Lord for your 8th grade English teacher, who helped give you the ability.

Another treasure of 8th grade English is author's purpose: to inform, to entertain, to persuade, or to express.

They also have to know the story elements, which are character, setting, plot, etc.

We've practiced these things for so long that I honestly don't know how else to present it or how else to get them to practice it.

So (to get to the point) imagine my pain when I ask a child to tell me one of the story elements, and he says, "Comma and a conjunction." Or when another one says, "Author's purpose!"

Or when I ask someone what the author's purpose is, and they say, "A semicolon."

Or when we've written down and identified and provided examples for all three methods for fixing run-ons, and a kid who has apparently been asleep suddenly looks up and raises her hand like she's just figured out something brand new, and loudly declares that the way to fix a broken climax is to glue it together, like Mamma's lamp.

Orrrr when I give them a fragment to rewrite, and they stick a semicolon in there randomly.

They can't identify an independent clause because an independent clause is a complete thought, and none of them has ever had one.

Labels: Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', teacher life

While lying in bed, lights out and with our backs to each other-- ten minutes after TH walked past the office door and saw me playing Empire Poker (with fake chips):

If you gambled away our savings, I'm gonna kill you.

I gambled it all away. The house too.

[silence]

I'm gonna use a hammer.

Labels: married life, Musings on the Man

Instead of hiring a sub for my room Friday, they just let one of the inclusion teachers hold my classes. I left quite a large amount of work for the young'uns to do, and specifically requested that it all be turned in before the kids leave. Mrs. C-is-for-crazy didn't make them turn it in, and only four kids did. Four out of seventy five.

I don't really care about the work. It was 99% busy work, but that's not the point. What did they do all day? I know what the SUB did (see below), but what did the students do??

ALLLLLLL of the settings on my computer have changed. She changed the picture on the desktop, reset all the preferences and options in Internet Explorer, deleted my search history, etc. She apparently spent the entire day searching for solutions to a pain in her upper back. It's probably a severe case of pain-in-the-neck-itis.

Labels: stupid people, teacher life

They've already put Christmas stuff out in the Garden Center at my local friendly Devil's Playground.

Shameless.