DeadpanAnn (old blogger version)

Patsy Long, 34, of Deepwater, died after being shot in the chest with a .22-caliber handgun on Saturday. Her husband, Ronald Long, fired the shot from the inside of their home after several unsuccessful efforts to punch a hole through the exterior wall using other means.

Hillbilly Mom, this sounds like an HH related incident. You still with us??

It's not a cat blog!


Or a dog blog!




Or a cats and dogs blog!


Or a fat white anything blog!






And it's not a mommy blog either!


And for a good chickens in the city story, click here.

Labels: it's not a cat blog, it's not a mommy blog either

Yesterday was Career Day at school. Each class had 4 pairs of speakers come through and talk to the kids about their jobs. Most of them were extremely good. The kids behaved, asked appropriate questions, and were mostly polite. A few needed to have the fear of God put in them as a reminder, but fortunately I have gotten better at doing that without saying a word.

Our class had three people with government jobs come through-- two had to do with natural resource conservation. I thought it was odd that they'd send us 2 very similar jobs. We also had some folks from the Boy Scouts, and while they didn't talk much about their job, their "stay in school and respect your teachers" speech was the most powerful one I've ever heard, and the kids listened. Kudos to the Boy Scouts. Methinks my Little Wendol may have to join their ranks when he's old enough.

Another class got to hear a lady from the health department who goes around and gives talks about abstinence, std's, etc. I know this because once the speakers were gone and we went back to the regular schedule, I had some of the kids from that group in my later classes and they couldn't stop talking about it. One student in 4th period told me that the lady had said that if you perform oral sex on a guy and...um...swallow that you could still get pregnant because there's a chance that it could still get to the right part of your body. I asked the girl if she had misunderstood. Maybe the speaker was telling her she could get a disease from that. No, she insisted, you can get pregnant from that.

Umkay. Considering that they know I'm pregnant, I was afraid of how personal that conversation could have become had I pursued it, so I still chalked it up to a misunderstanding-- or maybe the kid just wanted to say something disgusting to get a reaction out of me. Who knows.

Enter 6th period. In the last 5 minutes of class, once all our English ducks were in a row, I asked the kids to tell me who their favorite speakers were and why. Another student told me about the sex speech. She told me the same thing the other kid had said about oral sex. You can get pregnant, she insisted.

Now, the first kid who reported this newfound ignorance was an 8th grader, and the second one was a 7th grader. That means they heard the same speaker at different times. (The speakers rotated between classrooms every 20 minutes.) That means the woman MUST have said that-- and more than once!

I'm all for educating kids on the facts about sex. They need to know. We need to be frank with them, in my humble opinion, because if we choose not to educate them, someone else will. But give them facts, not lies. Bullshitting them on that stuff to scare them is the worst thing you could do, as evidenced by the fact that they are already trotting around trying to confirm the information with other adults. What do you think the other adults are going to say when they ask them about this? They're going to tell them it's shit! I did! They didn't believe me, but I was the first one they asked about it. By the time they get to adult number 3, they'll see the light. And then what will they think? That if the lady bullshitted them on that, she might've bullshitted them on other things? That the whole "be careful" speech is based on crap? I think that is exactly what they'll conclude. Then when they find themselves in a steamy situation with a member of the opposite sex and those hormones are screaming stick it in! there will be no reason not to, condom or not.

A lot more could have been accomplished by being honest with them. The speaker could've just told them the facts very frankly. It's not like you have to lie about sex to get their attention when you're talking about it-- all you have to do is bring it up, and you've got their undivided attention, period. By bullshitting them, she defeated her own purpose. But I guess if kids stop getting pregnant and getting std's, she's out of a job. So maybe it was a huge success from her standpoint.

Stupid bitch.

Today will be less exciting. They've got to take a quiz, and the rest of their time with me will be uneventful. I hope to get them to read today. Getting them to do work is becoming more and more difficult, and the days are starting to feel longer. Spring Fever has set in. The sun is shining, it's warm, and everyone feels so oppressed having to sit in a classroom and watch the perfect weather through a window.

Labels: Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', professional screw-ups, stupid people, The Government is Raping Us

This morning I actually had my assistant in the classroom for 1st and 2nd periods, which has only happened one other time since Christmas. They pull her and make her substitute for someone every single day. Anyway, I was glad to have her, because my lesson plan today included some activities that I knew she could help with.

So we're bopping along, things are going well, and only one kid is absent so I'm thinking how fortunate it is that everyone's getting this crucial lesson. The one absentee child happened to be the son of the woman who broke out the recording equipment when I called to tell her he was disrupting my class. You remember. She put me on hold while she rumbled through her house the hotel room they live in looking for her recording equipment, then got back on the phone, announced that I was being recorded, and asked me to proceed with what I was going to say. She's crazy. Certifiable. We hate to see her psycho ass coming.

Anyway, we're doing our teacher thing and then Mrs. D leans over and whispers, "Absentee and his mom are coming down the sidewalk." A few minutes later, crazy mom walks in with her older teenaged daughter and absentee son in tow. She's carrying two bulky bags and a very big silver briefcase. She presents a visitor's pass and says she's there to observe the class. F*cking fantastic.

She and her daughter sit down, and I continue teaching what I was teaching while Mrs. D goes to help Absentee get up to speed on what we're doing.

Crazy momma starts digging through her bags and her briefcase. She breaks out a bunch of audio recording equipment, and starts setting it up! What. Tha. FOCK!? I was trying to keep focused on what I was doing and not pay any attention to her, because I knew if my students noticed what she was doing I'd lose them, and if I lost them she'd have a nice show for her audio project.

Anyway, crazy momma struggled with her equipment for a while, but apparently couldn't get it to work, so she broke out a laptop and started typing feverishly. Daughter kicked back in her chair and sent text messages nonstop. Both crazy momma and daughter came and went as they pleased. They each got up and walked out and came back in several times in the two periods. (It's a double class.)

When the bell rings for the end of 1st period, I let my kids go to the bathroom and stretch their legs even though they're coming right back to me for 2nd period. During those three minutes, I have duty. I have to stand outside and say "Go to class please" or "Don't push him" or "Tuck your shirt in" over and over again. Crazy momma followed me out there and stood so close to me that our arms were touching. I moved over and she moved over closer again. It was weird.

When the kids came back in for 2nd period, they realized crazy momma was doing crazy things, and they got a little distracted. The transition from 1st to 2nd periods is always touchy, but it was rough today BECAUSE OF HER DUMB ASS. While I was getting something from behind my desk, a female child apparently smacked a male student in the back of the head. Male student probably hit her first, and even if he didn't he deserves to be smacked in the head at least once a day just because he's a punk. Anyway, I only saw female student, because she was out of her seat. I told her to step outside. She didn't. I raised my voice and told her again. She went out into the hallway. I grabbed a detention slip with which to threaten female student.

Crazy momma piped in-- "They both need one! You need to get them both!"

Um, no bitch. NO. You can come into my room and disrupt it if the administration is stupid enough to allow it, but I'll be damned if you're going to decide how I handle my shit.

At least that's what I said to her inside my head. I just looked at her like she was crazy and went about my business as normal. Stupid woman.

Can you even imagine the fucking gall of someone who would walk into a classroom and set up a bunch of damn recording equipment, or take out a laptop, or sit there and send text messages, or get up and go in and out the door during the class-- much less someone who comes in and does all of the above? UGH!

Fortunately, the principal happened to come through while she was in there. He stayed for the remainder of the class, and I don't think he was happy with the situation. Maybe it'll never happen again.

I can only hope.

Can you imagine being her son? Having your mom follow you around junior high all day on a conspiracy theory hunch?

P.S.
About yesterday's picture of the Mexicans downtown, I can't believe nobody noticed THE FREAKING CHICKENS! Am I the only one who finds it funny that they're raising chickens in downtown Hattiesburg?

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

Yesterday after my non-nap, I finally started getting some things done. I was putting away the mountains of clean clothing, and Pookie was doing everything he could to get in the way. At one point he disappeared but I could hear him meowing from somewhere nearby. I looked for him for five minutes or so, walking up and down the hallway calling him, opening bedroom doors to make sure he hadn't been locked away somewhere.

He turned up. Little prankster.



Now that the clean sheets are covered in black cat hair, we're ready for guests!

There's one more animal related picture I have to share. I took this on my way home from work last week. There's a rather large chicken industry (if that's what you call it) in this area, including lots of chicken houses out in the country and some processing plants in bigger towns, including a Marshall Durbin plant in Hattiesburg, a Sanderson Farms in Laurel and another in Collins. All three are nearby, and I know there are others. Anyway, chicken plants attract Mexicans, so we have our fair share of immigrants. Every day on my way to work I drive by the Mexican apartments downtown. Last week I was on my way home when I noticed some hijos playing by the railroad tracks. Those of you who are from Hattiesburg know that even though there's not much in the picture, this is in the middle of downtown. The RR crossing is the one next to the ghetto Big Star, about 100 yards from the police station, right next to the blue apartment building.

Actually, a picture is worth a thousand words, so I'm just gonna shut up and let you take it in. Just keep in mind that I almost got killed in 5:00 traffic trying to get this pic, and tell me what seems....out of place.



(Singing)
Which of these things just doesn't beeee long here?

Today was supposed to be super productive. I've got to do lesson plans and get ready to return to work tomorrow, but I've also got a filthy kitchen (when do I not?) and lots of clean clothes in piles on chairs and other various surfaces, including the floor.

I got a hankering for a baked salmon roll from the Japanese restaurant, and after doing some research to make sure it was safe, I had one for lunch. It's crabmeat wrapped in dried seaweed, then wrapped in baked salmon, then covered in eel sauce, (which has very little to do with eels-- it's more like a thick, sweet soy sauce.) Anyway, crab and salmon are both okay as long as you don't eat it constantly, and the roll is cooked, so it's considered safe. So I ate it. It wasn't as wonderful as I remember it being before, but it was still yummy.

And now I feel like puking. Not yummy. Some things that are normally delicious and satisfying aren't quite as delicious or satisfying lately. That includes coffee. I can't even drink a cup of it now. ME--- unable to choke down a cup of coffee. Who'da thunkit?

As soon as I finished eating I sat down to watch tv for a minute, and now I'm wiped out. It feels like it's after midnight to me, but I slept 8 hours last night and have done next to nothing so far today. So I can either go take a nap and hopefully get up in an hour or two refreshed and able to get something done, or I can sit here not doing anything and feeling guilty for not doing anything. I usually opt for the latter, but only because it's really hard to fall asleep in the middle of the day even though I'm very tired. Once I lie down, I feel guilty for lying down. So I can sit here and feel guilty, or get in the bed and feel guilty. Either way, the chances of me getting anything done today? Not good.

Some people say they loved being pregnant. I know I'm only 8 weeks into this so far, but I don't foresee myself being one of those people. I'm sure it will be cool when I can feel the baby move and all that, but everything about it so far sucks. Wait-- there is one good thing. Increased sex drive. And I don't mean a slight increase. Let's just say I'm not the only one in this house who's suddenly experiencing some fatigue.

Lame.

That is all.

Thursday just wasn't my day. I had more than my fair share of very embarrassing moments.

During 7th period, my stomach felt a little funny. My students were working quietly, and I was standing off in a corner going through a pile of papers, trying to decide what could be thrown out and what needed to be filed. My stomach did a little rumble, and then suddenly I farted quite loudly. It just came out by force all on its own. It was just loud enough for the students to hear it, and since I was the only person on that end of the room, there was no denying who dealt it. At first I just tried to keep filing and pretend as if nothing had happened, but out of the corner of my eye I could see their little heads pop up and they started looking at one another as if they were trying to decide whether they'd heard what they thought they'd heard. Then my face started turning red, and they started giggling. Then I started giggling. Then the whole class fell apart.

God. I actually farted in front of my class. Then I actually laughed with them about it. Not my proudest moment.

Later that day, I was in a restaurant with two friends. We were in this little family owned catfish place. The type of place where people go after church. It's filled with local teachers and old ladies. My two friends were eating crab legs, and I was just along for the ride. I had eaten earlier. So I ordered decaf coffee and water, and was reaching across the table to get the fake sugar when I knocked my giant glass of ice water over. It happened in slow motion, and I uttered an F bomb as the cold fell into my lap. The whole place stopped to look at me. Again, not my proudest moment. Not as bad as farting out loud in front of a classroom of 13 year olds, but still.

As I said before, yesterday when we finally got back on our regular class schedule after the 5 hours of testing it was 5th period. As the darlings were filing into the classroom, I got caught up outside the doorway with an assistant principal, so I didn't get to close the door right as the bell rang, smile at the class, and then stand there silently while the kids remember that the bell ringer is the next step, as is my custom. No, I came in a few minutes behind them. When I did, I noticed that the entire class was huddled around a desk in the back of the room. At first I thought someone might have something interesting. By interesting I mean probably illegal. My first instinct was to shoosh them to their places, but thankfully I realized they weren't looking down at an item-- they were all looking up at the wall.

They were looking at my brand new "Top Students" wall. It was kinda sweet. Now I know that most teachers do something like this from the get go, but I have never gotten around to it until recently. I finally hung a big sheet of paper on the wall, put a cute little border around it, and wrote the names of kids with the highest term averages onto little apples and taped them to the sheet. There's also a list of "Big Improvements" at the bottom. Those are kids who didn't really qualify as "Top Students" but who brought their grades up significantly from 2nd term to 3rd.

There were 12 top students and about 8 big improvements. They were so proud it almost brought a tear to my hormonal eye. I'm talking hugs and high-fives proud. One kid said, "I can't wait to tell my momma I got my name on the wall. She ain't even gone believe that!" You could see the envy in the eyes of those who have not given a damn and normally like to pretend not to care about such juvenile things as having their name written on an apple on the wall.

WHY DIDN'T I DO THIS 18 WEEKS AGO!? The kids even told me a long time ago that a "Wall of Fame" was something they would like to see in the classroom, and I promised it. But...but...well I'm kinda lazy and overwhelmed and it did take quite a bit of time to make the "wall," then do the math to figure out who deserved an apple. It's been one of several things that could've been done in one afternoon of staying late, but kept getting put off. From now on this will have to be done consistently.

Next year the wall will already be in place on day one. It rocks to see them feeling proud of themselves. Maybe it will be something they'll work towards.

Today we gave the practice version of the MCT2, which is the state's new, tougher end of the year assessment. It lasted five hours. I hate state tests because I'm not allowed to sit, lean, read, write, drink, munch, pee, or do anything other than walk around the room nonstop the entire freaking time. It's so damn boring. And when half the class finishes in two hours and the other half takes the full four, it's kinda hard to keep everything in proper test mode. Even if my entire class finished in two hours, we'd still have to sit there for another three hours until every student in the school is finished, because only then can we get out of "testing mode." By the time that finally happened today, it was fifth period.

When the kids finally got out of the room they had been in for five freakin' hours, they were rarin' to go. I was supposed to be teaching irregular verbs today, but I couldn't bring myself to do that to them after they'd spent that much time on an English test. So we played Hangman, which does have some educational value. My last two classes went over the 9 weeks tests, discussed 3rd term grades, and went over the homework they did last night. Most of them actually did the homework, too. It's getting down to the end of the year and they're realizing they need to do some catching up.

Oh, speaking of doing some catching up, my phone's ringing off the hook too with parents wanting to know what their kids can do to bring up their grades. I just love this time of year. Parents you couldn't hunt down for the last 27 weeks of school start coming out of the woodwork, acting like you just GAVE their kid some random grade. When you tell them there's no magic one assignment their child can do to change an average of 59 into a passing 70, they're astonished. Some of them start throwing a fit and say that you're being ridiculous-- there they are in front of you asking for help, and you are refusing it! It's gonna be a tough 9 weeks, I know, but it's going to be more entertaining this time than it was the first time I went through it. This time I'm ready. I know exactly what's coming, and I've rehearsed my lines.

Tomorrow? We do the same test thing again. Today it was Language, and tomorrow it's Math. Our kids like math for some stupid reason. Maybe they'll finish it quicker. Or maybe it'll be shorter since they don't have to do all that reading. The Language test booklet is a BOOOOOOK.

Not much to say today. I apparently don't have the flu, because I woke up feeling better this morning and my luck held out through the day. It was still a long day though because I only had a few hours of sleep last night. I tossed and turned for hours, and my skin felt like it was on fire. Nobody told me hot flashes was on the list of pregnancy symptoms, but it seems to me that the sensation of being on fire would qualify as a hot flash and not merely being a tad warm. No matter how hot I get, I can't stand to sleep with no cover. I have to have a light blanket at least, so I had to crank the a/c up and turn the ceiling fan on high. I think I finally dozed off around 2:00 a.m., so I got about 3 and 1/2 hours of sleep.

My students were so sweet today. They were genuinely happy to see me. They missed me. You know, because I'm such a great teacher and a positive adult influence. Or because they secretly long for someone to hold them to boundaries. Or because they thought I had candy. Who knows.

Southern Black people-- at least ones in a certain socioeconomic category-- are different from any other race on the planet in many ways. One is that their respect for you increases exponentially when you have children. Just being pregnant has earned me some major points. They look at me differently. It's as if they didn't consider me a REAL adult until just recently. It's like a rite of passage. I know it sounds like my imagination, but I'm telling you it's the way it is. Maybe that's not unique from any other race on the planet. But still.

I know that when my other friends got pregnant before me I felt an instant gap between us, as if a crack had spread out in the earth between where we stood. And it kinda did. So maybe they secretly feel closer to me now.

I'm going to bed before this post gets any more retarded.

Okay. This morning I felt not very good. After I wrote my post this morning, I went back to sleep. I woke up feeling much worse, and it has gotten worse as the hours have ticked by. My back is sore, as are some other parts of my body. I feel feverish but the thermometer says I'm in the normal range. My head hurts. HURTS, I say.

Around noon I tried to get an appt. with a doctor. They said they couldn't see me because I'm pregnant, and that I would have to call my OB. So I did. It's almost 4:00 and the nurse still hasn't called back. It's been four hours since I left the message. At 2:15 I called to make sure I hadn't been forgotten, and they told me the message hadn't been answered yet and to keep waiting.

Methinks this is horseshit. Now it's too late for me to see a doctor today. So I missed a day of work, didn't see a doctor, and have no answers as to why I feel like a gut with the shit slung out of it.

Normally I take crazy pills. I only take a small dose of it, but it makes me feel....better. My moods are more consistent and I have less anxiety. I sleep better, think better, and manage to do my venting about stupid people I encounter from day to day only here on the blog instead of letting it fly then and there. (That's REALLY bad for your relationships and your career, by the way.)

I am told that my need for this medication is due to the hormonal fluctuations caused by PCOS, not by some inherent craziness in my head. I tend to think that's true not only because I don't want to think I'm mentally unbalanced, but because once upon a time when I weighed 135 pounds my PCOS was very well controlled, and I had almost zero anxiety or anger then. But then I had to go back to my mashed potato eating ways, didn't I? There is good news, though. I have read that PCOS symptoms tend to decrease dramatically once you have had a baby. Sweeeeeeet!

Well, I can't take the medication right now for obvious reasons. The doctor told me that I COULD take it if I felt the benefits outweighed the risks. The risk? A 3 in 10,000 chance of my baby being born with a heart defect. No thank you. Three in 10,000 sounds miniscule---- unless you turn out to be one of the three. If it was only my health at risk, I'd take the pills. But I don't think I have the right to gamble with my kid's health just so I can sleep better at night and be more pleasant to stupid fuckers people during the day, no matter how good the odds are that it'll be fine. I think part of a parent's job is to suffer so your kid doesn't have to. This is probably the first of a million times I will find it necessary to endure some discomfort for this still unknown person's sake.



Anyway, last night I couldn't fall asleep. My arms and legs felt like they needed to GO. If you've ever had an anxiety/panic attack, you know the feeling I'm talking about. It's impossible to explain without sounding like a total cuckoo for cocoa puffs nutwad. The thing I want to emphasize is that it's a physical experience and not just a mental thing. Some know-nothings will tell you that you can take control of it mentally, that you can overcome it with your mind. While it does help to take deep breaths and think good thoughts and tell yourself it will pass, that doesn't fix it. Unless you've got some kind of sweet sweet Xanax or Valium on hand, you really can't do anything but endure it. It SUCKS!

I have only had this experience a handful of times in my lifetime. During the last 5 years there have been maybe 10 or 15 occurrences. When it does happen to me, it is always during a stressful time. I had an especially intense experience when I was packing up to move down to Yazoo Shitty for my first teaching job, for example. I was worried and stressed and had been through more than my fair share of recent changes in a short period. That was the one and only full blown "panic attack" I've ever had.

I have heard people talk about having "panic attacks" and it sounded like such bullshit to me that I probably openly laughed at a few of them. In fact, I'll still venture to guess that 90% of those people are attention seeking losers who need to buck up and get the hell over the fact that their kitten is sick or their mean mother-in-law is coming to spend the week. I think some people use the label "panic attack" to describe something they choose to do when they are desperate to avoid dealing with a situation.

But I now know that this is a real experience that does happen. And it's a physical thing, not just a mental one. (Any bets on how many consecutive sentences I can start with conjunctions?)

During the last two days I have had the go-go please make it stop feeling very frequently. Night before last I laid here in bed wide awake for some time dealing with it. The same thing happened again last night. Last night I actually tried to overcome it with my mind. Waste of time. When it finally went away I was able to fall asleep--- after 1:00 a.m. Now I am dealing with it again as I type this. That's a lot of it in a short time considering that it's only happened a dozen or so times in the last five years.

The scary thing about the sudden resurgence of crazy symptoms is the fact that I have been on Spring Break for over a week and my stress level has been at a low. What's it going to be like when I go back to work? I'm supposed to go back today, but I'm going to the doctor instead because everything in my head is inflamed and I'm coughing up gunk. (God's way of forcing me to overcome my aversion to snot and boogers before I have to deal with someone else's?)

School's out May 23. It's gonna be a long two months. Who am I kidding? There's no end to this ride I'm on.

Tonight I went to Wal Mart to get groceries, and there was a record number of babies in the store. Every woman who wasn't carrying a tiny baby was very, very pregnant. And as I moved through the store, one of the babies was always on the next aisle, screeeeeaming. Every time I moved to another aisle, the baby was in the next one within two minutes, raising hell. I had to stop and wait while one woman admired another woman's newborn in the middle of the aisle--- twice, with two different women/babies.

It was surreal.

This morning around 4:00 I woke up to the sound of a million golf balls hitting the window next to my head. Normally I am the one who wakes up the morning after a storm asking what happened and why everything in the yard is turned over or blown away. I don't wake up for noises. But last night I was in the middle of a dream when I was startled by what seemed to be the sound of the house falling apart. I jumped out of bed, thinking a tornado might be about to blow us to Oz. I went to the living room to check the weather, and my mother woke up at the same time. It was hailing like a mofo, and all I could think about was the fact that Tim's car was probably getting dented.

I came in his car because I want to take home this cedar trunk my great uncle made for me years ago. He made each of the girls one on our 16th birthdays. He lived in Missouri, and it was a couple of years before anyone managed to get up there with a vehicle big enough to transport it back to me. Since then it's been setting here at my parents' house, and my mom has been storing quilts in it. I've always wanted it, but since I spent many years bouncing back and forth between dorm rooms and other temporary living situations, I just left it here. Now I want to put it in the baby room.

Anyway, it turns out that Tim's precious car didn't even take a scratch. I don't know how, but I'm grateful. I'm pretty sure Tim would burst into flame if I went home with a dented car.

In other news, I've gained five pounds already and I feel like a big fat cow. My already-plus-size jeans are tight and my self esteem is pretty low at this point.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm almost glad to be going back to work Monday. Maybe if I'm busy with work I won't gain as much weight. This past week has been a free for all. If it wasn't bolted down, I probably tried to eat it. It's really weird though. I'm always hungry. I ate breakfast today at 9:00-- a bowl of cereal and some coffee. And now it's 11:14 and my stomach is growling. It's not a mental hunger-- it's a physical hunger, as evidenced by the fact that the neighbors can hear my stomach rumbling. I wonder if any of it has to do with the fact that I'm not taking my metformin, so my blood sugar might be rising and falling too dramatically every time I eat, causing me to feel hungry again. Methinks I need to stick to bland, no-sugar foods to prevent just that.

Mom and I will be going to Brenda's house in a few minutes. We're all going to see Horton Hears a Who with the kids. I MUST eat popcorn every time I go to the movies, but that's going to be my last carb indulgence for a while.

I have been having a problem with a certain feline waking me up multiple times during the night. First, he wakes me up around 4:00 a.m., usually because he's hungry. So I get up and feed him. (Then he wakes me up at 5:00 but doesn't demand anything-- he's usually climbing onto my chest when I wake up. And lemme tell ya that just feels fantastic when your boobs are in the state that mine are in right now.) At 6:00 he wants out. When I get back into bed at 6:03, the dogs start whining to be let out. Letting the dogs out is a multi-step process that always involves me being pawed and jumped up on, and invariably ends with me being too pissed off to go back to sleep. So to sum it up, I wake up at 4:00 every morning. Work or no work.

After about a week of this, I was fed up. Why the heck should I have to get up two hours before any other sane person just because a few animals think they're the center of the universe? To hell with that. So I decided that Pookie would go outside at night, and the last few nights it's been okay.



Last night I slept with my window open. At 4:00 this morning, there was a meowing in my window. I opened my eyes to see the eerie silhouette of a black cat sitting on the window sill. After trying to ignore him for a few minutes, I finally got up to let him in the back door that is closest to that window. He didn't come in and I didn't hear him out there through the door. So I went back to bed. Two minutes later, he was screaming into the window. He came inside that time, and I fed him and went back to my cool, comfortable bed to sleep for another 2 hours.

Enter dogs. One of them started whining. Thinking perhaps he'd just been bothered a little by the noise of me getting up to let the cat in- twice- I tried to ignore him in hopes that he'd go back to sleep. No luck. He just got louder.

Now let me digress for a minute to make sure you understand just how valuable these last two hours of sleep were. I have to be at some rich lady's house today at 9:00 to pick up a puppy. That puppy then has to be delivered to my cousin-- in Independence, MS, which is 20 miles south of Hernando, which is where my parents live. I got volunteered for this puppy delivery because I was flirting with the idea of going up there anyway, and they needed this dog brought up, so it just naturally became a concrete plan.

Anyway, I went to sleep last night after midnight because Tim and I watched American Gangster, which is about seventy eleven hours long and didn't leave me in any mood to fall asleep. In other words, today I'm going to drive longer than I've slept. And when I reach my destination, I will deal with some relatives that I haven't seen in a few years. And it's not the relatives that I mind. It'll actually be nice to see her. But damn. I'd STILL be at least mentally exhausted by the time I got there if A) I got more than 4 hours of sleep the night before, or B) there wasn't a little puppy that is sure to be whining half the way there, or C) I wasn't knocked up and prone to sudden extreme bouts of fatigue. Oh yeah, and D) I COULD HAVE MORE THAN ONE CUP OF COFFEE or at least a Mountain Dew! Today I've got none of those four things on my side. JOY! And the fact that I'm up early in the first place because of a dog and up earlier than THAT because of another dog? FEEL THE BURN!

So back to my story. The dog didn't stop whining. So I got up and found my shoes and went to let their punk asses outside. Could they just go outside and piss and come back in? No. First they tried to ransack the laundry room where their crates are located, then they tried to ransack yours truly. Stressful. They ran across the boundary of the fence and I tried to get their shock collars on them, which is kind of like trying to tie something onto a greased pig on crack. If it had teeth and sharp paws and wanted to hump your leg.

By the time I got the collars on, I was so pissed that I could've just shot both of the dogs right there and felt no remorse. I turned to make my way back to my bed for the one hour of sleep that might still have remained. Both dogs decided to run through the fence. They've never done that before. I had to get the hose on them, and also found it useful to scream at them at the top of my lungs. I hope the neighbors complain. I'd love someone new to scream at. (Or turn the hose on.)

Soooooooooo I FINALLY went back inside, but at this point I was covered in water and dog drool. I washed my hands up to my armpits and plopped back down on the bed, pissed.

Ten seconds later...

Meoooow?

And ten seconds after that, Pookie learned that he can not fly.

The cat I have a hard time blaming for being up at night. He's nocturnal. Nature compels him to get up at 4 a.m. and eat something, and because he's been domesticated he relies on me to help with that. I can tolerate it SOMETIMES.

But dogs? I hate dogs. I'm sick of dogs. FUCK DOGS. I'm telling Tim today that those bastards are staying outside from now on. It's warming up, and they're almost 100% grown up; they can handle the wild outdoors of our back yard overnight. Especially during the summer and fall.

From now on, anything that wakes me up to be fed in the middle of the night is going to DIE unless it has half my chromosomes. I have about 7 months left to sleep through the night. I'm not having these last precious nights of sleep ruined by something that isn't going to be picking my nursing home in forty years.

Labels: it's not a cat blog, pet tales

I'm sleepy but I can't sleep.

My stomach hurts, but I can't puke.

My face feels hot, but the ceiling fan gives me a chill.

My throat is sore. Thanks, Tim.

This morning I cried over something that I imagined.

This afternoon I cried because I was so touched by someone's words of encouragement.

I feel sad and dirty, and I don't know if it's hormones or if it's because I voted for Hillary.

Yesterday I ate everything in sight. Today I had to force a meal into my body, and got no enjoyment from it whatsoever.

My plan to go visit my mom tomorrow has been squashed for now. Everyone up there is sick. I called her tonight to let her know I'd be there in the morning, and she's got a bad cold. Ryan has some kind of sinus infection, Olivia is spewing neon colored snot, and Chris has spent the last 24 hours sitting on a toilet with his head in a garbage can. Of course, Tim is sick too, so I'm not sure how much safer it is here. But at least here the germs are local. Unlike those exotic North Mississippi germs. And I guess I'm kind of obligated to breathe in Tim's germs without too much complaining. I just hope he remembers it when I'm stitched from butthole to belly button and have only slept 3 minutes in the last 7 nights. Cause I'm gonna need some care takin'. I've never considered myself a major wimp, but I have a feelin' this is gonna be the true test of my ability to take a lickin' and keep on tickin'. Before it's over I'll probably wish I'd just takin' a lickin' and left it at that.

Oh my. That seemed less inappropriate before I typed it.

Today's itinerary included such exciting events as cleaning out the filthy mess under the bathroom sinks, and putting down shelf liners so the funkiness on the floor of the cabinets is hidden. But I didn't get either of those fun things done. Instead I sorta wasted the entire day. I did go to the mall to get some new cologne for Tim, who did not particularly care for my last choice, Vera Wang. Although his wang did smell delicious, he said he wanted something new. So I got something new. I can't think of the name of it now. It's new, you know. But I think he'll like it. He better. It was fifty bucks.

I also bought a nice pointy hoe, since someone won't buy me a gas powered edger, and SOMETHING's got to be done about the fact that the flower beds are now one with the rest of the yard. And I bought some trivets, so that I can use my pot holders as pot holders instead of setting hot stuff on top of them. And I bought a very beautiful pink gerbera daisy that is sure to make me smile at least once before I head off to ten hours of hell every morning for the next two months. I WILL have pretty flowers this summer. I don't care if they only live for a few months, then die. I want pretty flowers, and the pretty ones are the ones that live for one season and then croak. The ones that come back again the next year are never as pretty. And I'm planting a Dogwood tree this year. Maybe three or four. I love those. All we have in the yard are some pines that someone actually planted intentionally. Planting pines in your yard in South Mississippi is kinda like...like...like planting a cactus in your yard in Arizona, I guess. Except cacti are prettier. Pines are sorta abundant here in the "Pine Belt." Who'da thunk it? Maybe I'll plant a Magnolia. Yeah. A Magnolia and some Dogwoods.

I also got a purse that was on clearance for $7 but rang up for $4 at the register. And a new meat thermometer cause my old one crapped out and the only one we have is so slow that by the time it gives you the internal temp, it's twenty degrees below what it probably was when you first wanted to know. And a cute little bib that has a cow on it, and the word, "Mooooooooooooo!" Cause cows say "Moooooooooooo!" And because I had to buy something baby related. I also bought myself a brand spankin' used copy of Madden 2007 for my XBOX, which is now so outdated that you can't even find many used games for it anymore. I'm a tad bit disappointed because it turned out that Madden 2007 is almost 100% identical to Madden 2006 and I could've kept my $14.99 and put it in a fund for a new gaming system.

Later when I realized that I'd done all that shopping but still had nothing to cook for dinner, I went to the devil's playground. While in the devil's playground I got so sleepy that I think I dozed off in the bread aisle.

Then I came home and burned some stuff, which has become my new weekend hobby.

In other news, Tim works with a bunch of twats. Spineless, gossiping, backstabbing, douchebag twats. And he has actually managed to maintain his unwavering work ethic in the face of their assholism. I can't get through fourth period without pondering the futility of it all if I have two bad days in a row. Give me a bad week and I'll show you how to use a sick day. Now I'm kinda wishing I'd let those build up. Karma's a bitch. But not nearly as big a bitch as the bitches that Tim tolerates.

I'm gonna go clean out the mess under the bathroom sinks. Hope nothing bites me.

Since it's the only thing I can think about, I'm compelled to read about pregnancy online, but the websites that cater to that need are apparently for worry warts. There's always some article on the front page that's clearly designed to scare pregnant women. For example, I just dodged an article called "17 Signs Something is Wrong." Why the hell would I want to read that? Chances are I've got at least 2 of the symptoms whether anything's wrong or not.

It's Spring Break. For a whole week. Thank God. I wasn't going to make it another week without a serious break.

Marijuana should be legalized. Not because I want to smoke it, but just because I think we could focus our efforts on more important things. I just watched an episode of COPS in which a few police officers sat in a car near a park watching people through binoculars until they saw someone buy a bag of weed. Then they jumped out and tackled him and started strutting around like super heros. Sorta stupid if you ask me.

Suspects on COPS almost invariably use their kids as a reason for why the po-pos should let them go. "I'm just on my way to see my kids. My brand new baby daughter. I just want to see my kids, that's all!"

I slept for something like 13 hours last night, but I had crazy dreams the entire night so I'm not sure how much restful sleep I got. I woke up every few hours either because I had to pee or because the cat was being a bastard, and every time I went back to sleep I went straight back into a different but similar psychotic dream. All my dreams lately are kinda depressing with a doomsday feel to them.

Today I went shopping, but couldn't bring myself to buy anything. Nothing seemed worth it. We're going shopping for a dining room table and chairs Thursday. I looked at some today, but nothing tripped my trigger. Hopefully we'll find the perfect set this week, because we need one.

Meth is stupid.

Yesterday I told you about the NYC hot dog stand. Today Hillary Clinton spoke at the train depot in downtown Hattiesburg. That's a little too much NYC in a short period for me.

And now it's gonna snow? Geez.

I never thought I would utter these words, but I think I might vote for Hillary Clinton this Tuesday in our primary. Only because Obama scares the ever loving shit out of me, and McCain is the new boss who's the same as the old boss. Have you noticed who some of the Anti-Christ's Obama's supporters are? The more I know about him, the more afraid I become. We gotta keep that boy out of the White House.

One more day, and then it's Spring Break. We are out all next week, then there are two months left. The school year IS almost over!

I have really had to crack the whip on some of my students lately. They come into my classroom and act like they don't know the first thing to do. You'd think it was the first few weeks of school. Yesterday one of them asked me if she could use an ink pen. What? What kind of question is that? A stupid one-- that's what kind! That's the sort of thing that is talked about in August. I just looked at her, and the other kids started giggling at her, and then she felt stupid. Maybe she just wanted to hear herself talk?

Another kid came up to me and asked, "Do we need our binders today?" Um. We need our binders every. single. day. There have been about 5 times throughout the year when I met them at the door and told them not to get the binders because we were doing something different and didn't need them. But "Do we need our binders?" still falls under the stupid question category.

They have forgotten what the procedure is when you come to class without a pencil or other materials. First of all, I usually have a few pencils or pens on the chalk tray, and they can grab one as they come in if they need it. If they can't get one there, they're supposed to hustle one without interrupting the class. They can eat an entire bag of Cheetos and drink a raspberry Fanta without getting caught-- I know they can get a pen without getting caught. If all else fails and they have to ask me for one, I give them a pen. And they use it to sign a detention slip. I consider it a class disruption worthy of punishment. Lately they're coming in without stuff more and more, and they'll just sit there like goobers not doing a thing until I look at them, and then they go, "Oh. I ain't got no pencil." Well tough shit, Sherlock!

I guess they're just getting Spring Fever. I'm gonna have to spend a day on rules and procedures when they get back, or else it's gonna be a long stretch to May 23.

Did you know there's a real New York City hot dog stand right here in Hattiesburg? A retired NYC cop bought one and sets it up in various places around town. On weekends he's usually outside of a bar downtown when the drunks come out at last call. During the week he sets up in a vacant lot on Broadway Drive until 4:30 p.m.

I had heard that this guy was in town, and the first time I saw the big yellow umbrella out of the corner of my eye, I knew it was him. A hot dog stand kinda stands out in Hattiesburg. The hot dogs are freakin' AWESOME! He sells real New York City hot dogs, which are different from the crappy ones I'm used to, but not as good as the ones at Mr. Beef in Chicago. You can get them with lots of good stuff on them: chili, sauerkraut, onions, barbecued onions, relish, etc.

There's always a line.

The first time I had one, Tim brought them home to me. He got me one with sauerkraut and one with chili. The chili was great, and I didn't care much for the sauerkraut. It was okay, but...naahhh.

Then one day out of the blue I thought about a hot dog with sauerkraut, and it sounded delicious. I had to have one immediately. I was at the bank in Petal when the urge hit me, and I drove all the way to Broadway Drive in Hattiesburg to see if he was there. I didn't think he would be because it was raining lightly that day, but he was. And there was a line, as usual, even in the rain.

I stood in the line and got two hot dogs with sauerkraut and mustard and mayo. I ate them as soon as I got in the car, and wished I could have another one. Later I was in Wal Mart-- the big Wal Mart out on 98 where they have lots of stuff, unlike the one in Petal-- and I saw a bag of sauerkraut in the cooler section near the hot dogs. I bought some, and started putting it on everything from hot dogs to lima beans.

Two days later I found out I was pregnant. It didn't take nearly that long for me to find out that sauerkraut causes vicious, skin-peeling farts.

I haven't had any hot dogs since I found out I'm knocked up because I read that they've been linked to some kind of food poisoning of fetuses or something, even if they're heated up. (Okay, I did buy some of those kosher Hebrew National hot dogs that are supposed to have no spare parts in them, and I heated them way too much and put a ton of sauerkraut on them. The sauerkraut alone should be able to kill anything dangerous, dontcha think?)

My sauerkraut obsession seems to have passed for now. If I could eat a hot dog without feeling guilty, I'd still be addicted. But it's just not as good on other foods.

Just last night I was saying I didn't feel pregnant. Well, well, well. Guess what? NOW I DO! Today during the test-- you know, the one that forced me to stand up and walk around for 3+ hours without sitting down or even leaning on a wall-- during the test I was stricken with some symptoms I could go the rest of my life without ever feeling again. First I felt like I needed to drop the kids off at the pool, if you catch my drift. Then all of a sudden I felt a tugging feeling down in my region, like where my bladder is. It got pretty intense a few times, and I almost threw up. After it started to pass I just had a general disgusting feeling in my center. I can't say it was my stomach or my nether parts-- it was everything from below my boobs down. Everything. I felt tender and sore and nauseated. Thinking that it probably wasn't normal to feel such tenderness and sharp pains down there, I called my doc as soon as the test was over. They said something about some ligaments in the uterus that pull and stretch, and said it was probably perfectly okay. The nurse said to take a Tylenol and then take a warm bath when I could. It did pass, and I felt better after taking the Tylenol. It was kind of scary. Now my boobs are back to being on fire, and I'm back to being exhausted, so I won't be complaining of not feeling pregnant for a few days at least. Still haven't barfed.

The painful slew of weirdness that hit my body during the test wasn't even the beginning of my crappy day. Let's just say I've got tomorrow's post already written. I'm just too tired for it now.

It's almost 7:00. Screw this. I'm going to bed.

Today our students take the Mississippi Science Test. I have to get to work early to either take down or cover up every poster in my room, because a little info on pronouns might apparently help some of them remember what plants use to make energy. During the training session that we had last week, they were spouting out all these rules we have to follow and warning us that the world would absolutely END if a cell phone were to ring during the test.

When they told us to cover up our posters, one of the Spanish teachers asked if she had to do it too. They said yes, because someone might speak Spanish. WHAT?!? They can't speak ENGLISH! Okay, so there are a few Mexican immigrants there who probably speak Spanish, but still. The rest of them know how to say "Fuck your mother" and "I'll have a beer please," and that's the extent of what they've gotten from Spanish class so far. I don't think some info on the capital of Spain is going to help them.

But I get the point. We have to make the environment conducive to testing, which means making it feel really hostile and cold and threatening. Our children freak out on tests anyway because they have no self confidence. They're poor, they're black, they're from uneducated parents, and they constantly hear about how inferior they are because they're poor, black, and from Mississippi. So let's make it worse by A) giving them regular lectures about how they've got to do better and B) putting the pressure on when testing day comes and making it seem like it really matters.

I don't think it does, frankly. Unless you're an administrator or one of the bureaucrats who gets paid to think it means something, it means jack shit. You can't get the truth about what a kid has learned in a year by giving them one test. It's just a process that makes it possible for Hank Bounds to get on Mississippi Public Radio and talk about what we're doing to address our many problems. It's just a process that will generate a number that will be used in other states to talk about how retarded we are.

The harder they try to extract real information out of these tests, the less accurate it becomes. Just my opinion. And of course I don't let that opinion peek its ugly head out in the classroom, because judging how useful the tests are is not my job. It's just my hobby.

I dread the English test. God help us. I'm truly scared. I am already anticipating the first faculty meeting next year when they break out that powerpoint presentation with all the test results. English WILL be the lowest again. And I'll be one of very few English teachers sitting there who was also present this year, because the majority of them are not coming back. (Annnnnnnd the cycle repeats.) It really is the hardest department to work in. Anyway, I'm already planning to sit in the back for that particular meeting. I might even open my mouth and point out that it's hard to teach standard English to kids who don't speak it as their first language. When a child goes to first grade with the vocabulary of a nine month old, you're playing catch up from day one. And that is exactly what happens with kids who don't live in "literary rich" homes. It really sounds funny to them when you make a subject and verb agree. "You is" sounds right to them. "You are" is hard for them to say. It sounds wrong to them.

Back to today's test. I just hope I can administer this test without breaking any major rules in a moment of forgetfulness. And I hope I can make it the full three hours without having to go to the restroom, because it requires an act of Congress if you do have to go. You have to buzz the office, and they have to send an administrator down while you go. I have been a peeing machine for the last week and a half. It was better yesterday, so maybe today it'll be okay.

It should be fine. I didn't even finish my one cup of coffee this morning. It didn't taste the same. Maybe I will develop an aversion to it while I'm pregnant. That would be nice. My mom said the smell of coffee made her queasy while she was pregnant with me.

I think I'm having a girl. Everyone I know who has had a boy said they puked a lot. And everyone who had a girl? Didn't puke much if any. My mom never puked with me or my sister. My sister puked her guts out-- she actually lost 60 pounds while she was pregnant with Ryan. With Olivia she never got sick. They are not the only two people I'm basing my theory on.

Hillbilly Mom, it would be great if you'd tell me you never puked with either of your boys. But you did, didn't ya? Cause they're boys, and boys make you puke.

I haven't puked yet. I know it's early, but I don't even feel pregnant right now. If not for the cramps and sore boobs, I wouldn't have any symptoms. It just feels like my monthly visitor is about to come. As stupid as it sounds, I'd like to puke a few times just to feel pregnant. And to hold out hope that maybe it's a boy. We even have a possible boy name picked out, but have not even talked about girl names. I just don't know how I would handle raising a girl. I'd be a great mom to a boy.

Think blue.

Very weird dream last night. It flashed back and forth between a few seemingly unrelated scenes. At one point I was in some kind of building-- the tallest building I've ever been in-- and it was collapsing. I was feeling the floor go down like an elevator out of control, and things around me were catching fire. I knew I was going to die, and I was okay with it.

Then I was in some kind of camp. I didn't want to be there, but I can't tell if I was being held there against my will or what. I was lying on a cot in an otherwise empty room, and I didn't have any pants or underwear on-- just a t-shirt or a gown of some sort. I was thinking how nice it was to finally be able to sleep. Then my ass started itching, and I realized that the room was filled with a million mosquitos. I spent the rest of the dream scratching my ass.

Gotta love the power of the human brain to baffle you.

There was bad weather here last night. I went to bed at 8:30 and finally fell asleep about an hour later, so I missed the bad part. When I went to let the dogs out this morning, I noticed a lot of things in the yard were knocked over. Then I started reading the news, and apparently a tornado touched down at Camp Shelby, a building collapsed, and it injured 7 or 8 people. Nobody died from what I've heard so far.

I hope the kids aren't evil today. Hillbilly Mom hit the nail squarely on the head with her prediction that 8th graders get better and 7th graders get worse as the school year progresses. My 7th graders have been hell on wheels. And unfortunately they come to me at the very end of the day-- 6th and 7th periods-- so I'm good and worn out by the time they arrive with their shenanigans. I hope they do not shenan again today.

(Sorry HM. Had to borrow that one. It's a classic.)

This pregnancy is really throwing off some of my routines. It took me 29 years to mature to a point where I could establish and maintain structure and routine, and now they're all out the window.

The first routine that's out the window is my morning coffee/blogging habit. I don't leave for work until 7:15ish. I could wait until 7:30, or even later if I wanted to push it. But I get up between 5:00 and 5:15. I spend a full hour sitting on my bed, drinking coffee, and playing on the innernets. Sometimes I read, sometimes I work on last minute lesson plans, and sometimes I just sit on the bed and stare at the wall and think. Sometimes I pet Pookie while he sleeps peacefully at the foot of the bed, and sometimes I roll him into a Pookie ball so that his asshole is in his face and he can't fight back. That's one of my favorite ways to start the day-- especially if he's been a bastard and woke me up early or something. But however I spend my hour, I always have my coffee. Two to three cups a morning. And the point is that it's MY hour. The one time of the day that nobody's asking me anything or giving me anything to do or telling me any crucial information that I'm probably going to forget.

Now? Well. Now my hour is less fulfilling. I don't get up as early, because I can't have more than one cup of coffee. So it's kinda like my half hour. Except I forget that I only have half an hour, and I end up being half an hour behind because after I finished my one unsatisfying cup of coffee I kept playing for another 30 minutes instead of getting up and getting ready.

My middle-of-the-day routines are about the same. I don't eat cafeteria lunches anymore. Of course there's no sushi or shrimp or motorcycle riding, but those weren't really routines. Just things I enjoy on occasion. Though it is killing me that my bike's coming out of the shop tomorrow and I can't ride it. Or can I? I have heard that you can't ride horses when you're pregnant. Is the same true of motorcycles? It's not as bumpy as a horse. What do y'all think? Pregnant chick on a Harley too risky? Shouldn't it be okay as long as I don't wreck? Isn't it the up and down bouncing on a horse that makes it so dangerous? If I could know that I riding my bike was safe, that'd make me feel much better. I'd have something fun to do. An escape.

I was also enjoying the occasional cigarette before I got pregnant. Yeah, I know. I quit 3 years ago-- why would I dabble? But I was just having like one smoke a day. I had been doing it for about a month, and I don't know why I started doing it, but it was very gratifying. Not anymore. It's probably for the best though. I would've been back to a pack a day before I knew it if I'd kept dabbling.

My evening routine is screwed too. I take a hot bath every night. Of course I take a shower in the morning before work-- I'm one of those people whose hair gets oily in one day, so not washing it isn't an option. But I also take a hot bath almost every single night. It calms me, and gets me in bed mode. But now that I'm pregnant, can I have my hot bath? NNnnnooooooOOOOOooooooo! Because the hot water might boil the baby or something. I don't even know how to take off my makeup or get ready for bed without taking a bath-- that's how used to the evening bath I am. And no, a shower won't do. My hair has to remain dry. I can't sleep on wet hair, and the loud hair dryer sorta undoes the whole relaxation thing you've got going after a bath.

Don't y'all feel horribly sorry for me now?

I have a feeling there's gonna be a hostile parent-teacher conference for me this week. A particular parent, who has control issues, asked me at the beginning of the year to email her weekly about what her son is doing in class. I've done that-- in fact I've taken the time to give her the correct answers to his homework questions so that she could know they were getting them right at home. I've done several other things that I didn't have to do, just to make her happy. The more I did, the more she began to expect. She's sent me several pissy emails over the last couple of months. Now her son is failing because he hasn't been doing all the classwork. She emailed me last week to tell me it's my fault that he's failing because I didn't email her the previous week, and that my class was the only one her son is failing and that "It better get fixed in a hurry." She actually wrote those exact words. Then she went on for two paragraphs about how I wasn't doing my job and I'd better get her son's grade up, etc. I forwarded the emails to the principal and the counselor in anticipation of the phone call they're probably going to get after she gets my response to her email. I told her that her child wouldn't be failing if he didn't make single digit scores on tests, or if he would stop playing in class, or if he'd turn in classwork. So yeah, I think she'll be calling. Fortunately, I'm learning how to set up a good defense when this stuff happens.

So bring it, bitch.