Monday, July 30, 2012

Brought to you by the NHS

I am a huge Olympics fan.  I have always loved the opening ceremonies and had a party in college to celebrate them.  It was a lame party because I lived in a very dumpy apartment and we had to watch it on a teeny screen.  Sorry, college friends.

So this year I decided to go all out and have a big fun party to celebrate the London opening ceremony.  After all, I am a huge anglophile.  How could I not celebrate?!  Over 20 people came and we were having a great time.  Then, the ceremony started and we were baffled.  

First, the whole thing was...just...MEH.  Not that interesting.  I mean, sure, the Queen skydiving was great (but man, did she ever look pissed off).  And then, the whole NHS thing started.  What the heck?!  Why would they dance around the NHS logo?  It didn't make any sense.  Should we have this in our next Olympic games?  

Then the whole glowing bed thing happened.  Huh.  Don't really get that so much, either.  

But then the thing went from weird to SCARY!  What the heck were they thinking?  This was like a nightmare!

And then Voldemort appeared and they shot the Dark Mark above the amphitheater.  And then the crowd went berserk and spells were flying around and...wait...wrong story.  

And this, my friends, is what happens if the NHS nurses dance around you.  You turn into a big, scary, dead baby with a bisected skull.  The end of the joyful Olympics.  

 Thankfully, Mr. Bean saved the day with his funny sketch.  I got really depressed when poor Muhammad Ali couldn't grab the flag and I ended the ceremony both baffled, frightened and disappointed.

They should have just had David Beckham run around naked and call it a day.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Viva La...Informacion

Today a close family member had surgery at an openly Catholic hospital.  In a mark of pure idiocy, I showed up to the hospital wearing this shirt:

a spoof of the "Viva la Revolution" logo with Che Guevara:

I didn't even pay attention to what shirt I was putting on.  I simply wore clothes that made me look like a softball player (ifyoucatchmydrift).  I didn't even think about wearing a Martin Luther shirt to a Catholic hospital.  Dur!!  So my choices were to keep my arms over my shirt, looking really cranky, or have to look the icon that faced me in the eye and wear this rebellious shirt.  I'm sure Martin would have been proud.

My sister tells me that it doesn't matter, no one thinks about it and, more shockingly, no one knows the history of Martin Luther.  I was appalled.  Is she right?  Do average Americans not know this critical piece of world history?  He was a weirdo, but an inspired weirdo responsible for dividing Christian churches into Catholic and Protestant.

Please.  Tell me you knew this.

Monday, July 23, 2012

Evita Jackson

So in case you have missed it, Michael Jackson's mother is allegedly missing.  Michael's children (Prince, Paris and Blanket) haven't seen their legal guardian in over a week and haven't been allowed to talk to her.  

Katherine's children, who are pissed that she won't give them more money (in a nutshell) insist that she is just fine!  She's resting and the doctors won't allow her to talk to the children.  You know, the children she's been taking care of!!!

Is it just coincidence that her adult children are upset about money and then she vanishes?  No!  No coincidence at all!

Could she just make a quick phone call?  Apparently not.  Could she Skype?  Nope.  Could she send them an email?  No.  Something is very fishy and it begins to remind me of Norman Bates.  What is going on?  And more importantly, are you freaking kidding me?  Could this family be more of a freak show?

But then, surprise!  They release a picture of Katherine!  She may not be able to communicate with the kids or anyone else, but she sure is able to play Uno!  Of course!

Now, instead of reminding me of Norman Bates, I'm thinking more along the lines of Eva Peron's restless corpse.  You know, the corpse that was well preserved and dragged all around the world, stuffed in attics, closets, and even in a dining room where her hair was brushed every day and a woman climbed into the coffin to absorb her magical powers.

I think they've had Katherine preserved!  She's been hiding in Germaine's closet and he dragged her out and propped her up to the table to look like she's having a great time playing Uno.

All in a day's work in this freaking family!

Sunday, July 22, 2012

We let go with hope

I am really struggling with blogging since this shooting.  I keep thinking of funny things to blog about, but it just seems wrong.  I used to work in a theater when I was in high school, and I immediately thought about all the poor teenagers that were undoubtedly working that night.

I keep thinking about those poor people trapped in the dark unable to escape.

I keep thinking about the poor survivors and the long road ahead.

I keep thinking about the poor grieving families.  Losing my dad was so hard, but we didn't lose him to the hands of another.  How would you deal with that?

I keep thinking about the poor emergency personnel who had to go into a terrifying unknown.  The men and women that bravely try to detonate this sick man's apartment.

In a few days, I will be able to blog about Katherine Jackson's apparent kidnap.  But for now, I think about those affected and I think of this song by Steven Curtis Chapman after his daughter was killed.

We hope.

This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams
And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but ...

We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
(There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God's plan
But through the cloud of tears
I see the Father's smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're free, and ...

We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything
God promised us is true, so ...

So we can cry with hope
And say goodbye with hope

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope

Monday, July 16, 2012

Lotsa Time

It must be summer vacation from school.  I have time to be irritated that the stupid pigs on "Angry Birds" smile at you when you lose.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

I am offended for them!

I saw a Febreze commercial today, and it offended me on many levels!  I think all their ads are dumb without being offensive.  You can't tell me that if you fill a car with trash and then spray Febreze that it will no longer smell like garbage.  You can't tell me that a stinky toilet will no longer smell with Febreze around.

 In college, I had roommates that really felt that if they sprayed enough strawberry air freshener in the bathroom, it would hide the unmistakable odor of a twosie.  All that happened was it smelled like doodie AND strawberry stink. That's just the way it goes!  It made me want to hurl even MORE.

 But then, in true Olympic spirit, Febreze creates an ad about these guys. Watch the full two minutes - it does include the ad.


OK, wait just a cotton picking minute!  Yes, I get it.  Wrestling stinks.  That is the least of its repulsive qualities, but yes, sweat and rubber mats stink.  But should we really be implying that men from Azerbaijan stink?  I mean, maybe they do, but it seems very rude to me!

Second of all, should we really be using a small unknown country to promote an air freshener?   Seriously.  Did they run this by the U.N. first?

Third of all, sniffing a guy's cup is going to stink.  It may smell like passion fruit, but it's gonna smell like passion fruit and crotch.  Don't even get me started on the effects of spraying all this chemical crap around.

 And finally, really?  A potpourri factory?  A guy suggested this as a scent?   And this isn't scripted?   And, is that a compliment?  I think potpourri stinks.

So, in conclusion, I don't like it!  Stop picking on the poor Azerbaijan men!  And just accept the fact that candles, Scentsys, and air fresheners are never going to eliminate smell completely.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Look at me!

I worked out next to my doctor today.  This isn't the first time I've seen her at the gym.  I'm not sure she knows who I am, but she must be wondering what the heck is wrong with the sweaty blonde staring at her the whole time.

It's a lot of pressure!  What is she thinking?  Does she think I'm working out hard enough?  Too hard?  Does she want to take my pulse?  Will I get extra credit for running into her at the gym multiple times?

And then the other part of my brain is thinking "Wow, you'd think a doctor would go to a more expensive gym!  Hey, I'm working out longer than her!  And she's not even breaking a sweat like I am!  I wonder what book she's reading?  She's listening to music at the same time, that is weird.  What kind of music does she listen to while reading?"

I have complained so many times about running into my students in public and them staring at me like crazy.  Or wanting to talk about school.  And look at me, I'm all

Look at me!  Look at me!  Aren't you proud?  What are you doing?
Yes, I am pathetic.   Sorry, Dr. Anonymous.

Monday, July 2, 2012


How could you do this to me?

The day after I wrote about you!  The day after!

We would have been so wonderful together. 

My phone has been ringing and dinging all day about this.  I am hurt you didn't call me personally and break the news to me. 




(Thank you, Emily, for breaking it to me gently.)

Sunday, July 1, 2012


I have a well documented love affair with Anderson Cooper.  He's incredibly good looking, intelligent, funny, and generous.  What is not to love?  When I mention this, people undoubtedly look at me, cock their head and say "But isn't he gay?"


I'm sure if he met me, I could convince him to come to my team.

At the end of the school year, we had "Name Day" where you could select a new name for the day.  I selected "Mrs. A. Cooper."  I thought it was very clever until a teacher came up to me and said "Heh...heh.  Alice Cooper.  Funny."  Not Alice, ANDERSON!!!!!

While I am visiting my loving grandmother, she is intent on squashing out any positive self esteem that I might still possess.  This includes regular conversations about my weight, hair, and clothing.  In one breath she is encouraging me to order a heinously bad for you dessert and in the next, she's insulting me.  If I weighed 85 pounds, it wouldn't be thin enough for her.

Of course, she does not think that I should have a crush on Anderson.  Her answer to me? 

"Non-Mommy, you can't be with Anderson Cooper.  He's too small for you!  You need a big man!"

Apparently, his celebrity isn't a problem for her.  The fact that I will never meet him isn't a problem for her.  The rumor that he is gay isn't a problem for her.  No, the problem is that he's too small for me.

Shoot me now.

Was I Right, or Was I Right?

Did I not call this before?  How could Tom Cruise be shocked?  We could see this coming from a mile away!

I am sooo happy.  Sooooo happy.  Not faking it at all.
To quote myself:

Why do celebrities pretend that they are all comfy cozy when they split?  Someday, we'll see a statement from Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.  And hopefully it goes something like this:

"After a horribly abusive relationship in which I was henpecked and controlled by a remote control, I have decided to leave Tom.  I was tired of his scientology vitamins and how he made me go everywhere with him, even when he had to pee.  We had a horrible fight and I called my lawyer.  Unfortunately, Tom has some maniac control over me and my children and he will keep Suri while I move to the midwest and start a family with another man, pretending like I never had any kids prior to them."
Good luck keeping your kid, Katie!  Call Nicole Kidman if you want any tips on how to keep her.

Saturday, June 23, 2012


My grandmother is notorious for getting words wrong, leaving out words, and horrific spelling.  It adds to her charm. 

So imagine my shock when the following conversation happened:

Her:  Did you put sunblock on your face this morning?

Me:  No, my makeup has sunblock in it.  If I'm not going outside, I don't worry about it as much.

Her:  Huh.  I don't think any of my makeup has the HIV in it.

Me:  The...HIV?

Her:  Yeah.

Me:  HIV. 

Her:  ??

Me:  I'm really glad your makeup doesn't have HIV in it.  That seems like a really bad idea.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012


My first blog post from my phone. I feel so tech savvy!

I am in the Chicago airport waiting for a flight to go see my crazy drunk grandma. It is like visiting a foreign country, a country in which you spend a great deal of time discussing the size of my grandmother's mouth and her "Gooms," which is how she pronounces "gums." A world in which it is apparently normal for the short bossy lady to bust in on you while you shower. A world in which her widow friends get into fights and vow to not cut one another's meat as a punishment.

If I make it out alive, it will be a miracle.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

I don't miss you.

I really can't stand Oprah Winfrey.  She's such a freaking know it all and everyone seems to worship her! It sure has been great to not see her tooting her own horn, lecturing everyone and being generally obnoxious.

I saw this the other day and just had to share.  This sums up how ridiculous I think it is that women all over this country worship Oprah.


My love Anderson Cooper will always be my favorite.

Always, Andy.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Field Trips...Are They Really Necessary?

During my long blog break, many things happened.  One of the more memorable things that happened was that I was fortunate enough to go on a field trip with my class.  Ahem.

Before we went on the field trip, however, something was amiss in Ms. Non-Mommy's classroom.  Do you remember Zach, my beloved autistic child?  I really do love this kid.  He's absolutely hilarious and very sweet.  Unfortunately, Zach had a pretty serious accident.  His injuries forced him to avoid any situations that may make his injuries worse.  These situations include recess.

For those of you not in a classroom, can I tell you how fortunate you are to be able to pee when you want during the day?  Don't take it for granted.  Because I get two bathroom breaks a day, and that is only if no parents come in to talk to me, call me, or I don't have a meeting.  The kids are at recess and I'm usually counting down the seconds until I can sprint to the restroom.  For a few weeks, Zach had to stay in at recess with me.  This involved him following me around the room asking me the same questions over and over and over again.

"Ms. Non-Mommy, can you print me a picture of a kitty?  Can you print me a picture of a kitty?  Can you print me a picture of a kitty?  Why don't you have any ink?  You should get a job so that you can buy some ink.  Can you print me a picture of a kitty at home?  Can you draw me a picture?  Can you print me a picture of a kitty?"

This went on for weeks.  Zach even had to come to the restroom with me, because we aren't allowed to leave students alone.  So I'd be trying to pee and would hear faintly through the door "When you come out, can you print me a picture of a kitty?  Oh, hi Mrs. Dennis.  I'm waiting for Ms. Non-Mommy.  Hey, can you print me a picture of a kitty?"

Imagine my surprise when a few weeks later, Zach's mother was absolutely insistent that he go on a hiking field trip with our class.  The kid couldn't step a toe outdoors at school, but a 2.5 mile hike on rocks was ok?  Whatever.  I plastered a smile on my face and soldiered on.

The day of the field trip looked bright.  It was going to be a great day!  And then Zach walked in the room.  Something was not normal about the way he was behaving today.  How did I know?  Because he walked in and announced "Argh, matey!  I be a pirate today!  Want a drink of my rum?"  When I refused to take a drink of his rum, he kept shoving his water bottle in my face insisting that I drink his rum.

Jack Sparrow: My intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are troubled.

I tried to use the secret teacher detection technique.  You know the one!  The "How was your morning, Zach?  Did you eat breakfast this morning?  Did you do everything you normally do during breakfast?  Did you...take everything you were supposed to this morning?"

Off to the hiking trail we went.  I knew he'd be slow, so I kept Zach and I at the back of the line while all the other teachers and students walked on.  We stepped onto the trail, Zach looked down and noticed we were on a large hill, and he immediately began shrieking.  He was screaming bloody murder and I'm sure that strangers around us were wondering what on earth was I doing to this poor kid?!  He was screaming "I'm going to fall!  I can't do this!  We can't go on a hike!  I can't go!"  I had to go, and there was no one to stay with him, so I had to literally pull him along.

He kept yelling at me "I'm too old to die!  I'm too old to die!"  After a while, he wrapped himself around me like a squid and I struggled to carry us both.  We continued to walk along and a girl nearby fell on the trail.  Her knee was squirting blood and that, of course, set off Zach.  Now I had a screaming autistic child AND a screaming bleeder!  And of course, everyone else was far, far away.  I cleaned her up the best I could and kept plodding along, imagining that I was going to die in the middle of this trail with these two crying children.

Miraculously, we managed to catch up to the line of children only to be stopped by a kid puking in the middle of the trail.  The icing on the cake.

As we continued onward, the fat kids slowly trickled to the back of the line.  I know that is mean, but listen, I was one of them once.  I know how it is.  Pretty soon I had all the fat kids at the back going "I'm so hot!  I can't do this!  How much farther do we have to go?  I don't like to hike!"  (Yes, that was me.)  And along with them, Zach kept shouting "How come you don't want any of my rum, Ms. Non-Mommy?"
Cheers to you

Oh, Zach.  I did want it.  Oh, so much.

Tap this thing on?

Holy cow, did I ever forget this blog or what?!  My biggest apologies to my loyal blog followers for the hiatus, but I am back and better than ever!

Stay tuned for exciting tales about school ending, going to Disney World, and sweating a lot.  It's non-stop action around here!

Saturday, March 17, 2012

When pigs...jump over shamrocks

You know, sometimes I long for the simple good old days. Days when life moved more slowly and the little things in life were more appreciated.

And then, I see things like this:

I realize then that I was not meant for the good old days. I mean, I don't get this at all. What does this even mean? And why is that shamrock so huge? Or that pig and girl so small?

Anyway, Happy St. Patty's Day from Non-McMommy! Or, O'Nonmommy. Whatever you prefer.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Man up!

Many, many moons ago I used to swim on a swim team. I was never good, but I enjoyed it. In fact, I still adore to swim. I am so happy to have a nephew that loves to swim because it means that I get to go to the pool often!

Lately, I've been trying to swim more, even though being in a swimsuit is tantamount to having my teeth pulled with pliers, in the garage, with no painkillers. Also, being so very blonde, it makes my hair look like this:

No matter, because it feels great to my body and I have an 80 year old ankle (due to repeated injury). Swimming is the best choice for me.

Taking this very seriously, I opted last week to get up and swim at 5 a.m. FIVE A.M.! I rolled out of bed, put on my suit and got to the gym only to find three good old boys waiting to enter the pool. They clearly were very serious about swimming, carrying their apparatus and wearing these:

In case you didn't know, that is Zsa Zsa Gabor's husband, Prince Von A-hole.

So, the Speedo clad men, carrying their timers, kickboards, paddles, and other swimming gear looked at me like "What are you doing in OUR POOL?! Get out of here, fat lady in the swim suit! You are not welcome and you are going to slow us down with your pathetic swim skills."

Being the self-confident, assured single hottie that I am, I immediately thought about bolting and forgetting it all together.  I felt like I might break out in shingles just thinking about how they were going to be going so fast, and I was going to be the tortoise-like intruder.  I worried about if my back fat was showing and if they were laughing at my bed head.

But, given that I had gotten out of bed just for this, and had no other workout clothes with me, I decided to persevere.  I beat them to the three lanes of the pool, and hopped in quickly so they wouldn't my body.  I could literally read their thoughts as they thought about who was going to have to share a lane with ME. I am not a fan of sharing a lane, and didn't fancy doing it with Michael Phelps's cousins.

The last one to the lanes saw he was stuck with me and he literally drooped his shoulders.  I wanted to hang myself by my goggles.

And then...

...the man pulled out...


Nose plugs!

Real men don't wear nose plugs!  Neither to expert swimmers.  Or, you know, anyone that isn't these girls:

Seriously.  And I'm still single?

Anyway, I shared a lane with the nose plugger.  And I swam easily 4 times faster and farther than he did.  All those silent smack talk conversations were for nothing!

At 5:55 a.m., I left the pool feeling more awesome and confident than ever.


Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Isn't It Ironic?

(Don't you think?)

At the advice of my medical care provider, I'm going to try and go off of dairy for a week.  I'm pretty sure that inside, a part of me died at the suggestion.  The ironic part is that I've only been eating cheese for two years.  I didn't even like cheese!  Now, I enjoy it very much and will miss it.  I don't care for butter, but I've been trying to eat it a little more because it's better than margarine, and that will have to go, too.  I just had my first bowl of Cheerios with almond milk and it's just not the same.  How will I ever choke down a salad without my beloved combo of feta sprinkles, cranberries and sliced almonds (no dressing - blech)?

Goodbye, creamy wonderful milk in the glass bottles from the local dairy, Babybel cheeses, Babybel reduced fat spreadable cheese wedges, butter with olive oil.

Excuse me while I go find a trumpet to play "Taps" to my cheese drawer.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

For Dad

Two years ago, my boss walked into my classroom and changed my life forever when she said "You need to go call your mom.  I'll watch your class."  I asked if it was about my dad and she did this little head wiggle, hesitated and said "...You just need to go call your mom."

My life would never be the same.  I knew it from the way her head wiggled.

The thing is, things were already changing.  In fact, it is safe to say that things in Non-Mommyland had gone from Threat Level Orange to Threat Level Red in a short time.  There I was, a single woman with two college degrees and a miserable life.  I hated where I lived.  A major, major part of my life hurt me more deeply than she'd ever understand.  The people I worked with were ugly and mean.  I was angry and scared with a boss that I felt I couldn't trust.  I felt like my life was wasting away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  A new job wasn't an option.  I was trapped.  And sinking into a sea of despair.  There I was, a grown woman, and I would leave my parents' house on the weekends bawling at the idea of returning to my job and the town I was living in.

It came to head one day during a math lesson when I went down like an anvil.  By the end of the night, I was in my home, sobbing, unable to breathe, calling my mother and best friend/cousin over and over in hopes that maybe somehow one of them would magically be able to fix it all.

A few weeks later, I became ill with what seemed a normal cold.  Given my high stress levels, my body didn't stand much of a chance.  I contracted H1N1 and became ill very quickly.  I developed bronchitis, pneumonia and laryngitis.  I was too risky to be put in the hospital, so I laid in my bed, alone, for two weeks.  I was the sickest I have ever, ever been.  In fact, one night I laid in my bed, too weak to move and felt like this was it - I really was going to pass away.  After I recovered from the worst of it, the laryngitis lingered for a month.  I was unable to speak and had to teach by writing on the board, using the SmartBoard and typing, or whispering "Tell the class that I said..." into a child's ear.

My spirit was low, as was my body.


A few months later, I woke up in the middle of the night with severe nausea.  By the morning, I was in great pain.  I was able to take a shower, go to the doctor for blood tests, and return to my home in time to find out that I was suffering from appendicitis.  I stood with my forehead against the wall in such intense pain I could hardly see straight.  My parents came as soon as they were able, took me to the hospital, and I had what ended up being a very costly appendectomy.

Can stress cause appendicitis?  Medically speaking, probably not.  Do I attribute it to that?  Yes.

This brings us to a few weeks later when the assistant principal came in and told me to call my mother.  Deep in my soul, I knew.  In fact, I'd just had a dream that he had died.  I woke up worried about what would happen if he died in a hotel room and no one knew.  That weekend, I had gotten out a copy of their will to read it to see what would happen if he died.

So, my father, on a business trip, left his hotel room, went to a Panera Bread for lunch, got his food, opened his laptop, and it was all over as he knew it.

It had been just a typical Wednesday morning.  I'd had no idea that I'd end the day in another state, watching my poor father pass away while muttering "Oh, Dad.  Oh, Dad."


Two years.

I still miss him, incredibly.  But because of his death, so much has changed for me.  I've moved to somewhere that I love.  I've taken a new job.  The new job is a much, much healthier environment for me.  I am making friends that are so funny and nice.  My coworkers are pleasant, friendly and not mean and cold.  I've found a church in my new area, and I love it.

I feel like a new person.  I feel like the woman I used to be.  The woman I was meant to be.  Life is not perfect, no.  Struggles still suck and I'm not naive enough to think I will never go through hard times because I've made changes.  And yet, through the incredible pain, good has come.  Plans were coming together for me long before I could ever see it.  I miss my father every minute of every day.  But his passing gave me the courage, the desire, the opportunity to make life changes.  And I couldn't be happier.  I only wish he could see, and know that I'm ok.

He'd want the best for me.

But really?  He was the best.


Thursday, March 8, 2012

Suit down!

I got roped into being a coach for a 5K thing.  If you knew me in real life, you'd know how freaking hilarious that is.  Yesterday, I had to change clothes for the Dumb Run before I left school.  While my little tattlers were at recess, I changed and went to pick up the children from the playground.  When I came out in non-professional clothing, one of my students came running to me.  Breathlessly, he said "Oh, Ms. Non-Mommy, you look BEAUTIFUL."

I was wearing Adidas pants and a D.A.R.E. shirt.  Yes, that D.A.R.E.

Why do I even bother?!?!

Saturday, March 3, 2012

I Do Not Like Them, Sam I Am

So yesterday was Dr. Seuss' (Seuss's?) birthday.  Now that I work with a younger grade and am on a massive hallway filled with first, second and third grade classes I am WELL AWARE that it is Dr. Seuss'ssssssssss (this is driving me crazy, I never get this grammatical rule!) birthday.  Apparently, there are rules when you work with young kids:

1.  You celebrate Dr. S's birthday.

2.  You wear stupid hats.

3.  You serve food in the cafeteria and call it Hop on Pop chicken and Somethingorother Kazoie Rotini.

4.  YOU MAKE GREEN EGGS AND HAM.  Both in the cafeteria and in the classroom.  And blonde teachers that hate eggs and the smell of eggs curl up in the fetal position.

You also send your sister an email that is exactly this:

If you didn't know, today is Dr. Seuss' birthday.  I have plenty of thoughts on this that I will blog, but this morning they served green eggs and ham for breakfast.  Before they could even do that, we had three different kids hurl outside of my classroom.  And then the other 600 kids tracked through it.

If anyone hurls green eggs and ham in my room, I might die.

Yes.  There were eggs strewn all the way down the hallway.  They weren't green, because the green breakfast hadn't even been served yet.  They were eggs a la vomit.  And then later, the surrounding classrooms cooked green eggs and ham.

To quote my mother, "There is a reason that he would not eat them in a box or with a fox."

(I'll explain why I'm a Fuddy Duddy about Dr. S's birthday at a later date!)

Monday, February 20, 2012

Like a Phoenix from the Ashes, PBS Rises Again

I'm pretty sure that Downton Abbey is the best thing to happen to PBS since, oh, I dunno...Antiques Roadshow.

Great show.  Great soap opera.  Haven't watched it yet?  Go!  It's on Netflix, and online.  Gotta watch in order, though.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Oh, the sick.

Oh, the darn kids that gave me the sick.

I have no energy.  See if these bring back any memories while I attempt to recover.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

She didn't see that one coming!

How come Dionne Warwick didn't warn Whitney not to take a bath?  And how out of it do you have to be to not wake up when your face goes in the bath water?

Psychic fail!

Saturday, February 4, 2012


Sadly, divorce is a big part of my life.  Not personally, no, but working with families means that I regularly deal with families that are breaking up or have permanently broken up.  It's never easy for anyone - adults or children.  I've been witness to some pretty horrific fights between divorcing adults.  In my teaching career, I have worked with maybe three families that actually still manage to stick together and be civil even when divorce has happened.  The rest, for the most part, get UGLY.  Some of them are slightly ugly and some are psychotically ugly.

So, when I read about celebrity divorces and hear their statements, they make me laugh.  LAUGH!

This is a look that says "BFF."
"Sadly, Katy and I are ending our marriage. I'll always adore her and I know we'll remain friends."  - Russell Brand Katy Perry

OK, let's define what a friend is.  In my mind, a friend is someone that you want to hang out with.  A friend is the person who you go out to dinner with and invite over to your kid's birthday party.  A friend might give you a birthday gift and call you on the phone just to chat.  So, Russell and Katy, are you doing these things?  I highly doubt it!  I don't buy for a second that you're still friends!

"And I....will always love youuuuuuuuu!"
Zac Efron said that he and Vanessa Hudgens were "100% staying friends."

Really?  Do you think Vanessa invites him over to watch "The Bachelor" on TV?  Does she call Zac when she needs to find a dress for a wedding?  Color me skeptical!

We've always done things in our marriage that command respect!
“While we have enjoyed seven very loving, loyal and happy years of marriage, after much soul-searching we have decided to separate.  We have had the deepest respect for one another throughout our relationship and continue to love each other very much, but we have grown apart. This is an amicable process and protecting the well-being of our children remains our top priority, especially during this time of transition. We thank our family, friends, and fans for their kind words of support. And for our children’s sake, we appreciate you respecting our privacy.”  Seal and Heidi Klum 

So when they are fighting and throwing things at one another, do you suppose they have the deepest respect for one another?  While this is a well-written statement, I'm still a little doubtful about the rosy situation in the Seal/Heidi home!

We will always go on picnics, no matter what!
“Recently, after much thought and discussion, Ellen and I have decided to end our relationship.  It was a mutual decision and we are both happy and remain best friends. We both plan to move forward and focus on our separate lives. We ask that you please respect our privacy during this time.”  Jon Gosselin

So, Jon Gosselin, will you still be calling your BFF Ellen when your dog dies?  Will you ask her to babysit your eight kids while you have a doctor's appointment?  Will Jon Gosselin be the first person to come visit Ellen when she has a baby with her next boyfriend/husband?  I don't think so!  Lies, again!

But then, finally, we get some truth from Ashton Hairy Kutcher, of all people!  Look what he has to say about the demise of Demi Moore:

Ooh, do you think they made this cake with aerosol whipped cream?  Wonder where the cans are?
"Ashton is deeply concerned for Demi.  He still cares about her and wants the best for her. But their marriage is ending and they are both moving on with their lives."  

That's right.  Ashton just publicly said that he, basically, cares but doesn't because their marriage is over and he's moving on.  Send him a Christmas card, ok Demi?

I am sooo happy.  Soooooo happy.  Not faking it at all.
Why do celebrities pretend that they are all comfy cozy when they split?  Someday, we'll see a statement from Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.  And hopefully it goes something like this:

"After a horribly abusive relationship in which I was henpecked and controlled by a remote control, I have decided to leave Tom.  I was tired of his scientology vitamins and how he made me go everywhere with him, even when he had to pee.  We had a horrible fight and I called my lawyer.  Unfortunately, Tom has some maniac control over me and my children and he will keep Suri while I move to the midwest and start a family with another man, pretending like I never had any kids prior to them."

Saturday, January 28, 2012

RIP, Non-Mommy

Through an odd set of coincidental circumstances, I ate spicy tuna roll for dinner last night, a tuna sandwich for lunch today, and a tuna steak for dinner tonight.  It didn't occur to me until I was finished with dinner that I had eaten tuna for every meal for the last 24 hours.

I now feel itchy, my skin is red, and I'm swollen.  OK, one could argue that I'm always swollen, but whatever.  I couldn't take a nap today (insomnia) and I've felt excessively shy today.  Clearly I am suffering from mercury poisoning.  It's ironic that I worry constantly about being healthy and living longer than my father, only to OD on tuna of all things.  Tuna.

I leave this world with many regrets.  I never did learn how to tie a true knot; I can only tie your basic shoe.  I'm afraid of curling irons and have to close my eyes while getting my hair done.  I also have never been to Walt Disney World.

If I make it through this, I vow to change things.  Learn to tie.  Learn to be confident.  Go to Disney World.

Feeling Fishy,


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