Miscellaneous Ramblings of a Mother of Three: 05/01/2002

Friday, May 31, 2002

I think I am going to come up with a topic of the week to ponder and muse aloud about. Maybe if I take 7 days to digest an issue, then I can better grasp the complexities of life.Now, to think of some topics that are thought-worthy.

Ye gods! I spent 4 hours in a sadistics class. I am now aware of why I never pursued a math-related field. The dreaded f reared it's ugly head--anytime there is an f in a math prolem, I tense up.

Four hours, one break. 15 minutes of break. That was it. I fell asleep twice--yikes! I thought I went to bed early enough--nope. The upside is the stuff isn't too diffiuclt yet--just requires actual thinking. The teacher we had today was a sub, but he was great at explaining things and giving good examples. I took about 10 pages of notes.

I am going to go ahead and sifn up for my fourth summer class--it won't cost anymore and I will not have to go next summer if I do this. I don't want to take a chance on being the only one that had to drive to Nashville next summer, so I am going to bite the bullet. In July I will have class every stinking day, but the next school year, I will be Kim W. Ed.S and get a nice fat raise to offset my misery. The doctorate seems sooooo far away. The idea of a dissertation terrifies me, but we will get a start on it in the Ed.S. program, so that should help. I just have to figure out what on earth I want to spend months researching and writing about.

Thursday, May 30, 2002

I have obviously lost my mind. At 8 a.m. tomorrow, and every Friday in the months of June and July, I will be taking statistics. A 600 level statistics class which will probably build upon knowledge that I was supposed to gain in the 500 level course I made an A in. Hmmm. This could be problematic. That was the semster Jay was born--I don't remember much of anything.I am hoping our teacher will be kind--I have heard he is.

Math scares me. I am not a math person. I am not a logical person. I am a flighty, creative person. We don't do math. I can't spell, gof God's sake, and I do that everyday. How am I going to do statistical research? I did find out a bit of good news, though. I have dreaded having to gather and analyze the data for my dissertation, but then I found out I can hire someone to do that crap for me! Woohoo! My old roomie in college has a masters in stats. Guess who I will be calling?

To add insult to injury, I have to meet the carpool at 6:30 a.m. That is just obscene. I didn't even go to work at such an ungodly hour. Every time I think I can kick caffiene, something like this comes along.

Well, I made the mistake of trying to take the little boys swimming this afternoon. Alone. W. was supposed to meet me, but he managed to lose his weedeater--I know likely story, but he swears he did...it was just gone off the trailer when he got home. Anyhoo, we went over to SIL's to swim. Both of them loved it last yer, but after Jay's accident, we didn't swim anymore. It has made me ill to even be out by the pool, but I have pretty much gotten over my flashbacks. So, I had them in their swim seaters and each one had a float, too. He had been watching Five and Brittany swim and he laughed at them, so I had high hopes. They were dashed as soon as we went outside...he began to howl. Then Jay chimed in.Each one of them began to cling to me for dear life. I am sure it was comical to watch, but I felt like the wicked witch of the west. I took Jay and put him in the pool on the step in his boat. He went nuts. He grabbed me and wouldn't let go, so I sat with him. Sam is crying from the door and yelling for me, Jane, Daddy, Honey, anyone who will listen (we don't know who Honey is, BTW, but he calls for him/her when no one else comes). Anna, my neice, brought him to me and I sat him in my lap. I am sure the neighbors thought I was scalping him. He shrieked as soon as his foot hit the water. I realized what a bad idea this was (quick, aren't I) and tried to hand him back to Anna. No way. He wasn't going. Then I tried to stand up. Jay went ballistic. He grabbed at me (reminding me how much his fingernails need to be trimmed) and yelled, "I can't swim, I can't swim." It was pitiful. I finally just sat back down. Sam calmed down as long as I had my arm firmly around him and his feet were digging into my leg.

After what seemes like an eternity, Jay loosened up. He even let me turn his boat around so he could watch Five jumping off the board. Sam was in a near catatonic state. He fixated on the big kids jumping, but any move I made sent him into a rigor mortis-like state. Finally, finally, finally, I convinced Jay to let me get up enough to lift Sam out of the pool and Sam agreed to be put on the side. His feet hit the pavement and he tore a blue streak to SIL. He grabbed he by the legs and began telling her, "water, water, water" and pointing at me. Then he screamed for a towel and let her bundle him up and cuddle for about a minute before he was consoled with a pretzel.

Jay warmed up to it so much that he wanted to get off the steps. We decided that he would have to wait until I was in there and could give him my full attention. A juice box loured him out.Bribery is a good thing, isn't it?

What makes friends? Friendship is something that has been weighing very heavily on my mind lately. I don't have too many friends IRL for a number of reason. Time is a big factor, interests, work, etc. I am also not a very outgoing person in social situations and that makes it difficult to make new friends. I suppose that is the internet has been such a god send for me. You can be friends on your own time and in your jammies, looking like a schlump and no one cares. There is a downside of course--isn't there always. Verbal inflection and non verbal communications are a vital part of relationship building. I am so bad at meaning to sound sarcastic, yet coming off bitchy. I am sure I have done it many more times than I realize, which makes me sad. I am not a serious person by nature and when I am, it is not for public viewing. I have been burned in the past for opening up too much and I have seen others ripped to shreds. For me, it is easier to internalize things that are serious.

I have mentioned before that I don't think I would be my own friend. Lately, I have thought about that a lot and it upsets me to a degree. Evidently I have a lot more negative personality traits than even I realized--and I thought I had them all pretty well accounted for. Every time I turn around in all areas of my life, I am finding shortcomings. It is very frustrating and incredibly defeating. To think that 33 years have basically been wasted is not comforting. I find myself turning to those that I feel safe with, and lately I have been fighting the urge to run from the others. I despise drama, yet I seem to be drawn into it unwillingly. I suppose it is my natural instinct to speak my mind. I used to take pride in that--now I am not so sure. It causes me more harm than good and for what? I look at those who sit back and let it roll off and wonder if I could be happy doing that? God knows, I have never really tried it.

I told myself that this was my year to focus on me. It is almost half over and I am still a mess in many ways, but perhaps being able to step back and look at who I am is a good thing.

Wednesday, May 29, 2002

I am a time waster, too. I have crafted time wasting to a high art. I have been at school for almost 2 hours and I have gotten nothing substantial accomplished. Usually I am in a huge hurry to get my room closed up and hit the road, but for some reason it is hard to get motivated this year.Instead of filing and trashing things, I am piling them up in boxes and getting ready to shove it all out into the hall. I am going to hate myself in August. Hopefully I will be so excited about starting school again, that my euphoria will help me overlook the incredible mess I am going to be faced with. It will take a week to get my stuff back into working order. Such is the life of a packrat slob.

Tuesday, May 28, 2002

My friend Julie thinks I blog too much. She thinks it takes away from my other online obligations. It made me wonder what is so appealing about a blog. I suppose it has something to do wih the fact that you can't really be accused of monopolozing the conversation when you are on your own blog--and there is that whole performane quality attached to it. You are talking to yourself and you know other people are listening. I find that fascinating. I suppose that is why I should get off my dead ass and write a book. I have been meaning to do that for years no, but never have gotten around to it. I get scared of the idea and come up with dozens of reasons not to do it. RIght now I have no idea what I would write about--my topics change daily, bit I think I am getting to the point where I am ready to make myself try.

Damn--now I have to thank Julie. Damn.

Here is the letter I wrote to the nincompoop--haven't decided whether or not to give it to her. I really want to get a response from her and she never responds to letters of complaint, or at least she hasn't in the past.

Mrs. R.-

It has taken me much of the afternoon to be able to put my thoughts down in words. To say I am disappointed in our conversation earlier today would be a tremendous understatement. If anyone asks, it will be very easy for me to explain why I am not interested in running for county commission this term—people like C.M. I am not sure what I ever did to him to cause this animosity. My husband had some differences with the sheriff and I suppose that is the root of the problem. I intend to ask him about his concerns as soon as the situation presents itself. I would be curious to know how A.P. (the chariman and founder of the prgram) would react if he were told of C.'s ultimatum and your response. To think that personal politics is in anyway affecting the project is sickening.

What upsets me more than his blatant attempt to play politics at the expense of our school is the fact that you have allowed him to do it. The idea that you would not stand up for a member of your faculty is disheartening. I have worked at this school since 1995. I have spent untold hours doing things for this school and countless dollars. I dare you to compare the efforts that I have put forth for this school into comparison with C. and tell me that his outweigh mine. No one had a problem with me going to the commission and asking for a resolution agreeing to this deal. I gladly asked for, and got, unanimous support for the program. I was not aware that C. was a factor. I was aware that Helen had called and asked teachers to approach you and get the program rolling—C. was not involved in that in the slightest, yet he is going to call the shots.

The idea that you would believe that he could withhold the money if I were involved is also mind-boggling. Do you honestly think he wields that much power? Do you really think he would go to A.P. and say pull the plug because K. W. is running the snow cone machine? The idea is absurd, yet we bow down to him because he might write us a check. I admit he has more money than I do. I encourage you to ask him for money every time I stay after school to help a student, put together a production, call a child who has been sick, answer weekend phone calls from students with problems, organize after school activities, spend hours working on slide shows, work at basketball games, attend PTO meetings, or praise the school in public. See how his contributions stack up to mine. I do believe I win. Ask the students of this school who does more for them. See what kind of response you get. Ask the members of the community what they think about his ultimatum.

I do hope that when asked, you will tell people who ask that I am not working on the committee because C.M. said I couldn’t. I know I intend to. I do not deserve for people in this community or teachers on staff to think that I just backed out for my own personal reasons. I have already spent hours working and planning on this event. To think that C.M. can just undo that on a whim is scary.

At some point, the teachers have to be put first. We have to be supported and represented instead of constantly being the scapegoats or receiving the short end of the stick. The morale at this school is frighteningly low. You can put all the spin on it that you like, but bottom line is this. Few teachers here feel you support or appreciate them. You can now add me to the list. I will be here, I will do my job, I will serve my students to the best of my ability, but I will never forget how little importance that attitude plays when it comes down to politics or money.

I have a great deal of thinking to do tonight.

I am so angry that I do not know where to begin. I am putting this here because I hope to contain my rage and be able to come to some working solution to the problem before it permeates every aspect of my life.

I must find a new job. This breaks my heart, but I have come to realize that I am working for someone who has no respect for me nor any desire to see me at this school. The final straw was today. Our school has been chosen as the beneficiary for a tremendous amount of money to be given to our arts department. I am the drama teacher, so naturally, I volunteered to help. I was eager to particiapte--I was put in charge of fundraising and a stupid snow cone booth. As usual, our incompetent principal made these chores as dfficicult as possible. it is too stupid and drawn out to go into here, but due to her inability to say no to any idea that comes along the way, we have way more activities planned than we can possibly staff. Fine. I spent hours coming up with a fund raising plan--a year long campagin that would shoot to raise an additional $75, 000. No mean feat when you consider we only have 600 kids K-12. I had big plans--I had intended to start to day on literature to be sent to corporate donors.

Now I am in charge of nothing and my role is to be kept to a minimum. Why? Because I pissed off someone through county politcs 2 years ago and he happens to be on the board of the group holding the funds. He told my fool boss that he wanted me to be involved as little as possible. I suppose he is afraid that someone else will get some attention. I don't know why. So, what do you think my fearless leader did? Did she stand up for the school and her employee and tell him that he is out of line? No. She said okay. She seems to think that he could sway the board and we might lose the money--the amount of which is growing each time she tells a story. Never mind that it has been all over the local press and there are flyers everywhere announcing the even and the fact that our school gets the money. She didn't even stop to realize that it is impossible to undo the deal at this point.

Talk about a smack in the face. Once I got over my anger at him--which is tremendous, by the way--it hit me that it is her that I should be upset with. How on earth could she stand there and let him tell her who was going to do what? At what point is she ever going to show some backbone. This is the same man she got me out of class to talk to only to have him chew me out over something at the county. She stodd there like a statue and I had to take it.

I am done. I don't care if I have to be a street sweeper. If W. had a job, she would have my resignation today. I just can't take that chance right now. I have never felt so completely offended and hurt in my entire life. This takes the cake--puts all of her other antics to shame. I cannot continue like this. Just can't do it.

Monday, May 27, 2002

My son is an artist. Sam has always expressed interest in singing and drawing. I like to think he gets his creativity from me. He would color all day or draw for hours. It should come to no surprise to me then that he decided to decorate his room.

Problem is, his medium of choice is poop.

For the past two days he has decided to finger paint his bed and anything else around him. Lucky me. He is very proud of his work--and well he should be. He has a feel for symmetry. There were no stray marks anywhere--every mark was neatly balanced by another mark.

Yesterday he used the post-nap time for his work. I thought he was just playing in bed. so I didn't rush in to him. I should have. The smell of poop nearly knocked me flat. By the time he began bellowing, he had poop under his fingernails and on his forehead. As soon as I walked into the room he began to flap his arms and call out "Mommy, Mommy" in a tiny voice filled with pride. He was, of course, immediatley whisked away to the shower. He was offended by this--maybe he wasn't finished, who knows.

This morning, Jay came and told me that Sam was calling for me, so I went to get him. As I opened the door, I asked him how he was doing. This was before yet another wave of noxious fumes smacked me in the face upon entry to his little gallery. He had evidently learned some new tricks from the day before. His work had spread and he was venturing into body art. Ick. He was trying to tell me something about the mirror hanging on his bed, but I was in too big of a hurry to listen. Straight to the shower and then played and then breakfast. While I had him in the high chair watching his new friends, the Teletubbies, I went back to clean up again. The mirror was a true artistic feat. I swear he wrote at least half of the alphabet in poop on the mirror. It is now soaking in antibacterial cleaner.

So, I assume the rest of the day has to improve. Silly, silly girl. That whole "you know what happens when you assume" should have been ringing through my ears.

He was fussy when I went back. he was covered in pop tart and was pointing at his belly. I thought maybe he was concerned about the crumbs (okay, he covers himself in crap and has milk in his hair--why did I think crumbs would upset him?), so I picked him up to wipe him off. Then he gurgled.I looked at him and he had an odd look on his face. As it was registering to me that he was about to puke, he puked. Did I mention that he had had two cups of choclate milk with is pop tart?Today was my first official day of vacation. I am ready to go back to work.

Sunday, May 26, 2002

Well, wouldn't you know it--at home all alone and I got bored.I suppose it is better to be bored, though, than to be a mental case which is where I was headed.For all practical purposes, I was alone from noon until 1 a.m. with only a short visit from W. when he brought me food at 10. Good husband :-). I did nothing but a little bit of houswork. I spent most of my day online--chatting on MSN with Tonya (who must add comments to her blog) and then at BYB chat which was a scream as usual. Funny how people from all different walks of life, all over the country can be so perfect for each other.I suppose I could find that IRL, but I simply don't have the time or feel like putting forth the effort. Maybe when the kids get older.......

Sam got me up at 7:15 this morning. Thankfully I was not hung over, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He is such a funny child. He is going to be the most stubborn of the bunch. He threw fit after fit this morning when things didn't go his way. It was comical really, at least untiil he tried to bite me.Then he discovered TV. He has never had any interest in anything on TV, which is fine by me, but I turned it to Big Comfy Couch (gag, blech, puke) and he was mesmorized. He sat through 15 minutes of it without a sound. The he watched an entire episode of the Tubbies. It was so cute to see his face. He doesn't care for cartoons at all, but I suppose the pseudo-reality grabs his attention. I despise Lunnette and Molly, a clown and her dolly...I call it the Dumb Fucking Couch--it fits to the tune, BTW--but if it makes him happy, I see it becoming a wee part of our day this summer. I am trying to work out a schedule of sorts so they don't just run wild. We are going to have to get up and get moving early because it will be too hot to play outside after about 10. I plan on lots of swimming, too. I plan a lot of things, actually. It will be interesting to see how many of them actually occur.

I think I deserve a nap now. Then the mess in my bedroom that I put off yesterday awaits. Ugh. Defintely need sleep.

Saturday, May 25, 2002

SOLITUDE

I am home alone.

Doesn't that sound wonderful? I am home alone. I have been since 12:11 when my husband piled all 3 boys in the car and went to visit his grandmother. He said I was to stay home alone--I didn't argue.

I feel a bit badly that I am so happy to be alone, but when I think about it, I deserve it. I am never home alone with nothing to do. There is always something waiting for me around the corner. So, today I have vegged in front of the TV drinking wine coolers and piddling on the computer. I took a great nap and had yummy Mexican takeout food for lunch. I am going to pick up the living room a bit and straighten up here and there so that my good mood will last tonight.

I love my kids to death--no one can ever question that-sometimes it is just good go get a break.

I thought I had already posted this, but it never showed up, so I will try again.

Graduation was just what I needed. I needed to see those faces light up when I called their names. I needed to see the look of pride and accomplishment on their faces. I needed to see them cry from pure joy.

I will miss this group like crazy. I say that nearly every year, but this one will be really hard to replace. I didn't know how much I would miss them until I saw them leaving last night. We are such a small group that everyone becomes very, very close. They really do feel like my own kids after four years. We see them as much or more than their own parents do and many of them tell me things they wouldn't ever mention to another adult.

Since Denise and I were the sponsors, we were part of the ceremony. I called out the names for her homeroom and she did mine. (This kept the dumbass principals out of the loop.) The homerooms are divided alphabetically, so it was very easy to split up. When she called my kids' names, they got their diplomas and then walked to me and I turned their tassles. It was very important to them that Denise and I do this and not the principal. We were very happy to oblige.

I knew it was going to be hard. I got a bit choked up calling a few of the names. Then I had stand there and watch them walk across to me. No words for that. They are so proud they are beaming. I couldn't look some of them in the eye as they approached because I knew I would just boo hoo. I did pretty well-- couple of them got to me, but I wasn't a mess until the very end. Then one of my boys came up to me and simply siad,"It's been an honor, ma'am." I lost it. He has always been a favorite of mine and not a demonstrative child at all. I knew I was his favorite teacher (it was obvious), but to hear him say that was just so overwhelming. I was so shaken, I forgot to turn the next girl's tassle and it was Jenny. She and I were too busy hugging and crying. I felt terrible about that, so afterwards I officially tunred the tassle and graduated her :-). Bobby came up to me after graduation and apologized for making me cry. He has no idea how he validated my whole career with those five words. I will cherish that moment forever.

So, I shared my sentimental thoughts on graduation--now for my bitchy ones.

Why on earth do people think it is appropriate to bring small children to a crowded event that is going to last every bit of an hour and require silence? It doesn't begin until 8 p.m., eithr, so the kids are going to get tired. There were kids running in the bleachers, babies crying, kids going to the lobby, etc. I just wanted to yell, "Hire a sitter!". There were several former students there with their kids--I suppose to show them off. All it did was show me that they equally bad judgement in their post-secondary lives as they were in school.

Since when did graduation not require dressing up? There were kids in jeans, shorts, tank tops, crop t-shirts. You name it. One girl that graduated in my last homeroom was wearing freaking Daisy Duke length shorts and a t-shirt. WTF? I know I taught her better than that. One bonehead GED graduate showed up in jeans and tennis shoes. I asked him where his dress clothes were and he just looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. The rest of them looked so nice in their dark shoes--three of my favorite boys went out and bought nice, new black dress shoes because I threatened them within an inch of their lives. I was so proud. Fortunately, the moron in jeans did exactly what everyone expected of him, so at least it didn't reflect poorly on me.

Why do people think they need to get up and walk to the front of the room and get a picture and interrupt? A child actually broke through the line of kids waiting for diplomas to go up front. I nearly lost my mind. Reverence is a thing of the past.

I read somewhere about a coach that told his football players not to act like fools in the endzone. He wanted them to "act like youahve been there before." The same should be said for parents and friends of graduates when their loved one crosses the floor. Do we need to celebrate with whoops and screams that highlight the fact that it is a bloody miracle that Bozo got the diploma? The biggest whoopers were for the GED walkers--of course most of the audience didn't know that they were only gettting a GED because we are not allowed to distinguish between the two. That pisses me off to no end. We also can't mention the fact that two of the diploma covers we gave out were empty because the jackasses didn't make up all of their absences yet.

My personal favorite white trash moment of the night, though, was the woman who went to the vending machines before graduation. Somehow, the damn things didn't get turned off. You wouldn't think people would try to take snacks into a graduation, but you would be wrong. It has happened before and I pissed off some woman who was trying to buy the kids M and Ms and Cokes. Thankfully the machine wouldn't take her money. I pulled the plugs and she was irate. Too bad. I suppose she was one who thought since we have graduation in the gym, it was like a sporting event, hence the snacks, the whooping and the running around the court.

To top off the event, our principal has the public speaking skills of an orangutang. She flitted around yesterday moving plants and putting up a hideous homemade logo on the podium when she should have been reading the list of awards she had to give out because when it came time for her to do that, she had no clue what was where and had to ask the assistant principal (another piece of work) for help. Then she managed to call the kids the Class of 2001 and get the name of theschool wrong--twice. By the end of the thing, she was so flustered, she was ready to climb under the podium. She couldn't even announce the upcoming speakers with any sort of flair. She insisted the we add the Pledge of Allegiance to the ceremony at the last minute. We told the #3 student in the class when he arrived that he was the chosen one. You can imagine his horror at the idea. We never even practiced it. When it was his time, she announced something along the lines of, "At this time Chris G. will lead us in the pledge. Please join Chris G. in the pledge to our country." A real wordsmith our leader is. Somehow she has tried to make the event all about her--she insists on giving each child the diploma and a hug. They do not want a hug. It was comical watching some of them shrug their way out of it. She wanted to turn their tassles on their caps, too, but they revolted and insisted that Denise and I do it as per the tradition at SFS for the last gazillion years. She wanted our moron assistant principal to call out the names, but they balked at that, too, and Denise and I did it.

I am going to spend the next 4 years drilling proper graduation behavior into the heads of my new homeroom. Too bad we can't make the parents come, too. Thank god I only have to be really involved once every 4 years.

Thursday, May 23, 2002

My little dears are going out into the big bad world on their own. Scary, actually. Most of them still can't get to school on time or with any regularity, so the thought of them caring for me in my infirmity is a bit frightening. Thankfully, they grow up fast once the get out--with the sad exception of a few losers that still insist on involving themselves in every aspect of high school life. Why on earth would anyone 20 or older want to come to high school events? It makes no sense. I suppose it does say a lot about them socially and emotionally. W. and I used to joke about people we knew that peaked in high school. Wouldn't that be sad?

Anyway, this is it. 32 of them on their way. I will never make it through the night without crying. I heard the valedictorian practicing her speech and teared up--tonight it will be worse. There is something so refreshing about seeing those children trying to look so grown up and ready to face whatever lies ahead.

Fifteen years ago tonight, I graduated from high school. I had no idea what lay head of me. Amazing, really. If you had told me, I never would have believed it. A good 15 years, though. I can really have no complaints.

Wednesday, May 22, 2002

So gald that my blog now exists again. I kept getting the error yesterday and I thought for a minute maybe I was a figment of my own imagination.

Just sat through a meeting that lasted 2 hours and 15 minutes. I heard the same three storied from our fearless leader that I have heard at least two meetings in the past 3 months. Why is it that administrators never have to take "How to Lead a Faculty Meeting" course in college?

Monday, May 20, 2002

I am a paper waster. This is why blogging is good for me. I already kill too many trees in my daily work. If I added the journals that I stop and start then the greater Georgia area would be barren.

Somehow I manage to fill a huge, industrial size garbage can each semester. In the fall, I will fill one as well. Now, over the summer the crap doesn't mulitply. Why is it that I am still purging stuff?

I am astounded by the amount of crap I have thrown away in the 15 minutes I actually worked. Amazing. I am trying to figure out a way that I can do most of my classwork, at least for the 12th grade, online next yera. I am going to try to put all my lessons and notes and materials on the server this summer (HA) if I can convince someone to get me more than 6 computers that work at the same time.

I am off to bury more poor trees now. Shameful really.

So, here I sit at work at night when I should be working. I am not working.

I am blogging.

I am not even blogging well. I am just rambling on and on. I need to stop. Problem is, I can't. If I stop I will have to work and I just don't want to work. I don't want to begin to sift through the mountainous pile of papers that are on every flat surface in my room. I don't want to try to make out an exam for my first class tomorrow. I don't want to grade the last 2 research papers that I missed the other day. I don't want to do anything but just purge the scary things that are running through my head. That problem is, once I did that, my friends would all think I am nuts. So, I suppose, at this point, I have no choice. I must get to work. I must do something productive. If I start looking through the pile of crap on my desk, I might find my CD with Rob Thomas on it. My CD player at home is broken, so I am unable to get my fix. ....Sad. Even the thought of Rob singing Smooth isn't enough to make me want to clean off the crap pile that I call work space.

I must seek inner motivation. I must find an intrinsic force to urge me forward in the quest for a clean desk...........

Okay--I will now settle for an extrinsic force...................um........If I clean off my desk and get this work done, tomorrow I can play Delta Force with my senior boys during my planning period. That is it. I can do this. Obmik must reign supreme again tomorrow and take out all her frustrations on the poor helpless souls of Keerax, Maximus, Kilroy, Commando Steven, PLL, T-Mac and Trashy Lady. Off to work.

Well, color me surprised. I do not like surprises by the way. I am not happy when things do not happen according to plan or at least logic.

My haven is BYB. I live there in a sense. You can imagine my surprise when an old buddy from another board showed up out of the blue. I was glad to see her. I know she used to have a lot of struggles as a mom and with her health and she was always ready to debate and discuss. I am glad to have her join us, no matter the past history or who her friends IRL or online are.

It/s Monday., Didn't we just have one of these? Yuck.

I am not a snob, really I am not. I do not think that education makes a person a better person. That said, I am so tired of our annoying, power hungry school secretary I could just scream. I hadd to restrain myself just now in the office--she deserved to be whacked over the head with the permanent record I was holding, but I managed to control myself.

She yelled a t a child who was confused about today's asinine exam schedule. For years we have done it in reverse order. Heaven forbid, the child didn't read the notice and see that it was in actual order this year. Why she feels the need to make people feel stupid is beyond me. I assume it is because she has a massive inferiority complex since she never went to college. It is as if she has a mission to make those of us who did look bad. the more educated you are, the dumber she wants to make you look. I am sure it just annoys the hell out of her that I have graduated from college 3 times to her zero. I have two more graduations looming and she still has ZERO. I am so tired of having to pander to her and act like I work for her. She is the f'ing secretary for God's sake. The damn attendance clerk. She has been made to think she is God's gift to school. Chalk that up to horrible leadership up the command chain.

Mondays just suck.

I am so disgusted with the outcome of Survivor, it is all I can do to even contemplate watching the next one.Kathy was the best player--I nearly puked when I heard Neleh and vee talking about how they had worked hard on their own to get there. All they did was sit back and let others do the dirty work. Ugh. At least Vee won--she was a tiny bit better than miss oh-my-heck. Poot Utah. If everyone there really does say that, it must be a scary place to live.

Sunday, May 19, 2002

I did manage to add some cool links to the sidebar--woohoo! I have met some of the coolest people on line and through them found some of the coolest webs sites. My two homes online are Survivor Blows and Bring Your Brain. I meet people there that i would never meet in real life. SB is a really funny place--lots of Survivor bashing. I am always amazed at the wit there. We take turns summarizing the show eqach week. Week nine was mine:

SURVIVOR MARQUESAS EPISODE SUMMARIES
EPISODE 9: "Two Peas in the Sand" or "The Z Stands Alone" - By 'anotherkim'

Previously on Survivor:
John got his ass booted off. There is really nothing else to say. Fans around the word cheered, John cried like a freshman girl who just got dumped by the Senior Class President, and MB realized that he had to do something to keep those ratings high. Fortunately, I managed to get a copy of his editing notes and see how he planned it.

MB’s notepad: Hype up a power shift. Okay—we have done this one to death, but they fall for it every time. We’ll use promos out the wazoo to promote the obvious

Use the powerfall—that one is working and the nuts on the spoiler boards seem to really think I have imagery……

Catfight—nothing better than having two women fight—wonder how we could get them in the mud…we could digitally alter the photo and have Tammy lose her top….or maybe we could digitally alter Zoe so she has some personality……

Keep Kathy dressed and covered at all costs and for the love of God, can we enhance her a bra in there somehow?

Sex That is the one thing we haven’t had any of since Saraho left…that would really get people talking……that’s it…we’ll add a love element to the show…but who………?

And so, Episode 9 begins, but not before CBS tries to entice us just one more time with a long, supposedly haunting ad for what looks to be one of their biggest cinematic stinker yet, Living With the Dead. I implore you, my fellow Survivor fans, please do not watch this movie. Don’t give them the idea that they can pound us over the head for 3 months and make us watch Ted Danson doing anything except be a bartender. Don’t even channel surf past it, lest they get the idea that people wanted to see this. I can only imagine what they would cook up for Survivor 5’s big movie—something starring Ray Ramano. **shudder**

Soliantu Day 25

The waterfall. Sean is singing at the top of his lungs, disproving that myth that all black men have rhythm and can carry a tune. Vee, Pappy, Neleh and Kathy swim and gloat with him. Evidently the time on the island has not only made Sean cockier, but also helped him over his fear of the water as he leaps in without his swimmies now and actually swims around some. Amazing improvement over the last 24 days. He talks about the new spirit that is surrounding the Love Tribe/Rotuamu/Soliantu/The Underdogs.

Pappy, in a confessional, then makes one of the many dumb statements that make you wonder what the hell he was doing playing Survivor in the first place.

Pappy: Don’t try and manipulate people.

Uh, okay Pap. That might sound good now, but what the heck are you going to do when you are out of obvious targets, hmmm? Take this moment to thank MB for putting you on the dominant tribe early on, or your honorable ass would be floating around with Peter and the gang with that brilliant strategy.

NeleduH, in a confessional, speaks the thoughts of all of us as we see the promo shot from the past 7 days in its entirety.

NeleduH: Like, we beat them at their own, like game **giggle, giggle**, like it was hi-lar-ee-ous!

MB’s notepad: No way to work in sex just yet, damn. Someone Neleh take off some clothes, do something. Okay—we’ll go patriotic

Pan the camp, use some spooky music, and show some bones, the US flag, then the Soliantu flag. The juxtaposition is, I suppose, intended to make us think of the little tribe that could as some sort of Revolutionary War-type of underdogs who managed to overcome the great, stifling force and create the strongest country on earth…or it could be just a camp shot.

Tammy notes that the other five are quite happy—gee, wonder why. For much of the rest of the episode, she looks like she just got a peek at the mirror and saw what the Marquesan sun was doing to her formerly youthful complexion. Her cocky meter is reading about –2 at this point. She and the General sit on a log and bemoan the fact that they are now the ones wearing targets, along with Zoe, who is already sucking up. Tammy uses this time to pick her teeth and spit on national TV and further erode her sexy quotient.

MB’s notepad: Can’t they at least rub up against each other….Christ. Spitting? WTF am I supposed to do with spitting? I thought I had the spitter out of here. Take off your shirt, do something.

The power group now sits on around and congratulates themselves on being so honest and forthright…..blah, keep our word, blah, honest, blah, integrity blah is really all I heard.

Then the showdown. Tammy versus Zzzzoe. Turns out, according to Zzzzoe, that she was only in a loose friendship. There was never an alliance between her and the three people she swore to ally herself with. She never agreed to a thing. This is, of course, news to Tammy and the rest of the world who heard her say she would never vote them off. Zzzoe is also wearing that unfortunate smirk of hers—across the nation millions are begging Tammy to just slap her. Instead, we are treated to Tammy in a confessional.

Tammy: Zoe’s a b!tch.

My thoughts exactly Tammy. And it takes one to know one.

MB’s notepad: The tree mail is about nuts. Hard nuts. Nuts that will have to be broken. Surely to God, we can get some action with all the innuendo possibilities here.

Spoilers got this one right on the nose. The group has been divided into pairs to try and fill up a giant phallic tube with coconut milk (you can figure that imagery out on your own). They may choose to pick up the dead and dried up coconuts from the beach or swim out and get the huge, juicy coconuts from the ocean. They have to smash them on rocks and drain them into the tube. First one to win gets to go to a Marquesean Orgy.

Sean/Pappy; Tammy/Inveesible; Kathy/General; NeleduH/Zzzzzoe

The race begins. So many nuts, so little time. Immediately, they scatter like rats to retrieve the nuts. The General, btw, still has an amazing love handle (and I don’t mean that in a good way) despite the crash diet for 24 days. NeleduH and Vee have their hands full of nuts, but can’t seem to keep them up. They run, drop, run, drop. Sean gets the first break.

Jiffy: Those are some healthy coconuts, Sean
Yikes!

NeleduH finally gets some nuts and stands around watching Zzzzzoe be a nut breaker in a very butch sort of way. Tammy and inveesible are hopelessly behind the rest. Jiffy tries to assure them that they are still in it, but we all know better. We don’t see them again. Evidently once you are teamed with Vee, her inveesible powers overtake you. Kathy and the General are making a pretty good go of it. Not surprisingly, Kathy is a good nut breaker.

Sean runs out of nuts and stands at their chute yelling “Paaaappppyyyyy” in a very bad Brando imitation. Quick cut to Pappy falling down and dropping his nuts. He manages to scoop up two and runs Baywatch style, one nut in each arm, to Sean where they manage to top off their vial and win.

Their celebration finally gives MB the angle he wanted.

Sean and Pappy fall to the ground in a move straight from the overrated classic From Here To Eternity. They lie down, waves rushing over them in a passionate embrace as the rest of the group stands by dumbfounded as Jiffy comments on their being the “most unlikely pair”.

MB’s notepad: Holy Sh*t!! Now I have it. “The Most Unlikely Pair” They will play into all the sexual fantasies--we’ll take this one to the top. Black/white, May/December. South/North, married/single, weak/strong… and America seems to like the gay people now—look at Will and Grace.

Commercial break---God help us, there is another commercial for that damned movie. Good time to get juice for the kids so they’ll calm down and I can finish watching the show.

Soliantu Day 26 (I think this is the right break--had to change a diper)

Back to camp—feel the love. It is everywhere. Wait!

VEE SPEAKS!

I was so stunned I didn’t take good notes—basically she was just happy that Sean and Pappy got to take a trip. Then on to Kathy and her usual insightful self.

Kathy: OMG , it feels like they are going away!

Uh, duh, Kathy, they are. The helicopter arrives, the depart, we see lots of gorgeous scenery. Sean and Pap elaborate on how beautiful it all is.

Then they arrive at the horses. I know we were all shocked to learn that Sean had never been on a horse. Once again, an astute Survivor makes a brilliant deduction:

Sean: Horses are big animals.

And people wonder how he got to be a teacher.

Sean then provides us with some of the best comic relief since Amber tried to think and Tom’s boil talked to us. He attempts to mount the horse. Now, I went to camp at age 9 and managed to get on a horse unassisted and I didn’t have nearly the arms or the height of Sean. The horse kicks his ass. He can’t get on. He has to be thrown up there. Once he is on the horse, he has to ride double with a native—groping and yelling. As they ride off into the hills, he is bouncing up and down saying, “My balls, my balls, my balls!” MB cuts to him on a horse alone, being led like a toddler on the elephant ride at the zoo. So much for Black Power. With his hat pulled down, I couldn’t decide if he looked like an ethnic Gilligan or Barney Fife, but then he solved it for me. As they approach a gorgeous, lush camp, yet another profound remark:

Sean: This is better than Gilligan’s Island.

Skipper, I mean Pappy, has to be lifted off the horse and Sean comments on how ironic it is for a little black boy from Harlem to be on the beach with a southern white judge from Georgia. Never mind how ironic it is that his lazy ass is still on the island while Gina and Hunter are providing all the sex scenes back at the lodge.

A native approaches and Sean attempts to translate his message.

The native: Follow me.
Sean: Foe-low-me?...Fo-low…oh, follow me!

Incredible. They go to the feast where a goat is being cooked in the dirt and they are shown around the camp.

Pappy: This is probably not going to happen again in my lifetime.

Not unless MB is totally witless, Pap. Sean prays and then ….

MB’s notepad: Oral fixations….get lots of spit, lots of tongue and anything resembling male body parts and fluids

Porn style close ups follow. Pappy and Sean with their fingers wrapped around all kinds of phallic foods, licking and dripping cramming it in their mouths. Lots of grunting and lip smacking while a large Marquesan woman in a grass skirt looks on. Tighter shots as Sean begins to deep throat a big hunk of meat. I have an overwhelming urge to bathe and brush my teeth.

Thankfully, the next shot of Sean ruins the heat of the orgy as he rips a huge burp. Pappy says he feels like Julius Caesar (could there be foreshadowing?) and begins to fill his pants. They keep putting their hands under the table supposedly to stash food—I have my own ideas about whose hands are in whose pockets, though. They get lei-d and kick back to watch the dancing girls shimmy. Lots of giggling and quiet comments back and forth—much more intimate than Frank and Brandon ever got. You can feel the love.

I know this is supposed to be a summary, but I have to share just one more Pappyism before I move on.

Pappy: I will never hear another tribal drumbeat that I won’t think of this day……they are authentic…they didn’t care if they were voted off 1st, 9th, or 16th.

We won’t even discuss where Pap thinks he is going hear tribal drums in Georgia, now we know why he is so inept at the game and has to be led by NeleduH. He thinks that you actually vote off number 16. So what, does Jiffy get the money? Get back to camp already.

And so they do—after they share a post-coital moment and Sean cries a bit—the tribe approaches like roaches to eat the food that the lovers brought back. Sean has now dropped the brother talk completely in confessionals and makes a pretty good comment about the best victories being the ones you can share.

MB’s notepad: Ahhhhhhhhh. That was nice now for a cigarette. Maybe now no one will be paying close enough attention to Zoe and see what a total nitwit she is. How the hell did she get past my screeners?

Soliantu Day 27
Tammy confesses that she is desperate (duh) and must get Pappy and NeleduH back on the dark side (duh again). She and General try to woo Pappy by blaming everything on John Boy, but he is still under Sean’s spell and isn’t going anywhere. He is upset by their lack of sincerity. Vee is mentioned several times, but still inveesible. NeleduH makes it clear that she isn’t going to let Pappy fall for it. A

The General is grumpy and depressed and laments about being next which clearly shows us he is now safe. He won’t even go to the powerfall and play with the others. So, who will be next? Zzzzzoe is parading around with some bizarre get up involving her buff on her head, a shirt around her waist, her bikini top askew blathering on about being in an alliance by herself. Okay---now we know who is gone. The idiot who never watched Survivor before and buys into all of that Army of One bull.

Wait, she did see at least one episode—she begins to make shell jewelry a la the Mallrats. Obviously, she didn’t see what happened to them. Tammy, ever the shrewd one, sees straight through her… “Zzzzzoe is sucking up”. (duh again). Zoe takes jewelry orders from NeleduH and looks at everyone with that unfortunate smirk or an even worse simpering smile.

IC Tree mail time---stilt walking (no surprise to the spoilers—good job). The only surprise is the horrible boob stains Kathy now has on her shirt. How on earth did that happen? Were they trying to digitally add in that bra, but failed??

Tammy appears to be the only one with a brain at this point. The love and sex and depression have overtaken the rest of the tribe’s minds, except Zzzzoe who apparently has no brain to be overtaken. Tammy sits back and watches the rest of them practice making the totally biatchy but true comment.

Tammy: It’s fun to watch them. They suck.

MB wishes. A nice group sex scene would be infinitely better than watching this group on stilts. I’d almost even rather watch Pappy and Sean rolling on the sand.

MB’s notepad: IC involves women getting up on big poles and hanging on for dear life—surely someone could fall on top of their competitor and get some action…make as many pairs male female as possible and hope for an accidental penetration.

The stilt IC is all about Tammy. Her practice session pays off. She is a bad ass and MB plays it up to the hilt. They are put in a circle to face off one against the other in heats. Most of the group can’t even get up on the things. A whole host of premature ejection jokes here, but we'll move on. Tammy looks right at home. A great moment in the semis when Tammy and Zzzoe face off and Zzzzoe crumbles. Inveesible and Tammy are in the finals—Inveesible has at least improved, but still can’t stand up to Tammy. Tammy gets her necklace back.

Tammy: You have no idea how much I needed this.

Uh, yes we did. The others pretend to be happy and cheer for her and we see a couple more nasty pit shots.

Back to camp after a Phillips light bulb commercial that involved screwing to keep the sex theme running. Time for the pre vote confessionals and strategy. Zzzzoe looks like she has packed on 10 pounds in her bathing suit. Robert has really scary man boobs, and NeleduH’s hair is disgusting. NeleduH tries to explain how she is going to choose whom to vote for –Zzzoe the physical threat or Robert the downer. While we all know it should be a no-brainer, she seems truly puzzled by which would be the better choice. After all, camp is supposed to be happy.

Off to TC. They sit and then Jiffy calls in the Jury. First Loser John enters trying his best to look butch and make up for the sob scene we were treated to last week. He gives someone across the way a blistering glare.

Questions, questions. Sean cries because he misses his mom and actually comes across as sincere as opposed to last week’s gushing mom-love moment. The General zings Zzzoe right between the eyes and she sits there with that unfortunate smirk. Tammy, gotta love her bluntness, says there is no way in hell she is giving up immunity. She knows her butt is on the line and she would be voted out if she did.

They vote—no doubts about Zzzzoe’s vote this time. She votes General. Tammy votes Zzzzoe because “I just don’t like you”. The others are a secret until the revel. 7-1, Zzzoe is gone. She makes her way to Jiffy, gets snuffed and then turns to the crowd and whispers “faith and honor” whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. And she is gone.

We see another sex commercial involving a Zima, a nurse on skates and whipped cream, then back to the credits and Zzzzoe’s bizarre confession.

Zzzzzoe: I had no idea I was going to be voted off because I have no brain and couldn’t see that people thought I was a big lying suck up. **kiss** **wink**. GAG.

All gone—the previews are all about Vee’s birthday and tears, a boat and a challenge involving swimming again.

Never, ever let it be said that I am not a total loser when it comes to television. I spent a good two hours writing and revising this. I am sure there were plenty of other things I should have been doing at the time, too.

A totally wasted day. 24 more hours of my life over and done with and nothing to show for it except some groceries and a load of laundry.

None of it is going to happen--no big surprise. Sam is in velcro mode. Jay and Five have gone with W. Spidey has been put off to Friday, and I wil lbe lucky to get two things on my list done. I am in a bad, bad mood--a total funk that I cannot shake today.

I am hoping that sleep will fix it--I have to go to school for a bit tonight and get some last minute papers graded. I am hoping that this will be a nice break.

The house must be cleaned. There is just no way around it. I am about to get of my dead ass and do something, but I honestly don't know where to begin. I have to go grocery shopping, too. Yuck. I love to eat-hate to cook-hate to shop. My life is just one paradox after another, isn't it?

Today's I will: clean the living room, vaccuum the living room and sunroom rugs, finish Five's room, clean my bathroom, mop the dining room and kitchen. I am sure that is being a bit enthusiastic, but I have to at least dream big.

Oh, hell, I just remembered that I told Five someone would take him to see Spiderman today. Crap. Better get to work.

The Way Things Ought to Be

Never let it be said that I don't speak my mind. Somethings are just supposed to be.

1. American cheese is yellow. I am sorry to my northern friends, but that is the way it is. Kraft makes it yellow for a reason--because that is the color of cheese. White American cheese is just not rght

2. Tea is suppsed to be iced and sweetend. I do not know why this concept is so foriegn to those north of Kentucky or west of Texas. When you go to a restaurant, you are supposed to be able to order sweet tea. It is a known fact that you cannot sweeten a glass of tea adequately with packages of sugar at the table.

3. Car trunks or truck beds are for storage, not for sound systems. I am so freaking tired of being awakened or having my kids scared by the sounds of bass thumping from 4 blocks away. I can only make peace with this by remembering that when these kids are my age they will need hearing aids and will not look cool and won't be able to hear a damn thing.

4. Infomercials should be put on pay per view or shopping channels only. I do not want to see those fools cooking a chicken in a box, spraying on hair or solving all of life's problems in 30 minutes. I have no respect for any channel (including my beloved A and E) that sells time to those freaks. Surely there is some el cheapo rerun they could buy to fill that time--no one is watching the infomercials anyway.

5. Newsflash--people over 125 pounds get pregnant. There really needs to be a decent store that you can go to and buy maternity clothes instead of being forced to shop on line and pray the stuff fits when it gets there.

6. The Three Stooges should be allowed to rest in peace. There days is over. For the love of God, make them go away.

7. Insert Jerry Lewis in the line above.

8. Foul-mouthed "artists" shouldn't be on my radio. I am also tired of having to flip the channel while doing 80 on the interstate because somone feels the need to sing about their ass or call their mom a whore. If I want to be cussed at, I will stand around and listen to the bass-thumpers' music in the KMart parking lot.

Enough of the boring crap. I am ready to move on the truly mundane.

I took an online IQ test through ivillage yesterday. I am sorry to say, I think it is flawed. I scored a 158. Now, I will readily admit to anyone who will listen that I am smart. That is really not up for debate (okay, I know it is getting deep, but humor me). The test said I have a strong grasp of logical patterns. Bahahahahaha. I am the most illogical person one can meet. Anything that even smell remotely like math scares and befuddles me. I like to think of myself as a creative person. That gives me a reason to be flighty and disorganized and totally unmathmatical.

Sundays in our house are just too stressful for words. MIL takes my two oldest to church with her. This morning, I couldn't send Jay because he is wheezing again and it is cold, cold, cold today. So just Five wet. It was a casual day (thank God), but it still took me 15 minutes to find him soemthig to wear. W. is in charge of laundry these days. I won't go into too much more detail--suffice to say, Five wore the shorts he wore to school yesterday and a clean shirt.

Jay and Sam have taken to hitting and biting each other. Brotherly love. As I sat watching them play, Jay picked up G.I. Joe and just walloped Sam over the head with it. Um, hello?? I had to surpress the urge to ask him what the fuck he was doing. Sam is bawling, yelling "Day Day" over and over and rubbing his head. Jay just shrugs and walks away. Once I gather my senses about me, I ask him why he did it.

"I don't know."

"Do you see that you hurt Sam?"

"Uh-huh"

"What do you think you should say to him"

"Dambo, top cry-ding!!! (Jay has a speech problem, this translates to Sam, stop crying!")

Needless to say, this was not the repsonseI was hoping for. After a quick discussion on apologies, Jay is taken to his room. This is his third offense of the morning--the other two involved ignoring his mother.

I put him on his bed. Immediately he asks me if he can be nice now. Of course I realize that he has no real concept of why he is being punished. I should have had a heart to heart about consequences with him. Instead I tell him he has to stay in time out andhe better not get off the bed. I go to my room and come back. He is half on/half off the bed. When I tell him to get on the bed, he is indignant.

"I am on the bed."

Okay, technically, yes, but I won't back down. I put him up there and sit with him. I try once again to explain the whole consequence concept. He nods and looks at me with total clarity. I am sure that I have gotten through to him. I ask him if he has any questions.

"Can I be nice now?"

So much for my attempts to be logical with him. He understands mean and nice. Yes and no. Sleep and awake. Good and bad.

Yes, Jay, you can go be nice.

Saturday, May 18, 2002

Kim

Boring, self examination yet again

I am one of those people that likes to fade into the background at first, but it never fails, I get dragged out into the middle of things. I am sure it has something to do with my inability to shut up or to tolerate stupid people.I am not sure I really like who I am, though. Aside from all of the fat faults, I don't really think I am all that pleased with me Does that make sense?

One day at BYB someone asked the question, Would you be your own friend? or something along those lines. I am not really sure. I think I would get on my own nerves a lot. I interrupt people for one. I am a DAW (desperate attention whore). I am a very cynical and sarcastic person. No, really, I am. I have a tendancy to be foul mouthed in adult settings where I can get away with it.I exaggerate. I am forgetful and not particularly dependable. So, if it were me and a Kim Clone ( a very scary thought), no, I don't think we would be friends.

This leads me to another train of thought. The whole opposites attract thing. W. and I are very similar in many respects. But we re just different enough to compliment each other in many repects instead of compete. The only area we really compete is that we are both inherently slovenly. I suppose if we were opposite there, one of us would have killed to other by now.

I think friends are sort of like this, too. At least maybe females. My friends are all different than me. I suppose that is why they can stand to be around me and vice versa. I don't think of myself as one of those high maintenance friend-types or anything stressful like that. I am the one they know will say what they are thinking. Those co-workers or aquaintances that I don't get along with are typically too much like me. I suppose a clique can only have one verbose, sarcastic, opinionated DAW.

Not to totally diss myself. I know that my dear, sweet Traci thinks I am always down on myself (what does she know, she's a cracker). I know have my good points.I just think they need some fine tuning. I need to really spend some time this summer redefining who Kim is. Right now she isn't a very likeable person on many fronts. Maybe likeable isn't they best word. Admirable might be better. Not trying to be depressing--just honest. I am not a particularly honest person on many fronts--it is time to fix that.

Color me a dumbass. I had no idea people just wandered in and read blogs. I am such a blogidiot.It adds a whole new element of pressure--something must be done about my uncentered items.

I know, I know, you are asking yourself WTF did I think it meant when I marked the public choice when I set the thing up. I have no answer. Just that I am a dumbass. Perhaps I should share some other examples of my dumbassedness to put it in perspective.

1. This blog and the multitude of times it took me to put a link on it.

2. The fact that I am never aware that I have a flat tire until my car comes to a complete stop and rubber is shredding behind me or my rim is bent. After the first or second flat, one would think I would catch on that cars don't just sort of melt into the road, but it surprises me each and every time.

3. The fact that my purse or wallet has been stolen 5 times and lost 3.

4. I also had a car stolen once following a purse theft.

5. I still let my youngest go without a diaper from time to time--he is my third child. You could swim in the amount of pee that has been deposited on my floors, yet I still do this.

6. I do not balance my checkbook or keep accurate records. I use the wishful thinking method of finance. forget Vegas--I just gamble monthly. When I lose, it costs me $25 per flub. I could have made a lot of money playing craps in Tunica with that money.

7. Until the final episode of The Amazing Race 2, it did not dawn on me why only one person sat in the front when they were in cars. Now, if I hadn't noticed it or contemplated it, that would be one thing. Sadly, I not only noticed it, but chalked it up to some European thing or a way to spread out the map. Never once did it dawn on me that the cameraman might need a seat.

So, if you are a public viewer, please have mercy on my poor stupid self. I hope you will find that my idiocy does at least offer me excellent fodder for humorous stories.

Those of you that know me, well, I hope you didn't expect any different.

I am getting frustrated now. Crap. I hope no one sees the massive blunders I have made--I am a moron :-). I am making things worse instead of better. I need to accept my own limitations. One of my biggest limitations is my horrid typing. ACK!!!!

Okay--many edits later, the unfortunate table incident is now behind me and my sidebar thingy is at least rectangular again. Good God--no wonder web designers/programmers make big bucks. Give me a room full of 17 year-olds any day.

With all the changes I just tried to add, it will be a miracle if the entire blogger site doesn't crash.

Still another edit. Fuck.

Fuck again.

And another--I am supposed to be at a meeting, but I am letting W. sleep in today. Sounds like a good excuse, anyway. I could be cleaning, but blogging is more fun.

HOT DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I taught myself something else today . I better stop before I hurt someone.

Just playing around. This blogging thing can be addictive to those of us who are totally self absorbed and enjoy one-way conversations. Hell, I can even talk back myself now. Hoping my Survivorblows graphic and link will work, but I am not holding out any real hope. More tutorial searches are in order.

Baby Steps

That I have resorted to educating myself on a website called Webmonkey should be yet another insight into my life. I have so few computer skills that it is embarrassing, so I am going to attempt to add some html tags each day--maybe in a few weeks I will be able to figure out all that yada yada on the template and put links on my sidebar.

Please note the addition of

I have to admit that it took 3 tries before this was publishable--the first time, all of my text after the web addy was blue. Then you couldn't see the link. I had to go to BYB to get some more cheat help on the link. My headlines all turned purple, too. And I still can't get those cursed bullets, but Rome wasn't built in a day.

i took the most amazing nap today. It should tell you a lot about my life that a nap rates an adjective such as "amazing." I fell asleep listening to my favorite song, "If You're Gone" by my obsession, Rob Thomas. I woke up to "Losing My Religion." It doesn't get better than that. Only seeing John Taylor playing bass at the foot of the bed could improve it.

Now everyone is asleep and I am getting caught up on email and watching tv and drinking wine coolers. Adulthood just isn't as glam as I used to envision. of course, it could be if I wasn't so slug-like lately. I am sure somewhere, somebody is having a great time being all grown up and social. The thought of that, quite frankly, wears me out. It is time for me to turn in for the night and rest up for what I am sure will be a horribly dull county commission meeting and an afternoon of cleaning the nastiest house in three counties.

Friday, May 17, 2002

Rob Thomas.............mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

So, it is Friday. I used to revel in my Fridays. I looked forward to them. Now I find them depressing and tiring. I love and adore my kids, but Fridays mean dealing with a messy house and three attention-hungry kids for two and a half days. If I could get my life in order, the I wouldn't dread the weekends. As it stands today, right this minute, I would love to have to go to work tomorrow. I am not going to to get to sleep late anyway.

A nap awaits me when I get home per my husbands direct orders. I am not one to turn down any offer of sleep, so I intented to leap into bed ASAP and enjoy being able to stretch out and just collapse. I think if I can ever get caught up on sleep, my attitude will improve dramatically.

Thursday, May 16, 2002

So, have I told you lately what a kick ass teacher I am--or actually what a kick ass suck up teacher I am? Tonight I am sitting at work slaving over a bunch of stupid gag gifts for my homeroom that is graduating in less than week (**sniff, sniff**). I will be here until midnight. I will be back at 6 a.m. getting all the things they need for their little skits, etc. ready. I will be up all weekend writing letters to each and everyone of the ingrates telling them how proud I am of them.

I received the following letter from one of my girls who went for her GED at the last minute--she had too many absences, needed some more classes. I convinced her that a GED was better than nothing. She brought me this at school the other day--after she had been to take her test.

Dear Mrs. W.,

Thank you so much for your support through these past 4 years of my life. You have been there pushing me and pushing me along the way. I never thought I would get here, and I wouldn't without you "making" me do it. You have helped me not only in school, but in my personal life as well. You're an excellent teacher. I highly respect your thoughts and opinions. There are few teachers who make an impact in a student's life. Most teachers you'll never think of again after graduation. I want you to that Mrs. Kim W. has made the biggest impact and had a gigantic influence on my life. I will never forget you. I wish everyone could have a caring and wonderful teacher like you. I guess I am just lucky. Thank you!

Respectfully,

Jenny

This is why I teach. Right here. Just when I felt as low and useless and horrid about myself as I possibly could, I get somethign like this. I will treasure it for the rest of my life.

Back to work now.

Why is the concept of having a meeting that starts on time and lasts less than an hour out of some people's realm of possibility? I just sat through a 45 minute meeting that started 30 minutes late. I have 1,004 things to do today and the last thing I needed was to sit through this. The information we needed took about 10 minutes--the rest was blathering on about absolute nonsense.

You want to know what kind of week I am having? Probably not. I swear, I promise that I do not make this up--I am evidently one of those not-so-lucky souls that lives in a sitcom. Sort of like the Osbournes, but with out the money, the drugs, the gorgeous house and the foul-mouthed kids.

1. Field Day--if you never went to one in high school, you are lucky. If you have never been to one after you graduated from high school--even luckier. How sad is it that 11th grade boys have to cheat at a "Spoon and Water" relay--you know--they take turns and run up to a bucket, fill a spoon with water, then run back dump it in a cup, pass it to the next person, etc. Some dumbass thought no one would notcie if he poured some water from his bottle into the cup. So, when the rest of the teams had from 60-68 mL of water, he was suprised we didn't buy it that they had nearly 90. Then they cheated at another relay. I can't wait to grade their research papers next year.

2. Sam had a haircut Tuesday--SIL took him. It took her, the cutter and my neice to hold him down. For some insane reason, she gave him an Oreo before the cut. By the time it was over, he was covered in hair and Oreo. The best part was her shirt and Brittany's shirt--they looked like they had been doing some rituatlistic oreo sacrifice--they were covered in it. You had to laugh. His hair looks great, though, and if I could figure out how to add pics, I would show him off. And if I could find my digital camera, which I have lost, and if the camera had batteries, which it doesn't.

3. I have spent $500 more than I was supposed to this month. So much for that whole budget concept. Giant, huge, mongo fight followed.

4. I am still hemorraging (sp?)--I would have breastfed Sam until he was 30 if I had known what was in store when he weaned.

5. Our house stinks like soured milk--Sam dumped a cup of milk out in is high chair and then I cleaned it up with paper towels (Mommy points for me for not waiting till it dried). I am so stupid, though, I threw the towels in the garbage and now the stench of sour milk is still hanging in the air.

6. The cat died. We haven't told the kids. We ahve been so busy and crazy, they haven't even noticed she is gone.

7. Five had his first TKD tournament and I didn't get to go. I had to do Saturday school. His outfit got washed with a blue crayon and it wouldn't come out, so we had to take shoe polish and cover up the blue spots. His patch wasn't sewn on, so Woody pinned it. He looked like a homeless martial artist. He had a blast, though, and that is all that mattered.

Wednesday, May 15, 2002

God God again. I am the worst typer in history. It is an embarrassment, really. I have entirely too much education to be allowed to avoid any type of formal typing (or keyboarding as we now call it) education.

I also can't access the comments on my page--I hate AOL--damn good thing I am not paying for it. I hate this laptop--or at least its keyboard. I hate the word naked, too. I need a life.

OMG! I am such a dolt that I almost forgot to post HUGE news. Well, huge here, anyway. I have officially decided not to run for re-election. It was going to be a five-way race, which actually was to my benefit, but I decided it just wasn't worth it anymore.

I am sucking big time at being a wife, being a mother, being a teacher, being a student and being a commissioner. I cannot give up my husband, my kids, my job or my doctorate, so commission has to go. There is just no reason to keep dragging it out. A very nice man is running and I will support him for my old seat.In four years Sam will be starting kindy and then mayber I can run again. I'll be Dr.Kim--ROFLMAO. The Honorable Dr. Kim. What a hoot.

W. was fine with my decision. He is very seriously thinking about going back to school to become, get this, a nurse. WTF?? He found out what he could make working three 12 hour days and that was it. He thinks he can be done in 18 months. How the heck we will live until then is beyond me, but I am sure we will come up with something. We have land we can sell and that will tide us over for the majority of the time. He should also be eligible for all kinds of loans and or grants since he will be a minority in nursing. He is talking to a re-training expert this week to get some better ideas about what it will require. I am happy for him, but it is very elementary at this stage. Just exploration. He is really struggling with what he wants to do for the rest of his life. I, on the other hand, am chained to a job untiI turn 56 or so. If this week doesn't improve, I won't live to be 56.

I need pretty things on my blog. I still want to add photos and links and all that crap. I suppose one of these days I will get off my lazy ass and read up on how to do it. Right after I clean my house, lose 100 pounds, finish up my doctorate, raise three boys, and find a better shade of lipstick than the deathly one I have been wearing.

so, after three hours of piddling around off and on and watching the end of The Amazing Race, I finally have a BYB link and comments. Surely I can do no more good in one day, so I suppose I should sleep now.

So, I go from having no link to the webring to having two links--I can't get rid of one, either. According to the code, I wouldn't think I have any links, but I obviously know nothing. I am a danger to myself and others :-).

Son of a bitch--one of these days.............................................. argh!!! So, one day I will be a part of the really cool BYB webring. As of now, I have all sorts of useless code embedded in my template--I am sure it will bite me on the ass eventually.

crap, crap crap. I am a compu-fool. Crap.

Okay--trying to add comments, but frankly the idea scares me. I am not sure I want to know how screwed up people I think I am.

Good God, now my posts are multiplying, too :-).

Tuesday, May 14, 2002

How do Legos multiply? The freaking things spontaneously regenerate--it is like some whacked episode of The X Files or something. I swear, no matter where I sit, there is a Lego there. Wherever I walk, I kick a Lego. I thought Matchbox cars and Pokemon cards were bad--there is nothing to compared with these little red, blue, green, yellow, white, black, gray and brown gems. If we had a dime for every Lego I have stepped on, we could buy another house. If we had a dime for every Lego Jay and Sam have been forced (under extreme protest) to spit out, we could buy three houses.

Hell thy name is Field Day. It is 10:30 and I am ready to throttle about 10 boys of various ages and 2 girls who are just beyond annoying. (insert primal scream here). WTF can't they just have fun???? When my boys are 16-17, I may seriously consider mililtary school. There is just nothing worse than an 11th grade boy. I am so glad I do not have to teach 11th grade English anymore. At least with seniors, you have the whole graduation threat looming over their heads. Fear is a good thing, really it is.

I left a sicky with W. today--Jay was up last night off and on for a couple of hours--moaning in his sleep even. He said his stomach, neck, mouth and ear hurt. I gave him some faux motrin and he was able to sleep great the rest of the night. His temp was 100 at midnight and back to normal this morning. He is still teetering on the edge of a bad attack. The funky weather isn't making things better, either. Today is was 44 in the morning and already 70 now. These cycles just mess with him so badly.

Last night, poor baby, he was sooo tired because he didn't nap well. He stumbled into the sunroom, grabbed a blanket, laid down on the couch and said, "I just can't take it anymore!" He was asleep in 10 minutes--a personal record for him. I am still laughing about that

Five went on a field trip to the library today. I had no idea when they were leaving or if he was supposed to bring a lunch. I hate being so out of the loop. I am just hanging on til the end of school. Third grade is going to kick our collective asses if we don't get in gear.

I just ate a Snickers--*sigh*-and I am drinking a Coke. My life is so sucky, yet oddly fulfilling. I had the worst Monday in a long time yesterday--I will fill in those details later--now it is back to my own special torture.

Monday, May 13, 2002

Why do we have to have Mondays? They just flat out, no questions asked suck. It is raining cats, dogs and llamas here and I would give my right arm to be in bed right now. Tomorrow is the worst day of the year -Field Day. Wild kids, lots of sugar and caffeine, too much sun and too little clothing. I despise the event and would give my left arm to miss it, but it isn't an option.

I have no idea if my teachers looked forward to summer as much as I do, but they couldn't have wanted it more than I am wanting this one. May 24 won't come soon enough.

Sunday, May 12, 2002

Surprise--it didn't get any better. My endearing spouse slept until 10, got up, ate breakfast and then went to church, leaving me with the three medically unsound children. It was all I could do to keep from throttling him.

While he was gone, Sam managed to pee in the floor, completing my body fluid experience for the day.He is teething, so he is in a foul, foul, foul mood. Somehow I managed to get everyone dressed and ready to hit the door by 12:30.

Blah, blah, blah. The day wasn't bad, just loooooooooong. The two little ones needed naps and Five is still sick. By the time we got home, he was running a fever. I threw together another one of my haute cousine meals--mac anc cheese and chicken tenders (frozen, pre breaded--as cop-out as you can get without going to McDonald's) and corn. A very yellow meal. They loved it, so I guess it can't be too bad. Sam collapsed shortly after dinner, thankfully. Jay wasn't too far behind. Now I am alone and watching the L.A. Law movie (sort of disappointing). I have a People magazine waiting for me as well--sad, but a little bit of heaven nontheless.

Happy Mother's Day to me. Despite it all, I am still the luckiest mommy I know.

Mother's Day, My Ass

What a crock. It isn't even 9 a.m. yet and I already pissed off at the world. So much for the love and mush of the Hallmark or Kodak ads. I am ready to take an oozie to the television and beat my husband senseless.

So far today:

1. Sam, the baby woke up at 6 a.m. yelling. No cuddling, no cutsey, nothing. I slept in his room thinking that I could just snag him when he woke and steal some extra sleeptime. No such luck. He litterally howled when I tried to put him bed with me and began to scream"DADDY". I take him to the other bedroom where Daddy is sound asleep and put him on the bed. He goes nuts. Freaking ape shit nuts. "No, no, no, no, no!" Daddy doesn't even move. I get him off the bed ans try to take him to the sunroom--he revolts. Meltsdown would be more accurate, actually. Lays on the floor, kicks, screams and pounds. He is not even 2 yet--WTF is up with this? I have to pick him up, avoid the jaws of death he is directing my way and drag him, my pillows and sheet to the sunroom. (Yes, I thought I was going to be able to sleep a bit more--dumbass).

Once there, nothing will make him happy. He wants Daddy. Daddy is asleep and not moving. It's Mother's Day and let me just tell you, Daddy is a mother of epic proportions. Sam finally finds a book and an unsharpened pencil and begins to entertain himself. I am able to wach Changing Rooms which makes me happy. It is short lived. Sam has diarrhea. The last thing I want to fool with. He doesn't want me to change his dipe--we go 10 rounds while I get the funk that is dried off his butt cheeks. He is yelling at me the whole time--"no, no, no, no." My thoughts exactly, hon. A diaper wipe calms him down--surely those things are non-toxic, aren't they

2. At 7, Jay the 3 year old, woke up and greeted us over the baby gate. I would have sworn he would sleep til at least 9 since he was up til almost 11. I was wrong. He is also on the brink of a cataclysmic asthma attack, so add that to my mix of fun. They fight back and forth for about 20 minutes before I go the bedroom and try to roust Daddy.

"What are the plans for today?"
"Mhhmmhhmm"
"I just thought I would see if you had anything special in mind--the kids are hungry."
"adaiehfandndna."
"What?"

Silence

"I thought maybe you and the kids would cook me breakfast--I forgot who I was dealing with."

Why I thought I would even want him to cook is beyond me. This is the man who makes gravy with ground beef **gag, shudder** and puts it on biscuits. The kids won't even even touch it. *blech*

Looks like mini-pancakes nuked for the dolls. What a great mother I am. Sam is bellowing "food, food, food" at the top of his little 20 month lungs. I actually debate giving him a frozen one just to hush him, but I decide that at this point 60 more seconds won't kill any of us. Finding clean sippy cups is too daunting, so I just grab two off the floor and wash them by hand.

They eat for about 30 seconds and then the fighting begins. They want each other's milk, each other's food, my lap, it never ends. I talk to MIL at some point in this fracas and tell her no one is going to church.

In the next hour or so, Sam bites Jay 3 times, Jay hits Sam several times, I threaten to remove a bike, a car and the TV. I remove phones, cups, and toilet paper. Sam looses his pencil, Jay wants me to read 100 books or so, Sam puts on every shoe he can find, Sam freezes my computer by smacking a bunch of keys at once and Jay has to go potty twice.

Then Five wakes up.

3. Daddy took Five to a cookout last night. They didn't get home until around 1. Five should not be up at 8:00, but he is. He complains of a tummy ache--I figure he is looking for way out of church and disregard it. He tells me about the night before which involved someone telling him to tell his Daddy to take his ass home. I make a mental note to kick Daddy's ass.

All is finally calm--Five asks if he can get a drink of water. No problem. I am blissfully playing Snood while Toon Disney and Legos entertain the other two when I hear what sounds like water spilling on the wooded floor. No huge cause for alarm--I keep shooting, then glance over my shoulder. It isn't water--it is puke. Five has never in his life puked on the floor. At 18 months he ran to the bathroom and puked in the tub. Now, at105 months old (8 years, 9 months :-) there he stood hurling all over the floor while Jay and Sam watched in total awe. I told him to go to the bathroom--he finished the present wave of puke and began to run. I am so stupid. Instead of one giant puddle of puke, I ended up with a giant puddle and three smaller rivers of puke as he made his way to the bathroom which was about 15 feet away. I learned something on Mother's Day-- never tell a puking child to go somewhere. He gets there and says, "I'm done now." Great. Jay is now ina tizzy because Five puked on his spiral notebook and a Mr. Frumble book. The notebook is trashed, the book is salvagable. Fortunately I am a slo, so there was a towel left over from the previous night's bath (or could have been two or three nights ago--who knows) I get it cleaned up pretty easily, considering. The odor of hot dogs,l however, hangs in the air. It is too humid outside to open the windows, plus that would set off asthma boy, so I turn up the AC and move on.

So, here I sit watching my youngest children play with their favortie thing--diaper wipes while I try to refocus and figure out how we are going to salvage the day with a puker, a wheezer and a pooper. Lest I make it seem too horrid--I have also been kissed and hugged repeatedly; Sam has sung his own redition of the ABC's (complete with leminohpea) and Old McDonald to me; Jay came up to me a minute a go and said "Mama, What a woman!!" and I have some beautiful kid-made gifts to cheer me up--later. Now I just want a stiff drink and a quiet, dark room.

Saturday, May 11, 2002

Today is the beginning of my blogging adventure.

Once upon a time, I envisioned myself as the mother of 6 kids. I was demented and uninformed enough to think this would be a good idea. I even had all 6 names picked out 3 for girls and 4 for boys. I spent hours and hours coming up with exactly the right combinations of family names (mine only of course, since there was no spouse involved and I am a self centered freak). Sarah Aston, Emily Elizabeth, William Aston...I can't even remember the others--I am sure they are in a notebook that I have stashed somewhere in the basement. **shudder** yet another reason to clean out that god-awful mess. I wasin high school and "in love" my naivete must be excused.

Welcome to the real world, Kim. three boys and I am officially at my limit. truthfully, for my parenting skills, I think I was at my limit 2 kids ago, but we are muddling through somehow. I cannot imagine how people can afford to raise more than 3 kids or even more impressively, remember all the names. I have called the middle one every name under the sun today, poor thing. He must know the tone of voice I use for him because he answers anyway.

Mothers Day is tomorrow. I know I should want to envelop myself in motherly love, but all I honestly want is a long, hot, bubbly bath ALONE and a nice, clean, wide bed to sleep in for 12 hours ALONE. I'd give my right arm for it. Instead, I will be trying to keep three boys from falling into the pool or touching a hot grill while my dear husband under cooks or burns burgers and my MIL clucks over the wheezy boy and how I am not doing something right. Then we'll all head home to the nastiest house in three counties and try to scrape together clean clothes for the family to wear on Monday. School ends in 2 weeks and we are now officially in survival mode--just stay moderatly clean and fed til May 24 and then we are home free. I will need a break after Mothers Day and don't think I won't let them know it.

Miscellaneous Ramblings of a Mother of Three