Hi!

Oh, hey you guys!!! Check it out! Guess who just figured out how to upload multiple pictures to the side of her blog?!?! Me--Loretta Fishcakes. That's Who!

Am I technologically savvy enough to showcase these photographs in a size that you can actually see my friends' real faces? No way! Get real. If you are not featured below, well--it's not because I don't like you--I probably do, very much. It is simply due to two factors. 1). The photographs below may be the only ones taken of me where I do not resemble an overweight Asian. And 2). More importantly, it just took me over an hour to figure out how to upload seven photographs. So, sioux me if I'm technologically special.

Walk O' Shame

Walk of Shame: Refers to the phenomenon in which a person must walk past strangers or peers alone for an embarrassing reason until they reach privacy. Most commonly it occurs after a night at a bar, dance club or party. People undertaking the walk of shame are understood to have spent the night at the house, apartment or dorm of a sexual partner, particularly a one night stand. (Wilkipedia).

Ahhh yes, nothing like a good ole' fashioned walk of shame to get your day started! In the fall of 2006, I dressed up as the Walk of Shame for Halloween. I wore an oversized man's button down shirt, (misbuttoned of course), and a pair of boxer shorts, topped off with high heels. (Minus the heels, it was an extremely comfortable outfit). My hair looked something similar to a rat's nest, and I drew dark black circles under my eyes. I was a mess, and I kind of liked it.

However, my former walk of shame Halloween outfit is not quite accurate of real life. A true walk of shame outfit is a combination of things really: Rats nest mess of hair, Check. (I literally don't know what happens to my hair overnight, but it's the kind of nest that I can't put a comb or a brush through). Half made-up face, with eyeliner remnants left behind. Check.

Note: Staying at a boy's apartment, without enforcement of my proper night time routine of washing my face and taking off my eye make up, leaves me with black eye-liner residue smeared beneath my eyes. And, oh yes access to a toothbrush would be nice too.

Instead of walk of shaming it home in an oversized man's dress shirt and boxers, substitute whatever outfit was worn the night before. In the winter time, you can be covered by a big winter jacket to try and mask your walk of shameness. But, in the summer time--you are exposed. And, there is nothing to be done about it. I'm not quite sure why the walk of shame feels so humiliating...perhaps it has something to do with the public acknowledgement that you just had sex. Without being too detail oriented, I shall only say this: I may or may not have had to walk of shame it home in semi-recent times.

(An aside: About a year ago, I had to walk of shame it home twenty-four blocks. I had left my credit card at the bar, and had no cash on me. I had no choice but to be judged for twenty-four blocks straight). Naturally, the earlier in the morning the walk of shame is done, the better. Less risk of shame, humiliation, and running into someone that you know.

Boys sure are lucky. Their walk of shame outfits could be exactly what they would wear on any given day. Unfortunately for me, my normal Sunday outfits are not short black dresses and high heels. It's important to make a clean getaway. In one instance, as I sheepishly slinked into a cab, the cab driver looked back at me, with a wink and said, "Late night?" Oh for the love of God. Upon arrival back at my apartment, I walked in just as a mother and father were moving their son into the building. As the boy's parents stared at me, my heels clinking against the floor, the son looked at me, his smile saying it all, "Yes! Sluts live here."

California Girls

Perhaps it is my affinity for Asians. Or that regardless of who I marry, my children will automatically resemble tiny Asians. Why? Because, I myself am part-Asian. Maybe not biologically, (who needs genetics anyways!) But, as many of you well know, (or as my facebook pictures can prove)... any time that I smile, laugh (or breathe) my resemblance to a member of the Asian descent becomes strikingly uncanny!

Perhaps it is for that very reason that I have discovered one of my favorite campers in the group, at the day camp that I am working at. A tiny, Asian girl named Ilene. There is something about her face that is just delightful. (Yes, I am aware of just how creepy I sound right now). Ilene is a tiny little human, but she has a HUGE personality. The things that come out of Ilene's mouth are never what you expect, and she is just priceless. Today at camp, (day four) was the first day that I started to think...just maybe this whole day camp in the city thing might be kind of fun after all.

We were listening to my ipod, which greatly appealed to all of the nine year old girls in the room, and one eight year old boy named Jake. (Not sure what that says about me, and my musical maturity, but I'll let you be the judge of that). Playing random songs from an ipod turned into a competitive game of Name That Tune. Points were awarded to the player that named the song correctly. Bonus points were given for naming the correct artist. The kids did a pretty respectable job, and knew some obscure titles and artists. My co-counselor, Lauren played the beginning part of California Girls. Instantly, Ilene jumped up, and yelled..."California Girls, by Katy Perry featuring Snoop Dog!!!"

Wow. I was impressed. Ilene knew that California Girls featured Snoop Dog. Could Ilene be a closet-Snoop fan? I asked Irene if she ever had heard of Snoop Dog before California Girls had come out. Irene looked up at me and said, "Nope. But, I've heard of Snoopy."

Ah, Perfection. Thank you, Ilene.

Summa

Today I had a thought. It's one that is fairly obvious, but also fairly depressing at the same time. It is something that most of you in the working world, have already realized for years at this point.

For the first time, I realized today, on the longest day of the year; summer solstice (And Joey/Rockoff's birfdaaay), that summer as I know it will never be the same for me again. There are certain feelings and emotions that resonate when I think of the summer time. We all have these feelings. Whether it is a certain sound, smell, or song, summer time means different things to different people. As you can imagine, almost all of my summer time feelings are tied to one place. Yep--you guessed it. Schodack, baby. And sadly, what I've realized is: Summer time will never hold the same meaning for me as it once did. And, if that isn't a tough pill to swallow, then I don't know what is.

Go ahead and call me a loser, a nerd, a lifer. (I've heard it all before). But, for fourteen magical summers when school let out, I would pack my bags and head to Nassau, NY--to Camp Schodack for eight weeks. My mom would cry when I left, but it never even phased me that I was leaving behind friends and family that I loved for two months; because Schodack was (and always will be) a second home to me, and my Schodack friends are family.

Please don't misunderstand me. I am well aware that it would no longer be right for me to be at camp. The average counselor at Schodack was born in 1992. After all, how would I be able to make mid 90's dance song references? (Most of the current staff working at camp were only toddlers at the time!) But, what I am saying is this: I miss what summer used to mean to me, a lot. I miss living in a green place with my best friends for two months away from worries, cares or problems. Literally; we were carefree. The biggest problem that we (both male and female) faced was uni-boob sportsbra sweat (for the girls) and grundle sweat (for da boyz). And oh yes, we all were faced with some pretty serious looking mosquito bites too. My god, do I miss it. I miss the way my wrists looked adorned with friendship bracelets. I miss that when someone asked me how my summer was, I would answer without any hesitation, Amazing. And, it was. Those summers were literally nothing short of amazing. I know that I am lucky to have had that. I also know that I need to try not to live in the past, and focus on looking forward. But, if there is any overlying theme in my blog, it is that, NOT looking back is very difficult for me. (No, duh). And, though it may not seem like it, I'm trying. So sioux me if I am nostalgic.

The first summer that I decided I would not be returning to Schodack, I had a mini-emotional meltdown. (Are you shocked?) Keep in mind, I'm not a huge crier, and yet, I cried myself to sleep every night for a month. Do you know any other twenty-somethings who cried themselves to sleep because they would not be attending camp that summer? Uhh...yeah, didn't think so.

What I would not learn until later, is that this emotional process I was experiencing, was actually a form of grief. Essentially, I was grieving the end of my childhood, the end of my carefree innocence, and to be quite honest--the end of some of the best times of my life. I am not saying that my life has gone downhill in the past two years in any way. Not at all. In fact, I feel excited by so much that has happened. I'm thankful for the interesting people that I've met, and the experiences that I've had along the way, living in New York City. I love living in Manhattan, amongst so many of my friends, being a pseudo grown-up, painting the town hot pink, and scaring various boys away with my lifesize Luke Perry poster.

But today, on my first day, working at my day camp job located inside of a school...something just didn't feel right. Instead of doing an art project underneath fluorescent lights, I should have been laying outside in a field underneath the Schodack sun. Someone I worked with at the school that I teach at, once told me that she still had sex dreams about her ex-boyfriend (and she was married to someone else). Well, if I may make an analogy (probably not a very good one)...let me say this: Camp Schodack is like an ex-boyfriend that I will never get over. Sure, I'll move on, experience new things in,new places with new people, but just know, I'll be mentally cheating on summer with Schodack the whole time.

If We Ever Meet Again

Greetings from the land of Summer Bacation! (Yes, I realize that I replaced the letter v in vacation, with the letter b). Sometimes I like to make fun of my 10th grade Spanish teacher when the opportunity presents itself. I don't have one concise topic to blog about this evening, instead I thought that I'd share a few things on my mind, in list format of course.

1. Tonight is my first official night of summer vacation. I celebrated over molten chocolate cake with Julia, Emilaaay and Ryan. It was delicious, thanks.

2. My job as day camp counselor extraordinaire begins on Thursday. Yes, I am working at a day camp this summer on the Upper East Side. (Fancy-pantz day camp). Yes, day camp goes against absolutely everything that I believe in as a human being and as a former sleepaway camp go-er of fourteen years. However, camp ends on July 30th. And, I do believe in being a bum for the month of August.

3. I recently had dinner with a fellow who wrote a screenplay, that is being used in an actual Hollywood movie. Dang. I really need to get my act together, and start making moves on my book! If Tori Spelling can write a book (or three), so can I! (Note: Always measure your success to Tori Spelling's).

4. Itunes should REALLY notify you when you are accidentally purchasing the karaoke version of a song.

5. On Sunday, I unexpectedly ran into my prom date, a former make-out, one of my students, and a childhood friend. God, I love this city.

6. Saturday night, I was at a bar where you could enter a room known as the "Vodka Room," (which looked similar to a sound proof room). Once inside the vodka room, you pay twenty dollars to drink as much vodka as you'd like in two minutes. In other words: The bar is allowing you to pay twenty dollars to vomit everywhere.

7. Remember when Bonkers and I accidentally, unknowingly signed a two year lease? Oh ya know, we thought we were all set to move in July of '09, only to find out that we actually had another entire year on our lease! Whoopsies!! Well, it's been a year, and the time for our new apartment search is here. It is very hard to believe that a whole year has passed since the day that we cried in our living room, when we learned of our mistake. Goodbye Murray Hill. Hello, learning how to correctly read a lease.

8. While writing this blog entry, Katy Perry and Timbaland's, If We Ever Meet Again, has been playing on repeat. Do I often listen to songs on repeat? Or do I not often listen to songs on repeat? Do I only have 24 songs on my ipod? Or do I not only have 24 songs on my ipod? True or False. In the days of buying CD's, I would listen to the one song that I liked on the CD, and never once listen to any of the other fourteen songs on the CD.

9. True.

The Last Day of Third Grade

And just like that...it's over. My 2009-2010, 3rd grade school year has ended. But, oh. It wasn't always that simple. There was plenty of blood, sweat and tears along the way. Fine, maybe not my blood--but don't think that I didn't clean up my fair share of scraped knees this year. There was certainly sweat. (Fair warning: stay away from my classroom after my students come back from gym. The room reeks of prepubescent body odor...and it does not smell pretty). And, of course there were some tears. (And the kids cried too).

Back in September, I thought that this day would never come. Back in December, I thought that this day would never come. Even in April, I thought that this day would never come. And well... it came. I ask you, How did this happen!?! And, Where did the last ten months disappear to?! Instead of feeling excitement and relief, well...I feel sadness. Sure, in about a week from now when I am not planning for my reading class, or being bombarded by Chucky's incessant complaints, I know that I'll feel great relief, and most likely, extreme joy. But, for now...this feels like an ending. And, I think we all know how well I deal with endings.

My students know me. And, know more about me than I give them credit for. They know what angers me. (Interrupting someone speaking to call out, with sayings such as, "I like pie!," or the ever popular, "Boobies!"). They know that I don't tolerate cruelty towards one another, and that I'm a real stickler about that. My students know what makes me laugh. (Accidentally farting in the middle of a social studies lesson, or when the back row raises the roof at the mention of good news). They know what makes me happy too. (Leaving a Hershey bar on my desk, Thank you Alexis!)

These eleven kids who started off as strangers, have become like tiny mutant family members to me. And, they have probably taught me, more than I've taught them. Though things were rough at times, (ie: Chucky pretending to be a dog, and "peeing" on my desk, getting accidentally beat up every day by Chris, who has literally no control over his body in space, and seeing more fingers in noses/booger picking than I ever need to see again), I love these kids. (Well, 80% percent of them, anyway).

Today I received a thank you card from Gus. It said:

"Dear Lauren, Thank you so, so, so mutch for teching me all of this stuff. Your the greatest techer I ever had. Love, Gus

(You're probably wondering if I taught him so much stuff, how come I didn't teach him how to spell. Believe me, he's come a looong way since September).

This note makes my heart feel warm. This note makes me feel like all of the blood, sweat, and tears have been well worth it. Some people complain that their work is a thankless job. Not me though. I know how lucky I am to be in a place where my efforts are appreciated and commended daily. This note made me realize that there is no place that I'd rather be at 8:43 on a Wednesday morning. (Well, except for maybe my bed).

It's been pretty real third grade...School's Out For Summer... see ya in September.

One Hundred and Two Degrees

This past weekend was epic for many reasons. This weekend gets an honorable mention mostly due to the lack of sleep that I received. Which, as a result, led me to getting sick, run down, and writing to you today with a 102 degree fever. Who the fuck gets a 102 degree fever in JUNE?!

ME. That's who.

This past weekend began as most weekend do, sans my usual Friday afternoon nap. (A very essential component to my weekend, mind you). The camp girlays and I decided to hit up Bowery Electric, (my favorite bar) Ya know--for the usual friend of a friend of a friend's birthday party. Did I need to stay out until 7 am on Friday night/Saturday morning, drinking the equivalent of my body weight? Absolutely not. Did I need to gush over Gina (the DJ at Bowery Electric) and tell her that I am a huge "fan of her work," and then proceed to hover over her while she deejayed for a solid half hour? Absolutely not. Did I need to walk to Bloomingdale's on Saturday, to pick up a friend's gift, only to not actually make it to the register, but instead to throw up inside of a Bloomingdale's bathroom stall? Absolutely not. But, did all of these things happen? Well, yes. Absolutely.

After trudging my sorry self all the way back home, post Bloomingdales, post vomit. I slept the rest of the day. (You might say that I was a waste of life and space this weekend). After sleeping it off until about seven pm, I got up, showered, and got ready to do it all over again.

BGbabe and I went to Dan's to pregame in the West Village. Dan went to Camp Schodack and Livingston High School with me. That's a pretty solid double wammy right there. That being said, naturally, I can't miss a chance to pregame at DBA's. 1). There is always some sort of chocolaty treat in his apartment, and, more importantly 2). There are always at least two Livingston High School sightings there that I simply can't miss out on.

After a plentiful pregame, Becky and I headed to Porch for Lily's birthday party. Once we wore out our welcome at Porch, we met back up with Dan and co at...TENJUNE!?!

Who do I think I am? Certainly not an elite, fancy-pantz club go-er, nor are any of my friends. However, I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I had the time of my life at Tenjune. (Although, if I have learned anything, it really is all about the company that you keep, not the place that you are) And, ahh yes-- another night not home before five am. This would have been fine, had I not had to be in New Jersey on Sunday morning for Joey's med school graduation party. (An aside: I took the train back to New Jersey on Sunday morning with Rockoff, who politely informed me that I was not allowed to breathe, and or speak in his direction for the duration of the train ride. Apparently, I smelled just a little like booze. Note to self: The next time drinking occurs over the course of seven hours, take a shower the next morning).

What have I learned from this past weekend? Well, that's easy. And that is: I can no longer trick my body into thinking that this is 2005. I am no longer able to keep up on a weekend, and survive the work week with a combined seven hours of sleep. Lesson learned, signing out: 102 fever, in June.

Field Day

HAPPY JUNE!!! The very thought that the month of June has arrived brings a smile to my face, and a special joy to my heart, the way that only the summer time can bring. Congratulations you guys, we survived the fall, winter and spring, and are being rewarded with warm summer nights. It's been a long and patient wait for my favorite season of the year, and We. have. arrived.

First and foremost, I'd like to point out the newest technological advance to my blog, and that is the large photograph that I included. You should know that I am quite proud of myself. After 1.5 years of blogging, I finally figured out how to upload a picture onto my blog. (Some could say, I'm a little bit slow on the uptake).

Today was field day at school. Do you remember field day in elementary school? If you have any athletic bone in your body, then you probably remember it to be the best day of the whole school year. Teachers and students divided up into different teams, playing games and activities outside, in celebration of a school year almost through!

I arrived to work in a yellow t-shirt, After all, I was a member of the yellow team. (An aside: My yellow t-shirt from the University of Michigan, said GO BLUE, UMichigan's slogan). Note: A yellow t-shirt, with the phrase Go Blue proved to be very confusing for my students. I wore a pair of soffee shorts and sneakers. My hair was pulled back in a pony-tail. Essentially, I was in my Camp Schodack uniform. And, so I ask all of you, dressing that way for work!? What could be better? That's right, nothing.

Field Day was lots of fun, but completely exhausting. Teachers and students played alongside one another for six hours in the blazing hot sun. (I hope I got a tan). But, perhaps the most eventful part of my day was when Eric, a six year old, first grader came over to say hi to me. I asked Eric if he was having a good time at field day. Eric opened his mouth to answer my question, but instead threw up into his hand. Startled, (and disgusted), I asked Eric if he was alright. In the sweetest six year old voice that I've ever heard, he said, "Sometimes when I burp, I fro up a little too, right in my hand, just like this."

Yes, I can see that.

Field Day involves the whole school, grades K-8. I love seeing the middle school kids, (as of next Wednesday, my first class ever will be 8th graders, holay molay!) (Also, as of next Wednesday, I will have completed my fourth year of teaching). Excuse me!?!

I look at my former students, current middle schoolers, with a great fondness, and with a great sense of empathy. I looked out onto a sea of dirty teen moustaches, long lanky limbs, and braces. This is probably the worst that these kids are ever going to look. Something about that is comforting to me.

As I walked home from work today, smelly, in my t-shirt, with a messy ponytail, and yellow paint (all over my face, arms and legs), I passed another girl on the street-- around my age, looking moderately disheveled, face covered in blue paint. We looked at each other, and just like that...we both knew. We shared a secret smile in the knowledge, that we were both teachers, absolutely exhausted after a long and sweaty field day.