Have you seen commercials about completing "The Special K Challenge?" If you have not, it is essentially a weight loss challenge using Special K cereal products. This week I am conducting my own challenge. It is this: Since last summer, I have added a little extra junk to my trunk. That being said, I am trying a small scientific experiment. I am removing Hershey bars and Frosted Flakes from my diet for one whole week. (Yes, this is actually a sacrifice for me). My assumption is that seven Hershey bars, and eight to ten bowls of Frosted Flakes per week maaaay be catching up with me. I will report back on the results of my Hershey Bar, Frosted Flakes challenge.
Well, go ahead and congratulate me. I have joined the human race of 2011. I am now the proud owner of a blackberry. And, more importantly I have BBM. (Pin me!!) How I have been living my life without one, I'll never know. But, I'm in love with a small piece of technological machinery. Every time my phone buzzes, I never know if it will be an e-mail, a text message or a BBM. It's thrilling.
And lastly, as I sit on my couch watching the Academy Awards, a small wave of sadness rushes over me. Tonight is my last night of February vacation. Yes, I know. Ninety-seven percent of you reading this feel zero sympathy for me. But, oh! What a lovely week off it was. I enjoyed being a relaxed, content and often hungover human this past week. It was glorious and magical. And, it's over now. Monday morning, I report back to the trenches of the third grade for duty. Sigh...
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Pop-Up Video
This blog is dedicated to a gal that I admire quite a bit. Her name is Lauren E. Her fearless, what do I have to lose attitude, provided her with the unique opportunity to hook up with a former OC cast member from season three. (Johnny Harper). You know Johnny. He is the character from Newport Union, who falls in love with Marisa Cooper, and later falls from a cliff splattering to his death? Mmhmm, that's the one.
Lauren found "Johnny" on Facebook, sent him a message, and would later meet "Johnny Harper" for dinner while on a work-related trip to Los Angeles. A hook up followed dinner. The OC ranks closely behind Beverly Hills 90210 as one of my all time favorite shows, and I am still amazed (and jealous) that Lauren had the chance to ask Johnny questions about the back stories on the show. (For the record: Johnny's real name is Ryan, but for my own purposes, he will always be Johnny). So, to you Loosh. You are actually my inspiration. You taught me a very important lesson. And, that is this: It is possible to find an F-list celebrity on Facebook, message him, meet him, and hook up with him in his apartment. You go girl!
This week I re-discovered something magical from my childhood. While channel surfing late one night, I stumbled across the VH1 classics channel. What I saw on TV, nearly took my breath away. There they were: My former version of Saturday morning cartoons; pop-up videos. Pop-up videos, (in case you missed them the first time around) appeared in the early to mid 90's. They were music videos of popular songs, with tidbits of information that would "pop up" in speech bubbles. The information seen in pop-up videos ranged from trivial information about the artist, the song, or the behind the scenes production of the video.
I watched the pop-up video for Meatloaf's, "I would do anything for love." I learned that the name Meat Loaf is what actually appears on his credit card. I also learned that Meatloaf earned his nickname back in highschool, when he accidentally stepped on his football coach's foot, and was apparently built like a meatloaf.
Next, came Mariah Carey's 1995 Fantasy video. I learned that this video was filmed at Rye Playland. I also learned that in highschool, Mariah Carey earned herself the nickname Mirage, because she never attended school.
The greatest part about these videos is how totally 90's they were, and thus how dated they've become. A perfect example of this is during Meatloaf's, I would do anything for love video. A particular fact that popped up onto the screen was that in the year 2007, Meatloaf will turn 56. Yikes. It's too bad that this fact referred to an event that was supposed to be wildly futuristic, and yet occurred four years ago. And, finally I'll leave you with this: We all know that Meatloaf would do anything for love. But, to this day, nobody (Not even Pop-Up Video) knows what he won't do...
Lauren found "Johnny" on Facebook, sent him a message, and would later meet "Johnny Harper" for dinner while on a work-related trip to Los Angeles. A hook up followed dinner. The OC ranks closely behind Beverly Hills 90210 as one of my all time favorite shows, and I am still amazed (and jealous) that Lauren had the chance to ask Johnny questions about the back stories on the show. (For the record: Johnny's real name is Ryan, but for my own purposes, he will always be Johnny). So, to you Loosh. You are actually my inspiration. You taught me a very important lesson. And, that is this: It is possible to find an F-list celebrity on Facebook, message him, meet him, and hook up with him in his apartment. You go girl!
This week I re-discovered something magical from my childhood. While channel surfing late one night, I stumbled across the VH1 classics channel. What I saw on TV, nearly took my breath away. There they were: My former version of Saturday morning cartoons; pop-up videos. Pop-up videos, (in case you missed them the first time around) appeared in the early to mid 90's. They were music videos of popular songs, with tidbits of information that would "pop up" in speech bubbles. The information seen in pop-up videos ranged from trivial information about the artist, the song, or the behind the scenes production of the video.
I watched the pop-up video for Meatloaf's, "I would do anything for love." I learned that the name Meat Loaf is what actually appears on his credit card. I also learned that Meatloaf earned his nickname back in highschool, when he accidentally stepped on his football coach's foot, and was apparently built like a meatloaf.
Next, came Mariah Carey's 1995 Fantasy video. I learned that this video was filmed at Rye Playland. I also learned that in highschool, Mariah Carey earned herself the nickname Mirage, because she never attended school.
The greatest part about these videos is how totally 90's they were, and thus how dated they've become. A perfect example of this is during Meatloaf's, I would do anything for love video. A particular fact that popped up onto the screen was that in the year 2007, Meatloaf will turn 56. Yikes. It's too bad that this fact referred to an event that was supposed to be wildly futuristic, and yet occurred four years ago. And, finally I'll leave you with this: We all know that Meatloaf would do anything for love. But, to this day, nobody (Not even Pop-Up Video) knows what he won't do...
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sex Sounds
As a sexually active human for the past ten years or so, I thought that I had had my share of wild and crazy times. And yet, never before in my life have I heard the sounds and noises that have recently woken me from my place of deep sleep.
Yes. The sound of two people doing it so intensely in the apartment above me has woken me, countless nights, from a deep slumber. These sex sounds are so loud and intense, that I literally cannot believe that I am a witness to this. And, what's more: The noises come through the wall so clearly, it's hard to believe that I am not physically present in the room with them.
The man doing it in the apartment above me is named David. (I know this because I have heard his name moaned at record breaking volume). I do not know the name of David's lady friend. I suppose this is because I have not heard him scream her name on the top of his lungs. David's lady friend is like a record of sorts. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" (Said at bullet speed, and at great volume). Followed by, "Daaaaaa-vid. Daaaaaa-vid. David. David. David. David. David."(Repeat. And increase tempo). I won't get into the deep moans or the explicit language that I hear. But, the words fuck and me are used. Repeatedly. Instead, I will extend a hearty Mazel Tov to this couple. They sure sound like they are having a great time up there. And, I know this for a fact. Because I am awake for all of it, every night, always.
Yes. The sound of two people doing it so intensely in the apartment above me has woken me, countless nights, from a deep slumber. These sex sounds are so loud and intense, that I literally cannot believe that I am a witness to this. And, what's more: The noises come through the wall so clearly, it's hard to believe that I am not physically present in the room with them.
The man doing it in the apartment above me is named David. (I know this because I have heard his name moaned at record breaking volume). I do not know the name of David's lady friend. I suppose this is because I have not heard him scream her name on the top of his lungs. David's lady friend is like a record of sorts. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" (Said at bullet speed, and at great volume). Followed by, "Daaaaaa-vid. Daaaaaa-vid. David. David. David. David. David."(Repeat. And increase tempo). I won't get into the deep moans or the explicit language that I hear. But, the words fuck and me are used. Repeatedly. Instead, I will extend a hearty Mazel Tov to this couple. They sure sound like they are having a great time up there. And, I know this for a fact. Because I am awake for all of it, every night, always.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Happenings
On Friday afternoon, I taught a group of fourth grade students how to do the running man. (Often referred to as the Roger Rabbit). As, I danced my favorite early 90's move for a small group of children, I couldn't help but ask myself: Am I actually getting paid to do this?!
Alright, I'm spilling the beans to all of you. I am on Okcupid. (Dating website). As my Meelzy said, it ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about! Online dating is so in. Okcupid is free, so why the heck not?
I had logged into Okcupid, scoping the scene for babes, when I received an IM. It simply said, "Hey." Before I even had the chance to reply, the boy wrote again..."In the last picture that you have up on your profile , you're standing next to a girl. She's pretty hot. Any idea how I can get in touch with her?" Oh, really? Did that really just happen? Did someone just message me on a dating website to ask me about my friend!? (The friend was Becca Girl, in case you were wondering).
Classy. Real fucking classy.
Foolishly, I told my mom this story, thinking that she might get a kick out of it, as I had. That was not the case. And, as a result I learned that I have to be much more selective with the information I share with her. Last night, I received a message on facebook that said:
Laur,
Maybe you want to put up some pictures that are just of you. You're such a pretty girl! You don't need to be compared to your friends. Think about it.
Love,
Mom
Oy vey.
And, lastly. I learned a very valuable lesson. Well, actually I learned two valuable lessons this weekend. The first is that you get what you pay for. (I won't go into detail on that one). And, the second is that sometimes, it really is best to say nothing at all.
A few months ago I met up with an old friend who was in New York City for the weekend. This close friend had been living in Asia for the last four years, and I hadn't seen him in over two years. Seven Tequila shots later, and I think we all know how this story ends.
This was not the first time a night had ended this way for us. And as my friend said, these things happen with good friends. (Well, they happen to us anyway). During the course of the night, something occurred that was very embarrassing for me. And, even though it's months later, I still feel embarrassed when I think about it. I'm not quite sure what came over me, but I felt the need to confess my lingering humiliation to my friend.
Of course my friend remembers zero things about that night. (Except that I tried to make him touch my formerly broken, but still mutant pinkie). I could have had a free pass! The slate on my embarrassing moment had been wiped clean! Until, ya know. I reminded him of it. What lesson have I learned? Well, this I suppose: When something embarrassing happens to you, let it go. Do not bring it up four months later. Everyone else has probably forgotten, except for you. Fuck my life, for realzies.
Alright, I'm spilling the beans to all of you. I am on Okcupid. (Dating website). As my Meelzy said, it ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about! Online dating is so in. Okcupid is free, so why the heck not?
I had logged into Okcupid, scoping the scene for babes, when I received an IM. It simply said, "Hey." Before I even had the chance to reply, the boy wrote again..."In the last picture that you have up on your profile , you're standing next to a girl. She's pretty hot. Any idea how I can get in touch with her?" Oh, really? Did that really just happen? Did someone just message me on a dating website to ask me about my friend!? (The friend was Becca Girl, in case you were wondering).
Classy. Real fucking classy.
Foolishly, I told my mom this story, thinking that she might get a kick out of it, as I had. That was not the case. And, as a result I learned that I have to be much more selective with the information I share with her. Last night, I received a message on facebook that said:
Laur,
Maybe you want to put up some pictures that are just of you. You're such a pretty girl! You don't need to be compared to your friends. Think about it.
Love,
Mom
Oy vey.
And, lastly. I learned a very valuable lesson. Well, actually I learned two valuable lessons this weekend. The first is that you get what you pay for. (I won't go into detail on that one). And, the second is that sometimes, it really is best to say nothing at all.
A few months ago I met up with an old friend who was in New York City for the weekend. This close friend had been living in Asia for the last four years, and I hadn't seen him in over two years. Seven Tequila shots later, and I think we all know how this story ends.
This was not the first time a night had ended this way for us. And as my friend said, these things happen with good friends. (Well, they happen to us anyway). During the course of the night, something occurred that was very embarrassing for me. And, even though it's months later, I still feel embarrassed when I think about it. I'm not quite sure what came over me, but I felt the need to confess my lingering humiliation to my friend.
Of course my friend remembers zero things about that night. (Except that I tried to make him touch my formerly broken, but still mutant pinkie). I could have had a free pass! The slate on my embarrassing moment had been wiped clean! Until, ya know. I reminded him of it. What lesson have I learned? Well, this I suppose: When something embarrassing happens to you, let it go. Do not bring it up four months later. Everyone else has probably forgotten, except for you. Fuck my life, for realzies.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Pen Pals
My third graders have gotten themselves some penpals! We are currently corresponding via real life mail with a sixth grade class from our middle school. (We reside in different buildings). Though, our classes have only met each other a couple of times, these budding penpal relationships are the stuff that dreams are made of! Below is a sampling of letters that my students wrote to the sixth grade. Enjoy! (I know, I did).
Dear Max,
You are so cool and awesome. I can't wait to see you.
From William
What do you like and what are you going to be like?
From William
Do you like sports? What do you like to do at home? And, do you like your brother?
From, William
(That was no typo, William signed his name three different times in this letter. Also, it may be beneficial for William to learn the art of "p.s.").
Dear Dave,
I like to draw and read. I am 8 1/2. I have several kinds of favorite food. I'll tell you all of them in order. Chicken, pizza, pasta, tomato sauce and Parmesan.
From
Sean,
Have a nice weekend!
Hmm...So, basically you like to eat chicken parm?
Dear Laura,
My birthday is January 12th. I like dogs and cats. Do you like dogs and cats? I love horses. Do you love horses? I am nine years old. Are you nine years old? Please write back
Love,
Annie
PS. Do you have journal writing time in the morning?
Dear Dana,
I am 8 years old. I like baseball and soccer. I like lasers. I speak German. I like pizza and pasta. Do you like pizza and pasta?
Your Friend,
Nicole
Dear Sam,
I love playing gaga. Do you love playing gaga? Also, I mean the game in gym. Not the singer. I am nine years old. I will be ten in eight months. I live in Manhattan. I hope to see you soon, penpal!
From,
Max
Dear Jack,
It is very nice to meet you. I am nine years old. I like to play X-box360. My favorite color is blue. My birthday is October 24th. I like to read comics even if I read them under my covers at night. My favorite sport is baseball. Well, bye!
From,
Ben
Additionally, it may be beneficial for my students to learn how to ask questions, that do not relate directly to themselves.
Dear Max,
You are so cool and awesome. I can't wait to see you.
From William
What do you like and what are you going to be like?
From William
Do you like sports? What do you like to do at home? And, do you like your brother?
From, William
(That was no typo, William signed his name three different times in this letter. Also, it may be beneficial for William to learn the art of "p.s.").
Dear Dave,
I like to draw and read. I am 8 1/2. I have several kinds of favorite food. I'll tell you all of them in order. Chicken, pizza, pasta, tomato sauce and Parmesan.
From
Sean,
Have a nice weekend!
Hmm...So, basically you like to eat chicken parm?
Dear Laura,
My birthday is January 12th. I like dogs and cats. Do you like dogs and cats? I love horses. Do you love horses? I am nine years old. Are you nine years old? Please write back
Love,
Annie
PS. Do you have journal writing time in the morning?
Dear Dana,
I am 8 years old. I like baseball and soccer. I like lasers. I speak German. I like pizza and pasta. Do you like pizza and pasta?
Your Friend,
Nicole
Dear Sam,
I love playing gaga. Do you love playing gaga? Also, I mean the game in gym. Not the singer. I am nine years old. I will be ten in eight months. I live in Manhattan. I hope to see you soon, penpal!
From,
Max
Dear Jack,
It is very nice to meet you. I am nine years old. I like to play X-box360. My favorite color is blue. My birthday is October 24th. I like to read comics even if I read them under my covers at night. My favorite sport is baseball. Well, bye!
From,
Ben
Additionally, it may be beneficial for my students to learn how to ask questions, that do not relate directly to themselves.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Supa Bowl
Wow. Big props to Glee for their rendition of Destiny's Child' "Bills, Bills, Bill's" You brought it back to 1999, and had me dancing in my seat.
Here's the Thing. We have to take our clothes off! (Gym Class Heroes). Here's The Thing, We started off friends. (Kelly Clarkson). Sorry, my inner jukebox beckoned. Whenever, I begin a sentence with Here's The Thing, those are the first two thoughts (and song lyrics) that immediately come to mind. Here's the thing, the end of the football season, The SupaBowl, means different things to different people. For some, the Superbowl is a football game. And a pretty big one too. For others, it means pools, boxes, and winning money. (This I know nothing about). For some, the Superbowl means paying attention only at commercials. (This is where I fit in). Perhaps to you, the Superbowl means beer, good food and good company. (I fit in here, once again). But most of all, (for me), the superbowl represents the return of my male friends back into my life.
My birthday fell on a Sunday this year. My best gals were taking me out to dinner that night. The morning of my birthday, I woke up and thought, hey! I'm not a fourteen year old girl. Why don't I invite some boys to this dinner. The phone conversations with my male friends all pretty much went the same way, "Fisher, we love you, but are you kidding me?! Foootball!!"
Translation: Fisher, we love you. But, we love football more.
I will not miss the football season. The end of this season means that I can go back to seeing my male friends on Sundays at brunch, at the movies, and at any of the other things you do and see on a Sunday. I've missed you, my friends. Until September, welcome back.
Here's the Thing. We have to take our clothes off! (Gym Class Heroes). Here's The Thing, We started off friends. (Kelly Clarkson). Sorry, my inner jukebox beckoned. Whenever, I begin a sentence with Here's The Thing, those are the first two thoughts (and song lyrics) that immediately come to mind. Here's the thing, the end of the football season, The SupaBowl, means different things to different people. For some, the Superbowl is a football game. And a pretty big one too. For others, it means pools, boxes, and winning money. (This I know nothing about). For some, the Superbowl means paying attention only at commercials. (This is where I fit in). Perhaps to you, the Superbowl means beer, good food and good company. (I fit in here, once again). But most of all, (for me), the superbowl represents the return of my male friends back into my life.
My birthday fell on a Sunday this year. My best gals were taking me out to dinner that night. The morning of my birthday, I woke up and thought, hey! I'm not a fourteen year old girl. Why don't I invite some boys to this dinner. The phone conversations with my male friends all pretty much went the same way, "Fisher, we love you, but are you kidding me?! Foootball!!"
Translation: Fisher, we love you. But, we love football more.
I will not miss the football season. The end of this season means that I can go back to seeing my male friends on Sundays at brunch, at the movies, and at any of the other things you do and see on a Sunday. I've missed you, my friends. Until September, welcome back.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Wacky Hat Day
Greetings from Wacky Hat Day! Oh. And, Happy Bat-Mitzvah to me, fourteen years ago today! Though it is only Tuesday, some adorable, hilarious and disgusting things have already occurred this week in school. And, as always...I thought I'd share them here.
Every Monday, I work at my school's afterschool program. (Afterschool is the actual bane of my existence). But, a girl's gotta pay off her grad school loans, I always say.
One of my responsibilities as an afterschool teacher is to prepare snack for the students. Eric, a second grader, was helping me to set up snack. After unsuccessfully attempting to pour, and spilling his fourth drink of fruit punch all over the floor (and on my shoes), I decided that it was time for him to help with something else. I did not lose my cool, or my patience (despite my sticky, fruit punch soaked feet), and I asked Eric if he wanted to help me with something else. He must have appreciated the patience that I had shown him. Eric looked up at me with his seven year old eyes and said, "I love you. Not like people love each other on the movies, but I just regular love you." My heart sort of melted. I thanked Eric, and told him that was very nice of him to say. Well, a seven year old loves me. Now, I just gotta work on the twenty-seven year olds...
Ever spent the better part of your afternoon trying not to vomit? Well, that was me, yesterday at afterschool. A second grade boy named Dan shit his pants. Dan didn't tell anyone that he had done this. ( I don't think this is because he was embarrassed, Dan lives in his own world eighty-four percent of the time, and most likely had not yet realized that he was sitting in his own feces). Dan walked around the room, playing games, and chatting with other kids REEKING of shit. Every time Dan walked by me, I gagged. Thankfully, Dan's mom came to pick him up shortly after the shit incident. I did not have to investigate any further, and I could breathe out of my nose once more.
Today is Wacky Hat Day. The kids arrived in their wackiest head attire. There is something moderately amusing about teaching a class in your shower cap, looking out at a sea of students in wizard hats, bunny ears, and various wigs and headgear. Some of the kids took Wacky Hat Day one step further, and treated the day more like "Wacky Hair Accessory/Contraption Day. One boy in my class arrived to school wearing an actual lampshade on his head. To each their own, buddy.
What is this place where I come each day? Where kids confess their adoration for you, shit their pants near you, and cast spells on you from underneath their wizard cap? Well, it's school. And, I'm here Monday through Friday, eight am to three pm.
Every Monday, I work at my school's afterschool program. (Afterschool is the actual bane of my existence). But, a girl's gotta pay off her grad school loans, I always say.
One of my responsibilities as an afterschool teacher is to prepare snack for the students. Eric, a second grader, was helping me to set up snack. After unsuccessfully attempting to pour, and spilling his fourth drink of fruit punch all over the floor (and on my shoes), I decided that it was time for him to help with something else. I did not lose my cool, or my patience (despite my sticky, fruit punch soaked feet), and I asked Eric if he wanted to help me with something else. He must have appreciated the patience that I had shown him. Eric looked up at me with his seven year old eyes and said, "I love you. Not like people love each other on the movies, but I just regular love you." My heart sort of melted. I thanked Eric, and told him that was very nice of him to say. Well, a seven year old loves me. Now, I just gotta work on the twenty-seven year olds...
Ever spent the better part of your afternoon trying not to vomit? Well, that was me, yesterday at afterschool. A second grade boy named Dan shit his pants. Dan didn't tell anyone that he had done this. ( I don't think this is because he was embarrassed, Dan lives in his own world eighty-four percent of the time, and most likely had not yet realized that he was sitting in his own feces). Dan walked around the room, playing games, and chatting with other kids REEKING of shit. Every time Dan walked by me, I gagged. Thankfully, Dan's mom came to pick him up shortly after the shit incident. I did not have to investigate any further, and I could breathe out of my nose once more.
Today is Wacky Hat Day. The kids arrived in their wackiest head attire. There is something moderately amusing about teaching a class in your shower cap, looking out at a sea of students in wizard hats, bunny ears, and various wigs and headgear. Some of the kids took Wacky Hat Day one step further, and treated the day more like "Wacky Hair Accessory/Contraption Day. One boy in my class arrived to school wearing an actual lampshade on his head. To each their own, buddy.
What is this place where I come each day? Where kids confess their adoration for you, shit their pants near you, and cast spells on you from underneath their wizard cap? Well, it's school. And, I'm here Monday through Friday, eight am to three pm.
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