Long ago, (four years to be exact) before I began my career as a teacher, the sight of small children working, playing, laughing, and learning together made my heart grow warm and fuzzy. I couldn't wait to jump right into the pool of education! The sound of children's laughter was like music to my ears.
Well, here I am four years later...and now when I see large groups of children heading my way, I run... in the exact opposite direction. Okay, so maybe teaching has slightly jaded my perspective of children. But--hey, you try spending 165 days a year with the same group of eight year olds who whine, tattletale and pick their noses like it's nobodies business. Just like family, I have grown to love them, but just the same, I also want to hit a few of them from time to time.
Today in honor of Earth Day, (Earth Day was the worst day--now we sip champagne when we're thirsty?) Sorry--my inner jukebox beckoned, the 3rd and 4th grades had an Earth Day trash cleanup. Again, the Lauren of yesteryear would have seen children working together to do good for the earth, and smiled. However, the Lauren of 2010 is absolutely exhausted. Who knew a walk around the block could be so mentally debilitating?
My students were fighting over who got to pick up which garbage, and place it in their individual trash bag. Really?! Shut the fuck up, and pick up the god damn trash. Papa John's menus were scattered across the streets. One student, with the menu in his hand, took out his cell phone and tried to place a delivery order. Sorry Charlie, cell phone confiscated. In the background, Sophie asked why we couldn't order pizza from Papa Joans.
Nick picked up a Trojan condom wrapper. Nick asked, "What's a trog-gen?" I told Nick that I had no idea. And what could have even been better? There was a used condom on the ground. Alexis picked up the condom (in her gloved hand), and asked me what it was. I said, "Ohhh Alexis, this is an ancient coin holder. Now let's throw it away, okay?" And so, our day continued, children helping the earth, children picking up litter, and children arguing over who got to throw out the ancient coin holder in their individual trash bag.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
90210 TRIVIA CHAMPS!!!
Tonight may have been the single greatest night of my life. I know, I know--I make this statement a lot. But this time, I almost mean it. Go ahead, and congratulate me on my victory as a Beverly Hills 90210 trivia champ. The amount of obscure knowledge that I have accumulated over the years about this 90's television phenomenon borderlines on sickening, ridiculous and insane. But tonight, at long last-- all of that seemingly useless information was finally put to good use. Hallelujah!
I entered a 90210 trivia contest this evening at Metro53. I also made approximately twenty-seven new enemies this evening. (Aka...everyone else at the bar). Is it my fault that after each answer I got correct, I had to clap, scream, cheer and shimmy (mostly at myself)? I was solid as a rock, whipping out answers like the best of them, so don't stop me now! (Cause we're having a good time).
However, I did not work alone--and have to give credit, where credit is due. I had a fantastic team with me. There's Syd, one of my oldest Camp Schodack friends, who came prepared in her DONNA MARTIN GRADUATES jean jacket. Syd brought her friend Lauren too. Then came Dena, (Rweissypantz's college bestie), another die-hard fan, who sent me practice trivia questions that I completed all day at school when I should have been, ya know, teaching. Galzbabi came as well, but mostly just to make fun of me. Her boyfriend came--just in the nick of time, to take a picture of my tear-stained face after we were announced victorious. YES, I actually cried little girl tears when The New Evolution (our team name--season five reference, anyone? ) was announced as the winner of this trivia challenge.
The irony in all of this is, that I am NOT a competitive person in the slightest. In fact, in high school when my lacrosse coach asked my teammates and I what we wanted from our season, most girls answered with personal goals for themselves, as well as wins for our team. But me? Well, I responded with, "I just want our team to be best friends." Needless to say, my coach didn't care too much for me after I made that comment. I am not competitive...Except for when it comes to 90210 trivia. I am reveling in the glory of a fantastic win. 68 out of 70 questions correct! Okay, I admit--we did not get a perfect score--(so, sioux me). But I'll take it. And, oh...there's just one more thing, what's the prize you ask? We won a free happy hour, (food and drink) for all of our friends. Your welcome.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Birthday Party
Without birthday parties to attend each and every weekend, I'm actually not sure that I'd have any sort of social life. If there were no weekend bar birthday parties, I would actually have to use my brain, and think of bars to go to on my own, instead of having my night's whereabouts dictated by a facebook invite. That's a scary thought. And, even if I don't have a friends birthday party to attend, I somehow manage to end up at a friend's girlfriend's cousin's roommate's bar birthday party just the same.
This weekend was no different, and was birthday party jam packed. Friday night was one of my Camp Schodack bestie's, Meelzybabe's birthday party at The Woods in Brooklyn, and--what a blast! (Okay you guys, I admit it--I had fun in Brooklyn. Now get off my back).
So, you see--I often tend to drink like it's my birthday on best friends' birthdays. Between my love of all birthdays mentality, my flask of bacaaardi, and a $5 dolla beer and shot combo that the bar was offering, well--I never had a fighting chance. The bar's most charming perk was it's outdoor space, that housed an actual TACO TRUCK. I don't remember much about Friday night, but I do know this: At three am, Lilly, Nate and I devoured the most amazing chicken tacos of our lives in the back corner of the bar. On my way home from Brooklyn, I asked the cab driver to drop me off five blocks away from my apartment so that I could scower my own neighborhood in hopes of finding yet another chicken taco. My attempts proved to be unsuccessful. I did not find a chicken taco, and instead clomped around in high heels for an extra twenty minutes. Looks like, I was the big loser in all of this.
On Saturday night, (yet another birthday party), I attended the birthday party of a highschool friend. A friend of mine at the party, let's call him Mike--(because well, that's actually his name), asked me what he could do to get a shoutout in my blog. I told him that he'd have to do something that I would consider to be blog-worthy."Okay," Mike said as he appeared to be thinking this over...when seemingly out of nowhere Mike "meatball licked" my face. I don't even know what that means. I just know that my left cheek was covered in saliva. Was having my face licked revolting? Absolutely. Did it earn Mike an honorable mention in my blog? Of course.
As always, late on a Sunday afternoon, I find myself longing for another weekend once more, as I am given the glum opportunity of living five days for two. But atleast, I know that if all else fails, I have a birthday party (or eight) to look forward to next weekend.
This weekend was no different, and was birthday party jam packed. Friday night was one of my Camp Schodack bestie's, Meelzybabe's birthday party at The Woods in Brooklyn, and--what a blast! (Okay you guys, I admit it--I had fun in Brooklyn. Now get off my back).
So, you see--I often tend to drink like it's my birthday on best friends' birthdays. Between my love of all birthdays mentality, my flask of bacaaardi, and a $5 dolla beer and shot combo that the bar was offering, well--I never had a fighting chance. The bar's most charming perk was it's outdoor space, that housed an actual TACO TRUCK. I don't remember much about Friday night, but I do know this: At three am, Lilly, Nate and I devoured the most amazing chicken tacos of our lives in the back corner of the bar. On my way home from Brooklyn, I asked the cab driver to drop me off five blocks away from my apartment so that I could scower my own neighborhood in hopes of finding yet another chicken taco. My attempts proved to be unsuccessful. I did not find a chicken taco, and instead clomped around in high heels for an extra twenty minutes. Looks like, I was the big loser in all of this.
On Saturday night, (yet another birthday party), I attended the birthday party of a highschool friend. A friend of mine at the party, let's call him Mike--(because well, that's actually his name), asked me what he could do to get a shoutout in my blog. I told him that he'd have to do something that I would consider to be blog-worthy."Okay," Mike said as he appeared to be thinking this over...when seemingly out of nowhere Mike "meatball licked" my face. I don't even know what that means. I just know that my left cheek was covered in saliva. Was having my face licked revolting? Absolutely. Did it earn Mike an honorable mention in my blog? Of course.
As always, late on a Sunday afternoon, I find myself longing for another weekend once more, as I am given the glum opportunity of living five days for two. But atleast, I know that if all else fails, I have a birthday party (or eight) to look forward to next weekend.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
COLLEGE
In the reading class that I teach, my students are currently reading the biography of Helen Keller. The kids have been in absolute awe of her. They don't understand how such a person could exist, how Helen Keller functioned in life, and how she went on to achieve all of her amazing accomplishments. (To tell you the truth, neither can I).
Today we read aloud the chapter where Helen Keller goes to college. Before beginning the chapter, I asked my students to raise their hand and tell me anything that they knew about college. (Mostly for my own amusement). Below you will find some excerpts from eight year olds on college life.
In college, you can go to the movies whenever you want, and you don't have to ask a grown-up.
In college, you get to play twister with your friends.
In college you get to drink beer. (Gus said this, and immediately followed it with...)
Oh! And in college you can kiss as many girls as you want!!
In college you can wear a sweatshirt that says COLLEGE.
In college you have to set your own alarm clock, because your mom can't wake you up.
In college, you have to mow your own lawn. (?????)
In college you get eighty hours of homework a night. (Sophie, you do know that there aren't actually eighty hours in a single day, right?)
And, lastly for all those deep thinkers..."College is like a school, for sort of grown-ups. Cause like, college people are tall, but still sometimes need help with their homework."
Today we read aloud the chapter where Helen Keller goes to college. Before beginning the chapter, I asked my students to raise their hand and tell me anything that they knew about college. (Mostly for my own amusement). Below you will find some excerpts from eight year olds on college life.
In college, you can go to the movies whenever you want, and you don't have to ask a grown-up.
In college, you get to play twister with your friends.
In college you get to drink beer. (Gus said this, and immediately followed it with...)
Oh! And in college you can kiss as many girls as you want!!
In college you can wear a sweatshirt that says COLLEGE.
In college you have to set your own alarm clock, because your mom can't wake you up.
In college, you have to mow your own lawn. (?????)
In college you get eighty hours of homework a night. (Sophie, you do know that there aren't actually eighty hours in a single day, right?)
And, lastly for all those deep thinkers..."College is like a school, for sort of grown-ups. Cause like, college people are tall, but still sometimes need help with their homework."
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Asian Tranny
I know, this is a really clever blog title. However, today I learned that there is an Asian tranny living in my apartment building. No such discovery could have made me happier on a Saturday afternoon. (Also, beware as nothing about this blog entry will be politically correct). This woMAN is the type of person that you really can't miss. She is one of those apartment building regulars, who I see all the time going to and fro. I have even spotted her some mornings waiting for the number six train.
Asian tranny has long hair that looks similar to a horses mane--hair that falls to her hips. She wears an aggressive amount of make-up, morning, noon and night. She is always wearing something extremely low-cut, and can usually be found in four inch stiletto heels. She is broad, built like a line backer, and her calves are rather manly.
I walked into my building late this afternoon after having lunch with Rweissypantz, just as my Asian tranny was stepping off the elevator. Standing next to me were two hunk-o-rama soccer players who were trying their best to stifle their laughter. The three of us got onto the elevator, the door closed, and they both burst out laughing.
Hunk # 1 turned to me and said, "Do you see that Asian woman around a lot, in our building?" I said, "Yes, I do--I see her all the time." "Well, do you want to know something interesting about her? Hunk # 1 asked. At this point, Hunk # 2 said, "Dude--you're such a dick." To which I replied, "Well now you have to tell me." They both blurted out (like verbal diarrhea)--"She's a man!!" I asked if they were fucking with me and they assured me (as perfect strangers) that they were telling me the truth about her gender. I stayed on the elevator past my 4th floor stop, to hear how they knew she was actually a man. Their story made sense, and now so did everything else. Her look, her walk, her facial hair (just kidding). She really was a man. In the words of Nelly Furtado, Ja Branz, Nate Bish, BGbabe Cohen, and manlady himself...She's a manlady, make you work hard, make you sweat hard...
Asian tranny has long hair that looks similar to a horses mane--hair that falls to her hips. She wears an aggressive amount of make-up, morning, noon and night. She is always wearing something extremely low-cut, and can usually be found in four inch stiletto heels. She is broad, built like a line backer, and her calves are rather manly.
I walked into my building late this afternoon after having lunch with Rweissypantz, just as my Asian tranny was stepping off the elevator. Standing next to me were two hunk-o-rama soccer players who were trying their best to stifle their laughter. The three of us got onto the elevator, the door closed, and they both burst out laughing.
Hunk # 1 turned to me and said, "Do you see that Asian woman around a lot, in our building?" I said, "Yes, I do--I see her all the time." "Well, do you want to know something interesting about her? Hunk # 1 asked. At this point, Hunk # 2 said, "Dude--you're such a dick." To which I replied, "Well now you have to tell me." They both blurted out (like verbal diarrhea)--"She's a man!!" I asked if they were fucking with me and they assured me (as perfect strangers) that they were telling me the truth about her gender. I stayed on the elevator past my 4th floor stop, to hear how they knew she was actually a man. Their story made sense, and now so did everything else. Her look, her walk, her facial hair (just kidding). She really was a man. In the words of Nelly Furtado, Ja Branz, Nate Bish, BGbabe Cohen, and manlady himself...She's a manlady, make you work hard, make you sweat hard...
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Bradley Coopa
Contrary to popular belief, I can actually be quite girly sometimes. I care about my hair, my clothes, and boyyyys. And, you don't even want to know how long it takes me to get ready to go out at night. However, one thing that is not typically girl-like of me is that I am not ga-ga, googly eyed celebrity obsessed. Sure, I read US Weekly every now and then, and I will always have a special spot in my heart for 90's celebs who are dead to Hollywood. (ie: the entire cast of 90210, most specifically--Luke Perry of course).
But, it wasn't until today, when I realized that I am a 100 percent, red-blooded American girl. I was walking down Park Avenue, when I noticed a movie being filmed. In NYC, there are always movies being filmed, and I never seem to recognize any of the actors in them. I usually just feel annoyed by the crowds of people walking ahead of me, holding up pedestrian traffic.
Over the blare of Faded By Soul Decision on my ipod, I heard someone cry out, "Bradley!" Could it be? I looked up--and there he was. The most breathtakingly beautiful man that I have ever seen in real life; Bradley Cooper. My love for him began after I saw the Hangover, and he walked into that Vegas suite in his all black suit. Ladies: You know what I'm talking about. (Hubba-hubba). I stopped. Star struck. Bradley Cooper was five feet away from me, and he was actual perfection. He was wearing a suit, (and he looked dang good). I stood watching him until I was ushered away by filming personnel. I RAN home, (in my dress and flip-flops), changed my clothes, marked my sighting as both my ghcat and facebook status, put on my sneakers--and took a little jog back down to 18th and Park, to get one more good look at my favorite celebrity dreamboat.
But, it wasn't until today, when I realized that I am a 100 percent, red-blooded American girl. I was walking down Park Avenue, when I noticed a movie being filmed. In NYC, there are always movies being filmed, and I never seem to recognize any of the actors in them. I usually just feel annoyed by the crowds of people walking ahead of me, holding up pedestrian traffic.
Over the blare of Faded By Soul Decision on my ipod, I heard someone cry out, "Bradley!" Could it be? I looked up--and there he was. The most breathtakingly beautiful man that I have ever seen in real life; Bradley Cooper. My love for him began after I saw the Hangover, and he walked into that Vegas suite in his all black suit. Ladies: You know what I'm talking about. (Hubba-hubba). I stopped. Star struck. Bradley Cooper was five feet away from me, and he was actual perfection. He was wearing a suit, (and he looked dang good). I stood watching him until I was ushered away by filming personnel. I RAN home, (in my dress and flip-flops), changed my clothes, marked my sighting as both my ghcat and facebook status, put on my sneakers--and took a little jog back down to 18th and Park, to get one more good look at my favorite celebrity dreamboat.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Union Square Culture
Have you ever noticed the culture that co-exists with Union Square? Or why is it that the most interesting breed of humans all seem to convene there, together each day?
Today, Becky and I continued our crazaaay SprInG bReAk catching some rays in Union Square, (and simultaneously texting the shit out of Jimmytown O'Halloran--love ya Jimmy!)
(An aside: I began my beautiful spring day by first stopping for some lunch at McDonald's, (I'm soooo healthy), While in McDonald's, I ran into one of my students--who was like a deer in headlights. He was having trouble functioning--seeing me-- his teacher, outside of school...at McDonalds. When I asked him what he did over his vacation, he replied with, "Nothing. Oh! (he said excitedly), I went to my great-grandma's funeral!")
Sitting outside, Becky and I watched all the different people around us. Sure, there were some "normal" people there on their lunch break, and, there may have even been some crazy-ass Spring Breakers there just like us. (Just kidding). But also present were the hacky-sack players culture. The bubble blowing, dancing hippie culture, The"Free Hugs" sign carrier culture, The musical performer culture, the puppeteer culture, the adults dressed in costume culture, the small, awkward children playing tag culture, and my favorite (Perhaps you've seen him) A small tanned-skin man, wearing a button-down t-shirt, unbuttoned to his belly-button.(Culture). He usually wears some sort of beanie, and swaggers back and forth to the beat of his own drum, (literally).
Last spring, this man became a staple of our Union Square crew. My friends and I would often convene in Union Square to hang out outside on a beautiful day. Regardless of whether we were just a group of girls, or had a group of guys with us too, this man was never far. And that is mostly because, he was checking out my friend Shelby's rack. Don't misunderstand me: Shelby has great tits, but no matter what she wore (She could have been wearing a turtleneck), or what position she was sat in...there he was too--his eyes pointed dead center at her ta-ta's. It got to a point of such great discomfort, that we would need to re-locate and move spots. And, no matter where we went--there he was. His eyes burning two giant holes right through her chest. Without fail, each weekend this tanned skin man was there too. Just one of the gang!
One weekday last summer, I brought my new book with me, entitled, Loose Girl-A Memoir of Promiscuity, (Go ahead, and judge me--the cashier at Barnes and Noble did) to read with me in the park. I sat nestled in a cozy part of the grass in Union Square. I had my blanket out, and some fresh fruit with me. I was enjoying the gorgeous day, when I too felt eyes boaring into my soul. At first, I thought maybe someone else had caught a glance at the title of my book, but no--I was mistaken. When I looked up, there he was--our favorite Union Square staple, in his unbuttoned shirt, smiling his toothless grin at me. I smiled back, (with all my teeth), politely gathered my things, and left. Until we meet again...
Today, Becky and I continued our crazaaay SprInG bReAk catching some rays in Union Square, (and simultaneously texting the shit out of Jimmytown O'Halloran--love ya Jimmy!)
(An aside: I began my beautiful spring day by first stopping for some lunch at McDonald's, (I'm soooo healthy), While in McDonald's, I ran into one of my students--who was like a deer in headlights. He was having trouble functioning--seeing me-- his teacher, outside of school...at McDonalds. When I asked him what he did over his vacation, he replied with, "Nothing. Oh! (he said excitedly), I went to my great-grandma's funeral!")
Sitting outside, Becky and I watched all the different people around us. Sure, there were some "normal" people there on their lunch break, and, there may have even been some crazy-ass Spring Breakers there just like us. (Just kidding). But also present were the hacky-sack players culture. The bubble blowing, dancing hippie culture, The"Free Hugs" sign carrier culture, The musical performer culture, the puppeteer culture, the adults dressed in costume culture, the small, awkward children playing tag culture, and my favorite (Perhaps you've seen him) A small tanned-skin man, wearing a button-down t-shirt, unbuttoned to his belly-button.(Culture). He usually wears some sort of beanie, and swaggers back and forth to the beat of his own drum, (literally).
Last spring, this man became a staple of our Union Square crew. My friends and I would often convene in Union Square to hang out outside on a beautiful day. Regardless of whether we were just a group of girls, or had a group of guys with us too, this man was never far. And that is mostly because, he was checking out my friend Shelby's rack. Don't misunderstand me: Shelby has great tits, but no matter what she wore (She could have been wearing a turtleneck), or what position she was sat in...there he was too--his eyes pointed dead center at her ta-ta's. It got to a point of such great discomfort, that we would need to re-locate and move spots. And, no matter where we went--there he was. His eyes burning two giant holes right through her chest. Without fail, each weekend this tanned skin man was there too. Just one of the gang!
One weekday last summer, I brought my new book with me, entitled, Loose Girl-A Memoir of Promiscuity, (Go ahead, and judge me--the cashier at Barnes and Noble did) to read with me in the park. I sat nestled in a cozy part of the grass in Union Square. I had my blanket out, and some fresh fruit with me. I was enjoying the gorgeous day, when I too felt eyes boaring into my soul. At first, I thought maybe someone else had caught a glance at the title of my book, but no--I was mistaken. When I looked up, there he was--our favorite Union Square staple, in his unbuttoned shirt, smiling his toothless grin at me. I smiled back, (with all my teeth), politely gathered my things, and left. Until we meet again...
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