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March 30, 2005
I Feel Used
I feel used.
I inadvertently left my car windows down last night and lured in an uninvited visitor.
Intruder made himself at home in my good ol' Impala.
The good news: Nothing is missing.
The bad news: Intruder tore open all the juice boxes I keep in my front seat (you never know when you'll get stuck in traffic) and left a sticky apple juice mess everywhere.
The good news: Intruder left physical evidence.
The bad news: Squirrel poop does little good in our court system.
Yes, friends, my intruder was a squirrel, possibly a collection of squirrels.
I HATE SQUIRRELS! THEY THINK THEY'RE CUTE, BUT THEY'RE EVIL, HORRIBLE CREATURES!!!
And now I need to go clean up the mess. Apple juice and squirrel crap. At least it's not raining...
Posted by Anna at 12:44 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
March 28, 2005
Ooh Dah Poo and Estrogen Pills
I've written about my trips to the pharmacy even before I had my own blog.
Therefore, some of you may know of my antics involving my crossdressing pharmacist.
I stopped by the pharmacy tonight to refill my Claritin before I dog-sit again this weekend (it’s not the dog, it’s the cat that bothers me). Douglas/Donna was there in fine form tonight. Decked out in an elegant black dress and silver jewelry, he almost looked pretty. Almost. As I’ve said before, he’s in “transition” to becoming a woman. Apparently he’s either stealing estrogen pills from the pharmacy (think of all those poor menopausal women…) or he actually has a prescription for them—because his voice is changing. It’s doing whatever the opposite of a boy’s puberty voice change does. Instead of cracking into a higher voice like a boy’s, it cracks into a lower tone, reminiscent of what Douglas/Donna sounded like before he started wearing women’s clothing and cutting his hair in a cute style. *sigh* I find it disturbing that my pharmacist is going through reverse-puberty. It’s just unsettling.
And I also have the knack of meeting preschoolers learning to talk. A little guy came up to me tonight (who are these parents that let their kids walk up to a stranger?!?) and said, “Ooh dah poo. Eee dah poo.” He said it again (he must’ve realized I didn’t catch his meaning the first time), this time with a different inflection at the end. This phrase sounded like, “Ooh dah poo? Eee dah poo!”
Then Mom came around the corner of the aisle, her cart full of toilet paper. I instantly understood Child’s question: “You go poo? Me go poo!”
I just don’t understand how, in the span of less than 10 minutes, I can encounter a man whose voice is changing into a woman’s and a child who questions me about my excretory habits. *scratching head* I just don’t get it. Do I exude some sort of pheromone that draws weird people to me?? And now my undergraduate stalker (Josh aka “Goat Boy”) has found me again. My life just gets brighter and brighter. *rolling eyes*
Oh, and I invented a new diner lingo that will stand up there with “moo juice” and “Eve with a lid.” Here’s what I’m havin’ for dinner tonight: a Sticky Bimbo. Translated: peanut butter sandwich. But Sticky Bimbo is just more fun, don't you think? I dare you to incorporate the phrase Sticky Bimbo into your conversation. And if you do, you'll be an "insider" and a trend-setter! Do it! Do it!
If you’re confused about why a peanut butter sandwich is now hereby known as a Sticky Bimbo, check out an earlier post. I think you’ll understand.
Posted by Anna at 07:33 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Odd Holiday #11--A Boy Named Sue
Durn--I missed yesterday's odd holiday because of the Easter festivities. That's OK, I guess...I'd rather celebrate Easter anyway.
But yesterday's odd holiday: Quirky Country Music Song Day.
You'd think that living in Nashville I'd have a bunch of these. But since I'm just a recent transplant, I really don't have any. So can anyone help me out? Got any quirky country music song titles??
Posted by Anna at 12:22 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Rainy Day, Go Away, Don't Come Back Another Day
Driving in the rain is NOT fun.
Especially during rush hour. And when the school buses are out. And when the people in the housing project dart across the street like they always do without considering that they are hard to see when it's pouring. And when wacko drivers don't seem to notice that the roads are wet and therefore come this close *holding thumb and index finger close together* to broadsiding me because they decided to go ahead and try to make the red light.
Sometimes people are dumb. *sigh*
Posted by Anna at 12:10 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
March 26, 2005
Countdown to Easter, #1
My very favorite contemporary Easter song is "Why," performed by Nicole Nordeman. Maybe it's because it's written from the perspective of a little girl, but its message applies to all. Enjoy and have a blessed Easter.
We rode into town the other day
Just me and my Daddy
He said I'd finally reached that age
And I could ride next to him on a horse
That of course was not quite as wide
We heard a crowd of people shouting
And so we stopped to find out why
And there was that man
That my dad said he loved
But today there was fear in his eyes
So I said "Daddy, why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why is He dressed in that bright purple robe?
I'll bet that crown hurts Him more than He shows
Daddy, please can't you do something?
He looks as though He's gonna cry
you said he was stronger than all of those guys
Daddy, please tell me why
Why does everyone want him to die?"
Later that day the sky grew cloudy
And Daddy said I should go inside
Somehow he knew things would get stormy
Boy was he right
But I could not keep from wondering
If there was something he had to hide
So after he left I had to find out
I was not afraid of getting lost
So I followed the crowds
To a hill where I knew men had been killed
And I heard a voice come from the crowd
And it said, "Father, why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why are they casting their lots for My robe?
This crown of thorns hurts Me more than it shows
Father, please can't You do something?
I know that You must hear My cry
I thought I could handle a cross of this size
Father, remind Me why
Why does everyone want Me to die?
Oh, when will I understand why?"
"My precious Son, I hear them screaming
I'm watching the face of the enemy beaming
But soon I will clothe You in robes of My own
My Jesus, this hurts Me much more than You know
But this dark hour I must do nothing
Though I've heard Your unbearable cry
The power in Your blood destroys all of the lies
Soon You'll see past their unmerciful eyes
Look there below, see the child
Trembling by her father's side
Now I can tell You why
She is why You must die"
Posted by Anna at 06:13 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Complete Lack of Judgment
OK, so I exercised a complete lack of judgment at 3:15 this morning.
If someone comes to your door at 3:00 in the morning and rings your bell incessantly, alternating the bellringing with pounding on the door, my first thought (when I’m awake) is that something disastrous happened.
Not so with me. I had just gotten to sleep about an hour earlier and awoke to the scene above. Not only did my heart not sink with the fear of what could’ve happened, but I neglected to consider that there is a Tennessee manhunt occurring for a murderer. Here’s the transcript of what I believe happened, though I was groggy when it happened and I’ve slept since then…
Door: *ring, ring, ring, ring* *rapid pounding* *ring, ring* *pound, pound, pound* *ring*
Me (thinking): Is that my door?
Door: *ring, ring* *pound, pound, pound, pound, pound*
Me (thinking): Should I answer it? I don’t have a bra on. (interesting how my first concern was a bra instead of the fear of catastrophe or murderer.)
I got up, and without even checking the peephole (*stupid*), flung open my door to whatever fate awaited me. Please notice that I had no fear nor concern about who is there or why. The survival instinct wasn’t there, nor was the gut-reaction fear of catastrophe. Yeah, I’m not real smart when I’m awakened suddenly like that.
Man: Hey, I gotta see Josephine now.
Me: Huh? *processing if I know a Josephine or if she could possibly be here*
Man: I gotta see Josephine.
Me: I don’t think Josephine lives here *obviously, I’m still unsure if I know Josephine*.
Man: What do you mean? Why are you hiding Josephine?
Me *finally coming to understanding of what is happening*: No, I don’t even know a Josephine.
Man *peering into my apartment since I was so brilliant to fling my door wide open*: You sure she ain’t in there? I gotta see her.
Me: Yeah, positive.
Man: Fine.
Me *thinking, closing door and mindlessly locking it again*: Good thing he got me up. I really need to pee.
As I sleepily shuffled to the bathroom, I could hear him out in the hall, ringing and pounding on another door. I hope he found Josephine at the next apartment he tried…because if he didn’t, I bet I’m not the only person he awoke in vain…
Posted by Anna at 12:16 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 25, 2005
Ain't Gonna Do It
I refuse to pay $2.19 for a gallon of gas. I just won't.
So tell me this...why do I agree to pay $2.99 for a gallon of milk? Shouldn't milk, which is a renewable resource, cost less than gasoline?
Maybe it's not gas prices I should be ocncerned about.
Posted by Anna at 10:16 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Countdown to Easter, #2
A favorite song by Third Day:
I've heard it said that a man would climb a mountain
Just to be with the one he loves.
How many times has he broken that promise?
It has never been done
I’ve never climbed the highest mountain,
but I walked the hill of Calvary
And just to be with you I'll do anything,
there's no price I would not pay, no
and just to be with you I'll give everything.
And I would give my life away.
I've heard it said that a man would swim the ocean
Just to be with the one he loves.
But all of those dreams are an empty emotion
It can never be done.
I’ve never swam the deepest ocean
But I walked upon the raging sea
And just to be with you I'll do anything,
there's no price I would not pay, no
and just to be with you I'll give everything.
And I would give my life away.
And I know that you don't understand the fullness of My love
How I died upon the Cross for your sin
And I know that you don't realize how much that I give you
And I promise I would do it all again
And just to be with you I've done everything
There's no price I did not pay, no
And just to be with you I gave everything
Yes I gave my life away.
Posted by Anna at 08:15 PM | TrackBack
Seen on the Bus
Since I go right downtown to get to campus, I see multitudes of public buses every day. When I'm stopped at a stoplight, I always enjoy looking at the advertisements pasted on the sides and back of the bus. Usually, they're not particularly noteworthy. The ones I saw today, though, raised my eyebrows.
On Bus #17, the back of the bus had an ad for a casket company. Although I realize this is a critical aspect of life (actually, death), seeing it on the back of public transportation is rather disturbing. Maybe it serves as a warning to the people behind the bus to keep their distance. Maybe it's just an ad. Either way, I was not comforted with the casket ad and the words that are supposed to bring comfort like "we're here when you need us." I found it just a little disconcerting that a casket and funeral service purchased advertising on a source of public transportation.
Bus #8 had a completely different message, and I was not happy to see it either. There's a company in Nashville called Pull-A-Part. It's basically an automobile junkyard where you go and find parts you need to fix your car. That's innocent enough, but their slogan is "Best Strip Joint in Town." And, of course, when most people think of strip joints, they think of large-breasted, scantly clad women...which is exactly what Pull-A-Part uses as their spokesperson. I always have to change the channel when their commercial comes on because of all the sexual innuendos, and the bus was no better. It was practically pornographic. The ad was so large that the spokesmodel busting out of her bikini was massive. I can't even imagine what parents must feel when they're driving with their kids and this bus pulls up next to them. I was disgusted. Maybe it's a good tactic for catching men's attention (hey, sex sells), but I think it's just obscene.
Posted by Anna at 12:00 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Odd Holidays #10--Pee-can Pie
Today is "National Celebrate Pecans" day.
So the burning question: is it pronounced peh-cahn or pee-can?
Last night, I was watching "Blue Collar TV." *blush* When one only has 5 channels, one's TV viewing is limited.
The show stars Jeff Foxworthy and basically pokes fun at rednecks. My favorite part is when they spotlight a word in the dictionary and then use it in redneck dialect.
Last night's word was pecan (how appropriate to the holiday!). Their demonstration was 2 men driving in a truck and one really needs to go to the bathroom. The driver grabs a can of Pringles and opens it, tosses the chips out the window, and then says, "Here's your pee-can." Cracked me up.
Anyway, go make some pee-can pie and think of Inkblots when you do.
Posted by Anna at 08:30 AM | TrackBack
March 24, 2005
Countdown to Easter, #3
I have already promised that I won't get "religious" or even particularly thought-provoking on this blog. That isn't my intention in any way because I want to keep this a loose, fun kind of blog. However, with Easter quickly approaching, some of my posts may take on a more serious tone. I unashamedly do this. If my posts about Easter offend you, so be it. I won't apologize.
Since Easter is this weekend, the most important holiday for Christians, I'm "borrowing" Christopher's idea about sacred Christmas songs and changing it a little into contemporary Easter songs. On my countdown to favorite Easter-themed songs, here is one by Avalon:
I wonder how it must have felt
When David stood to face Goliath on a hill
I imagine that he shook with all his might
Until You took his hand, and held on tight
'Cause You were there, You were there
In the midst of danger's snare
You were there, You were there always
You were there when the hardest fight
Seemed so out of reach
Oh, You were there, You were always there
You were always there
So there he stood upon that hill
Abraham with knife in hand was poised to kill
But God in all his sovereignty had bigger plans
And just in time, You brought a lamb
'Cause You were there,
You were there
In the midst of the unclear
You were there, you were there always
You were there when obedience
Seemed to not make sense
You were there, You were always there
You were always there
So haven't I learned that my ways
Aren't as high as Yours are?
And You alone keep the universe
From crumbling into dust
You are God and though we would
Not have understood You
There You were
Hanging blameless on a cross
You would rather die than leave us in the dark
Every moment, every planned coincidence
Just all makes sense
With Your last breath
You were there, You were there
During history's darkest hour
You were there, You were there always
You were the Victor and the King
You were the power in David's sling
You were the calm in Abraham
You are the God who understands
You are the strength when we have none
You are the living, Holy one
You were, You are and You will always be
the Risen Lamb of God
Posted by Anna at 05:11 PM | TrackBack
March 23, 2005
Don't Mail Your Blood
I opened a Priority Mail envelope from our friends at the United States Postal Service. I send and receive those cardboard envelopes all the time, and I don't know how I missed this warning:
Do not send blood in this envelope.
Boy, that was really a consideration of mine. I have to restrain myself from mailing my O+ all around the world. *rolling eyes*
Kinda reminds me of a half-gross, half-funny, half-heartwarming (oops, that's more than 1 whole, isn't it?) story from a kid when I student-taught.
Melvin was a third grader in the class where I did my student- teaching. Melvin (no, that's not his name, but he had an equally old-fashioned name) and his family had immigrated from Malaysia in Melvin's infancy. He was a pudgy little guy (maybe the term would be more polite if I used "stout" or "solid") and was overly sensitive to everything. One cross look and he was in tears. He also kept a very messy desk, which plays a role in this story. I student-taught during the fall semester of 2001, so I was hard at work during the September 11th crisis. Melvin had, like all the other kids that semester, been overexposed to planes crashing into buildings, seeing photographs of the victims, and heard the pleas for supplies, blood donations, etc.
Since papers were messily sticking out of Melvin's desk, one of my supervising teachers asked me to help him clean and organize it during recess. He loved the attention so much that it didn't bother him to miss recess, so he was very pleased that I was sent to help him and visit with him. We had a good talk while we were pulling everything out of his desk...until it happened.
Out of his desk plopped a Ziploc sandwich bag. It was about an eighth full of reddish goo.
Me: Hey, Melvin, what's this? (holding up bag, assuming it was the remnant of a science experiment before my arrival)
Melvin: Blood.
Me: (immediately dropping bag) Blood?! Why?
Melvin: Because they said I'm not old enough to donate blood to the people in New York, but I wanted to give them some anyway.
Me: Where are you getting this blood?
Melvin: Anytime I scratch a scab, I squeeze the blood into my bag.
Me: Oh. Oh, my. Um, I'm gonna have the teacher talk to you, OK?
I don't know how Melvin's bag disappeared; I'm sure the teacher had to wear gloves and dispose of it in the nurse's hazardous biowaste bin. Yuck. Yet, the little guy cared so much and was so troubled that he wanted to donate his blood even though he was only 8. Sweet kid.
But that brings me back to the original statement: don't mail blood through the US Postal Service, at least not in a cardboard envelope, OK?
Posted by Anna at 08:53 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
March 22, 2005
4 Digits
I turned the old blogometer today. I have received more than 1000 hits through Blog Explosion. Of course, I realize that most of those hits have been here before, but it's still exciting.
Unfortunately, it's not like a car where I can physically see the numbers change from 999 to 1000. Oh, well.
Maybe I should get a hit counter on my site. Oh, Christopher??
Posted by Anna at 10:36 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
But That Was MY Idea!
Sometimes I wish I knew more about patents and how to obtain one.
I've never ever considered myself an inventor, but maybe I am. Perhaps "problem solver" is a better term. I keep finding things that people are "inventing" and making oodles of money from that I've been using for years.
For instance, the Swiffer Wet. Ever since I got a Swiffer when they first came out, I've been attaching a baby wipe to them to get the mop effect (you can just ask Christopher! He knows I used to do this in undergrad school!). Then what happens? Someone patents a little wet wipe thing and makes millions!
Then there's the way I always filled my contact lens solution bottles with bleach (after they were empty, of course) to clean the grout in my tile. It gave a wonderful concentrated stream of bleach, and then I'd use an old toothbrush to scrub it. So our friends over at Clorox invent the bleach pen. Hello, I've been doing that for years!!
But today was the clincher. The folks over at the 3M company that makes Post-It Notes now produces chart-paper-sized post-it-notes. It's like a giant post-it-note that you can write on and then move wherever you want. Well, I did that a few years ago with a sheet of butcher paper and my removable spray adhesive!! You can ask anyone in my Methods of Teaching Math class. I did it before they did...and yet I'm seeing none of the profits.
I just wish someone would consult me before they patent something. It's possible I've already made it and have been using it for quite some time!!! Come on, who needs the money more? Some wealthy company that employs professional inventors or a poor graduate student?? It seems like they could just let me get one multi-million dollar invention patented before they do!
Posted by Anna at 07:21 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
March 21, 2005
Odd Holiday #9--Brain Fart??
Today is Memory Day. Can you remember that?
Go read Mem Fox's Wilfrid Gordon McDonald Partridge.
Better yet, go here and have Bradley Whitford from "The West Wing" read it to you. Just scroll through the left column until you come to the book.
Warning! Warning! Warning! Elementary teachers, you will find this site fascinating and will probably want to use it in your elementary classroom. Just don't say I didn't warn you!!
So in honor of memory day, I'm going to ask you a question that I remember my Child Development professor asked us in undergraduate school: What's your first childhood memory?
Posted by Anna at 05:01 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
March 18, 2005
Another Day At School
Yesterday was my day in the elementary school again. I probably shouldn't have gone because I felt yucky, but I did go. And as usual, I heard some interesting things.
1. I started the day working with kindergartner Bianca. We've been working on number identification up through 20. She always misses 4 and 9 and only recognizes a few over 10. We were playing War with the cards, where each of us turned over a card, she identified each number, and then whoever had the biggest number got both cards. (Hey, I'll do anything to keep the kids motivated to work!) I turned over the number 12. (She called it two-teen, but that's a logical mistake.) She flipped over her card to show the number 9.
Me: OK, Bianca, what numbers?
Bianca: You got two-teen, and I got that number that looks like a penguin.
Me: A penguin? Why do you think it looks like a penguin?
Bianca: It walks like a penguin.
Me: Um, hmm. A penguin. Well. Um, who gets the cards this time? Whose number is bigger?
Bianca: Mine. A penguin is bigger than a two-teen.
I just let that one go. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.
My friend Joseph (from a previous entry) was absent from the preschool class. I think the teacher was a little relieved to get away from his constant repetition of words. I spend my time with Elias. The class was painting Easter eggs with watercolor paints. Now, you need to realize that watercolor painting is tricky with preschoolers because they have the natural proclivity to swipe their brush over all the colors at once, resulting in all the little ovals of paint becoming black. With my individualized help, though, Elias's box of paints stayed rather clean. His egg, however, ended up a dingy brown color because he painted in the same spot over and over again until the colors had blended into a mess. When he realized what he had done, he beamed at me and said,"I made a poopoo egg! My egg is poopoo!"
In the second grade class, I took Dewanna to the library to read. Usually, I get the kids who are reading below their peers, but Dewanna is actually reading a grade level above her peers. She never gets to read with me, so it was definitely an exciting moment for her. I helped her choose a book (one that I really liked as well), and we settled down to read. The book had the words "cedar chest" and "cedar chips" in a few places. When she first reached the words "cedar chest," she paused. I could tell she was stumped (a rare occasion for her).
Dewanna: What's that word? (pointing to cedar)
Me: How about you make a guess and then I'll help you?
Dewanna: Cheddar cheese?
Me: Good try, but the words are 'cedar chest.'
Dewanna: Well, what the heck is a cedar chest? He seed her chest? It's supposed to be 'he saw her chest.' And why's he seeing her chest anyway? I'd be wallopin' him if he lookin' at my chest!
Me: No, not that kind of chest. A cedar chest is a box made out of a wood called cedar.
Dewanna: Oh, OK.
She continued reading until she got to the words "cedar chips." The full sentence was "Brandy found a box filled with cedar chips."
Dewanna: What's that word?
Me: We've read it before. Try and then I'll help you.
Dewanna: Cheddar chips.
Me: Could it be cedar chips?
Dewanna: No, you said cedar is wood. You don't eat wood and it don't come in a box. It's cheddar chips.
And she went right along reading. I guess cheddar chips made sense to the story, at least in her mind. *sigh*
Time for first grade. The kids were struggling to solve the math problems involving "how many more" questions. For instance, Joy has 7 crayons. Sam has 4. How many more crayons does Joy have than Sam?
The teacher split the group into two, and she gave me the lower group. (Lucky me!)
Me: This problem talks about kittens. Justice, tell me how many kittens Bradley has.
Justice: 6.
Me: Good, Justice. Destiny, how many kittens does Joshua have?
Destiny: 4.
Me: OK, so who has more kittens?
Class: Bradley.
Me: Great! Bradley has more kittens. So how many more does he have?
Shenequia: Bradley has 17.
Mekaylah: No, he doesn't, Shenequia! Bradley has 64.
Shenequia: Now, don't you be dissin' me, girl! I'll get my daddy after you!
Me: Oh, boy. Let's try this again. We need to take 6 minus 4 to get the answer.
Christian: But why are we minusing? Are we killing the kittens?
Me: No, we're just seeing how many more kittens Bradley has.
Briella: Who cares about kittens anyway? I don't like kittens. I only like puppies.
I gave up on solving that question. I just told them to write down 2 on their paper.
Had I felt better, I might've laughed a little harder at the day's experiences. Hopefully, you were amused at them. Right now, I'm still not because I feel icky.
Posted by Anna at 02:41 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 17, 2005
Blech...
I think I've got the flu. Either that, or I'm pregnant. (Joke!)
Fever, chills, body aches...sounds like the flu to me.
I'll be around, but I probably won't be posting too much. That's really too bad, because today was my elementary school day (I probably shouldn't have gone, but $$ is nice). I have quite a few kid-isms.
Maybe I'll feel like posting more later. Right now, I'm off to wrap up in my quilt again.
Posted by Anna at 05:57 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
March 16, 2005
Odd Holiday #8--Lip Lovin'
Who knew my favorite singing vegetables sang about a holiday besides traditional ones?
It's "I Love My Lips" day. Who would've guessed?
In honor of Larry the Cucumber's love of his lips, I'm pasting in his song to help you celebrate "I Love My Lips" Day. Picture a cucumber on a psychiatrist's leather couch, singing about his lip woes. I also like it because Dr. Archibald gives Larry the inkblots test, which, of course, I like because of my blog name. Are you visualizing? Here we go:
Larry:
If my lips ever left my mouth,
Packed a bag and headed south,
That'd be too bad, I'd be so sad.
Dr. Archibald:
I see, that'd be too bad, you'd be so sad?
Larry:
That'd be too bad.
Dr. Archibald:
Alrighty.
Larry:
If my lips said "Adios,
I don't like you, I think you're gross."
That'd be too bad, I might get mad.
Dr. Archibald:
Hm, that'd be too bad, you might get mad?
Larry:
That'd be too bad.
Dr. Archibald:
Fascinating.
Larry:
If my lips moved to Duluth
Left a mess and took my tooth.
That'd be too bad, I'd call my Dad.
Dr. Archibald:
Oh dear, that'd be too bad, you'd call your dad?
Larry:
That'd be too bad.
Dr. Archibald:
Hold it. Did you say your father? Facinating!
So what you're saying is if your lips left you?
Larry:
That'd be too bad, I'd be so sad.
I might get mad, I call my Dad.
That'd be too bad.
Dr. Archibald:
That'd be too bad?
Larry:
That'd be too bad.
Dr. Archibald:
Why?
Larry:
Because I love my lips. (makes noises in tune with his lips)
Dr. Archibald:
Oh my! This is more serious than I thought.
Larry, what do you see here? (showing inkblot)
Larry:
Um, that looks like a lip.
Dr. Archibald:
What about this?
Larry:
It's a lip.
Dr. Archibald:
And this?
Larry (to tune of "William Tell Overture":
It's a lip, it's a lip, it's a lip, lip, lip
It's a lip, it's a lip, it's a lip, lip, lip
It's a lip, it's a lip, it's a lip, lip, lip
It's a lip, it's a lip, lip, lip.
Dr. Archibald:
Larry, tell me about your childhood.
Larry:
When I was just two years old,
I left my lips out in the cold.
And they turned blue,
What could I do?
Dr. Archibald:
Oh dear. They turned blue,
What could you do?
Larry:
Oh, They turned blue.
Dr. Archibald:
I see.
Larry:
On the day I got my tooth,
I had to kiss my Great Aunt Ruth.
She had a beard and it felt weird.
Dr. Archibald:
My, my, she had a beard
And it felt weird?
Larry:
She had a beard.
Dr. Archibald:
Oh!
Larry:
Ten days after I turned 8,
Got my lips stuck in a gate
My friends all laughed...
And I just stood there until the fire department came
and broke the lock with a crowbar and I had to spend
the next six weeks in lip rehab with this kid named Oscar
who got stung by a bee right on the lip and we couldn't
even talk to each other until the fifth week because both
our lips were so swollen and when he did start speaking
he just spoke polish and I only knew like three words in polish
except now I know four because Oscar taught me the
word for lip, "Usta".
Dr. Archibald:
Your friends all laughed. Usta. How do you spell that?
Larry:
I don't know.
Dr. Archibald:
So what you're saying is that when you were young?
Larry:
They turned blue, what could I do?
She had a beard, and it felt weird.
My friends all laughed, usta.
Dr. Archibald:
I'm confused.
Larry:
I love my lips!
Posted by Anna at 02:18 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
March 15, 2005
Published!!
Hey, apparently my "buttery Bimbo" phrase caught Kevin's eye, because he put me on his quoteboard! Hooray! I'm published!
I gave him the full quote; I had shortened my quote for the blog. If you want to see the full thing, just hop on over there and tell him I sent you...
Thanks, Kevin! :)
Posted by Anna at 10:08 PM | TrackBack
One of Those Things That Makes You Go Hmmm...
I went grocery shopping tonight. Because I live in a very culturally diverse area of Nashville, I'm accustomed to seeing unfamiliar foods and odd brand names as I stroll down the aisle.
I found one tonight that merited a second glance. And yes, it did say the same thing the second time I saw it.
Bimbo. When I think of bread, you know my first thought is "bimbo." The thought of the word bimbo and bread together in the same phrase bothers me. Actually, the thought of the word bimbo in any phrase kind of bothers me.
I'm realizing that Blog Explosion is sending people my way that aren't familiar with some American slang words. A bimbo is an, um, well, promiscuous woman in American slang.
Apparently it's not an offensive term to the Spanish-speaking population. I saw several families with loaves of Bimbo in their carts.
And you know me...the next time I buy bread, I'm buying Bimbo! Nothin' like a bite of buttery Bimbo.
Posted by Anna at 06:53 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
March 12, 2005
Pooch-Sitting Again
I'm dog-sitting for Amber again. I finally figured out how to run the satellite TV. I have any possible show available to me to watch. So what am I watching? Dumb and Dumber. I'm afraid if I try to change the channel too much, I'll mess something up and not get it to work again. *sigh*
Posted by Anna at 07:41 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Going Postal
I went to my neighborhood post office today to pick up a package from my mom (thanks, mom!). The line was already very long...and then shuffled in a group of adults with mental handicaps on a field trip from their group home.
Now, before I go any further, let me explain this for those of you who don't know me personally: I taught preschool special education for 3 years. I do not harbor any ill-feelings toward those with disabilities. Matter of fact, I think I probably relate to them better than most people because of my experience with handicapped preschoolers and their (usually) mildly handicapped parents.
Of course, the majority of the people in line gawked at the group. Me, I diagnosed. That's one of the drawbacks of teaching special ed, I think: I always feel like I can diagnose their particular exceptionality by watching them. A few of the people toward the back (shame on them!) slowly got out of line and decided to buy their stamps from the dispenser machine and check their mailboxes before mailing their packages. Fine with me. The group of handicapped adults moved up behind me in line. Now, as I said before, this didn't really bother me. I applaud their group home for teaching them practical life skills. So I smiled at the group in general, then turned around to wait my turn.
Pretty soon, I feel a hand. It's patting my hair. Or maybe "petting" would be a better term; he was stroking my head as if I was a cat. I decided to ingore it for a few seconds; my preschoolers always lost interest in something if it didn't get a response. However, the petting continued. Slowly, I turned around to look at my new friend. I smiled and said, "Good morning. How are you?"
My friend (hereby named #1) opened his eyes very wide, stopped his hands in mid-air, and looked directly at the floor. Apparently he had been taught not to speak with strangers, and I definitely qualified although he had already introduced himself to me through his hands. The man behind him, a stout man with Down Syndrome (named #2), gregarious as many people with Downs are, replied, "Hey, I'm great, man! How are you?"
#2 and I chatted for a few seconds. #1 must've recovered from his shock of being acknowledged, because suddenly he looked straight at me, reached up, grabbed my face, and pinched my cheeks. Hard. Then he laughed.
I never figured out if #1 was laughing because he enjoyed my presence or if he was laughing because he inflicted pain on me. Either way, I think it's safe to conclude this: you never know what's going to happen behind the fast-paced doors of a U.S. Post Office.
Posted by Anna at 12:07 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 11, 2005
Something Seems Fishy...
I filled up my car with gas today. While in the convenience store, I noticed prepackaged sushi. And while I've never actually eaten sushi, I'm pretty sure the color of the fish wasn't quite right.
Hmm. Prepackaged sushi from a convenience store. That troubles me.
In other news, the skies literally opened up and poured on me as I was walking from the last-resort parking lot to work. It was a short shower, but just enough to soak me on my walk and make me look like I just got a swirlie in a junior high bathroom. *scowl*
And my computer at work has ceased to beep when I receive a new email. Henceforth, I am busy at Blog Explosion and oblivious to when "real work" arrives.
At least it's Friday.
Posted by Anna at 01:55 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
March 10, 2005
Day in the Elementary School
As I do nearly every Thursday, I spent the day at an inner-city elementary school. I always laugh at some of the things the kids say. Just a few:
--Skylar is a little girl who speaks only Spanish at home. In kindergarten, she is struggling to learn how to read (and speak) English. She gets a little extra help from me, but she's starting to read and wants to read her book on her own.
The actual book text: Max smelled Cam's bag. It smelled like gum. Yum, gum!
What Skylar read: Max sniffled Cam's butt. It smelled like gum. Yum, gum!
The actual book text: Cam played in the kiddie pool. He had fun in the pool!
What Skylar read: Cam played in the kitty's poop. He had fun in the poop.
--Later, I moved on to a second grade classroom to work with Lexi, a girl who is behind in most subjects. Sometimes I help her with her math, but today was a reading day. We went to the library and she chose a book.
The actual book text: Look at that man!
What Lexi read: Look at that, man!
I reread the sentence so she could understand the emphasis was on the word "man" instead of "that." She never got it right.
The actual book text: He grabbed the balloons so they wouldn't fly away.
What Lexi read: He grabbed his balls so they wouldn't fall away.
--Then there's autistic Joseph in the preschool class. He likes to repeat words. Sometimes it's helpful like,"Use your indoor voice," (except he says it repeatedly), but today it was another word. Today it was "weenie." It was the only word he said, but he said it with different voice inflections. My conversation with him went something like this--
Me: Hi, Joseph! What are you making with your Play-Doh?
Joseph: Weenie! Weenie, weenie, weenie. Weenie?
Me: It looks like you're using the yellow knife to cut your Play-Doh into a triange.
Joseph: Weenie, weenie. Weenie, weenie, weenie? WEENIE!
But my favorite (and rather heartwarming) experience of the day was with Kenny in the third grade. He is a very reluctant reader and even more reluctant in writing. The teacher opened up a picture dictionary and selected random words that the students wrote about in a story. Today's objects were "mirror" and "feet." The teacher asked them to write a story about a mirror that smelled like feet. Kenny scowled and crossed his arms the whole time. His teacher asked if he wanted to work with me in the hall on the story (he gets very distracted in the classroom). He glared at me, then picked up his notebook and pencil and stomped out into the hall with me. I think he thought I was going to force him to actually do the handwriting part, but when I agreed to alternate writing sentences with him, he brightened up and created this elaborate story about how a king in a castle noticed that his mirror smelled like feet, so he brought in the joker. The joker cleaned the glass, but it still smelled like feet. It ended up that the king was smelling his own feet, so once he washed them, all was well. He was soooo proud of himself. He proudly showed it to the teacher, and she let him take it to the assistant principal to read it. It was definitely the highlight of his day (more likely his week), and certainly mine as well.
Kids are just great.
Posted by Anna at 03:30 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Odd Holiday #7--What's Your Name?
Today is "National Wear a Nametag" day.
I plan to--it's my day at the elementary school and I have to wear one anyway. But I do encourage you to celebrate as you see fit, nametag and all.
Posted by Anna at 06:30 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 09, 2005
I Never Win Anything...
Except mystery points on Blog Explosion. I just won 50. Hmm. Maybe I'm lucky after all...
Posted by Anna at 09:04 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
It's a Small World After All...
Yesterday I bought a sprig of fake flowers for my bedroom. Today I was cutting the tag off to stick them in my vase, and I discovered they were manufactured by Teters Florist.
This means little to any of you who haven't lived in southwest Missouri. But in little ol' Bolivar where I went to college, there is a flower company called Teters. When I lived on campus, I spent a semester across the street from their factory. When I got my first real apartment, I lived across the street from their store.
So who'da thunk I could move 9 hours away and run across a sprig of fake flowers manufactured right across the street from where I used live? It really is a small world.
Posted by Anna at 04:26 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Parking Problems
Why do I have more of a problem finding a parking space on campus when it's Spring Break than I do during the regular semester? Nearly all the students are gone, and yet I still drove around for about 10 minutes before giving up and parking in the "last resort" and practically-in-Kentucky lot!!
This irritates me.
Posted by Anna at 11:31 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 08, 2005
This Ain't Your Father's Oil Change
I had yet another realization that I'm not living in a small town any more: I had an oil change for the car.
Not really knowing what places around here are reputable, I went to the old standby: Valvoline. (Plus, I had a coupon...)
At this particular car place, there is no waiting room--you sit in your car while they work. The whole experience was somewhat like a restaurant drive-thru; I got in line and later a guy with a grease rag in his pocket came out and "took my order". Rather than asking my name, he just copied down my license plate and model of car.
When I pulled in, I was fairly shocked to see the staff: all females in their early 20s except for the grease rag guy who took down the information. Don't get me wrong; I don't have ethical issues with a gal changing my oil...I was just expecting a group of middle-aged men like they have back home.
I didn't really roll down my window during the process because it was pretty cold, but I did hear them shout across the garage, "Show-Me State" and "Hillbilly Missourian." This from people who live in the country music capital??
They drained my oil and did all the other check-up things that they do--checked the different fluids. Girl #1 pulled something out (maybe my engine? How do I know?) with wires and tinkered with all of the wires...and then crammed it back into the car rather roughly. She then proceeded to take out some sort of filter (car stuff is beyond my comprehension). Apparently it met her approval because she started to put it back in...but she couldn't.
I ended up with about 4 girls in greasy shirts trying to wedge this oil filter back in. They had some sort of crowbar thing about the size of a screwdriver. Now, since I've never actually stayed in my vehicle during an oil change, maybe this isn't uncommon. I just know that each girl took a turn smooshing my filter back in. But then they called for help...another teenaged looking kid named Jonathan. Jonathan came up the stairs (I guess the offices are downstairs, below the ground. Since they drain oil into the downstairs, there must be a whole level down there). He easily popped the filter into place, checked over Girl #1's work, and then summoned Girl #2 over. He said some stuff and pointed, and then she said some stuff and pointed, Jonathan nodded, and they put my hood down.
I was pleased with Jonathan's efficiency, but he lost all professionalism when he greased up his hands, put one hand on each rail on the side of the stairs, and slid down the flight of stairs using his hands. He looked like he was going down the stairs on an escalator except he was propelled by slippery hands. *rolling eyes*
With my coupon, I got a good deal on the lube job (I always blush when I say that even though I know it's not necessarily a obscene phrase). I am a little concerned about how Girl #1 yanked several pieces of my car out and then shoved them back in, but the car seems to be running fine, so I guess it's OK. I hope. This is one of those times I wish I knew more about cars.
Oh, and my reminder sticker didn't say "God Bless You" like my previous one did. I didn't think the sticker here would, but I must admit I was a little hopeful...
This ain't your father's oil change...welcome to the new generation of oil changers!!
Posted by Anna at 05:42 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 07, 2005
Don't Know What I'm Doin'...
I've shuffled onto the bandwagon. I'm now a member of Blog Explosion.
I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I just figured out that I need to click on the number they tell me and I get points. And then they told me to click on the number 666 and I worried I was somehow in some sort of Satan web-ring.
Don't know what to do with the points (but I earned 11.25), don't know how to do much of anything. But I do know that I spent 2 hours on it tonight. There's something alluring about mystery points (which, I guess since I don't know how to use them, all the points are mystery points). It's the way I think a compulsive slot-machine person thinks: maybe if I just do it one more time I'll hit the jackpot.
I've read the Blog Explosion FAQ's, but I still don't really know what I'm doing. Can anyone help me?? Puh-lease??
Posted by Anna at 09:36 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
Send in the Clowns
Somewhere in Nashville there must be a circus. Somewhere in that circus there must be clowns. I know because I can tell you where the clowns are: my apartment building.
I stepped out of my apartment today to head to the grocery store. Down the hall came three clowns, complete with red nose, big lapel flower, and massive shoes.
I don't like clowns. I'm not sure I ever really have, but I had an undergrad roommate that was clown-phobic. Some of her terror must've rubbed off on me because I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. I contemplated ducking back into my apartment, but decided I wasn't that scared. So I followed the group down the stairs.
You know how the circus always has the little car and about 60 clowns come out of it during their act? Well, they have that experience outside of the circus as well. When the clowns reached the parking lot just ahead of me, I noticed their destination: a Volkswagen beetle. There were already at least 3 other clowns inside.
So my question is this: how do a minimum of six clowns fit inside a beetle? And I have another question: why would six clowns cram themselves inside a beetle anyway? And I guess I have a third question: wouldn't all their noses be honking and lapel flowers squirting? I've never even ridden in a bug car, but I'm pretty positive that six clowns can't fit without some sort of serious ramifications.
Posted by Anna at 06:23 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 06, 2005
Missing Moo
My Little Tykes mooing cow flashlight has ceased both mooing and lighting. I've changed the batteries and triple-checked to make sure they're in right. This troubles me.
See, I originally bought the flashlight because I was chaperoning a group of 5th grade girls to church camp last year and I thought it would be a big hit--and it was. The girls strangely loved being awakened by a cow's moo, and they always giggled about how I would make it moo just as things got quiet. But I brought it to Nashville with me for a safety kind of thing. Now, I realize that a plastic flashlight is of little good in self-defense, but I also told myself that any criminal who broke into my apartment might be a little freaked out by a "moo" coming from my bedroom and leave before he/she took anything. So even though it's mainly for cute purposes, I rationalized keeping it.
I miss the cheerful moo that I would hear when I squeezed the handle. I miss how Mr. Moo's little mouth would open with the moo and how the light would shine from his mouth. Simply put, I miss Mr. Moo.
Any suggestions on how to fix my mooing flashlight??
My mute moo-er. I had to copy the picture from the Little Tykes website because mine no longer moos. *sigh*
Posted by Anna at 06:53 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
I Caught the Bug
I caught that bug that many people get this kind of year. It's pretty much consumed my day.
No, it's not the sinus bug or the stomach bug or the flu bug. Actually, it's the spring cleaning bug. I woke up this morning with the desire to clean, clean, clean. So I did.
It's such a beautiful day outside, and that just motivated me to clean even more. I'm airing out my apartment, dusting, mopping, vacuuming, you name it.
The only bad part was when I spilled Draino on my foot. Not a pleasant experience at all! Luckily, I was using it in my bathtub so I just stuck my foot in the tub fast and turned on the water and rinsed my foot before it ate my skin off.
And now I'm back to cleaning. Actually, I'm off to Office Depot to buy a bookshelf so I can fit the rest of my books on it. I'm running out of space and I've got a bunch of books just sitting on my bedroom floor. With my cleaning hankering, that isn't acceptable.
I'm sure I'll look real nice in the store, what with my grungy t-shirt, dusty jeans, and bits of fluff in my hair. Hopefully, they'll recognize that I'm in the cleaning spirit. Or else they'll just give me a look.
Posted by Anna at 02:32 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 05, 2005
The Thrill is Gone
OK, so the thrill of Spring Break is over. Nothing good in the mail, no good shows on TV (that's what I get for no cable or satellite), no good food to eat--I need to go shopping but never on a Saturday, and the book I'm working on isn't holding my interest. Therefore, I'm stealing a questionaire thingy that's been floating around. I stole it from Kendall, but she stole it from someone else. So here is my non-original but rather fun to write questionaire:
1. WHAT IS YOUR MIDDLE NAME? Marie. It goes back several generations on my mom's side, so it was definitely a no-brainer in the delivery room.
2. WHAT COLOR PANTS ARE YOU WEARING? Blue jeans. Had I written this an hour ago, it would've been red flannel PJ pants with penguins in sweaters.
3. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Some woman yelling Arabic out in the parking lot. I've got my windows open to air out my apartment (I've been around a lot of sick people), and this woman apparently doesn't have a phone, email, or the patience to actually knock on the intended party's door. She just stands outside their balcony and shouts things up to them. A rough impersonation: "Dwa quoy bighua! Jiet! Dwa quoy!" Of course, that's just what I'm hearing. I'm sure the sounds are much more sophisticated and meaningful than that.
4. DEAD OR ALIVE, NAME THREE PEOPLE YOU WOULD LOVE TO MEET. My paternal grandfather, my maternal great-grandmother (who I've met but I don't remember), and Fannie Flagg (the lady who wrote "Fried Green Tomatoes." I've heard from more than one person that my writing style is very similar to hers, and I just would like to visit with her and see her for myself. Plus, she always wore fun shirts when she was on "Match Game" in the 70s and I'd like to see if she's that eccentric in person.).
5. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? I finished off the box of the Kroger-brand Frosted Flakes--I believe they were called Sugar Flakeys or something like that--that've been in my cabinet for over a month (chip-clipped, of course, so they stayed reasonably fresh).
6. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Hang on, I've got to get my crayon box so I know exactly what color I want...
My favorite color when looking at the box is cerulean, but I don't like the way it looks on paper. I like the dark purples, and wisteria is actually my favorite even though it's not one of the darker shades.
7. HOW IS THE WEATHER RIGHT NOW? Deceptively sunny. It looks as though it would be very warm, but it is rather chilly. Hence me wearing long sleeves and socks.
8. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED WITH ON THE PHONE? A man telling me all about the new deals on Comcast cable.
9. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX? Hands. And no, I don't interpret anything from the size of his hands as perverts always ask me...
10. SHOES YOU LOVE TO WEAR: None. I almost always wear socks, but I don't like shoes. So how about the shoes I really hate to wear: flip-flops (sorry, Kendall). I can't stand things between my toes. Plus, sandals mean others can see my toes...and that's not something I want to show off after that minor toe surgery. Still not pretty.
11. HOW ARE YOU TODAY? Fine, thank you. How are you?
12. FAVORITE DRINK? Apple juice. I have, however, taken a strong liking for the orange-strawberry-banana Crystal Light. I had a coupon for it in August and tried it and now I really like it.
13. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? Um, I don't have a lot of experience in this field. Maybe Nyquil.
14. FAVORITE SPORTS? To watch, I like basketball. Or at least, I loved attending the SBU basketball games. Of course, that was because it's fun to people watch. To play...well, *blush* ping-pong.
15. HAIR COLOR? Dark brown with strands of gray. *sigh* That's what teaching does to you.
16. EYE COLOR? Dark brown.
17. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Yes. Thinking of contacts, it's about time to take them out.
18. TYPE OF VEHICLE YOU DRIVE: 2003 white Chevy Impala. Well, it's white after it gets washed. Right now it's an almost-white with a few areas of dirty brown near the bottom. Oh, yeah, and it has a small red patch where someone bumped me last year at Wal-Mart, and a beat up front license plate where my paraprofessional my first year of teaching backed into me with her cattle trailer hook-up.
19. TOP FIVE FAVORITE FOOD? Pizza with lots of gooey cheese, extra sauce and some sort of meat except for canadian bacon, lasagna of any variety, garlic bread, movie theater popcorn with the salty sprinkly things on it, and canned pears (you read that right). Yes, I'm terrible. I know it.
20. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Because of Winn-Dixie. I had to for my Advanced Children's Literature class, but I was planning on seeing it before I knew it was required. Fabulous book, fabulous movie. I like it when they stay very close to the book. Two thumbs up from me.
21. TOP THREE PET PEEVES. People who make a word plural by adding an apostrophe (you don't need an apostrophe to mean more than one cat, people! It's cats, not cat's!), spam emails that look like they're from a real person and then you open it and it's an ad for breast augmentation, and the high-pitched squeal of TVs, florescent lights, car brakes, and security systems. Yep, I have very sensitive ears in the high frequencies. I have a hard time going by jewelry counters because I can hear their security systems and I feel like I'm gonna pass out.
22. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT? Yes. No further explanation needed.
23. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS BETTER? Either. I really like to be scared silly and then it end with a happy ending. (Like in The Exorcist.) There aren't a whole lot of movies that do that, though, so I generally prefer happy endings. They're even better if they can make me cry at the end.
24. WINTER, SPRING, SUMMER, FALL? Spring. I've always liked spring the best, but even more now because the daffodils are blooming on campus and the smell of magnolia trees is in the air. Anyone who wants to see something refreshing should visit the Vanderbilt campus in spring. It's just great. It was one of the factors that convinced me to go there when I visited last spring, and after walking across campus yesterday under the blooming magnolias, it just got reconfirmed.
25. HUGS OR KISSES? Neither.
26. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS? See #25. Too many other things in my life to worry about either. Plus, I'm content being single at this stage in my life.
27. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? Chocolate. No contest there.
28. THREE ANIMALS YOU WANT TO OWN. Really none. My solitude is too important to me. I would maybe consider some sort of terrier dog, and I think it would be neat to own a lizard or a snake or something like that, but I really wouldn't want one. I'd forget to feed it or something.
29. NAME FOUR PLACES YOU HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO VISIT: New York City (I've been close on several occasions but have never made it. I go to school with a girl from Manhattan and I'm always tempted to ask if I can go home with her sometime and get a real look at it), Switzerland, New Zealand, and the Holy Land (except I'd always be scared to actually go). Oh, and I really would like to visit Africa as well. I kinda want to be on every continent, so I'm waiting for Asia, Australia, and, well, Antarctica.
30. FIRST CONCERT YOU EVER WENT TO? Carmen and DCTalk. It was at the Fox Theater and I was in 7th grade.
31. LIVING ARRANGEMENTS? I live in an apartment by myself. It's just the right size and I have interesting neighbors (most of which don't speak English, but that just adds to the interest).
32. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? Textbooks, "Al Capone Does My Shirts" (I'm using it for a presentation for my Children's Lit class), and a few unpublished textbooks that I'm reviewing and critiquing. Oh, yeah, and lots of research journal articles for my job.
33. WHAT IS ON YOUR SCREEN SAVER AT HOME? Photos of Vanderbilt. I downloaded it off the VU website and I really like it.
34. FAVORITE CARTOON? Little Bill on Nickelodeon. It used to be Blue's Clues, but then Steve went off to college (I had a minor crush on him and would've liked him better if he had a better haircut). When Joe came to take care of Blue, I lost interest in the show.
35. FAVORITE SMELLS: Rain, clothes right after they come out of the dryer, and anything cooking that contains garlic--but not too much garlic. The woman across the hall uses tooooo much garlic and it's nauseating.
36. SMELLS YOU HATE: To quote from children's book character Junie B. Jones, the ones that smell like stink. I'd paste in a link but I can't find an official one.
37. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? Is that really my alarm clock or am I still dreaming?
38. FAVORITE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT THE SINGLE LIFE: Being able to sleep, eat, and go to the bathroom whenever I want without worrying about someone else. Oh, yeah, and walking around naked (hey, I'm just joking!)
39. HOW DO YOU EAT AN OREO? I use my teeth to scrape off all the words (I like a flat cookie surface), then I dunk it in milk until it's so soggy it almost breaks off when you take it from the cup. It's a very delicate procedure--one false move or one second too long and you lose the hunk of cookie down into the cup.
40. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND TO THIS BLOG? Doesn't matter. It was mainly for self-entertainment since Spring Break is boring me.
Posted by Anna at 02:15 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
Deep Sigh of Contentment
Aaaahhhh. Spring Break. I slept in this morning, and I'm contemplating going back to sleep in just a few minutes.
This break came at just the right time. I realize that by having my break now I won't get anything off for Easter (the school can't advocate one religion over another, of course), but at this point, I'm not complaining. I know I was hitting the breaking point and I could tell my classmates and professors were as well.
I'll still be working and doing observations for class, so it's not as if I'll be breaking too much--actually, my schedule may be a bit fuller. But either way, I have now assumed the title of Spring Breaker and I'm lovin' it.
Posted by Anna at 09:20 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 02, 2005
Glad It Wasn't Me...
There are times when you're so embarrassed you just want to crawl into a hole and die. Then there are times when you're just so relieved the embarrassing moment didn't happen to you.
Luckily, today was one of those days when it wasn't me. My boss plays squash. I don't know anything about it except that it involves a racquet. Anyway, he had been in and out of his office all day, so I never really know if he's around or not. I went downstairs to check the mail. When I came back up, his office door was closed. I knew he had an appointment to play squash with another professor at 3, and since it was just a few minutes before 3, I'd figured he'd already gone to play. So I went on with my work, typing and filing and emailing and copying and reading. THe janitor came in and emptied the trash in the front area, then emptied my trash. After our visit (I always like to visit with her), she went into another professor's office (we're in pods, so there are 2 front sections and then 2 offices) and emptied her trash. THen she pulled out her keys and let herself into my boss's office.
Apparently he wasn't gone. I heard an, "OH! OH, my! I'm so sorry!" and then she shut the door quickly. It seems she had walked in on my boss while he was changing into his sweatsuit for squash. But it gets worse--the janitor said he was not only in between outfits...but he WAS PUTTING ON HIS CUP!!! Basically, the janitor got a full view of my professor while he was putting on his male protective equipment. AAACCKKK!
It easily could've been me--I have keys to his office and I go in and out quite a bit because of how closely we have to work together.
But to make it even more enjoyable (and mortifying for the janitor!), my boss saw her in the hall when he really did leave for his squash game. He called out to her, "Hey, next time I'll hang a note on the door when I'm naked, OK?"
I learned an important lesson today: always knock. I'm sure the janitor will!!
This picture just made me think of it because someone added shorts to the pedestrian...
Posted by Anna at 09:00 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 01, 2005
Really Nothin' to Post...
Except to wish my pal Christopher a very happy birthday.
I feel like such a bad blogger. I haven't posted much of anything later. Sorry. Spring Break is coming up next week and surely I'll have some time and interesting stories then...
Anyway, head over to WIT?! and wish Christopher a happy birthday. I shall keep quiet as to his age. Oh yeah, and also what the "S" stands for in his name. :)
Posted by Anna at 06:05 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack