Crafty Beaver's Engagement

If you like crafty things, you should probably check out http://www.poppytalkhandmade.com because I spent like, two hours on it last night. It's all artsy fartsy and handcrafted.

Today another teacher asked me if I was engaged because she noticed my ring. I said, "No, I'm not," instead of saying "Are you kidding? If I got engaged the rock better be at least three times as big as what this is." I didn't really feel like explaining my ring because 1) I didn't know her name and 2) we were in a staff meeting.

There is a sign near my house advertising an "automatic tranny fluid change." Which, I think, is not quite the best choice of words. But whatever.

Five Things

So several things:
1) I cannot believe what I saw driving home today. It was a person stuck on the side of the road with a flat tire. This is the freaky part: it was the same tire that blew up on me (the passenger side rear). Also, it was on the same highway, not 200 feet away from my location of grief. Weird, right? All people should probably avoid driving near this part of the road for at least a week.

2) Near my house there is a salon thingy, and there is a message board that says "Come meet Marie Holdtclaw, our nail tech" or something like that. I find it very interesting that she does nails and her last name has the word claw in it. Coincidence?

3) I had to break up a fight today between two boys who are as big as me.

4) I sometimes question my career choice.

5) Today I saw a man near State street all hunched over and walking with a menacing looking stick. Like he was going to clobber someone with it. I wish I had my camera with me, because I would have taken a picture.

Adventure Stories

Why No One Will Go On a Date With Me
This is probably the most exciting adventure you'll go on. Ever. Unless of course, you ask me out. Haha.

Criminal Intentions
This was sort of almost a true story but I tried to hide my real-life actions under the guise of fiction.

A Date With Mr. DeCrepitt
A true story of adventure based around old people.


Why No One Will Even Ask Me Out
Okay, so not entirely adventurous, but intriguing nonetheless.

And of course, for about-to-pee-your-pants-from-excitement adventures, check out The Roommate Adventures

Curse My Car

There is absolutely nothing fictional about the trifles that I endured this morning. Basically, this is what happened: I had a job interview at 9:30 am, which is a lot to ask on a Saturday morning. I got up in plenty of time, since I am now re-accustomed to waking up at 6:15am. As I was driving along the highway, I noticed my car was making an especially loud clunkety clunk. I knew something was up with my car, and had full intentions of getting it checked out after my interview. Bad idea.

I am but 15 minutes away from my destination when my tire blows up. Okay, not so much blows up, but completely deflates. Shrinks up like an oversized black raisin. The driver in the red car next to me rolls down her window and notifies me, as my speed decreases dramatically. I think to myself “Oh Eff.” Because what can you really think when you have to be at an interview in fifteen minutes and you have a flat tire on a speedy and dangerous highway with no where safe to pull off? So I put on my hazard lights, pull over, and make at least six phone calls within three minutes. Thank you, Natalie, for actually answering. And to Liz, for calling me back.

Some time passes by, I pray that I do not get hit while resting precariously along the road, and I move over into the passenger seat, so that way if I do get hit, the impact won’t be as severe. I call Les Schwab, who tells me they are sending a guy out to help me. Yes, I am aware I should know how to change a flat tire. It is now on my top priority of things to master. While I am rooting around in my car, teary eyed, I sense a shadow over me. The Hookman! (J/K Liz and Danny). It is a police officer. I open up my door and get out. He asks me what happened. I think it is quite obvious. I point to my tire and sniffle. I give him my license, insurance, and registration. He assures me I’m not in trouble. I don’t point out that I’ve been in trouble for the past 25 minutes.

Les Schwab guy shows up. Police officer vows to stay with me until I am ready to go. Tire gets fixed. I am “That Car.” I watch everyone pass by me, looking to see what has happened, since I am sandwiched in between a police truck and a Les Schwab service vehicle, looking pathetic. Finally, my tire is ready. Les Schwab guy drives off. I attempt to start my car. It clicks at me. My battery has died due to having my hazard lights on for 45 minutes. I sheepishly get out of my car and wave at the police officer, who is still parked behind me. I explain the problem. Mr. I’ll-Stay-By-Your-Side turns into Mr. I-Have-Other-Places-To-Be. So do I. I pop my hood, and the officer comments that my battery is pretty old. He wants to call a tow truck, since he can’t jump my car.

I make about five more phone calls. Les Schwab guy is on his way back to help. He runs his power cords and jumps my car. I thank him, wave at Police Officer, and drive off. I cannot turn my car off for at least 45 minutes. So basically, this is the explanation as to why I showed up two hours late to my interview with raccoon eyes and smelling of burnt rubber.

During this whole morning, I am advised of several things: 1) Buy two new tires, because both of the back ones need to be replaced 2) Get a new battery, and 3) Re-schedule my interview. On my way home, I go to the ATM to get out twenty bucks, since I have all of $1.50 left. The ATM tells me that if I withdraw $20, I will have to use my overdraft protection. This means that I must have $19.99 or fewer dollars left in my checking account. I do not withdraw $20. I drive home, get on-line, and discover why I hardly have any money left in my checking account.

So basically, these are my car charges:
$40 to Les Schwab guy for road side service
$190.98 for two new back tires
$52 for a new battery
$20 because I need more gas.
Oh, and I got a $30 parking ticket on Thursday night.
Total: $332.98

I think I might start just using a bicycle. It is a very good thing I am getting paid in four days, or I might cry even more.

I wonder

This is the work of one of my fifth grade students.

He is pretty cool. In case you couldn't read it, this is what he wonders:

1) I wonder if there are flying cars.

2) I wonder if there is such thing as the nether world.

3) I wonder if there are 10 dimentions.

4) I wonder if there are aliens.

5) I wonder if there is going to be a world war three.

6) I wonder if there are 7 wonders of the world.

7) I wonder if there is such thing as atlantis.

Extra Crispy

So today I thought I smelled the distinct odor of chlorine. Chlorine makes me feel like throwing up and blurs my vision, but this time the scent of it reminded me of swimming lessons in this giant “bubble” pool that I went to as a kid. The roof and sides to the pool were kept up by air or something, and from the outside it just looked like an enormous piece of bubble wrap.

Thinking of swimming made me thing about a dreadful day I went boating with my family. We were out swimming and tubing and water skiing and all that, when I decided I was tired and wanted to take a nap in the boat’s cabin. I was seven. I slept on my stomach, which was a mistake, because my swim suit was a bit small and crept up into the nether regions. I slept there in the cabin for probably two hours, the sun shining in because the door wasn’t shut. Big mistake. When I awoke, my tushie was on fire. My buttocks were the one place my mother failed to slather on sunscreen. I began to cry, and my mother was forced to apply aloe vera gel to my rosy bum. I never wore that swimsuit again. The main point of the story is, don’t lie out in the sun unless you want toasted buns.

Don’t read this if I work with you

If anyone from work reads this, I could get in trouble. So keep this info to yourself. I will start this divulging of information with a preface saying: the teacher that I am replacing for the rest of the year seems like a very sweet woman. And she’s fairly organized. She will go under the name Mrs. Jane Doe for protection purposes. Now, the dirt.

Mrs. Doe is obsessed with cats. She has cat stuff everywhere. These are all of the places I have seen cat stuff, but more seems to pop up everyday. She has:
1) Cat stickers on her gradebook binder
2) Cat pictures/posters taped to the front paneling of her desk.
3) Old calendar pages of cats that are laminated and hung up behind her computer
4) A cat magnet
5) A porcelain cat that I found in the depths of her desk drawer
6) A sheet of cat stickers
7) Cat postcards hung up in the four inch space between the windows
8) A mini cat flip-book of cat breeds, and
9) On Friday I finally gained access to her computer. She has a cat cartoon background.Of course. Later, it changed to a cat cartoon screensaver.
10) I wouldn’t be surprised if her husband has whiskers.

Detective Work

I am now practically a detective. I’ve been thrown into this teaching job with absolutely no information about my students, their abilities, what they’ve been doing all year, what they still need to learn, where everything is, etc. The teacher before me literally left me one lesson plan. I used that up on the first day. Since then, I’ve been snooping around the classroom when my students are gone, trying to gain helpful information. I’m looking for any clues to help me figure out what’s happened from September to April. I’ve peeked inside all of the drawers and cupboards and found that we have an extraordinary amount of graph paper in a cupboard that I cannot really reach without a ladder. I’ve also found that files are not kept in the filing cabinet closest to the desk. All of my snooping and peeking has so far provided me with six helpful facts. Which is a lot, I think. Next week I think I might venture into the office and look at student files because I know virtually nada about my kids. Oh, and the computer was extremely dusty. So much that I was coughing as I was brushing it off. No finger prints, though.

Webcams

So I don't know if you have ever seen this on MySpace, but I've seen these ads quite a few times. You know, the "Look who's online now?" date ads? There's this image of a guy, and he moves all around and stuff because it's like you're watching him on a webcam. He sits down at the computer, gives a smile, types, giggles, types, leans in closer, takes off his sweatshirt, types somemore. He's giving me the creeps. I feel like he's watching me. And then the ad just starts repeating. Usually when these ads come on I X them out right away because I feel like the person in the ad is stalking me or something. Any similar experiences?

I Guess I won’t be a Dr. after all

Remember how I was going to be all “Dr. Grey, we need you?” and get called at 5:30 in the morning and rush off at a moment’s notice? Well, it’s never going to happen. The one call I got was at 6:30, and I denied it due to an interview that afternoon. That interview turned into a job offer, which I accepted. This means that I know I will have to wake up at 6:15 every morning to go to work, and that I no longer need to keep my cell phone on my person at all times waiting for desperate calls. I’m taking over a class for a woman who is prego, so I have a job until June, anyway. Today was my first day. I worked for ten hours, which was quite exhausting. I’m not going to tell you about it now. Maybe tomorrow, or on Friday night, after I have recuperated. This is what I will tell you about the class: there is a child with a mullet.

Cupcakes on my mind

I’ve really been into http://www.cupcakestakethecake.blogspot.com recently, and it has inspired me to become a better baker. For example, last week I whipped these up for my friend Katie and her roommates.

Then today, I remembered a dream I had over the weekend. In the dream I was at a shop that had cupcake stickers and cupcake towels and all sorts of things like that. I’m not obsessed, but really, who dreams of cupcakes? Maybe the trigger was the mini cupcake I ate on Saturday, which came from Izzy’s.

I wonder if some people have to go to cupcake rehab.

Laugh it Out

I have not been able to sleep for the past three nights. This is because of the anticipation of "being on call." I got my first call this morning, but had to turn it down because I have an interview this afternoon (still no glasses to make me look smarter). Also, I have to pack for the weekend because I am going to see my grandma and my great-grandpa who recently turned 89, which I think is quite old.

I'm going with my mom and sister, and I am a bit afraid to see my mom for one reason, being that I have not finished reading the book she let me borrow. And she will probably ask for it because she is excited to read it. It's P.S. I Love You (got turned into a movie that I have never seen), and I guess it has sold a billion copies, but I am having a hard time getting into it. Mostly because it is not very funny. I understand that serious issues like your one true love dying off of cancer is not supposed to be funny, but I think books like that are in desperate need of comic relief.

For example, I just finished reading John Green's Looking For Alaska (which, btw, has recently been banned in some public high schools). And okay, someone dies in the book, but at least not until the second half, after we've had our laughs. And the part where the person dies is utterly shocking and makes you want to sniffle a bit, but the other characters in the book realize it's still important to have a good laugh and they pull a prank in the deceased's honor.

Basically, what I am saying is, if you can not laugh and enjoy funny moments even though your life is utterly pathetically awful, I don't want to read your autobiography.

Dr. Sheppard to the ER, please

Today I went to substitute teaching orientation. Now that I am a legit sub, this means I could be called at absolutely anytime of the day. I have to answer 5:30am calls (which will undoubtedly interrupt my dreams about Matthew Fox from LOST), or I could be notified that I have 25 minutes to get to a school. Or I could get a call while I am enjoying my lunch and watching The Tyra Show. This means that from now on, I have to make sure that my phone is a) charged, b) not on silent, and c) on my person at all times. I sort of think that when I start getting calls, I will feel like a doctor. Always on call. Not knowing what to expect. Emergency situations. And if I miss a call, I basically have one hour to call back. Or the patient dies. It’s kind of exciting but tiring to think about as well. I half wish I had a plastic stethoscope to wear in the car.

Why this beats MySpace

1) You can read my blogs without signing into MySpace and feeding your addiction.
2) You can leave me anonymous comments. Just click on the comments link below the entry, type something out, then select anonymous sender. That means you can write me mean stuff if you hate me, or you can confess your love to me instead. I won’t know who it was. If you want me to know it was you then sign your name.
3) I can embed pictures, which makes things more fun.
4) The blog archive helps you find entries easily.
5) No ads.

Innermost Thoughts

Last night I was going through some stuff and ended up reading my diary from the 8th grade. I discovered I was a major dork. But I was gripped and eager to learn about my 13 year-old self. Here are some of the highlights:

1/6/00 I was talking about this girl who was rarely pleasant towards me and wrote “Cathy was nice to me today because I know a secret about her.” But then I didn’t even write the secret down and I don’t remember what it was. I was hoping to read something juicy.

3/26/00
“I had a dream about Drew*. [Describes uneventful dream] Then today during science he came over and talked to me. It was about my knee since I have crutches. Then he tried out my crutches. After history when I was having trouble putting up my chair he said ‘hey, you need help?’ Then he helped me. [blah blah blah] After school I listened to him play the guitar. He looked at me.” [I then list everything that I know about him, including the fact that he has only 8% body fat, a detail I had apparently learned in PE].

4/21/00
A big rant and then “People who hurt people deserve to live in the sewer....(someone’s name).” And then there’s this arrow pointing to the name with the word “scum” written next to.

4/22/00
I wrote something completely inappropriate for a 13 year old. [Describes how hot Drew* is] and then “You can never see his butt, though, since his pants are so baggy in that area ‘cuz he’s not fat at all. Darn.” I KNOW! Shocking, right? But I mean, he only has 8% body fat, so it makes sense.

I’ll share more some other time.

*Name has been changed due to embarrassment.

Sweet Sounds

I’ve recently been enjoying the song “Say This Sooner” by The Almost in their album called Southern Weather. Check them out. www.myspace.com/thealmost. They mostly have a rock vibe.

I never thought I’d say this, but I have also been diggin’ some folk/bluegrass. The River Empires has branched from the growing tree that is Falling Up, but they are budding a totally different blossom. Listening to it makes me want to make lemonade and sit on the front porch of an old house. And also dance barefoot in the dirt. www.myspace.com/theriverempires.

Rapunzel

Yesterday my roommate chopped ten inches off of her goldilocks hair to donate to bald women with cancer. I went with her for support. I've never had ten inches of hair to donate, so I really admire her bravery for a noble cause.

When my great-grammy had cancer, she just wore a turban. I was little, and I thought this made her look like one of those women living in tropical areas who can balance a basket of fruit on their heads.

While at the salon, a nagging life-long question popped back up. You know how (most) hair stylists have rockin' hair and you are jealous? Well, do they cut it themsevles? Or do one of their stylist friends cut it for them? I always wonder this but have felt too stupid to ask.

Elephants in Glasses

I really want this vacuum. It’s way cute and I found it on fredflare.com. Obviously, it is not practical. It could probably hold ten crumbs and a dust bunny. I still like it. There’s a piggy one too, for all those bacon lovers.

A few days ago I had an interview. I wanted to wear glasses to it so that I look smarter and more serious than I really am, but it didn’t work out. I heard of someone who always wears fake glasses when he gives a presentation for his college classes, because then the audience takes him more seriously. People who wear glasses look like they know more than the rest of us. I was going to borrow my sister’s glasses, but after trying them on I discovered they gave me an instant headache and poor vision. Then I went to Claire’s to see if they had a pair of glasses for people with 20/20 vision. You know, just some cheap $5.99 deal appropriate for a costume. No suck luck. I am very surprised at myself for not already having a pair of glasses in my disguise box. I need to get on this. I ended up having to go to my interview looking like usual and not like someone dripping with intellect.

Explanations

At first glance you might think "has Joelle started a band?" No. The photo at the top of my page looks a little rockeresque, but you should know I'm not cool enough to play the guitar. However, I do own a pair of red Converse sneakers and a white sheet, so you know, there are some similarities. Mostly I just liked the picture.

The reason I decided to name this page "The Real Pretend" is because I have been tricked into adulthood. One day I'm imagining what it would be like to be a grown-up, playing house with my sister, daydreaming about an adult life. Next thing you know, it's time to start my career and pay my rent (which, btw, I need to mail today). Research health insurance and IRAs. Plan for an eventual mortgage. This make-believing is suddenly real. I'm there now, and I'm faking it because is still feels like I'm playing grown-up.