Will you be my friend?

I Facebook friend requested Jason Mesnick of The Bachelorette fame, and I am still waiting to see if he'll add me. Most likely he has already denied me, but I am going to wait it out a few weeks before I completely give up hope. It's not like I really care either way, it was more the thrill of pushing the "request as friend" button. I was all "should I push it? Should I not?" And then I threw all caution into the wind and just pushed the stupid thing. FYI rumor has it Jason will be the next bachelor, so guess what show will be consuming my life even though it is utterly ridiculous? I compare myself watching Jason on The Bachelor to my roommate Liz watching the Mets play baseball. You have to root for your team. So what if it's a reality match-making show?

Fifty-six hours until the first day of school. Blech. Still have no idea what I am going to do for those first three hundred sixty minutes.

So my grandma just had back surgery and has to stay in bed all day. I told her to catch up on any movies she's been waiting to see. Apparently she doesn't have a TV in her bedroom so that's out of the question. Then I suggested listening to a book on tape. She's way bored, and I sent her a link to my blog, but I don't think she has sat in front of her computer yet to check her e-mail. So basically, HI GRAM I HOPE BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS YOU FEEL BETTER. I have to write big because she just had an eye surgery thing too, and I don't want to stress her out. IF YOU HAVE ANY EXTRA VICODIN YOU CAN SELL IT FOR CASH AT THE LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL. Only she won't because her husband used to work at the juvenile delinquent center, so he doesn't support that kind of thing. And either do I. Hugs, not drugs. Besides, she probably wants to keep her extra Vicodin.

...they will fashion them into daggers

I am more or less going to have a heart attack. Or maybe I'll get so freaked out that I'll pack a small brown suitcase, grab a wad of cash, and go MIA for two weeks because all of a sudden I am UTTERLY TERRIFIED of the first week of school. And then I will get fired for not showing up. But it will be because I am puking into a toilet at a trashy truck stop on my way to Canada, since just thinking that I will have kids for six hours next Wednesday puts a huge jolt in my stomach.

Basically, I should change careers.

Man, I am so sick right now. It may be because:
1) my classroom furniture is still not in place because the entire layout of the room is contingent upon which of the Internet plug ins will work,
2) I won't know which Internet port I can use until the freaking technology people come to the school (hello? There are two work days until the kids come),
3) I don't have my math teacher guides or any math supplies because, while it has been ordered for me, it HAS NOT ARRIVED.
4) I don't have any student text books
5) There are 6 hours to fill next Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday.
6) other teachers have frightened me with their comments such as "the students look at you like fresh meat" and "don't give them paperclips, they will fashion them into daggers" and "these kids will eat you alive if you don't lay down the law" and "last year a new teacher left in January because she just couldn't take it."

But then I figure, God put me here, right? I am at this school for a reason. And sure, I may be tested, and I might cry everyday at 3:30, but why would God put me at a school if I was only going to get so stressed out that I quit and leave in January? Unless of course, all along I wasn't meant to be a teacher and God has arranged for me to have the class from hell, so that I will quit and follow some other career path that I am supposed to be doing. I don't really think that's the case, but who knows?

Besides, I don't really think I am a quitter. Even if it sucks, I usually stick it out. Here are a list of things I have quit at:
1) gymnastics (but that was because my knee dislocated all the time and kept having to be on crutches every four weeks).
2) public school at the middle school level (but that was because my teacher was an idiot).
3) tennis (but it was only a trial summer thing, to see if I even liked it, which I didn't).
4) piano lessons (but I did do it for five years, until jr. year of high school consumed my life).
5) the honors program at college (but it was only because I was going to graduate early and couldn't take the thesis and seminar classes while being in the Ed program).
6) all new year's resolutions since 1998 (but who doesn't?).

And okay, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a gymnast who plays piano and tennis, but mostly I'm over it.

I just hope teaching won't be something I want to quit at.

Real Life starts tomorrow

In less than 24 hours I start my real life adult job of being a teacher, which is both exciting and terrifying. I won't throw up tomorrow morning because it's just in-service and there will be no kids, but on Sept. 3rd I will most likely barf. Great, right? So if you're the praying kind, can I make an advanced request for Sept. 3rd?

Last Friday my mother was amazing and helped me paint my classroom for 6.5 hours. We got it all done in one shot and it looks aamazing. If you don't think it looks amazing, then don't tell me, because I know it looks exponentially better than it did before. I will post pictures when my entire classroom is put together, which will prob. be the day before the kids arrive. My mom and I painted the room a combination of baby blue and this really pale blue that is almost white but is still blue. I am way excited because tomorrow I get to finish moving furniture! I had to hold off because I couldn't move anything against the walls that I was going to paint.

In other news, my cousin got hitched last night. His new wifey-poo is named Elizabeth (not Liz my roommate, btw) and ever since I first met her I've sort of thought she looks like Claire Danes. She's way precious. And they had delicious food for dinner. The whole thing was outside at Elizabeth's parents' property, which borders a creek. There were all these nice, shady trees, and luscious green lawn, a white tent, and those really fun colored lanterns.

BAHHHH. I have to get ready for tomorrow. Oh, sudden realization. This is the last day of my summer vacation. Not that I really vacated a lot.

June Cleaver was insane

I sometimes think about how much fun it would be to live in the 50s. Wasn't that the poodle skirt era? And greasy diners? All the women with their pin curls and red lip stick?

And then I changed my mind.

Today I checked out Home Sweet Homewreckers, and this is something they had. It's from a 1955 issue of Good Housekeeping. Utterly ridiculous, too. Click on the photo to see in enlarged, and you can read what I'm talking about. The really great parts are underlined.

If zooming in on the photo doesn't work, go to this really long link to view it.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5n7FCStBiWGePwh9HORU_l_8Yd0afq2P3rZMjLamocQysJZufBEANYf3CGYTrabz9MZdW3FB6MinE50InuyugE4s9o25e3t6DrrgZtXdY5iGLaftIgiK1sv4_XlGRBr48dCotGgEdgOj/s1600/GoodHousekeeping1955.jpg

Tuesday Schmuesday

Day two of teacher orientation: I'm all "I wish I could pull a Drew Barrymore," because after walking around West Salem high school all day and sitting in the desks, I kind of think it would be fun to flashback to high school for a week or two. Play the new girl who secretly has a bachelor's degree. Even though I could probably pull it off, I wouldn't want to pretend to be a freshman. I think disguising myself as a sophomore or junior would be the most fun. And then I could have an illegal (but not really since they were both over 21) love affair with Sam Coulson, the English teacher, just like Drew. I would probably fall over in my desk if Michael Vartan was my English teacher. There's a reason never to skip third period.

Instead of gossiping about fellow classmates at lunchtime like a high schooler, I instead learned about my health insurance choices. What a headache. So now I'm doing all this math, trying to figure out how a higher deductible but lower monthly cost compares to a higher monthly cost and lower deductible. Ughhh....how grown-up.

On my included life insurance policy, I have to name a beneficiary. Since I do not have a spouse, my obvious choice is my sister. I figure if I kick the bucket, she would be forever grateful for the big wad of cash I would leave her. Jess and I were talking about this a while ago, because she was telling me how I was the beneficiary on all her insurance forms. If you don't name a beneficiary, the default choice is this: 1) spouse, 2) children, 3) parents, 4) siblings, 5) estate. We were both like "why would we give our parents money before our sibling?" Because yeah, they're old, but they have considerably more money than we do right now, so if I were to die, I would rest in peace knowing my sister got paid off and can afford her mortgage. Versus my dad buying another boat. You may wonder where I am going with all of this...

Remember how my sister is engaged, which means she will eventually be married, which leads to a spouse? Yeah, that's right, I will no longer be the beneficiary on my sister's insurance forms. Unless, or course, she chooses me over her husband. Hasn't worked so far. Not that I'm expecting my sister to drop dead anytime soon. I'm sure I would launch into depression if she did. But whatev. She's still my number one.

Yesterday I discovered this sweet thing called Mygazines. All these magazines are uploaded online and you can flip the pages just like a real magazine. So if your local library doesn't get all the magazines you want to read, or if you are a man and are too embarrassed to check out Knitting Today, just browse online. It saves paper and money. http://www.mygazines.com

Fun = Danger

Here is a video of me and my friend Sierra rollerblading around. I never fell this day. We hadn't rollerbladed since a year ago.

We roller bladed two days in a row. The second day, I skated around practically the entire perimeter of Monmouth. Two blocks away from my house (on the way back), I fell straight on my butt. It is a likely possibility that I fractured and/or broke my tail bone. I haven't been able to sit comfortably for a week.

Here is a picture of me icing my bum with Natalie's frozen Petite Peas. After they thawed out, I changed to stir fry.

The 70s ghetto

Whoever was the architect for the elementary school I work at should be shot. Or at least hung upside down and tickled with a giant feather. I have half a mind to go to public records and look up the architect's name. Seriously.

My classroom has only two permanent walls. The rest are those fold away walls. If I were to fold all the walls in, and the eight teachers connected to me folded theirs in, we would basically have one giant classroom the size of a football field. Clearly, the structural designer was some free loving hippie who liked the idea of community, taking away separation, and being one big happy learning family. Then there's that whole noise distraction thing.

The color choices preferred by the 70s hipsters definitely reflect their shroom loving attitudes of the 60s. I have photographic proof.

These are the really awesome mustard yellow cabinets. I think black or white or grey would've been more considerate for the people of the future.

Then we have the really groovy plastic orange chairs. Plus the red wall that I am going to paint over, because it has been scientifically proven that red makes people feel angry, and I don't want angry students. I'm painting it light blue, which has been proven to calm and relax people.

This is my glorious metal desk. You will need that bucket on the top to barf in when you look at this...
It's my stained, 70s rolling chair. It squeaks and is not comfortable at all. If you have a computer chair you don't want, let me know.

Here is a side view of the classroom. Wall color choice is awesome. Anyone want to help me paint next Friday?

This is the front of the classroom.

This is where I'm going to put all the naughty children. Just kidding, I store my overhead projector here. This is where all the fold in walls go when they're folded up (which will be never).

C6 baby! The place to be!

Call me J. LO

…because I’m the wedding planner. I am practically living Jennifer Lopez’s movie character’s life, except that Matthew McConaughey has never saved me (or me shoe) from being run over by a rolling garbage receptacle.

My older and only sister is getting married. I was the first person she called to let know she was engaged; I’m going to be her Maid of Honor, and I’m her unofficial wedding planner. This is because I am more organized than she is.

Thus far I have called several venues in search for the perfect reception site and have gone dress shopping with her. She thinks she’s going to get married in November or December. I thought that wasn’t much time to plan because when I initially talked to her she was thinking spring. But Jess’s fiancé has two brothers who are in the military and they will be out of the state by February and she wanted them to be there.

I’ll be honest and say I AM WAY FREAKED OUT, and I’m not even the one getting married. I am considerably less freaked out than I was the day she called me to announce the news. Now I’m sort of having fun helping Jessamy plan. Who knows if I’ll ever get married, so my sister’s wedding could be the most important wedding in my life, considering she is my only sibling and we are practically twins (but not really because we’re really different although we pretty much had an identical childhood).

I more or less have to get any desire to plan a wedding out now, because I might never get to plan my own unless I meet James Franco and convince him to marry me (but not the James Franco from Pineapple Express, because I don’t do drugs. The James Franco from Tristan + Isolde because Tristan was way hot and had to deal with that whole “I loved you first but now you’re my best friend’s wife and I have to do what’s right” thing). However, if I cannot convince James Franco or even a non-celebrity to marry me, this problem could be solved with $9.99 and a trip to Office Max. I was at Office Max yesterday and was browsing through the computer games (trying to find educational ones for my classroom) when I stumbled upon Dream Wedding. In this game, you get to go to the bridal mall and pick out your dress, shoes, cake, flowers, centerpieces, and all that stuff. You also get to create bridesmaids to resemble your friends and choose their dresses. Additionally (and this may be the best part), you can choose your future husband, his groomsmen, and design their tuxes. All for $9.99. So if you don’t have a fiancé, it’s not even a problem. Just create a virtual one. Genius.

This weekend I will try to write about my classroom, because I finally got to see it this week. It’s totally 70s. I also need to tell you about how I went rollerblading with Sierra and then I got injured and had to ice my butt with a bag of Petite Peas. I have a video of it (not the icing of my butt, but of the actual rollerblading). So you know, more later if I don’t melt into a puddle in this heat.

I parked on a squirrel

I keep checking http://www.badparking.wordpress.com/ because I am pretty sure that I will end up in it one day. I'll be browsing through and see a car that looks remarkably similar to mine, and under the photo will be all these rude and sarcastic comments. I am a bad parker. Pretty sure it is an inherited trait. I cannot parallel park unless the space is as big as a school bus. I would rather walk five blocks than parallel park. It's a good thing it wasn't part of my driver's test. I usually park two feet away from the curb, or on the curb, or occasionally on the sidewalk. My front license plate is smashed because I've ran it into the front barrier thing in parking spots. Even though I am a bad parker, I am not really the worst driver. Well, I've never gotten caught. A police officer has never pulled me over, I've never gotten a ticket, and I've never been in an accident. Watch, just because I am writing this I will rear-end someone tomorrow.

Here is a list of the books that I am currently reading:

Queen of Babble Gets Hitched by Meg Cabot (so far the loud mouth has gotten engaged, slept--and only slept--with her fiance's best friend, re-decorated the shop she works at, and has designed a wedding dress for a skanky crack whore).

a la Cart, the secret lives of grocery shoppers by Hillary Carlip (Hillary has collected discarded shopping lists, then she imagines what the person who dropped them might look like, creates a story about them, and then she dresses up like that character with the help of a make-up artist and poses in a store. Good stuff. It's basically a picture book but with some words). Go here to watch a video that gives you the inside scoop.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZMJONyx-SU

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon (so far the autistic boy has discovered a dead dog and is trying to solve the mystery. He also knows a lot of prime numbers and hates the color yellow. Sounds kind of boring but it is totally not. This one was recommended by an author (Marc Acito) at the writing conference I went to).

My goal is to finish all of these by Sunday night. I'll let you know if it happens.

P.S. I have exciting news that I am not allowed to blog about in case you are a reader who does not have the right level of clearance. But if you are my friend on Facebook then you probably already know. So check back in a few days.

I met Luke Ryan

Over the weekend I met Hollywood hot shot Luke Ryan. It's okay if you never heard of him. He used to work at some dive bar in Indiana. Now he's the vice-president of MGM. That would be the film company with the roaring lion at the beginning. Luke Ryan used to work at New Line Cinema, Paramount Pictures, and MTV. These types of people never interest me till after they are in front of me and I learn why they are important. For example, you wouldn't care much about Officer Brenner until he was at your carside writing you a ticket, or maybe cuffing your arms behind your back. You wouldn't care much about the North American grizzly bear until you were in a face-off in the forest. I didn't think it was cool to meet Luke Ryan until he was ten feet in front of me and I heard about all the things he did and all the people he knew. Because really, the only people I knew of on the screen writing/production side of film were Steven Spielberg and Diablo Cody since she just won that Oscar. I also met Luke Ryan’s funny sidekick friend, David Neustadter. He’s a creative executive at New Line Cinema, and helped work on one of my favorite movies, Just Friends. He also worked on Wedding Crashers.

So why all these Hollywood guys at a writers’ conference? They gave workshops on screenwriting and also the keynote speech at lunch one day. It was cool because they were just funny guys in jeans and a baseball cap, seemingly normal. I’m not really into screenwriting, but it was still interesting to learn about it. My favorite part was when Luke told about how someone had followed him to his room at the hotel last year and stuffed several scripts under his door. I might have done it.

Over the next few days, I will probably write more about the writers’ conference because a lot of stuff happened and I don’t want to tell you it all at once. I know for sure I will be telling you about the plumpy woman who wore a dusty leather Indiana Jones hat, had frizzy hair, and carried a suspicious wooden box around with her. Later.

Crafty Pants goes to PDX

Here's some photos of things I made at work while teaching Messy and Marvelous camp two weeks ago. It's a mini bird house. Then I made a bird for it out of clay. I made a friend for him too.

They escaped from the zoo.

In other news, I am leaving for Portland this weekend to attend a writers' conference. It should be a lot of fun and I will most likely learn a lot of useful information. I'm bringing a few stories along so that I can smuggle them (and my business card) into the briefcases of literary agents when they are not looking. They'll need something to read on the plane home.

It's a good thing that I am leaving because I have been putting off grocery shopping for practically a week and more or less have no food in my fridge. I was going to go on Thursday night, but then realized I was leaving on Friday, so what was the point of buying bananas just so they could rot on my counter?