Halloween Shmalloween.

I used to love Halloween so much. I Trick-or-Treated all the way up until my Junior year of high school. I wanted to be a professional Trick-or-Treater. Unfortunately the neighbors frowned upon my adolescent tricking for treats and began to make hateful comments to my friends and I. I knew my Halloween jig was up. I had a good 17 year run and it was fun while it lasted. Halloween just lost a bit of its thrill when I couldn't dress up in fun costumes and collect candy from strangers any longer. The next year I stayed home and helped my mom pass out candy. It just wasn't the same. I was bitter. It's a miracle I didn't start throwing candy at the kids out of jealousy.

As a 20-something, Halloween has a very different feel. It seems that the majority of women don't want to choose an outfit out of comfort or creativeness. Halloween has become an excuse to wear your underwear and bra out in public for a night. An excuse to bare your stomach and smush your boobs together and wear no clothes in 40 degree weather. I don't get it. You can be anything your heart desires for one night...and you choose to be THAT!?! I've just gotten to the point where I don't even like going out for Halloween anymore because I get tired of seeing the absolute craziness.

This year I've been a bit of a Halloween scrooge. I didn't even buy a pumpkin. For me, this is kind of alarming. I always buy pumpkins. Last year I had six pumpkins. This year: zero. If I had one, I probably would have taken it out into the street and smashed it. That makes me sound a bit unstable. I'm not. I've just been in a non-festive kind of mood.

I finally went and bought Halloween candy last night at like 8:00. Nothing like waiting until the last possible minute. I was tempted to ban Halloween from my house all together this year and bolt my door, board my windows, and remove all signs of life. But then I felt bad about that. Each year since I started teaching I have extended an invitation to my students to come Trick-or-Treat at my house. I felt bad for not doing the same for my current group of students, because, well, I like them.
I had a grand total of 21 Trick-or-Treaters this year. Yes, I'm a nerd and I keep tally marks. If some of my students hadn't have come, I would have only had 12 neighborhood kids. 12! How sad is that?

My classroom mascots (Rascal and Marley) come home with me on Halloween to greet the kids that come from my classroom. They keep it tame in respectable costumes.

Needless to say, I have a heck of a lot of candy leftover. Of course, I made sure that I sifted through the candy to give out all of the less-than-desirable (to me) pieces first. I am left with this beautiful assortment that would be a peanut allergy sufferers worst nightmare.

The best part of my night? This would be my very first Trick-or-Treater that rang my doorbell. This little family was a bit ahead of schedule as they rang my bell at 4:20. Little bit early and over-anxious, guys. However, the time was not so ironic after I got a look at the guy. The Dad (I'm assuming) of the little tot dressed as a tiger in the stroller pretty much ran up to my door and ding-dong ditched me. My bell rang and when I went to answer it, "Dad" had run away and was standing in the middle of the road staring back toward my house. When I opened the door (and I so wish I could film a video re-enactment so that you could get the full glory and sound effects), he put his arms up much like I did in this picture:

And he said, "Aay! Trick-or-Treat?" In the most ghetto (yet so fabulous) voice. He was questioning whether or not I was ready for Trick-or-Treaters. I yelled back, "Heck yes! I'm ready!" He flashed a big smile and strolled his tiger baby up to my door where he proceeded to roll over my geraniums. Dad was decked out in a solid white Sean John track suit complete with a gold chain. He was really dressed up for the occasion and he was excited. It was his boys first Halloween. They were fun and I wished their little family well on their first Halloween adventure. I love my neighborhood.

My least favorite part of the night? That would be when my doorbell rang TWO hours past Trick-or-Treating time. I thought I was in the clear for any other visitors for the remainder of the night. I was in my bedroom referred to as "office/junk room" and I was digging through old photo albums and singing extra loud and horribly. This room is right by my front door, so basically, if you're outside you're gonna hear me. My hair was already up in a messy bun on top of my head and I was in my sleep shirt and had taken my bra off. I was in lounge mode. To the extreme. Read: lookin' rough. R-U-F-F. And well, I'll just say that when I opened the door, I sure hope that my face didn't show what my brain was thinking because I was not thrilled to see the visitors at my door. Not my favorite of people. How did I get so lucky? Sigh.

In better news--my girl Jessica Simpson had a fun announcement today. She's going to be a mummy. Yep. J Simps is with child. 

Well. I hope all you pretty little ladies had a Happy Halloween and saw some cute Trick-or-Treaters. Now it's onto the next special day--Thanksgiving. Mmm. My favorite.

Pop Quiz, Hotshots.

This morning on the radio, the funny morning show guys asked the question: "What's the grossest fruit?" before a game segment they do each day.  The lady contestant answered "banana". To that I replied, "dumb". Bananas are fine. They're definitely not the grossest. The man said the lemon was the grossest. You're wrong. Lemons are delicious. Lemon Drops wouldn't exist without lemons, silly man.

I furrowed my brow and was in deep thought the remainder of my drive to work--for all of three minutes that it takes me to get to work. I was racking my brain about all of the fruit possibilities that exist in this huge world. Oranges, cherries, melons, peaches, plums, blackberries, figs...the list could go on and on. For some reason this question really stumped me. It made me think hard. Sadly it's probably the deepest thought I've had all day.

Now I'm not a big fruit eater. That's just a fact. I'd just much rather have artificial sweeteners. Like Cokes. And pies. And chocolate bars. That'll do for me. Fruit snacks count as a fruit though, right? Because I really like Gushers.

For real though, I like apples and pineapple and I'll eat the occasional grape and cherry, but beyond that, not really a lot of fruit eatin' going on. I mean, really. I buy apples, but only the ones that are already pre-sliced because I'm lazy. And then I ruin the fruit nutritional value by covering each apple slice with peanut butter.

Now of course I find strawberries to be totally repulsive. You all know that. They're gross to me, but everyone else that is human loves them, so what is really the grossest fruit of all time? Like if the general population had to vote and give an award to the tree or vine bearing the grossest fruit of all time--who we we vote for, guys? Who would we vote for??

I was asking my fellow teaching teammates this mind-blowing question at lunch. Ashley said the pear. To that, I completely agree. Pears have the texture of sand paper in the mouth and they taste like asphalt. Emphasis being placed on the first part of the word.
Now I've never tasted one of these, but I said that the cumquat definitely has the grossest fruit name of all time. I mean, really? Cumquat? Ew. It can be spelled as kumquat or cumquat, but of course I prefer spelling it with a 'c' because it just helps to prove my point.

So I'm asking you. Yes, YOU!

Question #1 on your quiz: What is the grossest fruit of all time?

Inquiring minds want to know. Okay, really just my mind wants to know.

Here's another question for you. I'm really making you all stretch your brains today. You can tell I'm a teacher. Okay. Here we go. Don't get scared now.

Question #2: Do you love Britney Spears or do you hate her?

I set you all up on this one. Trick question because I think that if you tell me you hate her that you're really telling me a lie. I just don't see how you can't love her. From the moment I bought her  "Baby One More Time" CD single, I was hooked.

Sure she went a little bit off the deep end for awhile, but girl has made good music through it all. I've been loving her song "I Wanna Go" for weeks now. It makes me feel good. And I can't decide if it makes me want to start dancing and wishing I was at a club or if it makes me want to start punching people in the face because I'm that amped up and "wanna go", you know? But then I think about how scared I would feel if I went to the "clubs" here in my town because there are creepy men that just stand against the walls and stare a lot. So then I decided that I'd probably combine the two fantasies and go to the "club" where I can punch people (those creepy men that stare) in the face. I'd give them something to stare at. Like my fist. What a beautiful image. And I'm putting "club" in quotations because, well, I live in Bowling Green. We don't even know what a club is here.

On another note? Have you all seen the video? Parts of it are a little strange with the paparazzi cyborgs and all, but I like it. There's this part where her get-away driver pours a carton of milk all over his face. The first time I saw it, I seriously gagged. Almost puked all over my keyboard. I mean, can you imagine what his face must have smelled like after the fact? Retch.

This brings me to Question #3:
Would you ever willingly pour a carton of milk all over your face? If Britney Spears told you to do it, would you?

And because every quiz needs a bonus...

Bonus Question:
My blog title: "Pop quiz, hotshot"...this quote is from what awesome 90s movie?

"What do you do? What. Do. You. Do?" Love that line. So dramatic.

Okay. That was too easy. Here's a real bonus question to really push you to the limits:

Why doesn't McDonald's sell hot dogs?

Chew on that.

I hope you make a 100%. Make that 110% with the two bonus questions. Good luck, pals.

It's Time to Get Rowdy...With Random Thoughts.

First of all, I want to do a special shout out for THIS girl, Andi. Last week she blogged about my blog and I must say, it was very flattering. She sent some new followers my way too, so I'm going to say a big, "Hey ladies, I like you all" to my new friends. Andi, if I could wrap up a box and fill it with friendship and mail it to you, that's exactly what I would do.

So she seriously said the nicest things about me. She was definitely makin' me blush. She said that she thought I was funny, which I very much appreciate. It actually humors me that other people find me funny. It tickles me so. But let me tell you. It's kind of some pressure. I feel like my hands are sweatin' on this keyboard right now as I type. Let's hope I can deliver. It's not going to be a trip to Home Goods, but we can't have it be crazy fun and games all the time.

On an extra serious note, I want to wish all of the federal employees out there a Happy Columbus Day. You are the lucky ducks that benefit from good old Christopher's crazy shenanigans. I don't believe in teaching about Columbus because, I mean, what's he done for me? He sure doesn't give me a day off. I'm kidding. Well, sort of. I usually do a little day of Columbus factoids and a craft with my students but it honestly slipped my mind today. I was still in my fall break coma. I didn't really even know where I was until about 10:30 today. And that's sad considering I'd already been at school for a few hours.

I was so dang happy last week. Like I've already said 52 billion times, I was on fall break all week. I love my school childrens with each one of my little heartstrings, but it was time for a break. I'll say it again. It was time. TIME. I didn't go on a trip anywhere last week which ended up being just fine with me. I kept myself plenty busy just livin' my life. I did some things around my house that I've been putting off. Boring stuff like pulling weeds and trimming the hedges in my front yard. And laundry.
I just love having a week off. Period. I love being at home and not really having a schedule. I swear my calling is to be a bum. To be able to just hang around the house, watch TV, eat snacks, peruse the internet, read, and hang out with my pals. That's all I want to do, and buddy, you better believe that's exactly what I did.

So I've had this nasty stomach thing going on for a few weeks. I finally broke down and went to the doctor last week because I took a turn for the worse. It felt so good writing those words. I just wanted to add in some extra drama and "taking a turn for the worse" does it every single time. Okay, so really it wasn't that serious, but I was having major stomach cramps, wasn't sleeping well, and certain "issues" had kicked it up a notch or 10. Not everyone in the world is as comfortable with poop talk like I am, so I'll just leave it at that and let you draw your own conclusions. I have some kind of diagnosed funk and am on an antibiotic and Nexium. I have to report back to my doc and let him know if the drugs are doing their thang. So far...they're not really doing it.
The problems really come after I eat something. This is where it gets dramatic. For real. You all know me and how much I love my food. The joy has been taken out of my meals recently because I just get sick afterwards. My life is over.

Speaking of poop, have you all seen that Clorox commercial? A little boy yells, "Mommy, I went poo-poo!". The Mom goes in the bathroom and looks in the toilet and sees nothing. She asks the little boy where and he points to the bathtub. Hilarious. It just reminds me of life in kindergarten. We have those moments when we think the kids are getting so close to the target, but then we discover they're still so far away at times. I love it.

I will be the first to admit that I have a real, full on addiction to Coke. Sometimes I think I like hearing the crack of the can and the fizz more than the actual drinking of the Coke itself. You know, kind of how smokers say it's more of the sensation of smoking and how the cigarette feels in their hand. So basically I'm addicted to opening aluminum cans.

So we just had an Ulta open in our mall. I spent $90 there last weekend. Oiy. I love makeup. I broke down and bought the Urban Decay Naked eye pallette. It's as great as I thought it would be. I also bought a sample kit of some Smashbox things. I've decided Smashbox makeup is what angels probably use if makeup is worn in heaven. I mean, if J.C. wears makeup, that's probably what He wears too. It's that great and has easily become my new favorite stuff.

The 10 year high school reunion was this past weekend. Oh the drama. And yet so much fun. I'll save that post for another time.

Well friends, I could probably keep spewing out more nonsense, but I'll wrap it up here. Thanks for visiting. Until we meet again...

An Uncomfortable Embrace.

I just want you all to study this picture for a minute. 

Are you feeling uncomfortable yet? There's so much that's wrong about this picture that I want to talk about. Let's start with the creepy mustache man. First of all, he's embracing a younger boy and his eyes are closed. He appears to be a little too into it. And his hands are interlocked around the boy as though he's planning on lingering in that position a little longer than he probably should. Now, the younger boy isn't doing much better. He's really into it too. And his arms are up around the man's neck. Who hugs like that? I mean, maybe they're dancing instead of hugging...

Here's a neat fact: this picture is in a test booklet that is given to kindergarten students. Every time that I give this test, I just feel uncomfortable when I get to this question. This picture is in the listening comprehension portion of the test and I say, "The boy is hugging Grandmother" or some crap like that and the kids are supposed to pick the picture of the boy hugging grandma. There are 4 picture choices and the boy hugging smiling mustache man is one of the other choices that's thrown in. If this picture were the answer, I'd probably have to say, "Mark the picture of the two males having an awkward and inappropriate embrace."

We just took this particular reading test a couple of weeks ago and as I was grading the booklets I talked to my Assistant about this picture and just how wrong it seems. She was saying that she's never observed her own husband and son's hugs to ever resemble anything close to this. She said, "I don't know what I would do if I saw them do that, you know, with their arms wrapped around each other like that. That's just not natural." I said, "I know what you'd do. You'd tell them to never, ever do that again".

Is there a Peanut Butter Fish?

Woo doggies! Y'all, I am T-I-R-E-D. I'm barely keeping up with life at the moment, let alone my poor blog. This makes me have a sad face because I have missed writing for fun. Between my job, grad school, and my stinkin' 10 year high school reunion committee obligations (which is almost OVER! Praise J.C. from whom all blessings flow)--I've been staying busy the past couple weeks. But enough about all of that.  I don't need to be a "Gloomy Gus", as my friend Rose Nylund would say. Instead, I will share a couple of stories from my day that made me smile.

Story #1: This week in my classroom we've been doing an ocean theme. The kids have been really into learning about different sea creatures and we've made some crafts along the way for extra fun times. The past couple days we have been working on making Jellyfish [see Exhibit A].

Exhibit A:

The kids painted them and I have had the fun job of assembling these bad boys. I was finishing them up today and one of my little friends sat down beside me and started talking to me.

He said, "I like Jellyfish. They're so yummy."

Me: "What do you mean 'they're yummy'?"

Boy: "You know. Jellyfish squirt jelly out."

And then the thunder inside of my brain clapped together and it all became clear where he was going with this. A smile stretched across my face and I then proceeded to ask him about how much he liked jelly and we discussed how delicious of a delicacy it is.

Then, (and this is the best part) he looked at me dead serious and asked, "Are there peanut butter fish?"

So next time you want to make a PBJ, just go throw your line out into the ocean and catch a peanut butter fish and Jellyfish. Bam.

I love how literal little kids are. I love that he thinks we get jelly from Jellyfish. And I love that he thinks somewhere out in the ocean blue there might possibly be a little fish that squirts out peanut butter.

Story #2:
Another one of my boys has parents that own a nail shop in town. This child looked at my Assistant's fingernails today and said, "You need a full set". I then showed him my nails and asked what I needed. He shielded his eyes, as if his retinas were burning, and pretty much did the old 'talk to the hand' motion and looked away.

Oh kids. Well, that's all I've got for now. Hopefully those stories made you smile a little bit.
I only have 2 more days until I get a week off for Fall Break! Raise the Roof.

A night full of disappointments.

This post has absolutely no point whatsoever. I'm basically just writing this as a form of procrastination. I will be rambling about my evening. Which was very boring. And consisted of a trip to Wal-Mart. Yes. You probably want to start poking your eyeballs because that will probably be more fun for your eyes than having them read the following words. Enjoy, eyeballs.

I was in an okay mood until I had to go to Wal-Mart tonight. That will ruin me every single time. It's pretty much guaranteed. Guaranteed like Wal-Mart's low prices. I only go to Wal-Mart for certain things. One of these instances is big purchase trips. Example: My pantry and fridge are completely bare and I need to buy food from every single food aisle. Usually every item from the toiletry section is being snatched up on these trips as well because we all know that we run out of toothpaste, tampons, and razor refills at the exact same time. The other instance I'll go is if I need an item that I know only Wal-Mart carries.
I hate Wal-Mart so much though that I will do an online in-stock search before I go to the store just to make sure that the item I really need is in stock and on the shelf. I kid not. I've done it. I do it.
Let's say you have a hankerin' for a certain brand of ice cream bars and that's the only reason you're going to Wal-Mart because Kroger doesn't carry them. Before you risk ruining your whole night by going to Wal-Mart, get on Walmart.com and search for those puppies. In stock. Bam. Get in your car and go. Limited Stock, that's kinda dicey. I wouldn't risk it. Not in stock. That's easy. Your butt is staying home.

You might be thinking, what a silly person to go to Wal-Mart just for ice cream bars. I'm not that sad, guys. I didn't go to Wal-Mart just for ice cream bars. I went to Wal-Mart just for muffins. So there. And I wish I was joking about that, but I went to buy muffins for my students and I knew Kroger didn't have them. Only Wal-Mart. I hope my students know how much I love them. What is even more sad is that I went in for muffins and walked out spending $40. I'm such an impulse buyer. Those were some pretty expensive muffins...

After Wal-Mart I thought to myself, "Self, you deserve a coffee treat after what your eyeballs just had to look at--like the big lady in the Rascal with the fly swarming around her greasy head in front of you while in line". So I thought I'd try out Dunkin Donuts Pumpkin Latte to see how it stood up to Starbucks. I like doing taste test experiments. It actually was pretty good. My biggest surprise was the size of the cup. I ordered a small since I wasn't sure if I would love it or hate it. I figured I would hate it, so a small it was. When the Dunkin guy handed me my cup I said, "Are you serious?". He looked really scared and said, "What!?!" I then proceeded to tell him that they weren't joking around with the whole 'small' thing. He asked if I wanted another size. I think he could tell I was a girl that was about to get huffy. He probably knew I had just come from Wal-Mart. I forced a smile and told him no thank you. I would enjoy my shot of coffee.

I mean, look at the size of this cup. When I got home I told Daisy (my dog) I had gotten her a cup of coffee. It's dog sized. I mean, the coffee sleeve is too big for it.

Daisy was terrified of this little baby cup of coffee. She had never seen anything like it. 

Dog-sized and small jar candle sized coffee. How cute. Not.

Here's one more thing that was unfortunate about my Dunkin experience this evening. The guy that was working in the drive-thru window was an okay looking lad. His voice completely ruined him though. He had an unusually high voice. It wasn't a Jack from Will&Grace voice. It was just an 'I never went through puberty' kinda voice. I was sad for him. So I suppose that's the real reason I didn't have him make me a bigger size coffee. He's had it hard enough.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. What dummy said that anyway?

A teacher at my school shared the article, "What teachers really want to tell parents". If you're a teacher, a parent, or just a living thing, consider reading it.

Click HERE to read the CNN article.

And because I can't just post a link for an article and let that be it, I had to add in my two cents also about why I loved this article so.

During any given school year, I have 75 or more people (this is both students and parents) that I have to keep happy. That's a lot of responsibility. It's a big job. And I do it because I love it. And the majority of all of the parents that I have had the privilege of getting to know during the past six years have supported me, respected me, and some have even befriended me. My life has truly been changed for the better because of many of the families that I have gotten to know through teaching their child(ren).

However. [Cue the dramatic Lifetime movie music when an evil, psychotic villain enters the scene.] Sometimes you have that one person that enters your life and runs a muck. One negative person that can be heard over all of the other positive voices. One negative person that you let affect your thoughts and take up your head space. I've dealt with this one person. Some of you can probably relate. I sure hope not, but because it's life, some of you know all too well what I'm talking about.

I am purposely going to be vague about the situation, the school year, and the person involved because, well, I don't want for this person to come after me. Kidding. Just have to be conscious about what I post. You all get that.

Let's rewind to the past. During this particular school year, I had a class that I loved to pieces. I had some fabulous families that were so good to me. I formed friendships with some of the mothers of my students and still keep in contact with them.
But there's that 'however', remember? I had one parent that wore. me. out. I felt like I could do nothing right in the eyes of this parent. I would receive handwritten notes that were 2+ pages long. I received lengthy emails. Phone calls. If she had a messenger dove, I would have received hate mail that way too. This parent did nothing short of verbally abuse me all school year long. I know the term bully is thrown around loosely nowadays, but this person was truly a bully.
It was one thing after another. And to be honest, her complaints were usually about nothing at all. They made no point. They had no particular rhyme or reason. She just used me as her target. She attacked me to make up for her shortcomings as a parent. For every single thing that she did or didn't do for her child, she some how threw it back on me and made it someone else's (my) fault. This parent was the complete opposite of a proactive adult.
I tried to be strong. I tried to roll her words off my back. I couldn't. This person made me cry. Many times. She made me worry. She made me physically ill. She was a huge source of stress in my life.

Sadly, this person took away a little piece of me. She took some of my self-confidence. Made me doubt myself. I have NEVER had anyone treat me as horribly as this person did. And sadly, she still to this day has no idea how much she affected my life. How much she drained me. How much she caused me to worry and stress over her and the things that she said or did.
Luckily, she's out of my direct life now. She's moved on to another teacher--another target. She's still writing notes. Still attacking with her words. And I hate that she feels that she has the power and the right to speak to any other person the way that she spoke and treated me. It's not right. It should not be allowed.

All of that was to say that the article that I linked above was powerful and meaningful for me. It spoke to me and slightly fired me up a little bit. My favorite part of the article was this:

"We know you love your children. We love them, too. We just ask -- and beg of you -- to trust us, support us and work with the system, not against it. We need you to have our backs, and we need you to give us the respect we deserve. Lift us up and make us feel appreciated, and we will work even harder to give your child the best education possible.

That's a teacher's promise, from me to you."

And all the teachers said, "AMEN!".