• What I’m Reading

  

• Recent Comments

  • Noelle on One Week In
  • Michelle | Bleeding Espresso on Livin’ In Suburban Paradise
  • bee on One Week In
  • The Modern Gal on One Week In
  • courtney on One Week In

• Archives

  • September 2010
  • August 2010
  • July 2010
  • June 2010
  • May 2010
  • April 2010
  • March 2010
  • February 2010
  • January 2010
  • December 2009
  • November 2009
  • October 2009
  • September 2009
  • August 2009
  • July 2009
  • June 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • March 2009
  • February 2009
  • January 2009
  • December 2008
  • November 2008
  • October 2008
  • September 2008
  • August 2008
  • July 2008
  • June 2008
  • May 2008
  • April 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • January 2008
  • December 2007
  • November 2007
  • October 2007
  • September 2007
  • August 2007
  • July 2007
  • June 2007
  • May 2007
  • April 2007
  • March 2007
  • February 2007
  • January 2007
  • December 2006
  • November 2006
  • October 2006
  • September 2006
  • August 2006
  • July 2006
  • June 2006
  • May 2006
  • April 2006
  • March 2006
  • February 2006
  • January 2006
  • December 2005
  • November 2005
  • October 2005

Dear Readers,

I wish I had planned some grand finale to the MOM, a piece de resistance that would keep you entertained and amused for hours. Days, even. Alas, this week has blown me away with it’s supreme normalcy and so I’ve got nothing. It also doesn’t help that I’ve been deaf in one ear for days (allergies), so even if exciting gossip was going down all around me I would likely miss it. Ehh, who am I kidding? The only gossip I hear is which 8th graders made out behind the pizza place last week.

I also kind of wish I had some kind of December schedule for you, a theme of sorts (not that I was particularly good at sticking with the last theme). Christmas is obviously out… unless I feel compelled to write about just how annoying it is. Halloween and Thanksgiving are old news. New Years blows. So you may get lucky and I will simply continue to write all about the crazy hijinx this media specialist gets up to*.

I know you’re all just itching to leave comments indicating fascinating topics I could (and should) discuss. Topics that may enrich our “relationship”. Even topics of global importance. Please don’t.

To recap November: I rule.

NPW

*For example: yesterday, at the Principal’s behest, I set up the most gi-normous projection screen you could fathom. I made the mistake of asking a senior citizen volunteer to help me. I’m lucky I still have the fingers on my left hand, let’s just leave it at that. It’s a dangerous biz, but someone’s got to do it.

Today I am thankful that I am still alive after yet another harrowing library adventure.

Around noon I was half-crushed by an avalanche of 900’s crashing down from broken shelves onto my hapless body. My legs were pinned beneath piles of books on Flags of the World and Greek and Roman mythology. I was bruised and battered by Heraldry and Coats of Arms. I thought I would have to saw my arm off at the elbow using only a scotty peeler as it lay twisted and useless under Belize and Argentina.

As I lay there silently weeping at my plight (and cursing my luck that I wasn’t buried in the 790’s- avalanche safety), I had a vision: I would come through this and live to shelve again. I had to find the will to carry on. I called for help until a senior citizen volunteer turned on her hearing aid and heard me. Since she could barely lift one of the books, let alone my broken body, she ran (shuffled) to the main office to get some help.

Was it sabotage? Or an unfortunate mishap? Were the shelves rigged by the former librarian, a booby trap intended to finish off anyone trying to change her library’s layout? I suppose we’ll never know. Thank goodness the school nurse has ace bandages and emergency medical training, or I might not have survived to tell you about it. And even though I might be a little concussed I will still drag myself to the faculty meeting after school, that’s how dedicated I am to this position.

From now on, the students are doing the shelving. They’re a little more expendable.

Today I am thankful for my parents. They’ve always tried to give me everything they could, and they’ve been supportive of even my most foolish fancies. To illustrate this:

The first concert I ever went to was none other than the super stars of the 80’s, New Kids on the Block. My loving parents bought me tickets for my birthday when I was in the 5th grade and my sister and I puff painted our t-shirts and Keds and got ourselves geared up to meet Jordan and Joey, the men of our 10 year-old dreams. We kissed our NKOTB pillowcases before we left.

Of course we never did end up meeting them, since 30,000 other girls in the area had basically the same plan as us. But we did manage the second best thing: the New Kids hotline. What’s more brilliant than a 900 number where you can have a private chat with your fave New Kid? I just know Jordan was waiting by the phone for me to call. So one day while my older cousin was babysitting us, my sister and I waited until she was elbow-deep in cookie dough and hotfooted it to the phone to call up our respective beaus. We had a grand old time, chatting it up with the electronic version of the talented performance artists. 75 minutes later we finally got hungry and the smell of cookies reached our noses, so we headed back downstairs.

A month later my aunt got the $75 bill for our talking jag and made my cousin iron a shirt for every dollar of that bill. To this day my cousin will not let me forget about the time she played wingman so I could chat with Jordan Knight. Let me tell you, friends: it was worth every penny.

I thought it appropriate with Turkey Day right around the corner to regale you with a food story of my own. This is the story of why I never, ever drink ginger ale.

You know how when you cook bacon in a frying pan, all the grease is left over? And you pour it into a plastic cup when it’s cooled down a little bit so that it can harden and you can throw it away? Well one morning, my mother had made breakfast and she did just that. I came downstairs to the kitchen a little while later and spotted the cup of golden liquid on the counter. “Oooh, yum”, I thought, “I’ll just have a little sip of my mother’s ginger ale!”. And I took a giant gulp of tepid bacon fat. Three days later my tongue and throat was still coated in a layer of grease that made everything taste vaguely porcine.

Now, I’m sure I know what you’re thinking- why doesn’t she stop eating bacon instead? Why stop drinking ginger ale? But my strange brain associated that experience with the ginger ale and I have never been able to stomach it since.

Happy eating, everyone!

Please enjoy this MadLib I did with Strong Bad at www.homestarrunner.com. I know I did.

The other day I was at school eating my books when out of nowhere came this crazy guy. I could tell he had serious water problems from the get-go. His nose was all slimy and stank like Scott Foley. A paper was hanging out of his pants. He fell down in a puddle of vodka. I laughed my toe off.

Comment #1: This entire scenario sounds like a dream I might have.
Comment #2: Considering how cute he is, I’d imagine that Scott Foley would actually smell quite nice.
Comment #3: If there were puddles of vodka at school I’d probably fall down in them too. On purpose, no less.

What could be more appropriate to celebrate my birth month than the newest installment of Harry Potter movies being released? Goblet of Fire promises to be the best yet, and from the looks of the trailer I would have to agree.

If you had to say you had a crush on any of the HP characters, which would it be? I’m going to go with Ron, even though in the movies he tends to look like a dope. Although, I did not like Ron as much in Book 4 as, say, Book 6. I’m also a fan of Cedric Diggory, but we all know his fate so I won’t go there.

I also went online to the Sorting Hat to see which house I’d be placed in. It was Gryffindor, obviously. But I just wanted to make sure… I only accept the best. (Oh, and at the wand shop my wand was Phoenix feather, Holly, 10 inches. Nice.)

And yes, I know I’m a nerd. Get over it. Why do you think I’m a librarian?

As part of the month of me, I feel compelled to include my favorite movie of all time: Dirty Dancing.

Dirty Dancing is certainly the best film ever created. I can see the eyes rolling. I can hear the cries: “What about the Godfather? What about Citizen Kane? Casablanca?!” This is my reply: the first time I watched Dirty Dancing my mother revealed to me that Patrick Swayze is my real father. Any movie that can make an otherwise sane woman tell such a blatant lie, any movie that has such power over you that you tell your impressionable pre-teen daughter such a thing… well, that’s what movies are all about. Escape, fantasy, romance, Dirty Dancing has it all. And although it’s been years since I actually believed my mother, I still hold a tiny grudge against my father for not being able to Mambo.

For those of you who don’t know, Dirty Dancing is the story of Baby and Johnny’s summer romance at a resort in the Catskills. It is a secret affair, since Baby is a guest of the resort and Johnny is merely the poor dance instructor. But the dirty dancing going on in the staff quarters brings them inexorably together, and when Johnny’s regular dance partner gets knocked up and can’t perform at the big summer show, Baby steps in to learn the dances and save the day. When Baby’s parents find out she’s been sneaking around with Johnny, things come crashing down and Johnny is fired from his job. Can Johnny prove what a good guy he is to Baby’s ultra-conservative father?

It’s the most 80’s 60’s movie ever. Even with her new nose, Jennifer Grey remains the icon of my teenage world.

Check out bunnyhero, it’s pretty cute. And I’m all about the cute. By the way, did you know bunnies can’t vomit?

Today was “Mix It Up” Day at school. It seemed like a cute idea, the kids dressed in completely mismatched outfits and did their hair in crazy fashions. They wore one slipper and one sneaker. Golf pants and button downs. Skirts over jeans. But the big mix-up was scheduled for lunch time. The plan was to have the kids reach into a bag and pull out a piece of candy. Then they’d sit at the table that corresponded to the candy, effectively “mixing up” the normal lunch tables and forcing to kids to interact with people they didn’t normally talk to.

It seemed to be going well- until I glanced at the table in the far corner, crammed in next to the soda machine. This was apparently the Nerds table. And in a tragi-comedic twist of fate, it seemed every kid that had pulled a package of Nerds candy was, in fact, a nerd. So I went and sat with them. There’s no place like home.

Next Page →

• Blogroll

  • And You Know What Else
  • As I Was Saying
  • blakspring
  • Breathe Gently
  • Bright Yellow World
  • Daily Tannenbaum
  • Definitely RA
  • Du Wax Loolu
  • Everyday Reading
  • Flurrious
  • Free and Flawed
  • Full of Snark
  • Funky Carter
  • Heidikins
  • LizLand
  • Malfeasance
  • metalia
  • More Than A Mermaid
  • Nothing But Bonfires
  • Operation Pink Herring
  • Pat and Fran
  • Slynnro
  • Stefanie Says
  • Subject to Change
  • The Greenists
  • The Prettiest Denny’s Waitress
  • The Typing Makes Me Sound Busy
  • Tiny Tangents
  • What You Think It Is
  • Working Title

• Meta

  • Log in
  • Entries RSS
  • Comments RSS
  • WordPress.org
• Search for: