Tripping the Light Fanspastic

One of the reasons that teaching is so stressful (really, it is!) is that there are always at least 25 pairs of judgmental eyes staring at you all day long.  Just waiting for you to make a mistake.  Wear something ugly.  Get a zit on the end of your nose.  Or, trip over the cord that runs from your desk to the wall that you must step over every time you try to squeeze through the six inches separating your desk from their desks while wearing heels.  So this happened yesterday.  Of course, the snarky annoying girl saw me do it and started laughing.  I started laughing, too.  Then I feared they might think I'm drunk. 

At the end of day I get a text from a guy who used to work there, who admitted to me that he was a sex addict who liked to go to sex clubs in his spare time.  He told me this at lunch.  The second time that he hung out with me.  (The first time he decided to ask me out.)  He then told me that he has huge gambling debts, is in recovery for drug/alcohol abuse, his parents have to pay all his bills, and he is in intense therapy.  He then asked me out again.  This really wasn't even one of my worst lunches at this job!  But back to the creepy text.  He said that a student had updated their facebook status to:  "Dramazon tripped again today in class.  It made my life."  Before I even get to this, I really must draw attention to the fact that he sent the text immediately after she posted it.  Why was he checking this teenager's fb page at 2:30 pm? 

Anygrossy, I was a little shocked that this particular student posted this.  She always seemed so nice.  And then people started commenting on her status.  Students that I didn't even know "Like[d] This."  And then students who I had also previously thought were nice started chiming in about how they wished they'd seen it.  And one even put "lol. TIMBERRRR!"  Nice, right?  Too bad they can kiss their stupid letters of recommendation goodbye. 

I was still feeling very self-conscious all day today.  I was telling one class about some grammar websites and instead of saying Hunter College, well, I switched the first letters around.  FML!  And of course, I remember that they are all fb fans of "I think it's so funny when my teacher says something dirty and doesn't realize it."

Philosophy: I Kant

Weekend was decent.  Went out last night and had a ball.  And just in case you were wondering, instead of wearing a shirt, I wore an actual slip, from an actual Anthropologie sleepwear section, as a dress.  (But I wore a boxy jacket over it, so it wasn't too slutty.)  And I put up a blurry pic of myself because I am not entirely comfortable with being clear. 

My friend and I attracted some characters before we even got in the door at the bar.  They were fun/harmless, so we hung with them all night.  One of their friends was an older guy who told me he was a philosophy professor.  I asked him what he specialized in, and he started rattling off the usual Husserl, Hegel, Heidegger  stuff.  He trailed off, assuming I was a dumb blonde.  And then I asked, "So, what do you think of Zizek?"  BAM!  He picked up his jaw and replied that he'd hung out with him about a year ago and thought he was fantastic.

I pretty much spent the rest of the night dorking out with the professor.  I regret that I didn't dance, but I did get to use some fancy words.  I will dance next weekend.

If I Go Missing

One way that I entertain myself at work is by ignoring the Spanish teachers' attempts to make me speak Spanish.  I don't correct their grammar, so why do they feel the need to force me to speak a foreign language in their presence?  It usually goes like this:  "Hola, chica!  Como estas?"    "Hi.  Fine.  How are you?"  They get so pissed!  So funny.  But they never give up. 

Anyway, one of these annoying Spanish teachers has now switched to annoying history teacher.  Somehow I've been living a few streets down from him for the past year and a half and didn't notice it 'til he saw me take his exit a few weeks ago.  He told me last week that he put his kid and wife in the car and actually admitted to driving down my street to look for my car because he wanted to know where I lived??  WTF? 
1) Why would you do this?
2) Why would you admit to doing this?
3) Why would you add the detail about bringing your family with you? (Maybe because you know how creepy you sound?)

¡Ay caramba!

A Little Game I Like to Play

It's called "This is Why I'm Single."  It began with my friend joking about how she had a guy over to her condo and gave him a tour.  When she got to the spare bedroom she said, "This is the nursery. Let me know if you think we should change the paint color."  I'm somewhat sure she was only joking.

So I'm shopping today and I am in Victoria's Secret.  I always feel a little uncomfortable in this store, b/c what if a student sees me buying slutty things?  Or a sensible bra?  Gross!  Glancing around furtively, I notice some sale undies.  They were white with "Bride" in blue letters on the butt.  And I wanted to buy them b/c I thought it'd be so funny to be hooking up with a guy for the first time and have him see that you're wearing those.

(These weren't the ones I was looking at!) Who the eff wears granny panties on their wedding night? (Susan.) That would be kinda funny, too...

Another thing that makes me uncomfortable are the minivans with the little stick figures stickers of their family and pets.  So weird.  Why would you want some pedophile to know how many kids you have?  And some people even put their names on their rear windows.  Didn't these parents grow up in the 80s when that kid was abducted from a mall in broad daylight?

*Slight divergence: This brings me back to when I was four and some HBO movie about an ice cream man abducting children came out.  Well, the ice cream man rolled past our house and I was too shy to tell him to wait while I went to raid my Klondike fund.  By the time I found two quarters, bitch was already four streets away.  Well, I obviously took off running after him.  Finally caught up with him and he was all, "Duh, why didn't you tell me to wait by your house?"  So I get my ice cream and I turn around and my parents are sitting there in the car, fuming.  You'd think their relief about my safety would keep them from yelling.  You'd be wrong.

Back to the stick figure decals.  I think it'd be funny to put one woman sticker and like 80 cat stickers all over my back window.

Lost Weekend and Sunglasses

So I'm waiting to go to P/T so I thought I'd update my three readers on my weekend.  Let's see, Friday: stayed in.  Saturday, worked on improving my new hobby of taking classy-dirty pictures of myself.  Then I went out with Amber.  Now, something that I will definitely miss about S. FL is that I can wear what basically amounts to a top as a dress, some tights, and leather boots and still not be considered a slut based on what everyone else is wearing. 

See, all she needs are some tights and she will not look whorish in S. FL.  Went to a new club and three different (dorky/ugly) guys said "god damn!" when I walked past them (without looking down to make eye contact).  What, exactly, do they expect me to do?  Are they commenting on the fact that I am a giant?  Because, if you see a hot girl, you'd probably try to say something nice to her.  Not shout something as she walks by, right?  But I will take it as a compliment.

After that, we went to this bar that used to be my favorite place, because they played music that I like.  But then some pimply-faced teen with a Mac started dj'ing, and he sucks.  But last night they were playing The Pixies, The Ramones, and I even did a little fist pumping to Fugazi.  I danced (by myself) 'til about 4 a.m.  On the way back to the car, this rather aggressive lesbian let me know that she liked Amber, and if I ever needed someone to go to bat on her, she would love to make that happen.  Uhm, okay. 

On Sunday I went to a dinner party.  It was great, except I got sick when I came home.  And then threw up this morning, too. 

Today I decided to use my Starbucks gift card at the B&N Starbucks.  Except I got sidetracked and grabbed a copy of Zizek's latest.  And, because I didn't want anyone to think I was too pretentious, I also bought an awesome astrology book.  My friend at school is going to be so pissed because he will want to borrow the Zizek book immediately.  When I tell him he can borrow it, but that I can't get into it until I finish my astrology book, he will have an apoplectic fit.  Which is pretty much my main goal.  Of course, I forgot to use my gift card, and then I didn't have my school i.d., so I had to pay full price for everything.  Lame!

Then, I found a pair of tortoise shell wayfarers on sale.  This is a major coup because I have loved these sunglasses ever since I found them out in the ocean when I was ten years old.  Since I'd found them so unexpectedly, I didn't feel like getting out to put them back on my towel for safekeeping, and dove under a wave and immediately lost them again.  Then two summers ago, I found a pair of wayfarers in my sister's car.  I said if no one claimed them by the end of the summer, they would be mine.  I had that pair for about a month before they disappeared. 

Okay, gotta run to P/T!

Pain "Management"

I could no longer ignore my stiff neck/back and throbbing shoulder which were the result of a car accident two months ago.  So I started up with P/T last weekend, and I got to see my favorite massage therapist, Joan.  Joan is a little Jamaican woman who, sadly, has touched my body more than anyone else has.  As this is my third accident, I'm no stranger to her claws of punishment.

Everyone thinks that it's sooo great to get a massage two or three times a week.  They are wrong, because the reality is that you spend 25 minutes squirming and trying not to scream as someone jams their elbow into your unsuspecting buttocks.  And the music is always Enya.  Or whale songs?  And the lotion.  Joan loves lotion which smells faintly of hippie onions.  There is no other way to describe it.  The scent isn't onion outright, but some sort of hippie/oniony smell.  And it gets in my hair because she likes to rub it behind my ears. 

Joan wasn't there last weekend.  But someone from the Eastern Bloc was.  I knew from her accent that her people were no stranger to centuries of pain; therefore, I too, would know great suffering for the next 25 minutes.  I'm always a little weirded out because at one point they ask you to turn over to massage your front.  And you don't want them looking at your chest, but you don't want them to think that you're thinking that they're trying to look, so you end up hurting your shoulder more,  as you try to turn while simultaeneously shielding your front and keeping yourself from rolling right off the table.

My new physcial therapist is one of those guys who brags about having a permit to carry.  He also showed me his headshots from the 80s.

Other Current Obsessions

SexInfo101 is my new favorite site. Especially the 3D positions section. It is a comedic gold mine. And, I guess if you're one of those people who has sex on a regular basis, you might use it for things other than a good laugh. This site is NSFW, obvi. Unless you work at Cosmo.  Speaking of Cosmo, if you've ever wanted to have sex on a surfboard, but weren't sure how, today is your lucky day: Surf's Up (of course it's called that).

Stuff I Like in the New Year

the-XX-VCR
by fluctuat

The xx are one of my new favorite bands. Not as angsty as my usual choices, but still good. This video is boring, so just listen to the song and try not to be pissed that your parents sold your Fischer-Price toy piano from back in the day.



This video is Angus and Julia Stone. They're Australian, if that makes you appreciate this more. Watch for the elephant. Big thanks to Jenni for telling me about both bands!!