Why I'm an Idiot and Other News

There is no other news.  I am an idiot.  Here's why:

1.  I really enjoy deleting guys' numbers from my list of contacts.  It gives me an incredible sense of satisfaction and power.  It keeps me from making poor decisions late at night.  Usually.

I thought I had deleted Arrogant Guy's number after he hadn't called me within a week.  And with the computer guy's home and work numbers, my neighbor's number (more about that later), and the constant string of new numbers from my ex who is incapable of handling the responsibility of having a real phone, there were a bunch of unsaved, unfamiliar numbers popping up on my phone.  So the text that I got which had some lyric from a stupid song, and some stupid setiment written underneath said stupid lyric, must be from AG since I'm irresistible.  So when I wrote back some nerdy retorts (why can't I learn my lesson and BE NICE to guys?), it took me all of two replies to realize that now I was texting my ex.  Bad.  Very bad.  Because now he won't leave me alone even though I texted him that I thought he was a different guy.  The ex called me last night to see if he could crash on my couch because, through no fault of his own, he is currently homeless.  If I had just checked my contacts, and seen that I hadn't deleted AG's number, this could have all been avoided.

(from expatbrazil wordpress)

2.  Went out in Wilton Manors last night.  Now for those of you not in the no-no, this is like the east coast version of The Castro.  So I'm surrounded by gay men and no one is paying attention to me.  I get drunk.  I get bored.  I pick up my phone.  Decide to text my professor who lives in WM and say "Hey, I know you probably hate me but I'm down in WM.  Would like to see you now that I'm free from that awful school."  I figured he would have my number saved under "Super Needy Unhinged Thesis Student Don't Answer Under Any Circumstances."  I waited to hear back.  Got a text this morning from him asking "who is this??"  I suddenly realized that if he hadn't saved my number, I might look like a former student who was in love with him and finally wanted to let him know now that I'd graduated and it wouldn't be awkward.  Super fun!

More later.  The sun is shining for the first time in months; I'm headed to the beach.

It's Not Materialism if You're Working Out

For Valentine's Day I received a hot water heater leak all over my bathroom floor.  So romantic.  I am currently waiting for someone to call me about getting it to work for 3.5 more months until I move.  I will not buy a new one!  Even if it means that I cart me, my laundry, and my dishes to your house/shower for the next 3.5 months.  Stock up on some good shampoo, please.  I like Frederic Fekkai or Biolage.

Speaking of stocking up, here are some things you should buy if you're a girl:

1.  lululemon athletica Wunder Groove Crop Pants.  Yes, they are like $70 for sweat pants.  But you can find them for sale on the clearance rack sometimes.  If you have a huge ass, they will make it look firmer and smaller.  If you have a flat ass, they will make it look a little rounder and bigger.  And, they're reversible, so you get two pairs which makes paying full price more manageable.  Make sure you get the Wunder/Groove combo ones, because the material is better than just the Groove.  I didn't bother trying on the pants, because even if they say they're long, they never are.

2.  Reebok Easy Tone RUNNING Shoes.  Everyone has been freaking out about these walking shoes.  I hate to walk.  I am too impatient and competitive.  And even though I am on injured reserve for the next few months, I am thinking positive, so I bought the new running ones.  Perhaps it's only the placebo effect, but shoe stores can't keep the Easy Tones in-stock.  (My friend ordered them online and her order was refunded without explanation.)  Now, I have only walked around in them, but they definitely made me more aware of my posture.  They're like walking on marshmallows, not in the sense that they're cushy (they are), but that your balance keeps transferring from one marshmallow to the next.  I also got some inserts to help my back.  Without the insert, the ankles are too high and rub on my left ankle.  But, I've been running in really low Asics for the past two years, and that might be why they feel weird.  If you can't find them in the stores and have to order without trying them on, I would probably go half a size down if you are uncrippled and don't need orthotics. 

The best part about these shoes is that they are white with seafoam green accents.  I love seafoam green--it's very calming.  My toaster and coffee maker are seafoam green, and they make me happy whenever I look at them.  So happy in fact, that I am forsaking several books in order to fit them in my car when I move.  That way, when I'm living in my car, I can always enjoy my coffee and toast.  Sorry for the blurry picture; my camera sucks and was about to die.

I found out about these shoes on this fabulous blog that my friend told me about.  There is gross stuff about wanting to have babies, but the rest is HILARIOUS!  If you're a guy, you probably won't like it.  Here's the link:  Martinis or Diaper Genies Blog.

This Can't End Well...

I was just ensconced in my recliner (score from my parents' divorce), grading papers, and I see my neighbor saunter up to the front door.  First he shouts my name and then knocks.  I figure he wants to talk to me about my other neighbor's ridiculous new Jeep.  (I swear its tires are as large as my car and I will take pics soon to prove it.)  He wants my number.  I lived next to him for five years and he now asks me for my number?  At first, he's all friendly-like.  Saying he's having people over for dinner tonight, and would I like to come by for some dolphin?  And then he says I should have his number in case I ever need anything. 

[A little background on him before you go getting excited:  boat captain (duh), shorter than I (double duh), not really my type looks-wise (duh cubed).  When I first moved here he was hot, but had some girl with a kid living with him.  I thought it was nice of him to take care of someone else's kid, and he always got up really early for work so he may not be an alcoholic.]

Then I go to get my phone not realizing that now I will have to call him so that he will have my number.  I tell him that I usually don't do much on weeknights.  He takes this as a sign that I want to be asked to the Boat Show this weekend.  I am trying not to hyperventilate over the tactical errors I keep making.  I enter his number and call his phone.  He then wants to know if I'm still dating the ex.  I consider saying yes, but tell the truth.  He said that was good, because he didn't want to step on any toes.  F*ck f*ck f*ckity f*ck!  is all I can think at this point.  I say something about how it's getting late and I have to go to bed (it's 6:30), and shut the door.  My phone rings 30 seconds later.   I answer and he lets me know that he only called to make sure it was my number that came up on the phone.  Even though he had just left and I called it while he was standing there and it rang in his cellphone holster that was hooked to his jeans' waistband.  Oh yeah, you knew a cell phone holster would be involved.

So I'm already trying to think of excuses that won't make things awkward.  I already have the ex stalking me and leaving paintbrushes next to my car.  I don't need another stalker next door. 

Hot Dogs and Daps

Before I can tell you about hanging out with the Mob in Boca this weekend, I need to finish my date story.

So this guy describes himself as half mad-scientist, half political activist--it is nice to talk to someone on my side of the polictial spectrum for once.  He's pretty wealthy, but he seems to be fighting the good fight.  So speaking of fighting, the date itself was full of it.  He was extremely arrogant; I was combative in return.  He had me pegged as a country bumpkin who'd never heard of John Varvatos.  And he kept injecting sexual innuendo into each topic of conversation.  (His first email was of a video of Serge Gainesbourg that ends with his lady friend having an orgasm.  Of course I have never heard of ol' Serge.  Of course DH has, and starts yammering on about Serge's house and Francis Bacon when I tell him about this guy's first email.  The whole video thing was annoying, because if I mentioned anything sexual, arrogant guy would take it as a sign I was interested.  But if I ignore it, I'm an uptight Puritan.  DH thought the guy's hand was well-played because it took him a total of two texts and one email to bring up sex.  DH's male perspective is always right and always the exact opposite of what I'm thinking.)

So, back to my date.  Even though I'm being a bitch, I am enjoying the witty banter.  But if I were a guy, I'd be sick of me.  Or I'd be less arrogant.  But he doesn't let up, so neither do I.  He insists we go see a movie.  It was awful.  Some religious movie about angels going rogue and people turning into monsters.  He is touchy feely the entire date, and I'm wondering if he's going to kiss me.  Now, I have a very competent imagination; but try as I might, I cannot picture myself making out with him.  So I'm thinking this means I don't really like him, I only like talking politics with someone who's a fan of logic.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention he ate a HOT DOG during the movie.  !!!!  You don't eat a hot dog if you plan on kissing someone, right? 

I say I have to leave the movie and we walk out and neither of us can find our cars.  So now I'm stressed b/c I have to get up really early and it's going to take 20 mins. to get home.  The security guard drives us around and we find my car.  He hops in mine ("surprised it's not a Subaru, since all teachers drive Subarus"), and I drop him off at his car, which is surrounded by teenagers.  He gives me daps as he gets out of the car.  The end.

So I relay all of this to DH and inform him that Daps hasn't called.  I kick myself for being so combative.  Why can't I be nicer?  Why do I care?  He ate a hotdog?   DH says that right now Daps has other options that require less effort, and that he will re-enter the picture once his other options don't pan out.  And sure enough, Daps sent me a text tonight.  I didn't respond.  Thoughts?

What the Hell Kind of Parallel Van Halen Universe Do You Live In?

Okay, so I have a lot to catch you guys up on because my computer got a virus because its vapid owner was trying to click on a picture to see what kind of drugs Lindsay Lohan was on.  I had been wanting to write about this topic for the last few weeks, but kind of hoped more interesting things to talk about would come up.  But everything that keeps happening seems to revolve around this subject:  teacher fantasies.  This is all anyone wants to talk about lately.  Is it because everyone in Florida is completely depraved?  Be patient--I'll be jumping around a lot as I catch you up on the last two weeks.

When I went into work a few weeks ago to gloat about the Zizek book, my plan was foiled because my friend had had something bad happen in his family.   I even offered to let him have the book before I read it, but he said no.  He spent the weekend with members of his extended family and their spouses.  Two husbands wanted to talk to him about his teaching.  They asked if he ever did anything with his female students.  He replied that they were children, or something like that, and they were all, "yeah, but they're like 17, right?"  He was kind of insulted.  They didn't even work up to this topic.  Total strangers, the first thing out of their 30-something mouths was about underage sex.  (I swear, as soon as you read students' writing, you see how moronic and young they are.  Not hot.)

Well, then I had to tell DH (friend at work will now be called "DH" because he has the Delicate Hands of a young Asian female concert pianist) my little story.  I guess I had given my number to one of the professor's friends because he was tall with longish hair.  And this led to a textual exchange where he actually wrote:  "So, Mrs. Robinson, why are you a teacher?"  To which i replied:  "Not only did you just call me old, but you also implied that I was a pedophile."  Then he asked me out on a date in the next text.  Obvi I said no.  I said no like ten more times.  Then I got bored and decided to go meet him two Sundays ago.  But first we talked on the phone for an hour.  It's been awhile since I've talked to a guy on the phone for that long. *shakes it off*  He said that his first impression of my friend that night was that she seemed like a divorcée with a young son.  I said he was way off.  Then of course I had to ask what he thought of me.  He said a stripper.  I said that was fair since I was wearing a nightie out in public.  He said that he didn't even notice my dress!  (Lie?!)  All that he remembered was a big pile of black with a little blonde head peeking out.  !!!!  Maybe I will rethink the boxy jacket next time.  So now I go to meet him...

Things I Hate That Everyone Else Loves

A Message to You, Rudy: You Suck!

The only time I ever came close to being kicked out of someone's class in high school, was over this crappy movie.  I love sports movies: Rocky IV, Hoosiers, Hoop Dreams, Wildcats.  But this tripe cannot pass as  having any sort of redeeming cinematic qualities whatsoever.  First of all, just look at him--that stupid jacket which symbolizes how he has zero talent, zero athleticism, and is a zero because he only achieves his stupid dream through others' pity.

Rudy got to play for three seconds because they were already going to win and the coach and the ENTIRE STADIUM felt sorry for him.  That is sad--not inspiring.  Even Lucas was more of a hero than Rudy! 

I remember how pissed my teacher/coach got when I said that this movie was ridiculous.  Yes, I get it, Rudy plays only a small part and understands the value of hard/teamwork.  Bite me, you little hobbit twerp.  And you too, Rudy.  Maybe it'd be a bit more inspiring if they concentrated on the fact that he actually graduated from Notre Dame inspite of his dyslexia. (To be fair, I think this was a footnote during the closing credits.)  Or if he'd won the game for them.  But making a tackle that really doesn't even count for anything?  How anticlimactic.  Yes, so is life, but that is not why we watch sports movies.  We watch sports movies to feel that we can end the Cold War by pulling sleds and doing deadlifts with a wagon full of people.  We watch them to hope that when the ball comes to us, and the clock's  running out, we'll actually make the shot instead of throwing up an airball.  Any loser can toil away for years and finally get a pity call to get on the field because his presence doesn't matter in the least and people are sick of watching him be a desperate loser.  (This is called youth soccer, not an inspirational blockbuster.)

Is football season over yet?  ; )

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."