I went out on a date with GPG last Tuesday, because he was leaving the next day for a week's vacation. Initially, I didn't want to go because I didn't want him to think that I was the kind of girl who was available to go out on a Tuesday with very little notice. I asked my friend and she said that if he was trying to hang out with me on the one night he was in town before he left town again, it was a good sign. She told me not to make everything into a moral dilemma and to just go have fun. But making everything into a moral dilemma so that I can feel superior to others is fun. But only the former involves wearing high heels. Oh yeah, the heels.
GPG texted me to make sure that I wore a skirt and heels. I was a little relieved because at least that meant I wouldn't be sitting around on the couch with him while he tried to save his energy for traveling. I was kind of impressed that he was making the effort to go out on a weeknight. I spent a lot of time getting ready and decided that his effort was worthy of the coral Gucci heels and my Irresistible Sundress (it has never failed me).
What followed was out of every woman's worst nightmare. Yes, it was THAT cliche.
I go to knock on his door and can see him sitting on his couch. I can also see that the door is open, but I still knock and wait for him to come open the door. The way polite people do. He tells me that it's open. "I can see that," I want to say, but refrain. I enter. He is lying on the couch, drinking a beer in his shorts, watching football!
OMG I HATE FOOTBALL SEASON
I see that he is also hooked up to some muscle shocking machine (pulled groin, indeed), which he explains is the reason why he couldn't get up to let me in. He pats the empty spot next to him on the couch. I flounce over and plop down. My boobs almost pop out of my Irresistible Sundress. He tells me I smell like candy. I'm not sure if he's talking about my new Dove Pomegranate deoderant (good stuff!), my Missoni Acqua perfume (discontinued!), or my Frederick Fekkai shampoo(lifesaver!). I think it was probably my deoderant. I can see him trying to look down the front of my Irresistible Sundress, so I get up.
"While you're up, can you grab me a beer?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, I'm hooked up to this machine and I can't move."
"Did you just ask me to fetch you a beer?"
"Haha, come sit back down and I will be finished in two minutes and then I will get up and make you a drink. Does that sound better?"
"Yes..We're going out right?"
"No way! I'm exhausted. It's Tuesday! Why would you think we're going out?"
"Because you said to wear heels and a dress! Why would you say that if we were staying in???"
"Because I'm a pervert?"
Well, this wasn't exactly how I envisioned my night unfolding. But, to GPG's credit, he got up and made me a drink. (He is good about remembering how I like my drinks and coffee. Except that 90% of girls order vodka sodas and not too much cream in their coffee.) I noticed that he was sticking to beer, so I knew that meant he was planning on putting forth more effort during sexy times. This made me happy.
The "restaurant" that he picked did not. Actually it wasn't that bad; he just lives in a not-so-nice part of San Diego. And I always like to go out of my way to pretend that I'm scared every time we go out in his neighborhood so that he will avoid taking me to gross places in the future. But we had a fun time and he makes a point of telling me how much we have in common. That is a tactic for suckers and people who believe in psychics. I will not fall for commonality banalities. He says he thinks it's funny when I call him on his shit, like the beer fetch attempt. I express how sad it is that my Gucci heels had to step in this icky establishment. He laughs. We make it home without being mugged. Although I did mention the possibility several times.
He tries to pull out all the stops during sexy times. I appreciate the effort. I still sleep on the couch. Sleeping on the couch really sucks because the blanket only covers one half of my body, so I have to alternate covering body halves every hour. (Tonight he admitted to giving me a small blanket so that I'd get cold and come back to bed. This is cute. I think?) I decide not to be polite the next morning and bolt when it's convenient for me. This works for both of us.
And being bitchy is working for me. But I think it's really just because I'm being myself. I will admit that I almost got him that beer because it was the nice thing to do. So glad I resisted the urge! But just in case that book is working some kind of voodoo marriage magic, I brought up the two subjects you are to NEVER bring up: ring shopping and marriage. I mentioned how my roomie had decided to get engaged and how she and her long distance boyfriend skype about what kind of rings he should buy her. The whole conversation made GPG very uncomfortable. Good.
I hope your morning coffee experience was better than mine.
No, I will not stop using it. I should use the mug it comes with, but I like using my Hawaii mug. Of course it tipped over and fell after I had added the sugar.
Since it is freezing and flat again, I will use this time to make inane posts about lip gloss. First up we have the combo that I have found to work the best. Now, a bit about me: I am lazy. I have a teeny mouth. I forget to reapply. I drink. I lose stuff rather easily, so I don't like to pay more than $8 for any cosmetic. I feel that lip glosses are a cheap way to make yourself feel pretty.
This combo stays on the longest, and will often stain glassware. Highly recommended.
Cover Girl Outlast Lipstain goes on first. It is dry, so you can't wear it alone. You can even go outside your lipline! Then put L'Oreal Infallible 6-Hour Lipgloss over it. Any other long wearing gloss is drying and disgusting. This duo will stay on through anything and lasts about four hours. Only drawback is that the Infallible gloss doesn't taste very good.
So if you want to add a third coat, I would suggest Cover Girl Shine Blast or Maybelline Shinesational. Both taste good and are glossy without much pigment. If you are looking for gloss and pigment, I'd go with Revlon ColorStay Mineral Lipglaze. But it's too matte for me, so I usually blot a little and put on a gloss topcoat that tastes good.
If you want a piece of crap drying lipgloss, I'd go with Cover Girl Wetslicks AmazeMint gloss. (It's the one with the blue cap.) It tastes like toothpaste. And I think it's supposed to freshen your breath? Except that Cover Girl forgot how drying toothpaste is. Definintely don't recommend this one. Unless you have halitosis and a weird-colored tongue that you need to camouflage. Don't put this stuff on your lips!
I love my Yater Spoon. It belonged to a very cool guy who passed away and I ended up with it. I think most people recognize the board's name from Lt. Kilgore requesting his Yater Spoon in Apocalypse Now. I would have liked some napalm when I surfed Cardiff tonight. But only because the waves were micro and it was a really long wait in between sets. And the water is back to freezing again. And it was crowded.
This little kid, about ten, paddles out singing "Chantilly Lace" and is just kind of cracking me up. I used to love that song when I was four; it was on a rockabilly tape my dad always played when he had to drive to an away basketball game, and he would take my sister and I along. I have a really fond memory of not feeling well before one of the games, and the national anthem was about to start, so my dad was ignoring me. I threw up all over the gymnasium floor while everyone watched and kind of saluted me.
Anyfondmemoryway, I asked this kid how he knew that song. He said he was watching The Buddy Holly Story with his dad, and his dad had been playing it after they watched the movie. I wanted to tell him that I was his age when that movie came out, but then I remembered how much I hated people saying shit like that to me when I was little. As if I cared about what happened in their childhood?
The kid he asks me what I'm riding. I told him it was a Yater. He asked if it were a Spoon. I was like, "Uhm, yes, it is." He said, "Yeah, Yater pretty much perfected that shape." I told him he could try it out if he wanted, but he declined. There were a lot of surfdads out, so I couldn't tell which one was his, but I really did enjoy this kid's moxie. Kudos to his dad for getting his kid started on the classics.
Obviously I have nothing going on in my life right now. I will update on GPG and lip glosses soon. Here is a cute video for you to watch in the meantime. (Had chewing gum just been invented?) I think Justin Timberlake should cover this song. Or Lil Wayne.
Coffee Update
Still using the new coffee maker. The French press can suck it. It isn't green. It isn't good for the environment. It makes weak coffee. Here's why:
-Energy used to boil water on stove
-Three times the amount of grounds needed = more trips to grocery store, increased carbon emissions, eventual deforestation and environmental apocalypse accelerated
-Much water and soap is wasted as you spend hours washing the damn thing
So, I will not give up on my Black and Decker. Although it is now perched on a shelf, and because our house leans to one side, I just caught my magic mug before it slid off the too-small platform today. The mug was a souvenir I got for an ex when I visited HI a few years ago. Actually, I presented a paper to three people and got my school to pay for most of my trip. I believe he tried to give the mug back to me, in lieu of rent money, one month. So I didn't feel bad keeping it when I kicked him out.
Dog Walk Update
Didn't go so well. I walked in and the neighbor's dog understandably started barking. Then he blocked the door. So I just kind of stepped over him and tried not to snoop through anything. Dog didn't like me putting the collar on him, but I knew I couldn't show fear. Or disgust. Dog seems kind of excited to go outside, until he decided I was trying to dognap him and refused to leave his yard. So, like a moron, I walked him around the perimeter of the house several times. He was over that soon and just sat on his fat haunches, glaring at me with bulging, bloodshot eyes. So I put him back inside. Neighbor texted me thanking me for walking the dog. I told him the dog wouldn't walk. He replied: He's just like his Poppa and doesn't like to be on a leash.
Yeah. Awesome. Didn't reply to that one.
Something good almost came out of it when a never before seen hot neighbor came by with his dog the other night when I got back from surfing. My roommate's dog was so happy to see me that she jumped up on the fence and licked me. Hot guy with dog thought that was cute. And just as we start to fall madly in love, annoying neighbor walks up and says, "Hey, do you like beer or wine. I'll bring over either." Hot guy walks away. But not before I made a mental note of the time that he walks his dog. I told short neighbor, who I noticed owns a copy of Jesus Surfs, not to worry about it.
I feel like dogs know boundaries but play dumb. My roommate's dog isn't allowed in my room b/c of my allergies. So she always lies just outside my door, making sure that at least six inches of her front paws are in my room. I know she's doing it just to mess with me. Here is what she looks like after I move her paws back beyond the imaginary boundary. She waits until I'm not looking and then moves them back.
It's finally summer in San Diego. But the ocean is still frigid. I hate wearing my fullsuit -- too hard to get in and out of without flashing everyone. And the sun's hot enough to where you really only need something to keep your legs warm. Duh: neoprene legwarmers! Sure, your feet will be cold, but you will look so cute! Granted, they could only be worn on small longboard days, or else you'd have to worry about them coming off. Getting them to slouch just-so would be a challenge, but it's doable.
As a child of the '80s, whose parents made her walk to school during blizzards, I often wore leg warmers when I wanted to wear my favorite outfit (lavendar ruffled miniskirt with matching pink unicorn sweatshirt). Stupid Ohio winters/lazy parents weren't about to keep me from looking cute. I had pink ones. They were so hot, and I couldn't wait to be cast in Fame as the talented seven-year-old ballerina that guest star Ralph Macchio would fall for.
My sister had rainbow ones which I hated because they were too thick and went up too high. But when it was really cold, my mom would make me wear my sister's. Uhm, why don't you just freaking drive me to school instead, Mom??? I would also like some thigh-high UGGS for the winter. Another company came out with over-the-knee shearling boots, but they don't go up high enough. And before you think I'm lazy and wonder why I can't put on sweat pants, you should know that putting on pants of any kind is too hard when your hands are frozen and you are too numb to dry off, so that you can never get your pants pulled up over your wet butt even though your butt is rather flat. I'm pretty sure worrying about the winter in the middle of August is just another drawback of trying to live with cryophobia. Don't worry, I'll be strong for you guys!
So I've (obviously) been a little conflicted about ending the teaching thing. And I feel like even more of a hypocrite because I'm sitting and listening to this song
which I never would have discovered if it weren't for one of my favorite students making me a mix. She always sat in the back and was very quiet, but always knew her shit. Total overachiever who was definitely bored because there were so many slackers in her class. She painted something for a final project that was so amazing I almost brought it with me when I cleaned out my classroom. I was a little shocked when Ladyfingers told me she was one of his least favorite students. He said she always gave him dirty looks and was coasting. I showed him her painting and he had a hard time believing that the student who was always trying to sleep in his class had produced work of that caliber.
Now I was wondering if I was giving her too much credit, and if I had been duped by her star pupil act which she knew Ladyfingers could see right through. Or, I could go the Pollyanna route and choose to believe that my (far superior) method of interacting with students inspired her to stay awake. And this would be the crux of the teaching dilemma with which I could never fully reconcile. What I mean is that I know you can't reach all students at all times. But I know how my 12th grade AP English teacher made a few offhand observations about me which I still mull over to this day***. And I know how my AP Bio teacher's offhand snarky comments sent me into a tailspin of self loathing. Granted, much of life is about dealing with setbacks and unpleasant things, but I still felt like such a hypocrite when I got annoyed with students who were so affected by some remark I'd unthinkingly made. I wanted to tell them that most of what I said didn't really mean anything, and that for the most party I really didn't care enough to like or dislike the majority of my students.
But I acted the same way they did as an ADULT in grad school when I felt a professor didn't like what I wrote. This makes it difficult to dismiss the hypersensitive students' feelings because I am still the same way. And I'm old! And know better. But I also know that I only cared about impressing the teachers who weren't idiots. I mean, I wasn't exactly sweating the fact that my gym teacher said I sucked at softball and was a disgrace to athletes everywhere. (Softball is dumb. That is why I'm not good at it.)
This little dilemma was also an issue during my performance review. The whole concept of this review at my school is such a joke. I know it's difficult to assess teachers' perfomances, but coming into my classroom for ten minutes at the end of the school year is kind of ridiculous. It's not like I'm going to get a raise based on how well I do. It's not like I'll get a promotion, either. I'll just be told I'm a natural, given a pat on the back, and be expected to come in all summer long and work for free. And just to give you something to strive for, they always tell you something that needs improvement. Such horseshit, because again, it's not like you are assessing me as if teaching were a real job. I guess I should tell you about my observation.
So I'm having a discussion with my Regular 11th grade English class. Regular at my school means remedial. It means ADHD, emotional problems, and kids with English as second language issues. I was kind of scared to teach them, as I'd gotten the scoop on the "bad" kids before school started. Anyway, I've found that ruling through fear and having high expectations gets the most out of kids. I'm sure that's illegal to say, but the class is way less stressful for me, and for everyone else, if the kids aren't acting like wild animals in my presence. So I was ready to Stand and Deliver these misfits. And I always gave them the option of doing an easy book or doing the exact same thing as my Honors (really Regular) kids. They always chose the challenge. Now I'd like to say they all turned into geniuses by the end of the year, but in all honesty they couldn't really process a lot of what they were reading. But they tried. Hard. And that's why I ended up liking these kids more than most of my Honors students.
However, our discussions were always painful because they weren't able to engage with the material in a really "meaningful" way. I guess you have to start somewhere, but I hope I didn't make too many of them feel discouraged about not getting most of what I was saying. I always told them that the books made sense to me because I was an adult, and when I was their age I didn't get the books either. And that the only reason it made sense to me now was because I'd listened to teachers and always did my work I'm not sure if that was the right thing to say, b/c I certainly don't remember any of my teachers admitting to being stupid in their subject area. Oh well. I see no point in being deceptive to a bunch of kids who can smell a phony a mile away.
And speaking of not being deceptive, during my observation I guess I made some funny expressions at the kids when they were giving me some ridiculous answers. My principal brought this up as something I needed to work on. She said I was looking at the students as if, and she was choosing her words very carefully, their answers were unintelligent. Well you know I had to give her a look as if what she had said was unintelligent. Of course if a kid gives a stupid answer I will look at them like they're stupid. But only if the stupidity is a result of them not doing the work, or not paying attention.
You see, when you're being observed, you have to call on all of the students or else you get in trouble for ignoring the students who aren't raising their hands. But when you call on those students, they say stupid shit b/c they don't want to talk. And then you look stupid and the discussion stalls and you're supposed to sit there for as long as it takes until they give the right answer. Which makes the kids who are paying attention stop paying attention. And then that poor kid who is shy and hates to volunteer is dying on the inside as you stare at them expectantly waiting for the answer. And then there are the kids who know you are being observed so they decide to sabotage you, because some kids are assholes and I was an asshole at that age, too. And some of them want to help you, so they try to talk, but they are talking just to talk, and again, the discussion goes to hell. Anyway, I'm trying to call on everyone, because I had so show that my discussion style had changed since my previous observation where I was told to improve by halting the discussion until the kid says the correct answer. (I'm not even going to get into the problem of subjectivity in an English class versus finding the answer to a math problem.) The discussion derailed into a total trainwreck. But my principal had to admit I was following her idiotic steps. I win.
Okay, I will stop rambling and get to the point. I guess I dislike coddling 17-year olds who aren't children. If they go out into the world and try to say or do something about which they have no clue, people will look at them like they're morons. But I also realize I can't be too snarky, either. Because I'm not dealing with adults. I'm dealing with kids who have gone through school being made to feel stupid because of some arbitrary test scores. And I'm finally the one teacher who isn't treating them like they're morons. And as long as they're trying, I am happy. But I can't say this to my principal. I have to sit there and say, "I had no idea; I will definitely work on that!" And she knows I'm full of shit. And she knows she's full of shit, too. And I know that you always have to jump through hoops with whatever job you have. I just find it insulting that someone with some joke of an online education degree, who taught 5th grade science, is telling me to treat teenagers as if they are babies.
Yes, I can recognize the irony of this post. Which is why I don't want to be the one teacher who unwittingly makes some casual remark that crushes some kid's fragile ego. I am glad I got out of teaching before I caused any permanent (that I'm aware of) damage. My room with a view - brings back scary memories of being stuck in a classroom, doesn't it?
***She asked me to stay after to discuss my college essay where I'd written about feeding carrots to horses. (Can you believe Chapel Hill waitlisted me?!) She started talking and I kind of spaced out. She said something about how she sees a constant struggle between a sensitive soul and a hardass. She said the struggle between the two was very apparent, and therefore quite endearing, and she was curious to see which one would triumph. I remember thinking I should reread Heart of Darkness since we'd been discussing that book in class and I didn't remember a character like that. She was talking about me. I looked at her perplexed, wondering how she'd gotten that from carrots, but I thanked her for her feedback and walked away. And then I was all, oh my god, it's like my mom and dad's respective clashing personalities are now fighting in me! And then I probably went home and played The Smiths and cried over some guy falling in love with my friend and not me because her boobs were bigger.
Well. I am in a mood. This is day 13 of being sick. This is day 753,345 of it being cold and cloudy. This is also day four of it being unsurfably flat. Not that I have been able to surf, because I have been too sick to do anything other than ride my bike for a block before realizing I need a nap and new lungs.
I haven't blogged in forever because I've been waiting to be in a good mood before I write anything to do a goodbye teaching post. But the picture I want to lead with diappeared when I had to get a new phone. And then whenever I try to retrieve it from my wireless account, the site crashes. So I thought, after enduring 3 weeks of laptop issues, I'd be able to eventually fix everything and retrieve my gd picture. But noooo. That is not the case. I hate you, Verizon! So here I am. Cranky, bored, unemployed, unable to work on my fitness, single, losery.
Things were fun for a bit. I went out a lot. Surfed a lot. Smooched a respectable amount. And then I got sick from surfing in poop water (notice it wasn't from the other two activities). I would also like to give a shoutout to Kleenex for adding lotion to their tissues. So I guess I should wait to write the teaching post. All I can say now is that I have spent the last four years doing the wrong thing. And it is weird to not be spending this time fretting over my syllabus and reading list while dreading the start of school. And it is weird when people ask me what I do for a living. When you tell people you teach they usually react in one of the following ways:
1) They give you a dirty look because you are a waste of taxpayers' money, and you only work 5 months out of the year, and you have the super easy job of making 120 unstable adolescents do the exact opposite of what they want to do in a way that makes them not realize that they're doing the exact opposite of what they want to do and you usually achieve this by dancing around like a circus monkey.
2) They think you are a depraved sex offender.
3) They think you are dumb.
I'll admit it: I never liked telling people I was a teacher. There are many wonderful and amazing teachers, and I am just not that kind of person. I like to make a living wage. I am okay with the concept of dressing like a grown-up. Okay, this post obviously sucks and is rambling. I will stop. I am just so not good with abundant free time, as I just sit around and overanalyze the fact that I am destined to only be attracted to assholes. Yes, I am talking about Granny Panties Guy! He hasn't texted me today. That, along with no job, no sun, no waves, no lung capacity, is making me extremely pissy.
I'm a six-foot blonde with a penchant for puns and patent leather peep-toes. And alliteration. Currently getting acquainted with Peter Pan Diego, but I'm from here and there. I enjoy riding old, heavy boards on uncrowded lefts that swing wide. My main goal in life is to be mentioned in the "missed connections" section of craigslist.
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