Thursday, January 31, 2008

Holding Dirty Hands

Quick update:

My new favoritist, favorite show is Lucy, Daughter of the Devil. I love it. Very much so. You should all watch it. Lots.

Parent teacher conferences were this evening. I lived.

The yearbook deadline was met. With two major mistakes. Shrug. Oh, well.

The knitmichigan thing is this weekend, so I will probably have some stories about that.

I was invited to ravelry. Very exciting. Not everyone gets invited. Well, I'm sure you haven't been yet.

And sorry, I have been busy. And I can't write about some people. But mostly, I have been busy. But there is the milkshake straw story . . . and the "yeah, but then you just have clay balls in a peanut butter jar" story . . . and the rude pointing story (I did some rude pointing . . . sorry) . . . oh and there is the "and in the second episode there is a dildo factory" story . . .

So I have a backlog. I promise to write after the knit michigan thing. Promise.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Eleven Hundred Possible Outcomes . . . or Two

It occurs to me that I could just ask . . . and all would be cleared up.

And I'm always SO sure of the answer, even when I don't really know the answer.

But really, there is something about the mystery.

So I don't want to know.

Monday, January 21, 2008

No More Fish

Both my arms hurt. And I took the whole day off for this damn medical "procedure" and then the teachers got half the day off anyhow. Evidently they went in, heard a speaker and then were sent home. So I basically wasted a sick day. And my veins are hard to stick. At least to "Sharon" the CMA that was sticking me.

And if one more person says "you should throw him back". Throw him back into what? It's not like I have caught ANYONE in the first place. And I can't really look anymore (I've now been called a "serial dater") because of all this medical stuff.

Quite frankly, not looking is a relief. It is. But there will be no "throwing back". And I'm putting a stop to the men as fish analogy. They aren't anything like fish . . . and dating? It's not anything like fishing. Both activities are what you make of them for sure. I would have to decide that I like fishing, much like dating.

But no more "plenty of . . . ", no more "throwing back . . . " and certainly no "bait" . . . although I did get the greatest date sweater at Nordstrom. Very Jenny Cleeves.

And my arms still hurt.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Published Maybe?

I think I may be published at this point . . . sure, it's only the web, kinda like this thing . . . but the web address sounds impressive.

Dodgemotorsports.com

My pictures start here, I think. So I made page 8. Which is even less impressive, considering that my brother is part of the website.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Last Day

My last day at the auto show.

I bought two friends and we kicked around . . . spider monkey looking at horsepower and E2 and I being two chicks at the auto show. So mostly, E2 and I looked at what other people were wearing. Especially their shoes. I got to sit in the pretty, pretty princess jeep again and E2 and I plotted about steps for the p3 jeep and how to get in and out with a skirt and heels.

And I am not allowed to dis the Element anymore. It's a very nice car. With very high cargo space.

Then I took them to Lafayette Coney Island. It is my grandfather's place, which I explained, but somehow it must be better if one KNEW my grandfather. So it makes me feel all warm and safe. And it makes E2 scared. There are no menus . . . just one on the wall. And no diet coke, except in a can. But the coneys are really really good. And I'm really, really full.

So no more car fun until next year, or until the summer stuff at the Chrysler museum. And I will show all my pictures to the students tomorrow. Just for fun. Like vacation photos. All eight hundred photos.

Probably should have taken pictures of the coney dogs too.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Because Clearly, That's Insane

The last day of the Auto Show press days. And we have come up with a plan for next year.

The floor is pretty clear and there aren't a lot of people around . . . because the "real" press has moved on, to cover other things. Like the Michigan primary. So I decide to look at cars in the random way I look at cars. Because I like them . . . or someone I know likes them.

I bang my head on a Wrangler, trying to get into the back seat. Now I'm never going to sit in the backseat of my pretty, pretty princess Wrangler. But I decide to see IF I can. And you can. But don't try to do it by climbing up like a monkey. Because you will clock yourself and have to walk around with a big goose egg on your forehead. And you will have to tell everyone your head hurts . . . repeatedly. And your brother will roll his eyes, because he told you not to climb in like that.

And I looked at a Honda Element. Which was hard. Because it is hidden.

The Honda people . . . they evidently want to forget that they ever made the Element. So they put it in the back, behind a wall, next to the curtain with all of the supplies and brochures and such. You have to LOOK for it. I don't know if they are embarrassed . . . or that they just want to forget that they made a car thing that was supposed to appeal to young people, but only really appeals to 40 something women. And I don't want an Element. I think they are fugly. But spider monkey thinks he can fit his bike into an Element. So I decided to go check.

After locating the Element, D and I decide to try and fold things to see if a bike could really fit. And this particular Element had an overwhelming new car smell. Not a pleasant, leathery, new car yummy smell. An overwhelming I'M A NEW CAR stuck in the back and never been opened smell. So we sit in the front seat and then move to the back and start messing with things. The seats in the back should flip up but instead they flip to the side and we can't get them to latch and . . . well, then . . . a piece comes off in D's hand. And I don't think it was meant to come off. So then we have to figure out how to put the Element back together. I think that is when security started to notice us.

So then we move on to the Scions. Because they kinda look like an Element, in a boxy sort of way . . . but they are cooler. At least the Scion booth is cooler and they have good hats that they are giving away for free. So we take the Scion apart and there are strange storage places all over the inside of the car. Spaces for what I assume would be Ramen noodles (because that would be all that would fit) over the spare tire. Random holes in the trunk. A shelf underneath the back seat . . . maybe for your porn magazines? So D and I have a long discussion about what the designers were thinking when they came up with these spaces. And my answer always is . . . it's a place for your Star Wars figures. Because that is really the only thing that one could put there.

And then we notice the random storage in other cars . . . the Toyota L7 (is that what it is called?), which has a cup holder in the back door not quite big enough for a two liter, but way too big for anything else, so everything will just spill. And an interior that is made from the same material as a toy Tonka truck. Yuck. (by the time we got to the Toyota, three security guys were standing around watching the nonsense . . . they didn't stop us, but my picture is somewhere, I'm sure)

The deep storage in the Avenger. So deep that you would loose anything to the depths if you put it there. The storage in the Land Rover . . . that is so hidden that it must be for smuggling.

So next year, as a performance art piece, I'm going to bring a bag of stuff and test the storage in cars. LOOK! This space is perfect for 14 marbles . . . and nothing else. LOOK! You can easily hide four packages of Ramen noodles next to your spare tire. LOOK! You can lose four stormtroopers forever in here.

Yeah, yeah . . . I know . . . it's for your cell phone. At least, that is what everyone told us. Or your wallet. So say the Smart car people. But I don't need to store my cell phone next to my spare tire. Ever. So stay tuned.

And yes, we did get the Element back together. Sorta.

Not a Dodge


And therefore, probably not being used for the website. So just a taste. I have to sort through them. And then there are the drunk pics.


Mr. Crabbypants: "My . . . I don't think I've ever seen you this . . . drunk before."


Yeah, drunk pictures.


Anyhow. Mini Cooper. Oodles of cute.

Summary



Yep. Bull. Mounting. Another bull.
In the middle of Cass Ave.
Auto Show 2008

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Charmed

The auto show press days start tomorrow.

Flirting with auto executives. Drinking for free. Oh, and taking a thousand plus pictures.

I bought a new flash. I will call her Cindy.

This week was very hard but now everything is okay. And I promised not to bitch about certain things . . . so I will not anymore. I live a very, very charmed life. So I should be much more charming about it.

Stay tuned for Crabbypants stories and pictures. Lots of pictures.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Thought of the Day

"We survive what we can't control . . . "

Not mine. I stole it from a song lyric. But it helped tremendously.

Resolution Three

I have to say that resolution one and two are not going so well . . . especially resolution two. But no matter. It's really not about instant success, but that you keep working on things. So to bed early this evening.

Oh, and why am I blogging at 11:47 am? What are the children doing, you are asking yourself? I had to take the day off. Doctor's appointment.

Which brings us to resolution three . . .

My boss said at the beginning of the year, and I quote, "Have fun, or go home." Which is not really a current philosophy in education. It is also very hard to do when one works in education, because there is so much un-fun AND most of your job is to keep anyone from having any fun. Being on task? Not fun. Doing any work? Not fun. Not listening to your ipod or wearing your coat? Not fun.

I have a sign in my room that states "Absolutely No Fun Allowed" and I am only partially kidding. I made it during a meeting where the other adults discussed whether or not the students should be allowed to carry water bottles in school. Water bottles. Bottles with water in them. And we had to use "educational research" to help make our decision . . . hydrated brains think better, you know. Never mind that we even give our pets a supply of water during the day. Oh, and by the way, this was the third or fourth meeting discussing this topic.

So basically I work in a system set up to control people and make sure that they don't have any fun. So for my boss to very seriously tell me to "Have fun" or leave my job, well . . . unless I'm a control freak sadist, I'm not sure it is possible. Unless we start treating the student body more like thinking human beings. Or they stop making all these damn rules.

Anyhow, the resolution is, I'm going to start my day at 3 p.m. Work is work. I don't have to have fun there. In some ways, I shouldn't have fun there. Checking attendance reports? Unfun. But once 3 p.m. rolls around, I need to take more advantage. Instead of going home and vegging out on the couch or playing on the internet. Because you have a limited amount of time on this planet, no use wasting it all.

And yes, I know that resolution three and resolution two could conflict quite a bit.

Streetlight Manifesto this Friday. According to my brother, who did host a ska radio show at one time, the best ska band going right now. Haven't bought tickets yet, so let me know, I'll pick one up when I get mine. Auto show press days starting Sunday . . . so then I can blog all day. Cause it will be "working". So quite the cool week.

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Resolution Two

Get more sleep.

Which is not working out this evening, as it is 11:12 p.m. and I have to work tomorrow. (Starting school on a Thursday . . . ridiculous)

But really, going to bed at a decent hour and getting at least 8 hours in . . . so I'm not always in sleep deficit for the weekend.

Resolution One

So my friends have pointed out that I can rationalize anyone's behavior . . . especially anyone's crappy behavior. I don't really like conflict and I do like to see other's points of view. But sometimes I will take that ability to see the other side and come up with excuses for people.

And people are very good at coming up with their own excuses, they don't need my help.

So 2008, is the year of not being so goddamn nice.

Don't get me wrong . . . I know I do not outwardly appear nice. And niceness has it's place in the world. I will still be kind to small children and puppies. I will not stomp on flowers. I will still offer my seat to old ladies and tell someone if they have toilet paper on their shoes. That nice still applies.

But I need to stop making excuses for people. I need to recognize that sometimes people are just in "it" for themselves. I need to stop doing things for people when I would rather have some quiet time. I will put other's needs before my own . . . and I want to work on that.

So resolution one: Not being so goddamn nice

Princess: You're nice . . . but I don't know if you make goddamn nice . . . I mean, I'm goddamn nice. I think you are just nice.

Resolution 1.5: go eat coney island, right now, before writing out any more resolutions.

Mmmmmm. Coney Island.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Snow Angel

To whomever shoveled my entire walk . . . and porch . . . and driveway . . .

Thank you. Thank you very much. That was very cool of you.

And if I knew who you were I would give you some baked goods . . . or some chili . . . or something.