It's almost too much

He's just too cute. My dog is painfully adorable! I realize that this is shameless, but please don't hate me for making you look at pictures of the love of my life!

Sometimes, it's just too much...I'm seriously considering becoming a stage mother.

I Have Found the Secret to Happiness

It's called Summer Vacation.

What joy is mine!! Last night I went to the pool at midnight. It was awe inspiring. There was no one there and I seriously considered taking off my insignificant bathing suit, but eventually decided it was too risky. But, oh! What fun!

I can sleep as long as I want, watch A Different World twice a day, and go swimming at midnight. What could be better?

I recommend everyone take a summer vacation! It's the best! Just make sure you're getting paid for it.

In other news, my whole family is in Canada, but they didn't invite me. Something about how if I wanted to travel the world I should have gone to a state school or some ridiculous nonsense like that! If I DID go to a state school, how could I possibly justify hanging my diploma in the ridiculously gaudy frame it stays in currently?! Do you even get diplomas at state schools?! Anyway - whatev. I don't need 'em. Go to Canada, family! Go! I DON'T CARE! And when, one day, I'm famous and all the Canadians love me because I endorse the Bare Naked Ladies, I'll make sure to get them to DIS-invite you to their country. Unfortunately, you probably won't be missing much, but at least VENGANCE WILL HAVE BEEN SERVED!!!!!!!!!! bwa. ha. ha.

Tuesday is close to Monday...right?

Okay, I know that I said that my daily schedule would be posted by Monday, but see, I forgot that Monday was a holiday...and I know what you're thinking: "Queeniii, EVERY day is a holiday for you right now!!"

That's true, but it WAS a holiday for all my friends who work all the time, so I had to hang out with them. HAD to.

But anyway - I've compiled a daily schedule and it should be pretty good, and I know all of you can rest assured that I'm not just sitting around in my pajamas, watching TV, not doing anything, building up resentment between us because I'm at home all day and I CAN'T EVEN DO THE LAUNDRY?!!

So, here goes:

1. Wake-up before noon
2. do some sort of workout, so I don't balloon up to 400 pounds
3. eat some breakfast - but not too much
4. play with my dog while also teaching him to be obedient
5. write on the blog
6. brush up on my espanol
7. read some stuff
8. write curriculm for next year
9. clean up after myself
10. and finally, do something exciting and adventerous

every day.

So, what do you think? Awesome or what? I should also schedule some time for Summer Lovin'....anyone got T.O.'s number?

I don't care what anybody says, I love him.

What I'm Doing Now

Nothing. I'm not doing anything. It's almost 2:30 pm and I haven't even managed to get out of my pajamas. I'm disgusting.

Something will have to change. I'm going to have to DO something...and whilst watching KERA IS in fact educational, I don't think that it acutally counts as doing anything.

I need to wash my hair...and my face. At least I've brushed my teeth! That's a start. If I had some money, I could do LOTS of stuff. I don't, however, so I'll have to be creative.

What to do...what to do....

I've already saying the phrases Paul M. Sark suggested for me practice. I'm pretty good at saying them, too! You shold hear me!!!

Anyway, I think that in about 30 minutes, I'll start to work up the motivation to WRITE DOWN some ideas of what I could do with all my free time. My commitment to my faithful readers is that I WILL HAVE MY DAILY SCHEDULE POSTED BY MONDAY!! This way, you can all rest easy that I'm not just wasting my life away while you all have to go to work every day.

I wouldn't want there to be any resentment between us!

Did I mention that I get paid to do nothing for 2 months and 2 weeks?

The Last Day of School

Ahhhh....the last day of school. Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE my job. LOVE IT. But is there anyone out there who can really say that they wouldn't look foward to 2 consecutive months of paid vacation? I can't think of anyone. Actually, it's more like 2 months and 2 weeks, but who's counting?

However, the last day of school is always just a big joke. There's never actually any school in the last day of school. Everyone knows it and no one would even try to deny it. But when there's no school at school, that's when all HELL breaks loose.

This morning, before it got unbearably hot, I let my students play outside. It was great - and easy! Easier than my job usually is - which is saying something! But then, 3rd grade came out to play. 3rd grade is the bain of my existence. They're awful. Horrible, even! However, I thought that they'd be okay just running around outside!

Oh, I am a fool indeed! In the span of about 20 minutes, I broke up 2 small fights and 1 HUGE fight (yes, we're talking about 9 year-olds). One child fell and began bleeding PROFUSELY and all over me, too, and finally one child had to be sent to the nurse's office, as he was the victim of the HUGE fight, in which several boys punched him and stepped on him.

I am so serious. They're 9. And violent. I wish every day that corporal punishment was still legal.

I know what you're all thinking: "Queeniii, how could you SAY that?! That's just teaching children to solve their problems with violence! That's no way to teach children!!"

And I say to you, come teach in the hood. Do it. Then, we'll talk.

Needless to say, the rest of my classes get to stay in and watch The Neverending Story (aah ah aah ah aah ah) in the nice, cool air conditioning. I never tell them beforehand that Artex is a doomed horse...is that wrong?

But, hey! At least I'm not bored today!!! Hallelu!

Bored Out of My Mind

This is me, from sunrise to sunset.

I've gone from being incredibly, ridiculously, terribly busy and over-committed to incredibly, ridiculously, terribly NOT busy and under-committed.

This is WHY I over-commit. I fear boredom. Like the plague. And now I'm bored. I feel like I have the plague.

You'd think after the crazy few months I've had, I'd be eager to have nothing to do. I thought I would be, too. But, I'm not. I'm bored. so. so. so. so. very. bored.

There's nothing left to do at school. bored.

My house is clean enough. bored.

The guy I've been casually dating works all the time...or just doesn't want to see me anymore. bored.

Forky's ALWAYS in rehearsal. bored.

I'm TRYING to be good and NOT call any former members of the AlmaU football team that I may still be in remote contact with. bored.

I don't have any money, so I can't go shopping. bored.

I already balanced my checkbook...twice. bored.

Go Fug Yourself has only been averging 2 posts a day. bored.

Did I mention I'm really fighting the urge to call the AlmaU football team? bored.

BORED, BORED, BORED! out of my mind. What am I going to do?! My life without drama, adventure, and over-committing is a sad empty shell! Soon, I'll be on summer break. I'm terrified! I need something to do. I'm open to any suggestions that aren't crappy. Also, if anyone has T.O.'s number, could you help a sister out and fork it over? Thanks. I'm going to go bang my head against a wall.

An All-Time Low

So, as many of you may already know from reading Forky's post about my emergency room stint, I was sick last week.

Now, I've had some stomach flu before. You just take some Phrenegen, sleep a lot and wish for about 24 hours that you could just die already. But this...this was the stomach flu of all stomach flus! I had never, in all my life, felt exactly like I did last Wednesday. I thought aliens were growing in my stomach. I didn't know what to do, so I called the Doctor - the on-call Doctor, of course. I told her I was having severe stomach cramps. She made a noise...like an "oh, shit" noise...followed by, "If your cramps get ANY worse, you need to go to the Emergency Room immediately." Great.

They got worse. I got my cousin to drop my pathetic, puking self off at the Emergency Room. I could barely walk inside. I was crying and speaking in very low tones (which, if you've ever been around me is VERY unusual for me), but I managed to check myself in. I found a place big enough in the window sill to lie down. It was a pathetic scene. But it didn't end there - oh, no!

Keep in mind that I had the stomach flu - at that point in time, I didn't know what it was - and that throwing up is a very key element in said flu. I made my way to the emergency room bathroom and proceeded to collapse by the toilet. I stayed there a good while and eventually just went ahead and dozed off, right there on the floor of the emergency room bathroom. And that was it - that right there was an all new low point for me. Falling asleep on the bathroom floor of the ER - and I just didn't even care. I was so sick, I just was thankful for a cool place in which I could remain horizontal.

3 1/2 hours later, they got me into a room, gave me a shot in my butt and a pill under my tongue and sent me home. And while I was thankful for the drugs, they didn't offer any consolation for having to put my face down on ER tile, but whatev. The drugs were strong, so I was happy.

All's well that ends well, I guess.

My Own Personal Hell

If I died and went to hell, I would be punished by being constantly ignored. Those of you who do know me, know that I am an attention whore. I don't try to deny it. I know what I am.

In this personal hell of mine, I would be constantly trying to make other people laugh by saying really witty things, doing my fake fainting trick, singing, tap dancing, droppin' it like it's hot, twirling my batons, jumping, yelling, and crying in order to try and get someone to notice me, but no one would. Just thinking about it makes me shudder!

So, yesterday, I gave my very own father my blog address and I know for sure that yesterday he looked at it. BUT - he made NO comments. There's no real way to know for sure that he's really paying attention to me unless he makes some comments, BUT THERE ARE NONE!!!

Dad - if you're reading this, I have to ask: ARE YOU IGNORING ME?!!!!

omg. I. have. issues. Seriously.

To Forky: I'm tired of repeating myself.

Forky and I have been "Besties" since we were 18. Since before the gay boyfriend. Since before, really, the dawn of time. In many ways, we've kind of grown up together. We've experienced many changes on this road of life together, but there is one thing that never, NEVER changes. It is this conversation:

"Forky, I'm too depressed to (eat, drink, sleep, have fun, etc.) because of (whatever my current [insignificant] crisis may be). I WANT TO DIE!!!!!"

"Queen iii, don't you think you might be overreacting just a little?"

"No!!! I'm not!! (Current [insignificant] crisis) is (insert any word that is related to total detriment, demise, or tragedy here) and MY LIFE IS OVER!!"

"Don't you think that you might want to give it, like, more than 2 hours before you so hastily decide that your life is really just one big tragedy? I mean, you could be overreacting just a tad. And didn't I tell you that if you (insert previous action that lead to current [insignificant] crisis) this would happen?"

"First of all, I DO NOT OVERREACT!!!!! Okay?! (Current [insignificant] crises) is going to be the death of me! And, I don't remember any conversation in which you told me anything about anything!" {The last statement is of course, a bold-faced lie.}

Fast-foward to the next day.

"Hey, Forky! What's up?"

"Nothing."

"So, umm, yeah, it really wasn't that bad. I might have been overreacting. tee hee."

"Really. Imagine that."

"You wanna go get drunk tonight?"

"No. I have rehearsal."

Forky and I have this same conversation, with noted variations at least once a week. We should be having it today, but I'm pretty tired of repeating myself and I'm sure that Forky is too. I'm just guessing. Forky, if you feel like having this conversation over again, just call me. I'd rather just forgo the whole process. Maybe we could think of, like, a shortened version of the whole thing...any ideas? I'm pretty open.

Oh, and by the way, last night, I might have been overreacting. tee hee.

Who in the world is Grant Miller?!

Who IS he?!

And how did he find our blogs?!! The only people that read my blog are the people that I went to good ol' Alma U with. And a sprinkling of other people, and while I, of course, want to be the MOST POPULAR BLOG EVER, I am content with being just kind of popular amongst the people that I know.

But, I don't know Grant Miller! He found Forky's blog first, which made me curious, so I did some investigation and even participated in his delightfully entertaining and very active blog. Here's what I have ascertained:
He's 33. His picture is therefore fake, but funny. He is some type of journalist. He is married. He might live in Chicago or somewhere in the near viscinity. He has lots of friends who also have funny blogs. He's a White Sox fan. He doesn't eat ketchup on his corn dogs. But, who IS he? And how did he find us?! It's all so mysterious and I NEED TO KNOW!!!!!!

Grant Miller, if you're reading this, throw me a bone or something! I'm dying! At least give me like ONE piece of the puzzle - SOMETHING!!! I like your blog and I like your friends' blogs, but I really, really need to know something about the mystery that is Grant Miller.

T.O., baby. You're makin' this hard for me! Seriously.

Honey, stick to what you know.

I knew it was out there, but I was avoiding it like the plague, kind of how my mother does about my drinking habit.

But, I finally decided I had to face it and see what was really going on with...wait for it...T.O.'s rap song. Oh, holy jebus. It's so bad. Tragically bad. Greek tragedy bad. Jude the Obscure bad. So bad, in fact, many people thought it was a joke.

Needless to say, this song has definitly put our relationship in the "we need space" department, which is so hard for me, because as most of you already know, I don't even really actually know him.

Who in their infinite wisdom thought this was a good idea?! Why didn't his publicist or agent stop him?!! WHY DOESN'T ANYONE EVER CONSULT ME ON THIS??!!! I love him. I have his best interest at heart! And yet, I am constantly ignored. The fact that I've never actually met T.O., or spoken with him seems an insignificant detail! I can't be THAT hard to find!

The song, it's broken my heart. BROKEN IT!!! I don't know if we'll ever be the same. Why, T.O., WHY?!

Okay, here goes...I was wro...wro....oh! this is so hard to say...i was...wrong. wrong. I was wrong.

Jim Baker and I have a lot in common.


Wow! I pride myself on being fairly perceptive, on being "in the know". I mean, I was voted "Miss Know-It-All" of my senior class! And I'm sure that my classmates weren't mocking me. I KNOW they all gave me that title because I did actually know it all...right?!

So, it's not easy for me to admit when I'm wrong. Because I think I know it all. And that, my friends is my tragic flaw. Let me explain:

A week or two ago, I posted an entry explaining why it was not wrong to let my
ex-boyfriend wash and wax my car.
Please refer to it here. Please pay close attenion the comment section where several, SEVERAL of you told me that I was a fool. I didn't listen. I thought I knew what I was doing.

Yesterday, I received a text message from Italian Ex-boyfriend (sigh). It said, and I quote VERBATIM:
"I had a explicit dream about u last night. xxx style! lol!"

I am sick. I cannot believe this happened!! I was wrong. So wrong. Needless to say, I didn't respond. To those who warned me, I got what I deserved. You were right. I was wrong.

I guess that means I'll have to wash my car myself. Ex-boyfriends suck.

But, Mom...

So, my mother called last night and started the conversation like this:

"Queen iii, I need to talk to you about something."

OMG!!! My mom always starts conversations like this when she's about to chastise me. So, I gritted my teeth and got ready to hear what I was in trouble for THIS time. Actually, I sighed and said something along the lines of, "WHAT, Mom?"

I never know what it is I'm going to be chastised for until the words actually come out of her mouth. Usually, I'm fairly prepared, but this time, I was not.

"I overheard you and your dad speaking on the phone the other day about one of your blog entries and I'm concerned that you may have written some ugly things about your latest ex-boyfriend."

First of all, overheard, Mom?! Sure. Sure. Second of all, doesn't latest ex-boyfriend deserve to be exposed as the scoundrel that he is?

"Well, what if he reads your blog, Queen?"

"I don't care if he does, Mom!! Good! I'd love for him to read my blog! But he won't, because he didn't when we were together and he won't now. And if he does just happen to stumble upon it, then good! He deserves it!"

"Now, Queen, you're not really using your Christian principles are you? We should only be saying words to build others up. Did your blog build him up, or tear him down?"

"But, mom!" At this point I was reverting back to my teenage years. My subtext was totally, "That is so unFAIR!!" But I was able to hold my subtext back. I resumed, "He was a horrible boyfriend and an awful friend! I only told the truth, Mom! I only told what REALLY happened!"

"What if you guys get back together and he reads your blog? Will he be hurt?"

"WHAT?! Oh my gosh, Mom, we are NOT getting back togther, and even if we were, I STILL DON'T CARE IF HE READS IT!!!"

"That's not quite the point, Queen iii. I just want you to be sure to use your words wisely. Don't forget the incident in second grade where you wrote that letter to Debra Green telling her that if she told anyone that you made an 80 on your spelling test, she would be dead meat. Your teacher, Mrs. Gonzales was very concerned about you then and I still am. I mean, what if latest ex-boyfriend tries to sue you for libel or slander?"

My subtext: "OH HOLY JEBUS!!!! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME BEFORE I alsjrotaihds;lfakjsdlfkjasldfjas;ldjf;asldjfalsjdfl GO CRAZY!!!!"

"Mom....it's only libel or slander if it isn't true."

"Oh, well, okay. I guess you'll be fine, but I just wanted to make sure that you are staying true to your principles."

"Thanks, Mom."

The moral of this story is, no matter how old you are, you're never too old to get in trouble with Mom. And if any of you feel like you need a little discipline, feel free to call my mother. She'll set you straight every time!

The story of my life.

Speaking of Grudge Matches...

A-dub is too funny! Her grudge match concept is intriguing to say the least. I mean, I don't even know what's going to happen!!

But along those lines, I DO have a grudge - against a group of men. Namely, white boys. Now, before you all start sending me hate mail, let me explain. I have a grudge against white boys who don't dig me - probably really I have a grudge against EVERYBODY who doesn't dig me, but the majority percentage of people who don't dig me are WHITE BOYS!! Why? I know not.

I've done some reserach. You see, as many of you know, I've been dating "online." Kind of silly, but it's kept me occupied since the tragic breakup. Anywhose - If I leave my profile - that's online dating terminology - alone and just sit and wait for people to contact me, I'll get a nice racial variety of interested suitors. But here's what happens next: the white boys will email me once or twice, but then stop - and suddenly, too; the black men hold on for dear life; and the hispanic men are fairly indifferent. Now, this is only MY experience but, what on earth could be causing this?! Before, when I went out with men in real life, I just always thought that the reason only "ethnic" men asked me out was because of my voluptuous rear-end. This was, of course, the same reason white boys DID NOT ask me out. But now, they only see a picture of me which doesn't really show off HOW ghetto this booty really is, and the black men flock and the white boys run away, run far, far away!

But, why?! I know my parents were a bit progressive in raising me and that they tried really hard to ensure that we were "colorblind" and not limited to just one culture, but I'm basically a middle-class white girl, so I should be able to pull the white boys just like the other white girls do, right? So, what is it about me that makes me so appealing to some and so revolting to others? I don't understand. Is it because my boobs aren't fake? Is it because I'm so loud and obnoxious? Is it because I look jewish? Is it because I have such a fantastic sense of humor? Is it because I'm not afraid to speak my mind...and then some?

I DON'T KNOW!!! And to tell you the truth, while it hasn't hurt my feelings before, it's kind of hurting my feelings now, which ultimately means that when I get drunk and some poor white boy is even a little bit rude to me at some bar, I'm going to freak out and try to break his jugular. I mean, it's happened before!

My white men, I have a message for you: I know I seem like too much woman, and I know my @$$ is a sizeable one, but maybe you should just try it!! You might like it! And then I won't have to break your jugular...just your heart.

to see today's entry

Scroll down below "Hero of the week award". I saved the post for later, but didn't know it would post it on the day I saved it. I guess you learn something new every day!!!

And the hero of the week award goes to: Dr. NO and A-dub!!

It sucks when you think that your friends are good people and they turn out to be shit-heads!! No one likes it. That's what happened to me this weekend. A "friend" aka, my latest ex-boyfriend, said he would help me with something that was very important to me: picking up my beloved mural from the extravagant gala location. Not only did he not do it, but he didn't pick up his phone when I called - EVER! Now, I'm a fairly understanding person, but this I cannot understand. He left me completely stranded and abandonded with 64 square feet of paint, wood and canvas.

I was desperate. DESPERATE!! I had to get aforementioned mural out of the hotel, but had no way to transport it! The people who brought it to the gala were long gone, because, I, thinking I could rely on my "friend," told them not to worry about me, I had it all taken care of!! Silly, silly queen iii.
I called everyone I knew to see if they could help me. Naturally no one was home, but just when I though all was lost, A-dub and Dr. NO came to my rescue.

After a long day's work, Dr. NO picked me up in his truck, drove to the gala location and CARRIED my mural downstairs and packed it up in his truck. He saved the day! I wanted to cry out of gratitude, but held it in, since I know Dr. NO is a no-nonsense kind of a man!

So, thank you A-dub and Dr. NO for saving the day! You really are my heros and also great friends. Thank you. I think that I might just be in love...with both of you...but not in a weird way - I swear!!!

I have a "friend"...

Don't really click here, this picture really can't do a lot for you.

No, seriously, she really is a friend and not me. What I'm about to talk about does not have anything to do with me - other than me having to listen to my "friend" talk about her dilema for a while now.

So, my "friend" (no seriously, I'm not talking about me) has been dating this guy for a while now (see, I told you I'm not talking about me) and he's older, but only like 41. This would be a big deal if like she was 24, but she's a little (I mean she's not old or anything - she's just not 21) closer to his age. Anywho - he refuses to just LET HIS HAIR GO. It doesn't even look that good. I've seen it. He looks like an old man, desprately clinging to his youth. Disgusting.

It's gross when a man spends more time fixing his hair than I do. I spend 15 minutes TOPS fixing my hair and no man who isn't gay should spend more than me. If you do, there's something wrong with you. Which brings me to my "friend." So, she's been dating this guy for a while, right? And he takes propecia. For his hair. Which doesn't really look good anyway.

If he had hair that was worth sparing, it wouldn't be so bad, but he doesn't and what's more, Propecia is clinically proven to turn men into eunuchs. That's right, men. Eunuchs.

He looks totally normal and hot, but he's a complete eunuch.

Being a eunuch isn't so bad if you're in charge of the King's Harem, but if your dating someone seriously, I GUARANTEE that your girl would rather you lose ALL your hair than you be a eunuch. Promise.

S0, to my "friend" and all the other women in the world who are trying to make it work with their eunuchs, I say lose him for a bald man! You'll probably be A LOT more...how shall I put this....satisfied.

Why Letting My Ex-boyfriend Wash My Car IS NOT WRONG

From some of the reactions to one of the questions in my last blog entry, it has come to my attention that some of you think that accepting my Italian ex-boyfriend's offer to detail and wax my car is, wrong "on so many levels." I feel like this needs to be addressed.

I don't think that I need to remind anybody that he totally didn't deserve me. Also, we ended our relationship on good terms. We've kept in constant contact since the break up! If he wants to wash and wax my car, then I don't want to stop the boy!!

I know what you're all saying, "Queen, it's obvious that he wants more from you!!" Pish posh!!! You obviously don't know my Italian ex-boyfriend! He has the sex drive of a one-eyed sloth. I know. I dated him for 2 1/2 years. 2 1/2 YEARS!!!!!!! I think I know what my Italian ex-boyfriend wants by now. Also, Italian ex-boyfriend was not a very complex fellow. What you see is what you get with Italian ex-boyfriend, which isn't a lot, but at least he doesn't pretend to be something he's not.

So, to all of you who think that his waxing my car is some elaborate plot to regain my love, you are sadly mistaken! He didn't want my love to begin with - I MADE HIM TAKE IT!!! (He's always been kind of week.)

Also, I've suspected for a long time that he was actually in love with my car (which, by the way is hott!), so really when you think about it, I'm doing HIM a favor.

It is finished...

So, where have I been? The answer: swimming in a pool of exhaustion.

The mural is finished. It's not bad, so that's good. But now, I'm spent. SPENT!!! Keep in mind, that for the past 3 weeks, I've gotten 6 hours of sleep a night - TOPS. And there's still stuff to do!

Here it is in all its glory:

I haven't quite figured out how I'm going to get the mural OUT of my house and to the gala...but I'm sure it will all work itself out...right? Right?!

To deal with all of this stress in a healthy way, I've been really trying my best to drink a lot more alcohol. You know - to thin the blood. Don't want my blood to get too thick!! That would really stress me out even more! However, I keep waking up with a morning headache...I wonder if it's in any way connected with my alcohol consumption. Nah, it's probably just allergies.

In other news, T.O. is still far, far away, but I have not lost hope!!! Also, I still let my ex-boyfriend - the Italian one - wax my car. Is that wrong?

Queen III, the socialite??

Forky once commented to me, "Queen III, I don't know who you most aspire to emulate: Auntie Mame or Belle Poitrine."
This got me to thinking, which one do I most aspire to be? At the time, I thought, well obviously I'm Belle Poitrine (translated: Beautiful Chest), set to do anything to launch me into stardom. In patricular, exposing my ample cleavage at at any time that seemed convenient...to me. But somewhere along the way, I got distracted by doing good works. Also, I had to get a real job, which left less time and energy to devote to exposing my cleavage in the name of networking.

I became a school teacher. (I know, I can't believe it either.) I joined a church and even TITHED. I became a card-carrying...wait for it...Junior Leaguer. That's right. A JUNIOR-LEAGUER. I'm not ashamed of it, however, I also don't wear a Junior League t-shirt to the grocery store, if you know what I mean. But, some of my fellow Junior-Leagers have been impressed with my work in the league. Unlike some other Leaguers, I joined the league to actually help out in the community and do my share. (What?!) So, I keep being asked to do stuff--increasingly important stuff. Of couse I say yes. I mean, I love attention, so I can't say no(...hmmm...sounds a bit like my dating life, but I digress)! I've been committing and committing and doing lots and lots of things. Currently, I'm working on an 8'x8' mural for a charity gala. At first, it was no big deal. Just some little ol' gala. Everybody has 'em! Probably nobody will even bother to come!

And I was right, if you consider Ross and Margot Perot as nobody. I know that we've all made our fair share of fun of ol' Ross. But when Ross shows up, everybody else in Everycity shows up. Everbody. Including the press. Here is where I start to get a little hyper. The mural is not all that I'm in charge of for this shin-dig! They found out I was a theatre major and put me in charge of all the "big" stuff, meaning everything BUT the table decorations. Okay, okay. So, no pressure or anything, but I'm painting a mural that I don't want for anyone to think is crappy and I'm in charge of making everything look good. If it doesn't look good, maybe no one will notice...oh...but wait....the press will be there...and there'll be...pictures. (AKA documentation of possible complete failure) Oh, and don't forget, Margot's on the board of the Everycity Museum of Art. No pressure.

So, I was discussing this with a friend just the other day and he just wasn't GETTING it. And in my efforts to try and make him understand, I said this:
"Don't you understand?!! This is monumentally important! This is my FIRST SOCIALITE EVENT!!!!!!"

[Insert vinyl record scratch here.]

What did I just say?!!! Did I just use the word socialite in reference to myself??!! Oh, okay. I see what this is really about.

Let's do the math:
aspiring socialite + attention whore + now happily single + erratic dating behaviour + my little patrick (taraji) + progressive views on raising children - having absolutely no money (but if I did I would be fabulous) = ALMOST AUNTIE MAME

Somewhere along the way, I lost focus and decided that the exploitation of my chest as a way to reach fame and fortune was not the way to go...but I guess it's never too late.

Do you think ol' Ross is a boob man?

Tom Cruise IS nuts!

I've been visiting this site forEVER, but I don't know how I stumbled across it. I, for some strange reason, haven't visited it in a while and am sad to say I've missed a lot. But, I've rediscovered my one true love and now I hope all of you will fall in love with it as well! Check it out: www.tomcruiseisnuts.com No, seriously, check it out!

Oh, silly, silly, Queen III....

What the hell is my problem?! It turns out that the horribly tragic relationship I had in college--you all know the one--involving a certain young man who greatly resembled Matt Damon, is choosing to repeat itself in a milder, less-gay way. Oh, what am I to do? Am I so gullable that I take everything at face value, or do I know the truth and forge ahead trying to claim blissful ignorance?

Sadly, I fear it is the latter. Like Anne Frank (who, by the way I resemble when my eyebrows are not waxed), I tragically think the best of everyone and believe down to my pathetic little core that mankind is really good, despite the horrible things it does. Whatev. I'm an idiot.

My ex-boyfriend, the latest one, is a scoundrel, who is unfortunately headed down the same path as his loser, craptastic father. I only wish there was something I could do or say to stop him. But there is nothing. This all wouldn't be making me so disgruntled if he didn't have a 9 year-old daughter. I'm sick with the thought of her hopeless future if he doesn't get his ridiculous life in order. Just another child, born out of wedlock and into a web of deceit and irresponsiblility. Sigh.

And just like the tragic relationship that we all know a little too much about involving the Matt Damon look-alike, I really believed that deep down, he was a good person. Alas!!! I set myself up for failure and heartache...almost as if I'm looking for it....almost...as if...I WANT to be Tess of the D'Ubervilles!! Hmmm......I probably need to be psycho-analyzed.

In other news, my dog is still preposterously cute and I still haven't touched T.O. But, I move ever foward in hopes of all my dreams coming true! (Someday, T.O., someday.)

Still I say, there's a way for us...

I've made a huge mistake...

They're all I come in contact with lately.


Okay, so at the time, it seemed like a good idea. And really, what else was I suppossed to do?! I mean, I just broke up with what's-his-face and I was mopey. I needed something to boost my self-esteem. All I wanted was uninvolved, shallow dating experiences where I didn't have to pay for anything! Is that too much to ask?! That's all I wanted.

But what I intended as a meaningless, capricious jaunt has turned into something far worse.

You see, I'm enjoying my freedom right now. I don't want to be tied down to yet another hopelessly doomed relationship. I have had a boyfriend of some sort for about 4 years straight and I'm tired. Boyfriends are work. I don't want anymore work! I just want fun - good, old-fashioned, shallow FUN. I don't want commitment or meaning or feelings or marriage or any of that junk. I'm tired and I need a break. But, I do need free food and flattery. Thus, online dating. It seems the logical choice, doesn't it?!

However, it is apparently the truth universal, that when a girl doesn't want commitment, a guy will fall all over her in desperation, begging, pleading even, for her to be his wife. WTF?!!!! All I wanted was some fun in the sun! Now, I have to constantly deal with desperate men hoping that if they hold on just long enough, I'll come around and love them. Men don't get to do this!! That's what women do! Women are the ones who get to be clingy and desperate and I consider it one of my rights as a woman! If men start to get clingy and desperate, won't the world fall in on itself? Won't crazy things start to happen like in the twilight zone or something?!

My point is, I'm tired. Men, hear me clearly: I don't love you! I don't want to be in love with you! I don't want to be your girlfriend! No, you can't stay over! No, you can't sleep with me! NO! I don't want to marry you! And for the love of everything good and holy, STOP TEXT MESSAGING ME!!!! I detest text messages.

Too bad I pre-paid for three month of this mess. I've made a huge mistake.

Addendum: If this man were desperate for me, I'd at least allow him to text message me...and entertain thoughts of marrying me...but that's it! I swear!

Jury Duty

Gafaw! An obligation, maybe...but an honor? That's a bit of a stretch!

How do I hate Jury Duty? Let me count the ways...

I had jury duty ALL last week. It was toture! Aside from the fact that I had to turn in my cellphone at security and that I had zero access to the internet all day, I had to sit and listen to lawyers talk.

You think that they would make lawyers take at least ONE or TWO classes on how to make things interesting. How dissapointing it all was!! I kept critiquing the lawyers' presentations, like, they could have delivered that this way and it would have been soooo much better. But, whatev.

I had to listen to this mess from 9 to 5 every day. The horror! It wouldn't have been so bad if it was just some boring ol' little case. But, no. Naturally I would be picked to serve on the jury for a Federal Criminal Case!! For a cocaine dealer and his affiliation with a very, very dangerous prison gang.

Anyway, it was all very scary as they piled up the evidence of AK-47s, Colt-45s, and kilos of Cocaine on the floor. I'm mean I've seen some stuff - even dated a small-time drug dealer or two, but NEVER have I seen Scarface on trial! It was crazy!

We convicted him, but believe me, if there was anyway I could have avoided it, I would have. Apparently, his unconvicted brother's name is Bone Crusher. Bone Crusher was there every day and got a pretty good look at me...

All I have to say is that next time I'm summoned for Jury Duty I'm just gonna say crazy stuff, like: "I deal drugs!" or "My dad's in the Mexican Mafia!" or "I'm all for slavery!" or "Women don't need any rights!"

Whatever it is, it'll be crazy, and will most definetly prevent me from serving on any jury ever again.

Confessions

Today is the day that I spill all! Some of you may already know all of this, but some may not. However, it's just too juicy for me to hold it in!!
So here they are, listed out for you, all my dirty little secrets of the past few weeks. (There are two.)

(We all saw this one coming, I'm sure.)

1. I am increasingly obsessed with T.O. I read every article about him, scour every headline, and when the sports writers aren't constantly talking about him, I'm offended! I, of course, recognize that I have a serious problem. Celebrities are typically pretty gross people. T.O.'s no exception to the rule!! What is wrong with me?! I've even gone so far as to let myself have ridiculous fantasies about him!! Not, horribly graphic fantasies or even sinful ones...but they can't be too far away!!

(It's not sinful to want to just touch those washboard abs, is it?)

Seriously, I have a problem! When I read stories about him, I find myself thinking ridiculous things like, "He's just misunderstood" or "I don't really like Donovan McNabb anyway" or "He probably was really mistreated in Philly" or "He's so talented and everyone else is just jealous." WHAT?!!! Can you believe that I entertain such ridiculous thoughts?! What the h-e-double hockey sticks is wrong with me?

2. I have....wait for it...signedupforanonlinedatingservice. Did you catch all that? No? Okay. I have signed up for an online dating service. WHAT?!!! YOU DID WHAT?! I know, I know. But I was bored with all the free time I had since the breakup. I had to do SOMETHING, or I'd just mope around all day, thinking about how I, once upon a time, had a boyfriend. And, let me tell you-it has been VERY interesting! There is a wide range of men who find me interesting:

From cute and not such a loser:

To old and creepy and obviously a HUGE loser:

This might seem like a dangerous endeavor, but never fear! You don't actually HAVE to go out on a date with anyone...and if you do, you just don't let them come to your house, or give them your social security number! But so far, it's proven to be an effective way to feed myself, as most of the men so far have paid for everything...um...I mean food, of course...they've paid for all the food I've eaten!! (Geez! Even I'm not THAT skanky!) And my date book is full up! Friday I have a date to the symphony, Saturday I have a date to eat sushi, Sunday I have a date to a Mavericks game and Tuesday I have a date with an Investment Banker! Let's just hope I don't get fat!

So, there you have it, my juicy confessions. I feel so much better now!

I need a new drug

My allergy medicine is making me feel like I'm three sheets to the wind! I don't even know how I'm managing to type this post, because I feel so doped, I can barely blink my eyes without my head falling over.

I have to teach small children today and I think that any minute now, my head will come crashing to the keyboard as I fall into a drug-induced slumber/slight coma.

Me: Today class, we'll be stu...(head hits desk.)

Students: (after pausing tensly) Miss Rice? Miss Rice?!

(There is no reply. Julio gets up to try and awaken me.)

Julio: She won't get up. I guess we'll just use her cell phone to call the cute paramedics.

(Cute paramedics arrive.)

Cute paramedic 1: Miss Rice, what illegal substances have you been taking?

Me: What? No! I haven't been taking anything! Except for my allergy medicine, but that's it!! I swear! It's my allergy medicine! I passed out because of my allergy medicine. I'm very sensitive, you know. (I purse my lips, just in case he pities me in a sort of "I want to go out with you" way.)

Cute paramedic 2: We've heard it all before, Miss Rice. Book her, Danno.

Me: When the hell did Danno get here?! I thought Julio just called the cute paramedics!

Julio: I accidently dialed Hawaii 5-0 before I called 911. Sorry.

So, you see, this could get ugly - very, very ugly! I hope I sober up....uh... I mean... I hope this allergy medicine wears off soon, or I could be in for a cute, but unpleasant surprise!

Cute paramedic?

My Little Patrick

Just like in Auntie Mame, where everyone thinks that Patrick is just a phase she's going through and that she's too irresponsible to raise a child, so it is with me and the new addition to my spinsterhood, Taraji. However, I will show them all (my mother) by what an amazingly well-adjusted dog I am raising! And he's cute to boot!I think that the pictures will speak for themselves!

T.O.'s coming home to mama!

That's right. Many of you may remember my long musing about Terrell Owens just a few months ago. Many of you probably came to the same conclusion: I love him - in a very obsessive, unhealthy, unrealistic way. He is a terrible man and probably not a very good person, but I don't care. I love him, even though I know I'm only talking to myself and not to him when the night is over.

So, you can imagine my clearly obsessive emotion when, whilst opening my AOL account on Saturday, the Cowboys franchise sent me an email with the title: "T.O. now a Dallas Cowboy." My heart started beating rapidly and my breath was short. Could it be? Could it be that T.O. might be 500 steps closer to actually playing on my team?! Sure, Dallas is a big place, and sure I have no professional sports connections, and sure I have never met a Dallas Cowboy ever in my life, but a girl can dream, can't she?!

I mean, doesn't it seem just a little coincidental that I break up with my boyfriend and less than a month later, T.O. shows up? What are the odds? (Please don't tell me - I want to believe they're like 1 in a million.) I'm so happy!!

I realize that all of Dallas is a flutter becuase T.O. is so cantankerous, blah, blah, blah, but he's an excellent and very, very attractive football player and isn't that what it's really about? Assembling a team of really, really hot...uh...I mean talented players?

Oh, T.O. You've come to the right place. No one can love ya' like mama can!

Ev'rything's alright - except for Yanni

Everything's alright between me and ex-darling guy! Amazing, no?! I feel like Gwen Stefani and the drummer of No Doubt, except I'm not famous or rich...but who knows...it could happen...maybe!
A girl's gotta keep on movin' on!
Now on to more entertaining things:
Yanni was arrested for alleged domestic abuse! Who knew Yanni even had a girlfriend! I thought for sure he had to be gay! But then, maybe that's the problem.

and so it goes

It's over for me and Darling Guy. We'll be friends, though, as soon as I put the pieces of my heart back together. I'm fighting the urge to go live my life as a dairy maid and die broken-hearted on the alter of Stone Henge. Damn you, Thomas Hardy!
If you're the praying kind, pray that miraculously, we can salvage our amazing friendship and that my heart heals quickly.
Thanks!
Yours always,
Tess of the D'Ubervilles

this is me, fighting the urge to sacrifice myself to the tragic Thomas Hardy gods

Why I have to go out with my ex-boyfriend

Love is grand isn't it? No! It's not. I'm so, so sick of all! Let me tell you why: Men never act rightly when they are supposed to. Treat her right when she's your girlfriend - not after you've already broken up!

Madeline Kahn was also sick and tired of love.

Soooo, my darling not-really-my-boyfriend-but-we-still-go-out-on-dates-we-just-don't-make-out guy, aka, the owner and sole proprietor of Kinesiology Solutions, had a brilliant idea one day. He claims he's not the jealous type (although I find this highly suspect), so to illustrate his point, he, whilst I wasn't looking, chose to aggrivate an already sensitive subject by taking it upon himself to send a text message to my ex-boyfriend. Now, he didn't just out of the blue send this text message. I confided in him that my ex-boyfriend was not leaving me alone, finding every excuse to call or send a text message. Just at that very moment, ex-boyfriend sent a text message. I was annoyed and left the room. It was at this point, my darling now-not-really-boyfriend guy picked up my phone, and sent a text message in reply to my ex-boyfriend's message. It read, "Ahh thanks, babe! You're so sweet! And don't forget about our dinner!"

A few minutes later, I heard my phone beep, alerting me to a new message. I had no idea what had happened. I say, "Darling Guy, will you see who that is?" Darling says I've gotten a text message. He shows me. I read it: "Oh, I won't forget! I'll call you soon so we can go to lunch." I'm confused. "What?" I say. "But that doesn't make any sense. I didn't send him a message."
"Yes, you did," Darling says. "Here, let me show you."
He scrolls through my sent messages and pulls one up - the one HE sent ex-boyfriend.
"But, I didn't...wait a minute...YOU SENT HIM A TEXT MESSAGE!!!!!" I screamed.

Now I admit, I've played my share of great tricks on Darling Guy, some pretty damn good ones, too. So, I probably deserved this. This was, in fact, his first retalliation, and they say that revenge is a dish best served cold, so Kudos, Darling Guy. Excellent trick. But in the meantime, I have to deal with an ex-loser-boyfriend who thinks I want him back.

This is where I start to lose it. And I mean LOSE IT!!!!!!

A photo of my ex-boyfriend and me, taken just before the break-up.

You see, dear readers, I invested 2 long years in ex-loser-boyfriend. I encouraged him, was devoted to him, was understanding, and I tried to help him achieve important goals. For instance, I encouraged him to go back to school. I even tutored him through his remedial math class - both times he took it. With my help he passed it the SECOND time. I tried to help him see the importance of God and church, and I tried to get him to see why, at 32 years of age, he needed to stop living off of his parents money. I tried. I worked. I begged. I cried. For 2 years. And for 2 years, he never made one single concession for me. He never adjusted his schedule, never went out of his way, never made any sort of sacrifice. He never took off from his $7.50 an hour receptionist job at 24-hour fitness to come support me in any of my endeavors. When I was going to run a half-marathon for Leukemia, he said that he couldn't come because it was too early in the morning. When my Grandmother was dying, he didn't want to have to drive his precious Mustang to the airport 5 miles away to take me to get a rental car because my car was in the shop and offered to get me a cab. (He changed his mind when I threw the phone book at him.) I tell you all this to tell you that ex-loser-boyfriend is entitled to nothing from me.

You see, I thought that once I made it sound like I didn't really want to go out to eat with him, he would just let it go. But, he hasn't. I'm too busy to go on a date, and definately too busy go out with someone I don't even like! Lately, he hasn't been asking whether or not I would LIKE to go eat with him, he's been demanding to know WHEN I will go with him. There's no asking. Like he can tell me what to do. And what's more, he's even generously offered to SWITCH SHIFTS WITH SOMEONE so he can more accomodate my schedule!!!! Now he wants to act right. Now.

This is how I feel.

This is where I get angry. Where does he get off? He had 2 years to act right! 2 long, long years of my life to treat me the way I deserved to be treated. He failed. Miserably. And now, after I've moved onward and upward, he thinks he can have me back. Just like that. He can tell me what to do and demand things from me. I'm so, so fed up!

But, a true mad spinster uses these little idiotic men to her advantage. I'm going to go out with ex-loser-boyfriend - to the restaurant of my choice - an expensive restaurant of my choice. And order the most expensive thing on the menu. Then, just so he won't be inconvenienced, I'm going to take a cab home. The end. He deserves to suffer a little, and I plan on being the one to deliver the suffering.

You can call me cruel if you want. I prefer to be called, "Deliverer of Justice."

Madeline Kahn - my hero. And a true deliverer of justice. You can see her here, delivering.

i had a great blog

but I accidently deleated it. I'm too deflated to do it again. Maybe I'll have the energy tomorrow.

Waiting

For those of you used to my light, funny entries, you may want to skip this one...it's going to be a little heavy. I'm in a bit of a Thomas Hardy mood: hopelessly and endlessly tragic. You see, dear readers, life isn't always easy. Sometimes we make huge mistakes. Sometimes we ignore our own wisdom and do not what is wise, but what is immediately gratifying. Why can I not get my life together? I refuse myself nothing. I take what I want when I want. The result? Broken relationships. Debt. Stress. Ugliness. And worst of all, a huge discrepancy between what I COULD do and what I AM doing.

I know that I'm not the only one, but I always fancied myself above this kind of stumbling. Part of growing up is learning that you're just as suceptible to failure and humility as the next Joe Blo. It's a painful and humbling process. I guess that's why they call it growing pains. To achieve something great in this world, we must accept things that are not natural for us to accept: sacrifice and patience.

Often I wonder what Jesus thought on his path to die. Not that we can ever match Jesus' perfection, but maybe he was giving us an example of what we all have to do to achieve our potential. What a failure he would have been if he had said no to God! Where would we be? What would we be? (Don't say Jewish.)

And the waiting must have been the hardest part, knowing that pain and suffering were what awaited him. But, they were temporary. It's hard for me to see the light through the pain, even when greatness is promised. Can it be time now? Can I summon the strength to endure the pain of sacrifice so that I may become something greater than what I am? I hope so. I guess now would be a good time to summon that power stronger than my own will, the same power that kept Jesus putting one foot in front of the other.

Paint Week

This is me, recovering from Paint Week.




So, nobody's heard from me in a while. That's because I'm still recovering from paint week. 2 weeks ago. What they want you to believe is that children learning and being creative is a very quiet, serene process, like this picture here:




But, it's a lie! All of it. When you bring out the paint, children, who are already prone to be maniacs, turn into super-sized maniacs, commiting crimes you never thought possible for children. Suddenly, I felt as if I was in a scene from this movie:

I never thought I'd have to say, "Xandria, do NOT paint Jose!" to sixth graders. And surely children know how to wash their hands, right? Wrong. Surely they know not to deliberately dump tempera paint on the floor, right? Wrong again.
This was also the week the entire school had to run out of paper towels. I'm not joking.

This, my friends, is the stuff of greek tragedies.
Somehow, someway, I managed NOT to gouge my eyes out or drive my cousin to suicide or kill my mother or kill myself, or accidently drink some poison. But, it was a close call.

Now, it's don't talk at all week, a.k.a. express yourself silently week. See, I'm learning.

Sick, Sick, Sick

For the second time this month, I've been sick, sick as a dog. This time it was the stomach flu. God bless me. On my birthday, too. Yuck. Anyway, I'm better now, however, I still don't feel like eating a bunch of queso.