Crushing September 30, 2009
Posted by brandy in the secret project.13 comments
Cue the parade.
I’m blogging at work. Well, I’m at work but it’s not like there’s any kids here running around playing dart tag with their scissors or anything. I’m alone, it’s quiet and so it seems like the perfect time to share my latest idea.
Almost a year later, I’m still madly in love with The Secret Project. I’ve been blown away at how many people have contributed, how brave people have been and the fact that people have trusted me with the secrets they keep from those who know them best. One of my favourites is when people share their crushes. Just reading about people who are secretly in live with another person makes me go all swoony, like a 28 14 year old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. So, I thought I’d do a “The Secret Project: Crush Edition”.
Your crush can be anyone- someone you work with, a friend, a blogger (Ladies who love the Peter? Let’s keep the gushing down to a dull roar, shall we? His ego barely fits into this galaxy), a celebrity- anyone you choose! Email me at brandyismagic@gmail.com with yours and I will post it anonymously in a special “The Secret Project: Crush Edition” post. If you don’t have a secret crush but still have a secret, you can still email those too!
Looking forward to hearing from you. And you know, swooning. Of course.
(Here’s one of mine: Everyone knows I love Josh Lyman, but this dude… really lights my fire).
Fault Lines September 29, 2009
Posted by brandy in 1/2 funny 1/2 serious 100% important, a possible regret, are you there God? It's me- ripping off Judy Blume, because "guilt" is a dirty word, confession of the day, don't judge me based on my love for bad music, i know- we all LOVE him, introspection sometimes causes me to drink, it's not you it's me, it's okay- you can skim this one, Josh Lyman needs his own tag, lists, man I'm such a girl, oh dear, overwhelmed doesn't even begin..., pretty hair makes me happier, proof i attract crazy, things I don't say outloud, today has been crummy, when i ask you to do things for me, when i say it anyway, when it doesn't go my way, you're skimming this one.31 comments
I have a healthy ego. I regularly am delighted by my talents (like knowing all the words to this song – just for you Ben), nod in agreement when people tell me I’m great (I assure you, this is a little more adorable and far less annoying than I just made it sound), and marvel at my genius. But people? I’ve got faults. Heaps of them. Truckloads of them. So many that you could stack them up, climb on top of them and touch the moon with your fingertips.
See? I wasn’t kidding.
September has been an amazing month but it’s also been an annoying mirror that’s been held up to me to show me what my faults are. The kind of mirror that so clearly shows my less desirable traits- that they are bound to stick with me. And of course, when something sticks with me and is on my brain? I feel the need to share it. (Consider yourself lucky, I almost wrote about what it’s like to put your hand under a desk and with a sudden, stomach churning realization realize why the one boy in your class never needs a kleenex. He stores his snot under his desk. You know, where I just put my hand. Thick in the snot graveyard.) Where was I? Oh yes, faults.
Here are my current top five…
(Note: One of the few things that will cause me to search for an ice pic to stab myself with is when people say things solely for a response. Like when someone who wears a size 0 and is so thin they are invisible when they turn sideways tells you they are fat, and then they wait eagerly for you to tell them that they are not. That drives me 8 shades of crazy. So rest assured, I’m not sharing these hoping someone comes and tells me I’m none of the above- trust me- I own these faults like Josh Lyman owns my heart, I’m simply listing them off because sharing is caring and like I said, it was this or a detailed description of the horror that comes when you find a child’s dried snot under your fingernails.)
Fault #1: I get jealous.
Now. This has been the newest realization and one that I’ve been struggling with the most. Probably because I’m not really a jealous person (when you think you are *great and love your own brain, it often seems like a waste of energy to get jealous of others), but lately? Ohhh man. You could channel my jealousy and use it to fuel a few thousand power stations. I’ve gone all green with envy, I’ve turned Hulk-like with my furious jealousy. And because I feel so foolish over being jealous, I tend to think I can just cover my tracks by faking happiness and talking with a lot of exclamation marks. Like this! I’m fine! Really! Which never works! It just makes you look and sound like a complete lunatic. Trust me. I can spot a lunatic at 100 yards (I used to be able to spot the lunatics and then want to date them) but lately all I’ve needed to do is look in the mirror to see one.
Fault #2 I am not organized. AT ALL.
So I was watching Oprah three thousand years ago, back when I had free time (AND YES, I know some of you are thinking “Watching Oprah should be Fault #2 here”- and trust me, I almost put it down) and there was this episode on organization and clutter and how there are different types of messy. There was one lady who looked like she had the most pristine home, but when you tried to open a drawer, they would jam because they were all full of junk. Like, I’m talking food and doorhandles and garbage and nails and elastics and cans of tuna. That’s sort of how I’m messy, except you know, no tuna. My school filing cabinet currently consists of 2 folders. One is in class stuff, the other is everything else. One month into school and these are already bursting at the seams, yet I can’t find the will to sit down and sort the papers. Paper sorting is not my friend. I go to Ikea, I buy the little magazine holders, I have enough file folders and binders and dividers to supply Staples, but for some reason paper messes follow me like rain clouds follow Eeyore. (Do you like how I take no responsibility for this and claim that the mess just follows me? Yeah, I like that too).
Fault #3: Speeding tickets and I have a close relationship
I got another one in the mail last week. I would be scared to add up how much I’ve paid to the nice police department due to a heavy (but well dressed) foot. I can’t blame myself for this one though, I blame this guy:
It’s like he’s hanging from my mirror daring me to go faster. Just kidding. I can’t blame him for anything, except for creating my unhealthy obsession with Michelle. (Speaking of, I may spend too much time at this site).
Fault #4: I refuse to let have a hard time letting dudes pay for things.
Maybe it’s because I used to attract the cheapest men around, the kind who would think of reasons to NOT stand in line together at the movie counter so there would be no talk of who was paying for tickets (no seriously. It happened.), or maybe it’s because I’ve grown up in a “I’m a woman! Here me roar and let me show my independence by taking care of myself AND buying the movie tickets. BOOYAH!“, but the idea of a dude paying for things makes me all flustered and agitated and combative a little less adorable. I know, most girls would go all swoony at the idea of a guy who wants to pay for a book or a movie or a trip but I tend to want to start throwing dropkicks unless I get my way and can throw down some **greenbacks. I’m working on it though, but lordy, it is tough.
Fault #5: I run from big arguments. I chase children when I’m angry. I have the kind of relationship with my father that would guarantee me a book deal if either he or I was famous.
It would appear that I share my faults with you. The ones that make me sound reeeeally crazy. Well that’s good. I like that I use public forums like the internet to illustrate my crazy. Better me than someone else right? Oh!! Speaking of crazy (I like how this is now just stopped being a post and has turned into something resembling a letter to a faraway friend, today I saw ***Mallard!! And my hair was fantastic and she let it slip that she had applied for THE JOB THAT I GOT. It was glorious.)
Make me feel better, what’s your biggest fault?
* A complete lack of modesty could also be added to my fault list but I don’t want to go overboard here and bruise my own ego by making the list too long.
** yes, I really was just dying to say “greenbacks”.
*** I apologize to the 99.98% of you who have no idea who Mallard is.
“I’m pregnant!!” September 27, 2009
Posted by brandy in the secret project.25 comments
It’s Secret Project Day! Remember that you can ALWAYS submit your secret to me at brandyismagic@gmail.com. I’ve been nominated! For a “Love This Site” award. Like I before, the winner gets a $250 Visa gift card which would be definitely put to good use in my new classroom. Please go vote! . Or just go and look around because it’s a great place to find new blogs to read!
Also, to everyone on twitter, I apologize for my constant tweeting about staying in a truck themed room this weekend. But seriously? When your room has traffic lights and an actual TRUCK, you are going to want need to brag. Now on to the secrets!
1. My best friend just found out that she’s pregnant. She didn’t plan it, it was an accident. She wasn’t on birth control, and they “forgot” to use a condom. I can’t help but think our friendship will never be the same…and I almost hate her for being so stupid.
2. I’ve been living in the UK for over a year and whenever I visit my family and friends back in Phoenix, I speak to them in a British accent. I don’t actually have one.
3. I’ve been dating someone for almost 5 years. But these days, I don’t know if things have just lost their luster, or whether we’re just way too comfortable, but I really want to date around more. Open relationship style. There’s this one guy who’s really (and I mean REALLY) sparked my interest recently and I’d love to give it a try, but deep in my heart, I know I won’t do anything because my bf would be devastated. I’m really sad about that. I’m a horrible person.
4. I lost all but one of my friends because none of them understood my illness. When I recovered, I wasn’t sure if I wanted the rest back. The ironic part is that, a year and a half later, I decided I do want them back… and found out that I might be sick again. If I lose them twice, are they even worth fighting for?
5. Sometimes I wish pregnancy was contagious.
6. My best friend just got married and all I hear about now is the problems him and his wife are having. I’m trying to be sympathetic but at the same time, I’m really tired of hearing it. If he was so unhappy before getting married, why did he think that getting married would change everything? (And I know this makes me sound like a selfish asshole, which is why this is my secret!)
7. Everyday I fall more and more out of love and I don’t know how to stop it.
8. My boyfriend and I haven’t had sex in two months because he’s too big. It hurts every time we try to have sex. We are still fooling around, but the sex has stopped. When I try to talk to my friends about this, no one understands! My one bestie said “that’s a problem I wish I had”, which shows me they aren’t taking it seriously. I know we will figure it out but what bothers me most is that none of my friends are even sympathetic at all.
9. After reading the secret about the person who named their hemorrhoid I decided to name mine too!!
10. Sometimes I wish I was depressed so that I wish I would have something to blame for not doing anything with my life. I have no reason for my lack of motivation other than I’m just lazy.
Great Big Things September 22, 2009
Posted by brandy in and no you can't say world peace, hello universe? I love you, here is my heart, i love fragment sentences, i need to spend more time on spelling, i second that emotion, I'm yoda. Everyone else is a grasshopper, it happened this week, it makes sense to me, italics make it appear more thoughtful/interesting, life lesson, other people say it better, question of the day, school, so sappy it hurts, the J.O.B., what i found when i went looking, you're skimming this one.48 comments
I don’t do maxi dresses (I’m too short) and I’m not really in love with granola (blame the granola binge of ’06), but the way I talk to my class sometimes, I’m sure I’m labeled the ‘hippie teacher’. We talk about feelings and goals and quotes that inspire us. We talk about why we are learning and how we are learning it and what we can do with the knowledge we are gaining. We sometimes talk about how what we learn in school just isn’t for school, it’s for life- that every piece of information we gather is to help us create a foundation we can stand on later in life. And sometimes we just talk about how hilarious Calvin and Hobbes is.
So it came as no surprise the other day when a conversation about rights and responsibilities trickled down and twisted it’s way into a conversation about what we believe in. With ten minutes left before the bell, the kids took out paper and wrote down anything and everything they believed in 100%. It could be silly or serious or funny. It could be about religion or school or family or friends or Calvin and Hobbes (there’s a C & H fanatic in my class and he cracks me up on the regular. I’m thinking of a good alias name that suits him because his original name is so* far out).
One of the best things about being a teacher (besides July and August- actually, I don’t really believe that but I know a lot of non-teachers always make that comment in their head so I thought I’d beat them to the punch, hoo ha!) is that you get to read all the thoughts of your students. Seriously, if you have an open class, it’s like reading the diary of 15 inspired minds. Sure, sometimes you read pages of stuff like this: “I whent too the stor nd ete a peese ov chaklet cacke whith mi mom” and you brain feels like it’s on acid and you just want to insert a Jack Daniels iv after dechipering it, but a lot of the time, most of the time, you discover that if you let kids be brilliant, they are.
I was thinking about this as I was skimming through what they wrote, giggling as someone told me that they believe “Comic books are as good as regular books, maybe even better because regular books even the little baby ones don’t have as many pictures as comic books do”, when I stopped and read what one of my favourite grade 4 students, Abby, had written. It was only one sentence but it made me smile. She wrote:
I believe in great big things.
Abby is not the loudest kid in my class (that’s the C & H fanatic), nor is she the most academically gifted but she’s the one student in my class who is always working. Always. Like, if a circus was right outside our window and Hannah Montana was putting on a free show and handing out chocolate bars, Abby would be just as excited as the other kids but she would keep working. So I knew that this answer, these six words weren’t a cop out, a quick way to complete the task at hand, these words were what she was feeling. Although her answer might not have been as specific as her classmates, nor as long- I do know she labored on it, and her response made me so excited for this school year and all the great big things that are ahead of us.
And if that makes me sound like the hippie teacher, I’m okay with that. No, I’m excited to be that.
I’ve shared my “I believe” list in the past. What do you believe?
* You hear it here first. “Far out” is making a come back.
Knee-deep In Self Reflection September 20, 2009
Posted by brandy in 1/2 funny 1/2 serious 100% important, and now you might know everything, bio hazard suits will never be in fashion, i'm the sum of my failures and my achivements, life lesson, oh dear, self improvement, seriously, something I won't forget, swimming in a sea of self pity, the title says it all, these are the things that happen to me, when i say it anyway, when it doesn't go my way, work.45 comments
I was 19 and working for a water treatment center one summer to earn extra money. I was hired by a friend of my parents and told that the work would be extremely easy. My job description fell under the vague category of “safety coordinator”. I was told to show up at the water treatment center at 6 am and to bring a lunch. I was hesitant about going, the only safety measures I knew were medical procedures I learned watching E.R- and I doubted anyone would need me to (or even let me) perform a tracheotomy with a bic pen, but they mentioned the hourly pay and although my heart said no, my bank account (and want for new J. Lo jeans) said yes.
Three hours later, I found myself knee deep in shit. Literally.
See, my official job title might have been “safety coordinator” but my actual job description had me standing in an underground tank the size of a football field, wearing a full bio hazard jumpsuit, complete with oxygen tank and mask- watching sewage treatment workers break up massive, solid blocks of cemented shit with power hoses so it would get sucked into these tanks. I was getting paid $21 an hour to stand at the bottom of the ladder, not move and watch to make sure everyone’s oxygen air tank cords didn’t get tangled.
For 8 hours a day.
Six days a week.
I’m not going to lie friends, the first day I barely could see out of my mask because I was crying so hard. Which was great because the fog caused by my tears, obscured my horrifying work environment. My friends all had jobs working at ice cream stands or clothing stores. They got to converse with people, wear pretty clothes and none of them were wearing an oxygen tank and spending 15 minutes of their lunch hour being hosed down in a bright yellow jumpsuit with a sprayer so powerful it felt like a gunshot going through their body.
So, the first day I cried. The second day I pushed through- spending my entire shift focused on three oxygen tank cords, humming Johnny Cash and re-considering my need to live for jeans with fringe.
I went home on the third day and talked to my mom. I told her that the pay was good, but that I had never been more unhappy. It wasn’t just the actual surroundings (but let’s get serious- can you think of anything LESS ideal than working in an underground tank surrounded by mountains of poop, the mountains speckled with thousands of condoms that had been flushed down the toilet? Maybe throw in some dead puppies and Avril Lavigne on a loud speaker and you have my complete definition of Hell), but it was absolutely breathtaking how lonely I was and how unhappy I had become in such a short time.
I expected my mom to tell me to stick it out, but she illustrated how cool she is by telling me that she understood and that she agreed, I should quit. That life was too short to spend your days that miserable. Of course, it would be up to me to find a different job, but that I should remember that I always, always have a choice. Being miserable at work, in a relationship, in life- is always a choice.
I’ve been keeping this in mind lately as I shut my alarm off at 6 am and stumble into the shower, the fog of my brain clearing- letting me visualize my to-do list that seems to multiply each time I cross a single item off as done. I’m not miserable, far from it- but remembering that I always have a choice, that has been a life saver as the days of September have been consumed by work and meetings and a constant struggle to catch up to other teachers and meet the unrealistically high expectations I’ve set for myself. Yes, I always have a choice. And no matter how many math pages I have to mark, no matter how many supplies I need to find for our science experiment, how late the staff meeting runs, how many parent calls at 8am, how many tattles I hear, how many early morning bus supervision shifts,- I will never find myself literally standing at the bottom of a ladder knee deep in shit.
And for that, I am thankful.
And I’m thankful that I went with the pocket less J.Lo jeans rather than the ones with the fringe.
Tell me, what was the worst job you ever had? And if it involves a bio hazard suit, we should meet for drinks and cheers our awesomeness.
“I’m still dating my boyfriend even though I’m not in love with him… but I love his family” September 13, 2009
Posted by brandy in the secret project.24 comments
It’s The Secret Project day! Remember that you can ALWAYS submit your secret to me at brandyismagic@gmail.com. A few matters to address before we get to this weeks secrets… 1) I’ve been nominated! For a “Love This Site” award. Like I said in my previous post, the winner gets a $250 Visa gift card which would be definitely put to good use in my new classroom. Please go vote! . Or just go and look around because it’s a great place to find new blogs to read! 2) The internet has blown me away in the past with it’s awesomeness and I was again amazed by the kindness of others when I read this. And to David, Doni, Nicole and Sarah who have all sent gift certificates for new books- thank you! I adore you each more than I adore the thought of Josh Lyman in a speedo. And I adore that thought a lot.
1. Plumber’s crack makes me happy. Like, I don’t just think it’s funny, though I do think it’s funny as well. Every time I see some fat and/or hairy crack hanging out of a pair of Hanes, this joy wells up in me and I can’t help but smile. It’s the little things, right?
2. I’m a happily married woman but I have the biggest crush on my martial arts instructor. I can’t get him out of my head and it’s absolutely ridiculous but I refuse to stop going to the classes he teaches.
3. I don’t have any friends. I used to have tons and then somehow – Poof! – they just disappeared. It’s probably my fault. I speak to one or two sometimes, but I don’t have anyone that I can actually call and hang out with, except for my ex. I love him, but there are too many (some stupid) issues that prevent that from working out. I don’t know if I would lean on him so much if I had friends; I probably wouldn’t. Now, I’m worried about just what to do with my free time and how to actually meet someone so I don’t turn into the cat lady.
4. At work I am shy, hard working, humble, conservatively dressed and considered the sweetest person in the office. In my personal life the real me is the shallowest, cold hearted, meanest bitch you will ever meet who never wears heels less than 4″ and skirts must be well above my knees. That’s the real reason I never go to happy hour with them or take my bf with me to company parties, they think I never curse or drink. I have the mouth of a sailor and can down four tequila shots before you can blink.
5. Brandy’s last post made me happy- I thought she was going to steal Peter away. I like she’s happy with someone else and that the rest of us girls still have a chance with Pete. Now I just have to stop stalking his blog and leave a comment…. 
6. I refuse to pay the coffee fund at work. The lady in charge of collecting money is hella disorganized and I always just tell her I’ve paid her but really, I haven’t. I don’t drink coffee and don’t feel like I should be paying for other people to. No one pays for my chai teas, right?
7. Sometimes I feel like the only people who get me are the people who’ve never met me.
8. I got a shitty tattoo when I was drunk in university. It’s of a bird (don’t even ask for the story, because I was too drunk to remember why we decided on birds) but I’m too embarrassed to tell people I don’t remember so I’ve created this elaborate tale about how they were my favourite growing up. Everyone believes it. Including my husband.
9. I shoplift sexy panties because my wife’s aren’t sexy enough to wear. She only has plain old cotton panties. I like thongs. String or satin thongs to be specific. If it’s a satin string thong that’s by far the best. Last one I wore was a burgundy satin thong that I got from Target.
10. I have a crush on you. And you know it. So can it really be a secret?
I feel like busting loose and I feel like touching you September 8, 2009
Posted by brandy in About the last line? I'm kidding. I promise, and now you might know everything, because I can't do report cards 24/7, charm, confession of the day, don't judge me based on my love for bad music, hello universe? I love you, here is my heart, i should be a P.S.A., i think my sweetness gave you a cavity, italics make it appear more thoughtful/interesting, let's still be friends?, love or something like it, man I'm such a girl, men, no i haven't gotten laid, secrets, so sappy it hurts, something I won't forget, the less i worry the happier i am, the title says it all, vague is vogue, when i say it anyway.32 comments
I know.
Nelly lyrics for my title? Either I’m forging new ground or else I’m regressing to 2002 and someone should take me out back with a shovel and put me out of my misery.
Either way, this lyric is one that has been popping into my head lately. I have no idea totally know why. I think because (start looking for your shovel), this particular song makes me ridiculously happy. And right now? I am ridiculously happy.
Like the kind of happy makes normal people want to shout from rooftops and makes us technology whores write blog posts and tweets.
I hesitate to write all the details, particular parts of my life will never be open to the blog but to those inquiring minds who have wondered, yes- I’m currently feeling quite charmed.
There’s just something to be said about a man who wakes up and reminds you to pack a raincoat. Who researches birthday gifts to get your friend he has never met. Who listens so intently as you talk about teaching, it’s as though you are discussing your secret desire to star in a threesome with him and Salma Hayek. Who buys you one of his favourite childhood book for your classroom as a birthday gift. A man who now can say he’s well versed in all movies starring Meg Ryan. Who sends you flowers when you don’t get the job and is your biggest cheerleader when you finally (finally) do. Who has heard all the stories you were always afraid to say out loud. Who makes you feel better when you are sad, who makes you comforted when you are worried and who can make you laugh out loud with a single sentence. There’s just something to be said for a man who has seen your childhood photos where you look like a homeless gopher with cheeks filled with marbles you at your worst and makes you feel like you didn’t look THAT homeless/chubby/ridiculous your best. There’s something to be said for a man who reminds you daily that you already are exactly the kind of person you always hoped you would be.
Yes, there is just something to be said for men like this.
In other news, some nice stranger nominated me for a Divine Caroline “Love Your Site” award. I have no idea who did submit my blog, but if you did, thank you! Tell me you did and I will send you cookies. Anyway, it’s one of those deals where you have to sign-in to the site- but it’s absolutely free and takes roughly 2.4 seconds (okay, maybe a little longer, like 2.9 seconds but still. It’s speedy). The prize is a $250 Visa card which I would really love to spend getting new books for my class (there’s a few in there that are so old I’m fairly certain were written by men before they got bored and invented fire). I would really appreciate your support! (click the badge to be taken to the site to vote. Yeah, I’m fancy like that). Update: Oh! How Lovely Shops is nominated in the Style category and is an absolute favourite. Go vote for Miss. Jamie!)
And as your reward for voting, I present you with this. I know. You can hardly believe how lucky you are either.
Life is what happens when you are moderating fights regarding farting in class September 7, 2009
Posted by brandy in 1/2 funny 1/2 serious 100% important, and now you might know everything, are you there God? It's me- ripping off Judy Blume, confession of the day, earning my dork badge, i complain because I care, it happened this week, it's not you it's me, italics make it appear more thoughtful/interesting, lists, overwhelmed doesn't even begin..., school, the J.O.B., the one that nobody reads because of the title, these are the things that happen to me, you're skimming this one.52 comments
I was going to start this post as though I was dead and writing to you from the great beyond. But it was high on the creep factor and low on the funny (much like a guy I made many bad choices with). But I felt like I need to make some reference to death since I’ve started getting emails with- “ARE YOU DEAD?”. Which has caused to reflect on the fact that hey, I’m not dead. So I should write something to show that I AM alive, even if I’ve spent every waking moment of the last two weeks in school and there’s a chance that an email discussing only school events is going to be as entertaining as reading the ingredients on a bottle of shampoo.
The learning curve has been so steep it’s been less like a curve and has more followed the line of a rocket release. Everyday there’s roughly one thousand things I learn and my brain routinely runs out of room for everything I should know or remember. So I’ve become a post-it queen and have turned to drinking heavily while on recess supervision. (One of those confessions is false, I trust you are wise enough to establish which one). I dread the idea of being someone who only writes about school, so I’m going to lump in all the school-ish events into this post so I can use the next one to talk about my deep seated shame regarding a show called BIG BROTHER. (I realize some of you would rather hear me talk about photocopier jams than reality television and to you people I say, I’m sorry. Reality television is the balm that soothes my achy soul at the end of a long day. Besides, the season with Will was the best thing I’ve ever seen on television. Period. The end. Case closed. *Jessica Fletcher style.)
-I’ve taken to calling my classroom “The Cave”. It’s at the farthest end of the school, down the longest hallway and is the last classroom. Walking to and from my classroom from the photocopier room has become my new cardio work out. A grade 6 teacher has actually approached me and wants me to wear a pedometer because he sees me in the halls so much he’s convinced I’m walking a marathon everyday. Plus, I’m doing it in heels. In short, I’m going to have killer legs by the time this year is over. (See how I’m glass half-fulling this situation? Progress people, progress).
- One of my favourite blocks is the block right before lunch when I read Judy Blume to the class. Students can choose to read their own book (and other than the 9 year old who is reading Twilight- book approved by her mom), everyone hangs on every word I say. Looking up and seeing the whole class laughing hysterically over Judy Blume is always a highlight of my day.
- The teacher in the classroom next to me is the coolest women alive. Mrs. S is mid 40′s and is the kind of chick who you can imagine shaving her hair off her head and still looking amazing. I made a joke about how I’m going to have to step up my clothing choices with her beside me and she’s taken it as a personal challenge. Each morning she comes in and struts around my desks showing off her outfit. And every single day it’s been impressive. Perfect hair, thoughtfully coordinated accessories, painstakingly applied lipgloss. So not only will I have killer legs this year, I will start going to work on not looking homeless. Mostly out of shame and partly out of my competitive spirit. Either way, win.
- There is a boy in grade 3- Thomas, who farts. A lot. And naturally, when he does his classmates expect him to say something acknowledging it- but he refuses. Things came to a boiling point last Thursday when his classmates complained that Thomas had once again farted and wouldn’t say ‘excuse me’. Before I could say anything, I looked at Thomas (a chubby boy with spiky hair), with crossed arms who looked at me and said “They have no proof. Smell my butt, there’s no farts there”. Of course, it sounds funny now, but I assure you- NO ONE laughs in class when this happens. I’m not sure why, maybe because his classmates are so offended or Thomas is so adamant that they can’t pin the fart on him. And because everyone takes it so seriously- I, of course, find it hilarious. So I’m the one person in a room with 26 kids who is trying not to laugh when the class discussion is centered around farting. I am a model of maturity.
- I teach grade 3 art and I brought in a framed picture I have of the Mona Lisa. It looks impressive, the frame is gorgeous- I saved it from it’s resting spot above the mens urinal in the theatre I used to work at. Anyway, I brought it in to the grade 3 room when we started art and we talked about it and then asked the class if they had any questions. One of my favourite kids from the Obama class of last year is in this class now and he raised his hand and asked if I had painted the picture. Needless to say, a child who thinks I am capable of painting the Mona Lisa is going to get an automatic A plus. And a unicorn.
- My principal has heard me calling the photocopier machine a piece of shit. More than once. But in my defense? I was in on a Saturday, it was JAMMED AGAIN and it IS A PIECE OF SHIT. (I already have fantasies of taking it out back and showing it who is boss- much like the fax machine incident in Office Space).
- This has nothing to do with school at all but I’m strangely addicted to Defying Gravity. And judging from the blank stares people give me when I admit this, I’m starting to believe I’m the only one. Tell me, are you watching it?
Anyway, that’s a snippet of school life. Things have definitely calmed down since school has started and I’m working on finding a balance that includes proper time for showering, sleeping and you know, catching up on all your wonderful blogs. (My google reader and I are no longer speaking to one another, I’ve neglected it so badly lately). I hope you are all having a wonderful Monday!
*It has been a life long goal to reference Jessica Fletcher. My reference was lame but I’m giving myself a thumbs up for trying. Also? If you know who Jessica Fletcher is, head directly to GO and collect a BFF friendship bracelet from me.
Blogcation Day #4 September 1, 2009
Posted by brandy in Uncategorized.15 comments
Hi! I’m Peter. And this is Day #4 of my Blogcation.
I am mildly sunburned. I drank the water. And the girl from England
I hooked up with has been stalking my room. Fun! Today brandypie
gets a little short fiction-y deal. These two characters may or may
not be the same ones from Jenn’s post on Friday…
From a distance, he isn’t sure that it is her.
Well, he doesn’t want to be sure.
But it is.
And he is.
He puts his game face on.
He tries.
But she gets closer.
He notices that the DJ is playing Ryan Adams’ “Desire.”
He shakes his head at the universe.
He sees the dress first — but it is a photo finish. It is white.
Curves of perfection are being hugged. He’s never been jealous of
cotton before. He sees the black cardigan and shiny red heels and
matching red chunky beaded necklace deal. Gold stud earrings are
happily shining in delicate ears. Her hair is down with… loose
waves.
Not that he is paying attention.
“Fuck.”
Maybe he is paying a little attention.
She is getting even closer now.
And she stops.
She smiles.
Then she smirks.
Then she smiles again.
Warmer.
She puts her hand out.
He smiles.
He tries to smirk.
He laughs.
He takes her hand.
Soft.
She leads him out to the middle of the dance floor.
She moves in close.
He holds her.
They move together.
It is only when he begins to speak that he realizes he has been
holding his breath.
“I hope he doesn’t play one of those in-between speed songs next. I
don’t know what to do with those.”
“Do you know what to do with fast or slow songs?” she smiles.
He starts to reply.
“I’ll help you,” she continues. Quieter.
Dire Straits’ “Romeo and Juliet” starts.
She laughs.
And keeps holding him close.
Her finger tips slide down his back.
He wills his palms not to sweat. He mentally thanks Dire Straits for
writing a six minute song.
She looks up at him. “Not so bad?”
He consults his rolodex of snark, and then says,
“No. Not at all.”
“Still completely immune to my charms?” Her eyes smile as she puts
her head against his chest.
They move together.
He momentarily remembers who he is, takes her hand and gets her to do
one of those spinny things, before pulling her back in close.
“Where did that come from?” she asks.
“Saw it on Dancing With The Stars.”
The spinning makes her cardigan fall off of her shoulder.
He sighs.
He hears himself sighing.
He fixes her sweater.
She smiles.
She scrunches her nose.
He squeezes her tighter.
She says something. Low.
He bends down and leans in to hear.
Her lips so gently touch his ear. Her warm breath dances across the
surface, as if ushering in a spring thaw. “I’m glad… you’re here.”
He opens his mouth to speak–
The songs ends.
“What now?” she whispers.
