It's Like I'm Dr. Dolittle.

Before I injured myself and doomed myself to weeks in a cast, I had been going to the gym regularly. I loved it.

While Jeremiah put my purse in the lockers every evening (I don't like lockers. Or shopping carts.), I would look out the huge windows out onto the pond with the fountain. And ducks. Lots of water birds.

And hand to my heart - on one of those evenings, I meowed.

"Meow."
 
Because sometimes I meow at home. You know, to my cats (This is normal, right?). But I did not realize in the moment that I was in public and people don't actually MEOW in public and there was a slight chance that the lady sitting in the comfy chair reading her book might hear me and think I was a little cray-cray.

Because, you know, I meowed. 

Just FYI - there is no playing it cool after that. Once you meow in public, it's best to just leave the immediate area.

Happy Friday!

Holy.Crap.

Yesterday when I walked out of the bathroom my skirt was tucked into my undies.

Seriously?

What the hell is wrong with me?

So confess. Most embarrassing moment. I've had two within one week. Getting stuck in my mini-fridge and having my ass hang out (for just a brief moment). Someone tell a story so I can feel a bit better about myself.

Dear "Guest" Teacher,

Thank you so much for coming into my room last week and deciding for me that all of my dry erase markers (which aren't cheap, by the way) were not "dark enough" and throwing them out. That was nice of you to show initiative.

I also want to thank you for giving my students free time at the end of the day when I specifically asked you AND my students to not have free time and to wait until Monday. It was not even in my plans. My students even told you they were not supposed to have it. But again, you showed initiative.

Lastly, thanks for NOT covering my duty at the end of the day. You were scheduled to be here until 3:20, but you did not want to do a duty that lasted until 2:45. So you left at 2:30. I mean, good for you. Leave work fifty minutes early.

Maybe it is because, as you mentioned repeatedly, you are a retired teacher and taught for twenty-eight years. I thought that I expressed the correct amount of respect and admiration. I could be wrong, though, because I tend to be socially awkward.

Here's the deal, though, honey.

YOU were a guest in MY room. I am the teacher. You said it yourself - you retired. It is now MY turn to make decisions and run a classroom. I would have never had the balls (excuse my language) to go into someone's classroom and do the stuff that you did. It would be like being invited to someone's house and throwing away their stuff or listening to a friend give direct instruction to their child/grandchild and then intervene, telling the child that they do not have to listen to their parents.

Awesome.


So thanks again for everything. You'll understand when I don't ask you back, right?

Hugs & Kisses,
Emily - The Teacher

Boys and Girls, I am Sorry.

Today I wore my Cynthia Rowley black dress. It is so fun. Strategically placed pleats. Grey trim around the neck and arms holes with a large grey stripe across the bottom. The dress is fun to wear because it is flippy. I walk and it goes flip swish sway. In that order. It flips, it swishes, and then there's the sway.

It looks similar to this:
Dress that is almost the same but NOT really at all the same except for the length.

Anyways.

 At my house, there was no wind.

None.

But then, when my hands were full and I was walking my students across campus, a strong wind blew up. And my dress went up. Like, full-blown, Marilyn Monroe, hands covering the lady parts (and my ass) dress went up. I blame the pleats, really. The dress is designed to be swishy. And swish up it did.

I am trying to think of a time in recent history when I have been more embarrassed. I can't. The kids thought it was hilarious. I tried to stand against the wall and yelled for them to "keep walking, keep walking!"

They will not refer to me as hero anymore but that weird teacher that flashed them on the way to computers.

I can see it now.

Parent: What did you learn today?
Child: What my teacher has on under her dress.

Thankfully, the horribleness that is Spanx covered my ass. Literally. So there wasn't much to see.

And then? Because the day couldn't get any worse, I slid in the cafeteria. I caught myself, but not before my left leg slid backwards about ten miles and I looked like Elf trying to ride the escalator (or escalavator, if you are me and you are drunk in Vegas).

So...

Eight more days of school!

Public Speaking Lesson #1

Try not to be an ass by starting your speech with an insult to 3/4 of your audience. Calling (or insinuating that) your audience is dumb is not okay.


My Thursday gift to you. You're welcome.

Edited to add: I was not the one speaking in this particular situation. I try to only make 1/2 of my audience feel like idiots. That way I can still reach 50% of them. Half isn't too bad. 

Things NOT to Eat During Parent Teacher Conference Day

Today I'm here for twelve hours.

Twelve.Freaking.Hours.

And I almost burned down the house this morning. I won't know for sure that we're in the clear until I get a call from Jeremiah saying that it's still standing. So anyway, after I gingerly set my (dead to me) hair dryer (Fire Starter, I named it.) on the front yard rocks, thinking that if the sparks kept flying a fire outside the house would be better than inside the house, I had to grab/make lunch. With damp hair.

So I grabbed last night's leftover taco meat (lean turkey) from the fridge and some mini-flour tortillas.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Spicy food while wearing restrictive undies (so I can look pretty)?

No. Not good.

I hope everyone else is having a less gassy day. Because really? Not good.

Who wants to share the whoopsy-est thing they've done this week? Probably no one but me. But, HELLO. If I can/will over-share, then you all can, too.

So...Yeah. We Own Pint-Sized Devils.

Is it:

A. Snowing in AZ
B. A DIY gone awry
C. What the dogs do when they want to be extra naughty


If you guessed C, you are correct. Those little butt munches have their own blanket that they cozy up in and when they are not cozy in it, they rip the shredding out and run around with it. So much fun. This is what they do when we are preoccupied with house stuff. Little bastards.

No Words to Describe.

Boyfriend,
Please make my drink now so that it is ready upon my arrival. I would like a frozen blended treat. Thanks so much.

Sincerely,
Girlfriend.

This is the email I would send to Jeremiah if I could even fathom the thought of getting into my email account right now. Rough day. We shall forever call this day The Day of the Demons, or, The Day When Non-Drinking Emily Had a Mid-Week Drink.

FROM THE CEILING...

Jeremiah sent me an email yesterday afternoon while I was at work with those words written in the subject box.

So, "FROM THE CEILING..."


and then I open it and it says,

"FALLS A SNAKE."

and then I wet my pants, because I'm sure, with the recent bug issues we have been experiencing at the house (We aren't DIRTY, we live in the desert. And I'm a bit defensive about the bugs, so let's just stop talking about it. Okay?), that he is home and a snake fell from the ceiling. Because bugs aren't horrible enough. Dogs going crazy. Are you picturing it?

Then I keep reading...

"I didn’t see it. It’s still here. It fell on Matt’s desk. Hahahahahaha."

So all this happened at work. And Matt? I don't know him but from what I've heard, I wouldn't like him. I'm happy that a snake fell on his desk. I bet he screamed like a sissy, or like...me, if a snake were to fall on my desk.

Relief swept over me and then I realized I peed my pants for no reason.

I hate when that happens.

Oh No He Didn't, Part 2

The same week. Earlier, though. Jeremiah says he'll be staying downstairs for "just a bit longer" while I go upstairs to try to get some sleep as I am exhausted (first week back at work and all).

How long do you think a bit is? Do you think it is AN HOUR?

Because that is how long he was downstairs. Now remember, I was super tired. SUPER TIRED. I read a little, thinking he was coming upstairs.

Finished reading. Turned on a dimmer light so as to not be bothered when he comes upstairs.

Then it happens. I actually fall asleep. It usually takes me hours to fall asleep, but not this time. I was completely out. And then I hear this, stage whispered, "AAAATTTTIIICUUUUUSSSSSS! SPIIIIIIIIIIIKE!" and then, "TIIIIMMMMMEEE FORRRRRR BEEEEEDDDDDD!"

Okay. Are you kidding me?

But it gets worse. The hall light is turned on. So bright. The lights. He brings Dumb and Dumber in the room, crates them. Then he walks to the bathroom and turns on the glaringly bright lights before he even closed the door. The lights could light up Broadway. They are that bright.

And I am now completely awake. Boyfriend? He falls asleep in about ten minutes. I was up for two more hours.

Poop-head.

4:45 A.M.

That is the time that I wake up in the morning so that I have time to exercise/workout before I go to work.

Everyday.

If you don't get up that early, we can't be friends anymore.

Seriously.

I just wanted you to know that. And also, don't call me past like, 8 p.m.

I'm already in bed.

Because early to bed and early to rise makes Emily a cranky (fill in the blank).

On the Third Day of Tech Camp Boyfriend Gave to Me...

Again, nothing.

But it was a VERY fun night, rivaling Vegas, minus the drinking (for me) until...

Our waitress offered a free drink to the first person that could name group that sang the song that was currently playing in the bar. It was "I know what boys like" by The Waitresses. I was the only one that knew it.

I won.

And being the cheap-o that I am, I couldn't pass up the chance for a free drink. Are you judging? No judging. It's not like I took a free drink from a gentleman. I won it. By the way, I did tip the waitress. Miss Manners would have totally approved. You see, I like to keep the blog filled with life lessons.

Drink of choice? Prickly Pear Margarita, super-sized.

Mother of God. I ended up giggly and watching Spanish television.