House of Zathras

But I giggled and laughed and snorted at this picture. Can’t really tell you why, but I did. (Stolen from Andy.)

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….probably not.

But you never know. My daughter just called from New Orleans where she is auditioning for American Idol. And she and her friend were filmed!!! They were right behind Ryan Seacrest!!! And it probably means they’ll be in the opening sequence for New Orleans!!!! Teenage Girl Squeeeeeeeeaaaaaallllll! And her hair was probably just horrible because they’d been standing out in the hot, hot sun!!!!!! But they were filmed right behind Ryan Seacrest!!!!!!! Teenage Girl Squeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaallllllll!!!!! But she wouldn’t be able to stand seeing herself on tv!!!!!!! Teenage Girl Squeeeeeeeaaaaaaallllll!!!!!!

I have a big smile on my face right now for her…sounds like they’re having a great time, no matter the outcome.

I just found your clips! You can’t be leaving us:

(I did have to laugh at the comments. Apparently someone said that Chuck Norris was jealous of this guy…someone replied that Norris wasn’t jealous because Old Spice is made from his sweat!)

…this one is pretty decent:

Am I a plagiarist? I might be, at least according to this site, “I Write Like” (H/T to WB for the ‘I Write Like’ link.) :

I write like
Dan Brown

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Some of my posts got ‘Stephen King’, too.

Eh. So I write like a guy. Guys I don’t care for too much, actually. Except for King’s ‘The Stand’. All his other stuff creeps me out…which means he’s a good writer.

Dan Brown is a good writer, too…’The DaVinci Code’ was a great suspense novel, but as I read it I saw a lot of fallacies about Catholic teachings. Knew the fundie non-Catholics would take it as ‘truth’, and well, you know how that went. That book did make me research some things…I found a site where this nutcase truly believed in Opus Dei operatives. (Won’t link to it here, but I’ll send you the link if you wish to be amused.) ‘Mr. Brimstone’ was warning Protestant churches that Catholic priests and nuns would infiltrate their churches disguised as devout married couples. These couples would build status in the church and then DESTROY it through devious means, turning the ‘real’ Christians against each other through all kinds of discord.

But never fear…this righteous defender against evil Catholics knew of two sure-fire ways to root out those insidious Opus Dei devils. The first was that Catholics NEVER wear orange (goes back to the days of the Irish rebellion…orange was the Protestant color!!!!). So this loony guy suggested throwing a party with the color ‘orange’ as a theme, and those blasted Opus Dei folks will arrive dressed in another color, saying they couldn’t find anything orange to wear.

His second sure-fire method was to look for a symbol of Opus Dei…the donkey, an animal of servitude. Mr. Brimstone said that there will be a picture or statuette of a donkey somewhere in the Opus Dei operatives’ house.

Man, I thought this guy was really reaching for it. Until I went to put some items up in BR’s armoire one day. I opened the door and saw this:

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I’ve been feeling very maudlin lately. I hate reading any kind of news because it’s just so damn depressing. I’m feeling overwhelmed with ‘normal’ life, too, with bills and kids and what-all.

So I’m trying something that might help at least for a little while. I’m trying to alleviate my blues with some blueberries. I just went out and picked some off our one bush. It had rained last night so the berries were freshly-washed…little drops of water cupped around the plump bottom of each berry. Hey…I said they were ‘fresh’!

And now I’m going to make some blueberry-pecan waffles and hope the scrumptiousness eases the blues for awhile.

And as for ‘scrumptious’, I just LOVE this video…the girl is only 27 months old:

Parris Island style…that’s where Buck is, experiencing the joys of Marine Boot Camp.

Heh. That’ll teach him to ignore his chores.

Actually, he’s four years away yet from really getting a full taste of Uncle Sam’s finest summer retreat. Buck was invited with a few other boys from the Young Marines to experience a week there.

The captain that took them had earlier sent their supply list specifically mentioning NO electronics of any kind. But when we parents arrived to drop off the kids, the good captain asked who had cell phones. All the boys looked at each other and then replied that he had told them no cell phones or any other electronics.

“What?” he said. “You don’t have any ipods or anything like that?” The boys again looked at each other and told him ‘no’.

The captain got a strange look on his face…I think he meant they couldn’t take any electronic devices into Parris Island itself…and now he had an almost two-day trip with four restless teen boys with no electronic distractions.

We moms just stood back and laughed our asses off. We’ll see how brave the good captain is now! Besides, my generation survived plenty of long trips with nothing but books and the threat of Dad’s pulling the vehicle over to keep us quiet on the trip.

All the same, I’m glad it’s not me on the trip…

I don’t know who has been creating the Geico commercials lately, but they’re cracking me up. I don’t care too much for the stack of money ones, but the bits with Deadliest Catch, R. Lee Ermey….they’re great. But this newest one just absolutely cracks me up:

I’ve mentioned previously that I’m seeming to get almost daily hits from Korea…you know, the land of rainbow-farting unicorns? (I wonder if they realize I wish there really were such things just for their sakes. I hope it’s getting easier for them.)

One hit came via a search for ‘hussy’…I wonder if the searcher was disappointed or relieved that it was merely this post (WB, you won’t want to click the link, I promise).

Sometimes, you can be your own worst enemy.

…for me, finally. It had already started for the kids, who have been home. Playing video games. Getting on the computer.

They hate it when my summer vacation starts. Because then the cleaning commences.

The way the kids want it to happen:

The way Momma wants it happen:

School’s Out for Summer – interpreted by Mrs. Who

Well we got no choice
(Neither do we teachers. The powers that be have taken away virtually all the teacher input.)
All the girls and boys
(Just shut up and sit down…we’re unhappy about this as you are!)
Makin’ all that noise
(Yeah…really proud of the sound of your own self, hunh?)
‘Cause they found new toys
(What…I thought you liked working on the Smartboard.)
Well we can’t salute ya
(That kind of ‘salute’ will get you a referral, anyway.)
Can’t find a flag
(Yes you can in MY room!)
If that don’t suit ya
(Doesn’t matter…my room, my rules!)
That’s a drag
(You try teaching someone like you and see what’s really a drag!)

School’s out for summer
(Thank God!)
School’s out forever
(Heh, you and I both wish)
School’s been blown to pieces
(Nope…and that threat will get you arrested, too!)

No more pencils
(What do you care…I had to buy all your pencils for you anyway because your parents either wouldn’t or couldn’t. You’re welcome.)
No more books
(Like you read them anyway? Remember your test scores?)
No more teacher’s dirty looks
(Again…you try teaching someone like you and not give dirty looks.)

Well we got no class
(You can say that again!)
And we got no principles
(Yeah…you run whining to mommy every time you think something’s not fair…all that ‘spare the rod’ business is a perfect example in you.)
And we got no innocence
(Yeah, just look what modern technology has done to you…it’s a damn shame.  There was a time when ‘Dick and Jane’ was the way you learned to read…not an introduction to prono.)
We can’t even think of a word that rhymes
(You could if you paid attention in school!!!!)

Out for summer
(OMG – YES!)
Out till fall
(Not actually…hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you actually come back in late summer.)
We might not go back at all
(I should be so lucky.)

School’s out forever
(Yeah, yeah…wish for that in one hand, crap in the other, and see what gets filled up first.)
School’s out for summer
(So what…can’t go to the beach because of the frikken’ tar balls and oil disaster.)
School’s out with fever
(WTH? How can a school have a fever? Didn’t you pay attention during the Living/Nonliving chapter in Science?)
School’s out completely
(You think you left quickly on your last day of school? You should see it when the teachers get to leave on their last day. Don’t stand in their way and hope none of them are wearing high-heels…those leave nasty marks on the ones too slow to get out of the way.)

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It was my last day of school today…I’m sure you couldn’t have guessed!!

Saturday was rather eventful.

It started at the airport. And I have such fun at airports. (To recap if you wish, read here, here, and here.) Yesterday became one of those ‘eventful’ airport trips.

It’s been some time since I’ve been allowed back to the gate with the kids. I don’t even ask anymore. Just check the kids in, and sit outside the security entrance until the flight boards and then go home.

Yesterday, while we were checking in Princess No’s luggage (a first…ALL of it under the weight limit!!!), she urged me to see if I could go back with her. And wonder of wonders, they said no problem. It must have been a really boring day because two of the ticket agents literally jumped out from behind the counter to get my license. They quickly printed out a security pass for me, and Princess No and I got in line.

I made it through the metal detector. My shoes, cell phone, and magnetic glasses made it through the x-ray machine. My purse…didn’t.

They ran it through twice. And then I had to traipse over to the corner for them to search my purse. Thank goodness I had cleaned out my purse the day before! Even so, my purse is its own Tardis/portal to another universe/mini-black hole. You can find everything and nothing in it. The reason I had to clean it out was because I couldn’t find my keys in it, even after digging in it for a full five minutes.

So, the TSA agent starts pulling stuff out of my purse. And pulling stuff out of my purse. And pulling stuff out of my purse. Then she finds my tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. She snarls, “Don’t you know this has to go in a plastic baggie?” Princess No is rolling her eyes.

Then the agent pulls out a small tube of face lotion. “Don’t you know this is supposed to go in a plastic baggie?” This time, the snarl results in spray landing on my face. Princess No is starting to become very embarrassed. “Mom, you KNOW all liquids have to go in a baggie!!!”

I tell her I wasn’t planning to go through security. And plus, I didn’t know that lotion was a liquid! Princess No rolls her eyes again as the security agent pulls out my tube of foundation (which I rarely wear and forgot was in there). The agent snootily hands me a plastic baggie and tells me to start putting the assorted tubes/bottle into it. As I start to comply, she dives back into my purse. And finds the small velvet sheath that holds my pocketknife. Oh, hell.

She pulls it out, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger (it’s a really small pocketknife. She delicately separates the velcroed flap of the sheath and then pushes the knife up and out from the bottom (it looked like she was performing a magic trick!!).

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. That little knife has caused me so much trouble, but I don’t want to lose it. I forget it’s there until I need it. Princess No has backed away, saying, “I’m going to the gate by myself. I’ll call you when I land.”

I start asking if I could take it out to my car and come back in. Princess No is almost apoplectic, saying I should just go. Just go.

So I hug her and am escorted out by security. The agent holds my purse and knife and I walk the green (carpeted) mile to the land of freedom for pocketknives…otherwise known as the waiting area. She hands me my purse. I have to ask for my pocketknife, which she begrudgingly releases to me. (It really is a sweet little blade!)

I call Princess No to see if she is getting over her huff yet. She informs me she is in the middle of texting a friend. Mom has been written off!

Her highness takes off and I head to my school to get some work done. I have to wait for Buck to finish a Young Marine activity and have two or three hours to kill anyway. The caretaker lets me into my building and I get to work. I accomplished quite a bit, so I should be able to leave somewhat early on the teacher final work day on Tuesday.

A terrible electric storm rolls in as I’m starting to wrap up things. There is a humongous KA-POW…and the fire alarm goes off. A shrill, unending eardrum-piercing electronic wailing. And I don’t dare go out into the weather with the lightning.

So I sit. And wait. And wait. The alarm doesn’t go off. My head is starting to pound. I grab a pair of foam ear plugs and put them in. (They’re not for me to block out the students, however a good idea that may be. I actually bought them for a student who said that ‘noise’ bothered her. The noise only bothered her during test time…when the loudest sound is pencil scratching on paper! But that’s another story for another time).

The ear plugs help and I do a few more chores. The storm isn’t letting up much, and it’s really past time for me to leave to get Buck. I grab one of the plastic white tablecloths I use to cover bookshelves. No way I’m holding up a metal umbrella in the lightning storm.

I run through the rain into the parking lot…which is almost knee-deep in water. Great…I’m going to be electrocuted in the school parking lot. BUT…a big fire truck is there with hunky firemen! If I get struck by lightning whilst running splashing to my car, at least I’d get first aid immediately.

The fire department was waiting for someone with keys to show up and deactivate the alarm. Their captain was on the caretaker’s porch, watching the crazy Mrs. Who treading water. The firemen on the truck were watching the crazy Mrs. Who, looking like a little white-riding hood.

The crazy Mrs. Who finally made it to her car, only wet from the knees down (the tablecloth worked rather well!). Then she picked up Buck, went home, and had some monk-made bourbon butter-walnut fudge.

I deserved it after my day.

I had BR puzzled with the title on my bunny post, I knew I shoulda taken that left turn at Albuquerque!

Me: You know, Bugs Bunny?

BR: Blink. Blink.

Me: Bugs always said that whenever he popped out of his traveling tunnel.

BR: Blink. Blink. Blink.

I thought everyone of my generation had Bugs Bunny blazoned on his or her brain:

When BR quizzed my about the title, I showed him the above video. He still just blinked at me.

Until I clicked on this next video:

BR laughed his ass off. He claims it’s his new favorite clip, and keeps muttering, ‘Have to burn mah boots…they touched Yankee soil’…and then he laughs again.

At least he stopped the blinking.

BR are thinking about taking a delayed honeymoon (10 years delayed!!!).

First we talked about going to Tennessee…then the floods hit. Scratch that destination off the list.

Then we talked about Key West.** Take our new/old truck and haul a camper down that way…now there’s the oil mess to worry about.

BR and I were discussing how as soon as we announce our destination, some terrible disaster hits that particular area.

So, we’re changing our plans again.

BR opted for California. I’m thinking DC.

Just keep watching the news, folks…

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**UPDATE: Another reason to stay away from Key West.

Look below the podium and to the right…

George Bush, Queen Elizabeth, and Vladimir Putin all die and go to hell. While there, they spy a red phone and ask what the phone is for. The devil tells them it is for calling back to Earth.

Putin asks to call Russia and talks for 5 minutes. When he is finished the devil informs him that the cost is a million dollars, so Putin writes him a check.

Next Queen Elizabeth calls England and talks for 30 minutes. When she is finished the devil informs her that the cost is 6 million dollars, so she writes him a check.

Finally George Bush gets his turn and talks for 4 hours. When he is finished the devil informs him that the cost is $5.00. When Putin hears this he goes ballistic and asks the devil why Bush got to call the USA so cheaply.

The devil smiles and replies: “Since Obama took over, the country has gone to hell, so it’s a local call.”

And so…what are y’all’s plans for the Super Bowl? I usually make fried mushrooms with ranch dip. And wait for the commercials.

Oh, wait. Now we have DVR…I can make the commercials wait for me!!! Bwah-haa-haa-haaa! I have the power!

H/T to BR…who got it, curiously enough, from one of his liberal friends on FB:

Courtesy of Minneapolis Star Tribune’s ‘Letter of the Day‘:

Dear Pat Robertson, I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I’m all over that action. But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I’m no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth — glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven’t you seen “Crossroads”? Or “Damn Yankees”? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there’d be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox — that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it — I’m just saying: Not how I roll. You’re doing great work, Pat, and I don’t want to clip your wings — just, come on, you’re making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That’s working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract. Best, Satan

LILY COYLE, MINNEAPOLIS

We went to see ‘Avatar’ again today. (And if I was feeling philosophically adequate, I would comment on the Christian allegory that could be found in the film. Truly. But my brain is still 2009, so it will have to wait.)

Anyway, I went by the Dollar General to buy movie candy for the four of us that were going to the show. The cashier was a clean-cut young man, probably about 16 or 17. As he scanned my candy, he looked up and asked, ‘So, what movie are you going to see?’ I raised my eyebrow at him for a moment (you know, that ‘teacher look’) and then uttered, “Do I look like the kind of person who would sneak candy into a movie?”

Poor kid. He gasped several ‘ums’ and ‘ahhs’, and nearly dropped the rest of the candy. The cashier behind him about bent over laughing as I winked at him. I finally took pity on the poor kid and told him yes, I was going to see Avatar.

I still don’t think he could talk straight as I left. The other cashier was still snickering.
I never knew messing with minimum wage earners could be so much fun. Heh.

I would like to say thank you to whoever placed the new box of trash bags in the cabinet. I truly appreciate the help in putting things away.

However, I had bought the new box because I saw the old box was down to just a couple of bags laying limply in the bottom. A near-empty box, in other words. So when you placed the brand new, full and heavy box ON TOP of the old box…the old box collapsed and the new box fell out of the cabinet.

Really…since you made the effort to actually put the box into its proper spot…is it too much to ask that you lift up the old box and put the new one UNDER it? I’ll give you a second chance…we go through a bag of trash a day, so there will be another almost empty box before you know it. I appreciate the help.

And speaking of trashy people:

You know, when one leaves one’s purse at home, containing one’s cell phone and wallet with one’s driver’s license…you become the most amazingly careful driver. No passing, no speeding, no shortcuts.

And it takes longer to get home, too.

Who knew they had rednecks in Minnesota???

(This involves the same boy as in yesterday’s post.)

Boy: What am I supposed to do after this work? Just sit here and be bored?

Mrs. Who: (raises eyebrow ala Spock)

Boy: (stares innocently)

Mrs. Who: Choose one of the learning activities to do, or you can be bored copying out of my big dictionary.

Boy: Hmm.

Boy: Hmm.

Boy: I think I’ll go on the computer.

Mrs. Who: Good choice.

…is doing the time-warp in the kitchen. At least at the HoZ.

Yeah, we’re weird that way.

Don’t bother…they’re here…working at Swamprot Elementary. At least one clown does.

For many years, I have provided ‘bathroom humor’ to other teachers. No, nothing risque. There is a small round table in one of the teachers’ bathrooms. I have taken the liberty of placing a cartoon or funny joke on that table. Most of time, it’s a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon. My kids have literally read those books to pieces. Instead of throwing the loose pages away, I often put one on the table, and replace it every few days. Or else I find an apropos editorial cartoon or some other joke. That way, we teachers can maybe have a humorous respite from all the demands being made on us. I have done this for at least six or seven years…maybe longer.

Anyway, I had come across a series of lolcats at this site. Go ahead…go look. I imagine it’s funnier to a teacher, but they’re still amusing.
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Oh…you’re back now. Okay…on with my story. Anyway, I made copies of those lol pictures, one to a page. Labeled them ‘District Administration Visits the School’, Part I, Part II, etc. On the last page I referenced the Cornerstone Blog as an excellent resource for teachers.

Well, I put the first one in the teachers’ bathroom on Monday afternoon, placing it on the stand I put there to display the papers (so people don’t pick it up to read while they’re going to the bathroom…ick factor!!!) On Tuesday during lunch, I asked another teacher to watch my class while I ran to the bathroom.

And the picture was gone. Instead there was a pile of torn up pieces right in front of the stand. Someone had ripped the paper to shreds and left it there.

I was mad and hurt all at the same time. I grabbed pen and paper and wrote a note…basically saying that I have placed humorous pages in the bathroom in an attempt to alleviate the stresses we were all feeling. That I in no way meant to offend anyone, and apologized if I did so. (I didn’t do the ‘faux apology’…saying that I was sorry if they were offended. No, I said I was sorry if I caused it.) I also mentioned that the last page would have had a link to a published teacher’s blog, and that her book was on effective classroom management.

And then I left, vowing not to leave any more humor.

But all the rest of yesterday and again today, other teachers and even clerical staff came up and gave me hugs, asking if I knew who the crazy person was that tore up the picture. They told me they love having the humorous stuff there and look forward to seeing it. That they are disappointed if a new one doesn’t appear within a day or two. There are two separate bathrooms in our teachers’ lounge, but the teachers wait to go in the one with the cartoon.

I wrote a thank you note to them and left it, of course, in the bathroom. Somebody had removed the torn up pieces…but left my apology note. Someone thought that she was teaching me a lesson by tearing up that first picture.

And indeed she did teach me a lesson.

Not the one she intended, however. I learned that my time and effort in finding funny pictures and jokes are appreciated. I learned that I’m bringing a smile to many people’s faces. And that makes me smile.

Some people asked me if I want to know who tore up the picture. Nope. I have no desire to know. She had to have seen the reactions of the other teachers, and probably read my note thanking everyone. That is enough.

Now, I’m off to find a new ‘funny’ to take to school. Can’t disappoint my many adoring fans and my one un-adoring fan!

And I must remember (this is on a little chalkboard in my classroom):

I will not scream in class. I will not pinch or hit or pull hair. I will not throw things at the wall or stand in my chair. I must always be a good example to all the kids…because I am the teacher…I am the teacher… I am the teacher…

A Pictorial Essay:

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Goob (a full-fledged soldier in Uncle Sam’s Army) is getting his ass kicked by his little brother Buck (a Marine wanna-be) in Call of Duty 4.

Yep, I’m laughing at Goob’s shouts of frustration as he is defeated again. And again. And again.

Did you ever play ‘The Farmer in the Dell?’ as a child? You know, everybody stands in a circle, with one person in the middle. Then the person in the middle picks someone to join them for each line of the song.

The farmer in the dell
The farmer in the dell
Hi-ho, the derry-o
The farmer in the dell

The cheese stands alone
The cheese stands alone
Hi-ho, the derry-o
The cheese stands alone!

I asked BR if he had ever played it when he grew up in Utah. He said he hadn’t. I muttered, ‘silly Mormons’. He laughed and said that that wasn’t it. Rather, that they would never be able to get past the verse of ‘the farmer takes a wife’.

Part of our pre-school procedures is to try to contact every parent by phone. That way, the first call isn’t a ‘bad’ one, and if there are any concerns or questions it can be taken care of easily.

I called one number only to have the answering machine come on in a foreign language. Not quite Spanish sounding, but nothing I really recognized. I glanced at my information card to see if there were any Hispanic or similar-type names as a reason. Nope…all the names, child and parent, were definitely very Anglo.

I went ahead and left a message, apologizing if I had the wrong number but reminding the family about Meet and Greet in a couple of days.

This family did show up for Meet and Greet last night. I asked them if I had the right number, saying the answering machine greeting was in another language. They laughed and said it was French, one of the default settings for their machine. They accidentally set it one day, but decided to leave it since they no longer get calls from telemarketers and such. I love it!!!! Makes me wish I could set my voice mail to answer like that!

*Not the literal translation. I simply can’t post the translation here. But I can put the associated quote: “I have sampled every language, French is my favourite – fantastic language, especially to curse with. Nom de Dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperies de connards d’enculé de ta mère. It’s like wiping your ass with silk, I love it”. Bonus points if you can guess the movie before hitting the link!