The "Check Your Wallet" light is on

So, I own a Death Machine. Some would call it a car, I would call it a Machine of Death. In the past six months, I have had "check engine" lights, "check brake" lights, "check your face" lights, "check the weather" lights, etc. go on and off at the most inopportune times. On top of that, I am pretty certain that I am solely responsible for the Nation's economic success with the amount of Money I put into my gas tank almost every day. I think it might be cheaper to stuff twenties in the engine and see how she runs.

So, today, I went out to my car and noticed that my front tire had a, for lack of a better word, tire tumor. So I took it to the tire doctors and apparently I had hit a moon crater, large animal, or run off of a cliff without realizing it, leaving my tire in utter desolation. And, as all mechanics do, these told me that if I did not take immediate action, my Machine of Death would live up to its name in mere minutes. Luckily, I have a spare, and unluckily, it has apparently been used before. A lot. Once again, since I am a a girl, and therefore obviously vehicular ignorant, the urgency of the situation is impressed upon me: "Ma'am, if we don't replace these tires with the new $800 X-5000 model, your car could explode at any point in time, and that's the truth."

This wouldn't be such a problem, save that I drive a Lexus. And like everything, even the cupholders, Lexus tires are extra fancy. After all, the point of owning a Lexus is just so you can say, "Hey, look at my tires. They're extra fancy." I could buy about 9,000 boxes of Lucky Charms for the amount of money I would a set of tires, and let me tell you, I would much rather buy some Lucky Charms and some rubber cement and fashion some new tires myself.

Oh Baby

I think I am still a little scared of Adulthood. I went to Houston this weekend for a baby shower for two friends of mine from college. Now, I am not a "girly" girl, so showers are usually somewhat awkward for me (I lack the pastel outfits, the flippy hair, and thoughtful, personal gifts usually seen at showers). So, I show up with a brown and navy outfit, utterly flat and very sad hair, and a couple of gift certificates that I could have given to any stranger on the street. Disaster. On top of that, one of my friends was literally due the very next day, so we had some boiling water, a few blankets and an OB/GYN on hand, just in case things started moving.

Well, I walked in the door (late, of course) and found not two, but FIVE Pregnant Girls there. I was afraid I would get Pregnant (or at least exceptionally hormonal) just by sitting amongst so many dividing cells, so I girded my loins and took a seat in the corner. Aside from positively horrendous gifts that included diapers, nursing pads (don't ask), swaddling cloths (like baby burritos), etc., the shower was actually quite fun. Two of my close friends were in charge of it and had some great games planned (one of which had us sucking apple juice out of baby bottles in a no holds barred competition--and yes, we are all technically "Adults").

After the main part of the shower was over, I endured that awkward period where the girls you haven't seen in a few years ask what you're up to (this can be worse than Thanksgiving with the extended family). I told the majority of them that I had won the lottery, given the majority of my winnings to the Get Brad and Jen Back Together Foundation, and after that collapsed, spiraled into an abyss of purposelessness and apathy and, after a few months of eating nothing but peanut M&Ms, crawled ashamedly into the only profession that would take such an emotionless, hopeless human being. Upon hearing this, most of my girlfriends sighed and said, "So, you're gonna be a Teacher, huh?"

The moral of the story is that I was astounded to see that so many people I know (who are pretty close to my age) are not only married, but are starting to pop out little ones, while I'm moving off to Bonham, single and fabulous, much like Jennifer Aniston in Friends (just without all the friends...or the cool apartment...or the fun wardrobe...okay, so maybe only the fabulous part). I am actually excited to see what Dating in the Real World is like. I don't think it can be much different than the College World, or the Pseudo Post-College Twenty-Something World. I figure I can take my time, because although I think it would be fun to have a kid and be able to use things like the "Diaper Genie" (and, you know, to quench my motherly instincts), after that shower, I am crossing my fingers that I won't be popping out anything for quite some time.

433

Part of being an Adult is taking care of your body. I found 4 (FOUR) Gray Hairs on my head the other day and, after pulling them out (along with about 15 other perfectly brown hairs that got in the way) I suddenly felt my age. Okay, I'm only 24, and often get mistaken for a teenager, but still, there is a hairless patch on my head that demands action.

When I was student teaching last semester, I walked in to the office one day and met this gorgeous blond woman who really should have looked into modeling before teaching. I thought to myself how lucky I was not to be student teaching in her class, as the students could hardly have respected me in my skank nasty "stretch" (yeah, right) khaki pants and hair that has a chronic ponytail disorder. I consoled myself by thinking that she was probably a terrible teacher and had little respect from students or colleagues. I should be a walking karma advertisement, because she was definitely subbing in my classroom that day...not only did she turn out to be a pretty good teacher, but as students walked into the room, a Choir of Angels appeared behind her, an eerie glow surrounded her as she flashed a Stepford Wives worthy smile, and the Children ran up and knelt at her freshly pedicured feet. Needless to say, I maintained my integrity and knelt from the back of the room, but I still wish I had that effect on people.

So, I have decided to take control of my body and lifestyle and get in shape.....again....like for the 433rd time. But this time I'm serious. I promise. For real.

I have a regimen that incorporates some tennis, some stationary biking, and some time on the hike and bike trail. I have stuck to this regimen for a whole 4 (FOUR) days, and I'm hoping I'll find another Gray Hair tomorrow to give me the motivation for Day number 5. My favorite part of the regimen by far is the hike and bike trail. First of all, I am a walker, so I don't have to worry about keeping up with all the scary muscled athletic types. Instead, I get to look young and hip as I breeze past the seventy year old women in their orthapedic shoes...and they set a pretty good pace, believe me. Also, I've had at least twenty seven dogs sniff some part of my body, and being that popular, even amongst canines, is pretty sweet. And finally, there's a duck with her ducklings on the trail everyday, and although I am not sure whether they are trying to get fit, to reclaim their habitat, or just to be endearing, they are fun to watch.

I can't wait until August. I will go get a pedicure, let my hair down, step into my classroom and let the kneeling commence. Wish me luck.

Yawcumbaknow, hear?

I recently went back to Bonham for a weekend of rest and to reassure my cats that I have not abandoned them like yesterday's garbage. Bonham is a typical small town, which means those who have been there for several years have issues with their speech. I went to get my State Inspection Sticker renewed at a local garage, and after he moved several tractor wheels out of the way, this is the conversation I had with the mechanic:

Man: "Yep, tecker plum dun woor et on yeh?" (Translation: "So, your Inspection sticker is expired?")

Me: "Ummm. Yessir."

Man: "Alriiight, lit me sah-ee. Will, how mat yeh go bout start'n er up?" (Translation: "Do you have the keys?")

Me: "Ummm. Yessir."

Man: "So, all dose fency bills 'n' whistles werk'n fer yeh?" (Translation: "Is everything in your car working properly?")

Me: "Ummm. Yessir."

Man: "G'deal. Limme just ta-eek dayon sum numb'rs heah." (Translation: "After checking everything out, it looks like your car is in pretty good shape. I need to write down some registration numbers, and you should be good to go."

Me: "Ummmm. Yessir."

Man: "Kay, cum to 'bout tweve big wuns and fitty cints. We do 'perciate yeh." (Translation: "Your total is $12.50. Thanks for coming by.")

Me: "Ummmm. Yessir."

Michael Bolton concerts and Root Canals

I have been job hunting, which is very similar to Michael Bolton concerts and root canals: stressful, uncomfortable, and at times, agonizing, but something we just have to deal with every once in a while. I am a teacher, so the interviews aren't all that terrible. Something like this: "If a child says that your assignment is stupid, how do you react?" "You have run out of glue. What is your first step to recovering order in the classroom?" "In order to drive the point of a certain lesson home, you must perform a spontaneous DNA gel electrophoresis. Take me through your procedures." Something like that.

In the meantime, I have to look "professional" at all of these interviews. This wouldn't be such a problem, except that I am casual by nature, and if it were up to me, I would wear gym shorts and a t-shirt from the Salvation Army. So, I spend a few hours making myself appear as if I have not just finished playing disc golf, and the results are often pretty....scary. To make it even better, I was on my way out to my car on my way to one interview, and the arid Texas skies suddenly decided to open. So I arrived at the school looking like I had spent several hours making myself appear as if I had not just finished playing disc golf...and then had decided to swim to the interview.

I am currently spread between two cities in Texas. The vast majority of my earthly posessions are quite far away from me, and I am essentially homeless. I am fortunate enough to have friends who are willing to lend me their apartments and homes while they are out of town. So, I am currently staying in a quite frankly frightening apartment in one of the more heavily populated college areas. Last night, I was trying to doze off after encountering a roach the size of a small dog when I heard the most terrifying noises coming from the other room. Ever the levelheaded individual, I deftly leapt out of bed, grabbed my phone and dialed 9-1, and a coat rack in the room. I think I was planning to hit whatever was making the noises with the coat rack, which in retrospect was a little stupid as I had to drag it behind me because it was so heavy. I think I was counting on an adrenaline rush. Anyway, I crept out of the bedroom (it is only a one bedroom place, so I was totally exposed to any imminent dangers at this point), and set myself to pounce, tensing every muscle in my body. The noises shifted to the bathroom, which was right next to me...I jumped, and swung the coat rack a whole six inches in front of me. I am a force to fear, I'm telling you. Anyway, it was then that it occured to me that this was probably my upstairs neighbors just tap dancing in the bathroom area (???). Then I heard the squeaking. It was a raw animal squeaking that convinced me that there were rabid bunnies in the walls. To make a long story short (too late), I never figured out what the noises were, I didn't sleep very well, and I never got to use my coat rack. I have decided that I have some kind of small (non-rabid) animal guests in the ceiling (maybe a cat, a large bird, or maybe some squirrels if I'm lucky). At least that makes me feel better. This is exactly why I don't like living alone. The interviews are still scarier, though.

They're Always After Me Lucky Charms

Hi, my name's Lindsay. This is my first blog post, and I have never posted before. Therefore, this will quite possibly be the worst thing you have ever read. If that's the case, my most humble apologies.

So, I have just graduated college (again) and am being forced to enter the Real World, at least for the time being. For those of you who don't know, the Real World is an often scary place where there is weeping, gnashing of teeth, and health insurance. I avoided it once before by entering one of the most popular post-college career industries (and one that put my biology degree to great use) -- the food service industry. Maybe I wasn't studying bacteria (at least not intentionally), but I could make a cappuccino that would make Seattle's Best worry if they really were not, well, the best. When I realized that my talents behind an espresso machine would earn me little more than $8 per hour, I decided to go back to school like every good twenty-something does. After three semesters of education classes, I am now certified to teach middle school science. Yes, middle school. My maturity level is at about 7th grade, and I am short so I can look pre-pubescent boys in the eye, so middle school seemed the obvious choice.


About the address. I do love Lucky Charms, and I figured that I could thank them for their tireless work in marshmallow design, sugar highs, and just general tasting good with a web address that offers free advertising that will reach anywhere from one to three million people (depending on who reads my blog).

This blog will be a hopefully lighthearted account of my adventures in said Real World, and help me to keep my sanity. Have fun!