With an Iron Fist

Me: "We're going to the State Fair tomorrow. I mean, does it get any better than this??"

Laura: "God, I'm so jealous. I'm missing all the great Fall stuff over there. I wish I could go to the Fair."

Me: "Yeah you do. I mean, Caramel Apples, Corn on the Cob, Taffy, Turkey Legs, Fried Oreos, Corn Dogs, Funnel Cakes, Ferris Wheels...and the BUTTER SCULPTURE (which is the best part of the whole thing."



Laura: "You know, they would only think an entire sculpture of butter was fascinating in East Texas, where Obesity Reigns with an Iron Fist."

Me: "How right you are. Did I mention the Funnel Cakes?"

Cannibals

I took my exam to be officially certified to be a Math Teacher this morning, and friends, it's not looking so good. I knew there would be difficult questions on the exam, and I knew that cramming the Night before with Cliff's Notes Guide to Calculus probably wasn't a good idea (although they are very handy), but Holy Cow...I think I barely made a 50. Why do they even let me near the Algebra Children?

I got to the Testing Center in Commerce, Texas wearing my Mathematic Olympiad Shirt (for extra Math Essence) and was immediately directed to my testing Room. There, I found three other poor Souls testing to be Math Teachers, and seven Folks testing to be Counselors. I took my assigned seat, pulled out my Trusty Electronic Executing Assesment System (TExAS for short) otherwise known as my Graphing Calculator--I feel like the extra long name gives me more Math Power. The other Testers and I bonded over our Math-ness and Teacher-ness, because both of those things will get you into special clubs where they give out discounts on Protractors and Signs that say "Winners Make the Grade, Whiners Make Excuses" to hang in your Living Room or Classroom or wherever.

The Guy sitting next to me had apparently not eaten in a few days, because his Stomach was making some of the most incredible noises that I have ever heard. We are talking noises on par with Sarah Stogregor Stomach noise. I could hardly concentrate because I was afraid he would jump over the desk and try to eat me at any moment to satiate his ravenous Hunger. Luckily, he ate the other two People first, so I finished up quickly and went on my way.

Yeah, Sure

I was in the Wal-mart today, and (as often happens) I saw someone I knew. It's not unusual at all to see several friends and relatives on a trip anywhere. You can go to the bathroom and find someone you know. So anyway, I was in a hurry (as usual) and the person I saw is a known talker. She can talk for seventeen minutes straight without taking a breath. I've seen it.

So, I decide to take precautions in case she tried to make a move. I used the usual Talker Block: the fake phone conversation. My friends, this is one of the best things about owning a cell phone. I popped it out ad put it up to my ear, uttering the occasional "Yeah" and "Sure" to make it seem like I was having an actual conversation. Don't ridicule me, you know you've done it, too.

Anyway, I passed her, made eye contact and hence the obligatory smile and head nod, all the while making fake replies to my fake phone call. I was right next to her when I recieved the only phone call that day. So, while pressed up against my ear and two feet away from the avoidee when my phone starts blasting "Promiscuous Girl" and vibrating. Now, my head hurts and not only does the woman know I'm callously avoiding her, but also that I was holding on a FAKE PHONE CONVERSATION in order to get away from her. Now, she thinks I'm rude, stupid, and insane. The good news is that I probably won't have to worry about her talking to me any more.

Fairies

Me: "Hooray for the Fair! I love everything about it."


Jake: "Yeah, but you have to watch out for the Carnies."

Me: "You know, if you think about it (and I do), Carnies work at Carnivals. So wouldn't these people be called Fairies?"

Jake: "You're right, it's a magical land with butterflies and children."

Me: "Haha, yep."

Jake: "Hey, I could have gone so many different directions with that."

Me: "I know. Thank you for sticking to the butterflies."

Six Flags Over Stank-Nasty

I went to Six Flags last weekend with Jake (the Boyfriend), and I think I have a bone to pick with the Six Flags Theme Parks Industries. Don't get me wrong, the sheer excitement of a whole five Rollercoasters over seven hours was amazing. I could even put up with standing in Line for an hour and a half behind the Dallas Make-Out Club who seemed to think that the Line for Runaway Mountain would be the perfect time to get freaky. And lo, not even the hordes of folk who thought that a high of only eighty three degrees meant no need for Deoderant whatsoever could put a damper on my fun. But, seriously, if I'm going to lay down $15.00 to park 4.9 miles away from the Front Gate, $39.95 to just set foot inside the Park, $9.99 for a cool Beverage, $10.99 for a box of Saltwater Taffy, and $15.99 for a blurry Picture of me getting my skin blown off while experiencing Mach 7 on the Titan, I think that they should have the funds available to make the Restrooms just a bit nicer.

I won't lie to you. I have a tiny bladder. We're talking a large acorn. Maybe. I have to go a lot. Those "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now" Commercials? They are for me. So when I go to a public place for long amounts of time, I know things are going to get pretty scary pretty quick. In San Fransisco, I almost had Kidney failure due to a succession of Evil Restrooms. But I was expecting more from the Theme Park Giants of America. I was expecting Lounges with televisions and couches. Gold-plated toilet seats with hand-woven toilet paper. Motion-sensor everything: flushes, sinks, papertowels, Handi-wipes. Complimentary mints and lotion. Where else could all that money be going? How I was deceived.

I have seen gas stations with better Restrooms. I could barely fit my entire body in the Stall. My knees were almost touching the door, and friends, I am not a large person. Not only that, but every woman in America who visits public Restrooms seems to have the need to try to relieve herself while precariously hovering above the toilet seat. No wonder the seats are so ridden with germs. Everyone is peeing on them! It is a vicious cycle that appears to have no end. And to finish it all off, since I was at a Theme Park, there were little ones EVERYWHERE. Writhing on the ground (gross), trying to eat inedible things (gross), stealing my single-ply toilet paper (gross), and screaming because they didn't want to go into the stall with all the pee on the toilet seat (really gross).

So, my advice to any potential Theme Parkers out there: bring your own toilet paper, your own toilet seat, and a practiced Angry Scowl to scare the little ones off. Trust me, it is the only way to get out Alive.

National Garage Sale Weekend

There is nothing more American than a good old fashioned Garage Sale on a lazy Saturday morning. We had such a Garage Sale yesterday, but we had one of those crazy Four-Family Sales that you usually only see in rural Tenessee. Basically, everyone we knew brought a bunch of crap to sell. Unfortunately, this weeked was apparently National Garage Sale Weekend because there were about seventeen other Yards full of Junk. Granted there are usually fifty plus Yards full of Junk....but this weekend the Junk was categorized and priced. It was like trying to open a Coffee Shop in Seattle or a Souvenir Shop in Honolulu.

So, we did kind of poorly. A week's worth of sifting through old shirts, picture frames and kitchen wares for a lousy $40. And, to make it worse, while we were waiting for the Hordes to arrive, I started shopping...at my own Garage Sale. I think that goes against about eight of the Official Rules of Garage Saling. I found a nice pair of shoes (my mother's), three shirts (mine), a nice box of Legos (mine), a few books (all mine and my brother's), and a Backstreet Boys CD (I won't confess outright to ever having owned this, but we all know whose it is). Despite the general pathetic nature of the whole scene, there was a plus side: since I already owned the stuff, I got a great discount.


By the way, if you've gotten this far, you should check out my Flickr Page...I added a few more photos yesterday and will be adding more this evening. Hooray.

F

It's that time of year again. Fall. Football. The Fair. Frigid temperatures. Flamingos. And other things that start with the letter F.

There are two things and two things only that matter in the great City of Bonham: High School Football and the Agricultural Arts. So, needless to say, if there are two solid weeks during which we can all enjoy some Football, show our favorite Heifer and take in the magnificent Butter Sculpture at the State Fair, we stop Everything and get to playing, showing or staring in awe.

This sacred Time has just recently arrived, and people are going nuts, especially with the whole shebang this weekend bringing the much anticipated Cotton Bowl ON the State Fairground. It's like Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, and your Birthday rolled up into fourteen days of Pure Happiness. Prize Heifers are popping up all over town. Everyone and their brother is wearing Purple, the color of our People. The Fannin County Fair is slowly rising from the ground on the outskirts of Town, and when I drive by, my whole body can't help but quiver with the excitement of the grease-saturated funnel cakes, the Death almost Guaranteed Carnival Rides, the sheep and pigs that are sure to appear, and the promise of at least one full night of Clogging. That's right. There is quivering going on.

James Earl Jones

I've been ill. The Pollens of the World have united in Bonham to wreak havoc on my sinuses, and they succeeded. I have used at least 37 Kleenexes each hour for the last few days (which is beginning to freak my students out a little bit I think), I smell like the cherry-flavored Halls Cough Drops ALL the time, and my usual early morning Man Voice has turned into a burly Lumberjack growling from the back of my throat. This has by far been the most enjoyable side effect: it is remarkable how much respect my students give me when I tell them to get to work sounding like James Earl Jones.

Luckily, I have begun to find a little bit of relief by living in a large Plastic Bubble (also freaking my students out) and just not breathing in, well, at all. For those instances when I have to get out and about in the World, I have some fabulous nose spray. Let me tell you, nothing attracts the boys like stopping in the middle of your conversation and saying, "Excuse me, I have to shoot some medicated ooze up my nostrils....yum."