Making Decisions Regarding the Future

Today I have decided that I am going to spend as much time on the Internet as I can without getting fired. I figure testing is done for the year, yesterday I found out that I was yet again snubbed as Teacher of the Year (perhaps this Internet thing has something to do with that?)and we are getting a new principal in September which means that everything I do from now until June does not matter to the lone person in the position of power. So, what do I do with this new found freedom? I think I have many options.

Option 1- I can blog.

I like how you can use the word blog as a noun. For example, "Yeah, I have a blog.")

You can also use it in the a verb form. For example, "Sorry I didn't have a change to blog yesterday."
One can be a "blogger" which obviously means "one who blogs" which brings it back to the verb form or "one who writes a blog" which clearly refers to the noun form of the word blog. (This is all starting to remind me of the time I learned the word word "ser" in Spanish class in 8th grade with Mr. Decter. I mistakenly went with the joke "Ser or not to ser..." which really doesn't make sense in Spanish, but none the less I thought I was effin hysterical.)

Option 2- I can send emails.

Those of you know me know that I thoroughly enjoy writing emails. I actually think it is fun to crack into the old gmail account and write down some witty comments to my friends. It varies from a weekend plan, to a quick catch up, an account on the idiots I work with, or an agenda for upcoming events (Those of you who have received them know the work I put into my agendas.) The sick thing is that I like to read my own emails. This has prevented me from reading other literature that might make me a better person. In theory, Gmail has made me dumb. Damn you Gmail!

Option 3- Check multiple websites/blogs every few minutes.

If you have been paying attention, you may have noticed that my list of other fun and exciting blogs that you should check out has grown. This is because I have been getting to work around 7 lately and reading blogs and laughing my ass off. I actually read these blogs and kick myself with the old "How come I didn't think of that?" (For example, check out the The answer is obvious if you read option 2. Because I am dumb.

The day should progress with showing a video to my class to provide more time for my computer-filled day. Perhaps, I'll be back.

The Odd Crowd

I went to see The Odd Couple last night with my mom for her birthday. It was kind of interesting to observe a Broadway crowd on a Tuesday night. I looked around as I sat down and noticed a few things. First of all, no one in the first few rows were from NYC. No one. (We were in the 6th row.) This was apparent by viewing the fashion faux-paus surrounding me. There was a lovely seemingly-Croatian couple sitting next to me (I know this from my vast Croatian knowledge that goes hand-in-hand with working in RP- Mecca for Croatian immigrants in NJ.) Next to us was a lovely couple from Long Island who were yelling at eachother as we sat down. The man next to us said "Ooh, sorry. I know dis is the thea-da, but I need to curse. I know I'll get it on the train ride home." My mom and I looked at eachother with puzzled looks.
Behind us was a family- a mom, dad, and daughter trio- who had that lovely "Scraaaanton Pennslyyyyyvaaaaania" accent I abhor. They sat there discussing how the seats were too close together and how hot it was in the theater. The mom, said "Ooh honey, is Daaaayad awaaake?" (translation- "Is Dad awake?") It was amazing to me that I tried to get these tickets last summer, and had to pay through the nose to get the extreme stage-left seats I did get. My mother wept when I gave her these seats as her birthday present, and these annoying people sat and complained. I am sure these tickets were comp-ed as part of some business perk plan for some, and I doubt the people around us were even aware of the fact that the seats are sold out for the entire run of the show and have been since before previews (one of the things I learned from previously dating a guy involved in Corporate America.) The Middle-America Wives surrounding us probably responded to their husbands request to go to NY with "OOH, Honey, Broadway!!! We should eat at that Plaaaaanet Hollywood that all the stars own! That'd be faaaabulous! We should stay at the Milleeeeenium Hilton. Isn't that where Regis puts his guests up???" They probably sat at their tables at dinner before the show and told the waiter "We need this quickly. We're going to the theeeeateeer tonight." (After which Mid-American Wife would smile smarmily.)As if everyone else in a restaurant has no where to go.
My favorite by-far was a lady in the third row. I think someone was teasing her and told her to dress for the prom. She had, what I like to refer to as, "Serious Hair."
The best part was that she had one of those banana clips in her hair holding up The Twist. I couldn't stop staring at it. It reminded me of that SATC episode with the scrunchy.
In closing, going to the theater is fun. You never know what you are going to get. Unfortunately, last night I got an earful of Pennslyvanian and caught a cold. :(

Stupid ADHD me

1. Copy/paste into your blog
2. Bold what is true
3. Leave plain what is not

001. I miss somebody right now.
002. I watch more tv than I used to.
003. I love olives.
004. I love sleeping.
005. I own lots of books/magazines.
006. I wear glasses or contact lenses.
007. I love to play video games.
008. I’ve tried marijuana- hmm
009. I’ve watched porn movies.
010 I have been in a threesome.
011. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship.
012. I believe honesty is the best policy.
013. I have freckle free skin.
014. I like and respect Al Sharpton.
015. I curse frequently.
016. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year.
017. I have a hobby.
018. I’ve been told I have a nice butt.
019. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me.
020. I've never broken anyone else's bones.
022. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal- Do we read my posts? I can't keep secrets!!!
023. I love rain.
024. I’m paranoid at times. Paranoid is not the word when I am in my house all by myself and hear noises that sound like hammers coming from my basement. It's a lifelong struggle.
025. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free. because I am a vain, shallow being.
026. I need money right now.
027. I love sushi.
028. I talk really, really fast sometimes. especially into answering machines.
029. I have fresh breath in the morning.
030. I have semi-long hair.
031. I have lost money in Las Vegas.
032. I have at least one brother and/or sister.
033. I was born in a country outside the U.S.
034. I shave my legs.
035. I have a twin.
036. ?????
037. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D.
038. I like the way I look. sometimes.
039.I have lied to a good friend in the past 6 months. Nothing major.
040. I know how to do cornrows. Dang, don't I wish! :P
041. I am usually pessimistic.
042. I have mood swings.
043. I think prostitution should be illegal.
044. I think Britney Spears is pretty/hot.
045. I have cheated on a significant other.
046. I have a hidden talent.
047. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have.
048. I think that I’m popular.
049. I am currently single.
050. I have kissed someone of the same sex.
051. I enjoy talking on the phone.
052. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants.
053. I love to shop.
054. I would rather shop than eat. sometimes
055. I would classify myself as ghetto.
056. I’m bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders.
057. I’m obsessed with my blog.
058. I don’t hate anyone.
059. I’m a great dancer.
060. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington. WTF?!?!?!
061. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother.
062. I have a cell phone.
063. I watch MTV on a daily basis.
065. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months. Umm, Boston? VT? St. Patrick's Day?
064 I’ve rejected someone before.
065 I currently have a crush on someone. Always...
068I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.
069I want to have children in the future.
070 I have changed a diaper before.
071. I’ve had the cops called on me before.
072. I bite my nails.
073. I’m not allergic to anything deadly.

ps- Stolen from Team Gingerbread Latte... but you know I love these things!

Basketball and the Sopranos

I am sorry that I haven't posted since Thursday. As you can tell by the scathing, bitter tone of a few of last week's posts, I had a rough week and I am thankful that it is over and I can go back to normal. (Whatever normal is for me.) This weekend, however, did prove to be an interesting one. First of all, my life has turned from date-free to Loser-Magnet City to Fun-Directionless Guy Time. I'll bring you back, back, waaaaay back to last Friday.

Here's the way St. Patrick's Day went...

Me at the local watering hole- "Hey V, Happy St. Patrick's Day!"
V- "You too! Here, have a Tangueray and Tonic."
Me- "Ooh, I love Tangueray and tonic!!!"
V- "Good, here's an Irish Car Bomb..."
Me- "Gulp"
The CP Gym teacher that I had just meet- "I love this girl!!!"

This pattern continued until I apparently ordered Tequila in place of a Sambuca shot and the rest I can't remember.(In the words of my 3 year old niece Ashley, "NO ME!!!" Tequila? I never drink Tequila. Tequila was the cause of the infamous "He is STRUGGLIN'! STRUGG-LIN!" night at TCNJ Pool games '01!)This disorientation continued until I disgraced myself and my family (and my school...) on Queen Anne Road. All of which I cannot recall and details are shady.

So last Wednesday, because I actually had a person of the opposite sex that I enjoyed talking to (aside from you, Todd, Corey, and Dan!!!) my phone began ringin' off the proverbial hook. Suddenly, Brian the Bouncer/Plumber called and Terry the Teacher as well!(I love alliteration!) Two phone calls in one evening from men who could do voice-overs for Tony Soprano! How fabulous!
I haven't yet called Brian the Bouncer back (this is where you get the "Joy is mean" thought in your head, I know) but I did meet Terry the Teacher out for "drinks." (That was for you, Kate.)

I had spoken to said Terry (a friend of my friend Patty's brother) on Wednesday and things went well. After we hung up, the phone was blinking 1:21 (ONE HOUR AND TWENTY-ONE MINUTES!!!) which is a big feat with me. My ADHD was under control and I was actually laughing at someone's stories, other than my own and my group of established friends and fam who have passed my tests (that means you, dear reader.) Oh, and the two glasses of wine I had with my mom before he called didn't hurt my friendliness either. I heard some funny tales about the Newark Public School System of which he was employed and a little ditty about his basketball coaching and a famous basketball player who pronounced Bayonne as "By-own-e." It was enough to intrigue me a bit. We planned to meet for drinks on Friday night at Lanigan's. That was my first mistake.

Patty had repeatedly told me that "This guy is sooo hot. You are going to love him. He's soooo hot." Friday came and I spruced myself up a bit and waited for him to call me to signify he was leaving. He finally called at 8:30 (the time we were supposed to meet) to tell me that he was just leaving his house in Bbbbbbbloomfield (pronounced with the plosive "Bbb" sound that only men from Bbbbbbloomfield and Bbbbbelleville can do.) So he was going to be late... which I hate. More than anything. Waiting. Sucks. We met at 9:05 (after my ninth trip to QuikChek that day- I swear the FDA needs to check out the contents of that Vitamin Water because I am straight up addicted!) And I walk up to the front of Lanigan's to meet a tall, blond haired, blue eyed, FAT MAN. Yes, that's right, a fat man. Lucky me. Thank you Patty, for fixing me up with a big fat guy. I work out on average 10 hours per week and I would definitely be attracted to a big fat guy. Yum.


He'd probably need an inhaler to keep up with my everyday fast walking pace. During the course of the evening I learned that it took him 11 years to get his Bachelor's Degree. He is 31 and hates paying car payments so he buys a cheap car and keeps it for a year and actually thought it was cool to get the license plates "HOOP-T." Take a moment to think of me driving shotgun in a car with the plates "Hoop-T." Go ahead, take a second- ding. You can laugh. All the while I am on this "date" of sorts, the RP boys that I haven't hung out with in a dogs age are at the same bar, laughing and having a good time (and watching me and texting me bad comments...) Heinous. I had to go to the bathroom inadvertantly at the same time the bill came, to which Terry said "Is that how you handle this situation?" inferring that I am getting out of paying the bill by peeing (???)At the conclusion of the most painful date of my life, I did the polite thing and gave a little "Thanks for the memories..." hug and pat on the back. And immediately called Patty with a "You need to call me tomorrow!" message.

I won't get into my Sunday date with St. Patrick's Day Guy that much because I actually like him, but let's just say that there will be no wedding in my near future- This guy is just fun and directionless (and I don't really want to be married.) He actually wanted to meet for early dinner because he didn't want to miss the Sopranos- but he said he'd be willing to tape it if we were having too much fun. (WHAT THE HELL IS WITH THESE GUYS AND THE SOPRANOS?!?! I mean, I love Carm and Tone like family but my heart will go on if I miss it! It's on again on Wednesday anyway!) We got home with 2 minutes to spare, in case you were wondering. I guess I have been filled with direction since I was 15 so it's kind of nice to be around someone who doesn't really stress over everything. We went to Houlihan's on the Hudson River (which I thought was a funny choice) and he didn't make us sit in the bar area to watch March Madness, even though he was a basketball player in college and it was probably killing him softly.

So, now that I blew up all of my dates spots this weekend, I guess I will keep you posted on how things go. I am sure I will ruin everything in the next few weeks, so be prepared for a funny story of how Joy ruins yet another meaningless relationship. Or says something stupid. Or strings a guy along that she doesn't like because he gets her Bon Jovi VIP tickets. I should make a mini-series. In closing, I hope your dates and outtings were better or comparable to mine and Happy Monday!!!

Loathing, unadulterated loathing

I hate this place...

In a recent edition of "Is it bad?" I said that I often think teachers are stupid and yet I am one. Today is one of those days where I think teachers are stupid. (I realize my artistic license to say this because I am a teacher and know how hard we work, but really some teachers just suck.) I have been proctoring the pinnacle of the fourth grade year- the NJ ASK 4- all week. This is the test provided by the state of NJ that shows the progress your students are making over the year (I will not rant and rave about how stupid this test is at this time, but rather save that for another day when it feels right.) Anyway, this is the fifth time I have given the NJ ASK and each year the people I work with same the exact same thing about it.

Here's what I hear every year

"It was fair"
"That was impossible."
"What were those test makers thinking?"
and my personal fave,
"Oh my god, we're all going to be pumping gas next year."


This week seriously brings out the worst in me. I think the entire month of March is like a giant stress test. I have been tested by the administration when they lost a paper I worked on for awhile and a new one was requested of me (still haven't done it, btw.) I have been tested by the license plate theif who attempted to gank my plates. I am currently being tested by the 16 inhabitants of 4W who are behind me at this moment doing puzzles because I can't bear to deal with them. But I am tested most each day from 11:40 am to 12:40 pm when I have to sit in the Teacher's Room and listen to the moronic orations of my colleagues. I swear some of them say "Dem" and "Doz" (as in "I want one of doz...")

I have to stop a moment because I swear one of my boy students just started belting out "Build Me Up Buttercup"- my personal karaoke favorite... funny stuff.

Teachers have the uncanny knack to remember exactly what they said a year before and spit it out again a year later. It's even more amazing that they dispell their knowledge on the lunch room audience every effin March and they pretend like no one has every said that the testing is stupid. Or that some kids won't pass this year. So seriously, if you are reading this and you are a teacher and you participate in the joy that is state mandated testing, write down exactly how you bitched this year on a piece of paper and next year go find yourself a thesaurus and mix it up- because no one wants to hear the same thing again. Think of me when you do this.

Cursed

I have come to terms with the sad fact that I will always have large legs. This whole large leg thing started when I was a child and did gymnastics. I was the kid who couldn't do a push-up but could bruise another person with a swift kick. When I was in Mrs. Sullivan's dance classes I was not the graceful girl doing plies and arabesques- I was the kid who they were worried would hurt herself because dancers legs these are not. I couldn't tap (no really, Corey. I couldn't...) because there is just far too much muscle to be a tap-tap-tapping.

To dissect the leg further, I have decided I really only hate the very upper portion of my thighs. I run, I kickbox, I lunge, squat with weights, squat without weights, do that yes-yes-no-no machine (that used to face the window randomly at the Packer Hall gym- Why would they do that? Fools...) I even walk at a 15 incline for over an hour and I wind up with no leg soreness or reduction in size. I have big legs.
Last Spring at my gym a few gym friends who saw me there all the day would ask me to join their softball teams. Initially, this made me laugh because I am horrendous at softball and these people really don't want me on their teams. I assumed it was because I would wear RP Softball shirts that I bought to help raise money for Sara's team. Then there was an incident this summer on my month-long European adventure. Kristen and I were killing time chatting on a random Eurail train and she said to me "Joy, you've always had a softball players body." A softball players bodice? What does that mean? Do softball players have big shoulders that don't fit in prom dresses? Do softball players have no hips? No- softball players have muscular legs.

I have never played softball. I can't play softball because I catch and throw the same hand. (Which could be another installment of "Is it bad?") How did my body morph into that of an athlete of a sport I am wicked retaaaded at? It might be from all the lunges, squats, incline walks and jogs, and yes, the yes-yes-no-no machine. Maybe I should stop the gym insanity and let it ride. Maybe I could look like Heidi Klum? I wonder what sport did that to her body?

PL Update-
I seem to be "Bouncer Bait" lately too because all the Bouncers of Bergen County seem to be hitting up my cellie 5000. At least we are over the mail man stage!

Testing...

I have wretched NJ ASK testing this week so the blog will have to be cut short. I will leave you with this, as promised.
Went to visit Jennie and Suz this weekend in NYC. I am sure it is safe to say that a good time had by all and we all loved our Eric Nies sighting.

Favorite quote of the night

"I love goat cheese. I love goat cheese so much that I might consider purchasing a goat to always have goat cheese." -JD

Gotta get back to leaving no child behind.

Let's play a game...

I have been thinking a lot lately about things that people (meaning me...) do that might be considered bad but overlooked as bad because people a)don't know I do them and b) I don't consider them bad. I decided that today I am going to ask you, my audience of probably one person (HI TODD!!!) to participate in a new game by telling me if you think a statement is bad. It's called "Is it bad?" Wanna hear it? Here it go...

Is it bad that I...
-lie to people I meet and don't really like that I am a buyer for Gucci and live on the UWS? (Lisa- "Are we playing that game?" haha)
-sometimes don't grade papers and just throw them out?
-get to work really early so that I can play around on the computer and look up gossip, new fashions, new bar openings, vacations, and to write about me?
-I've gone to DnD on work time and didn't tell anyone and lied when people ask "Did you just go to DnD and didn't get me anything?"
-I'd rather be bankrupt then turn down a vacation opportunity?
-I plan out my outfits the night before?
-I sometimes hate teachers and often think they are stupid, and yet I am one?
-I sometimes exaggerate the amount of time I actually spend in running mode on a treadmill?
-I eat really big dinners and I am always thirsty? Seriously, always...
-I can't handle shopping at Kohl's because I walked in one time and there was a line 30 deep and it smelled like carne con queso?
-I plan on living at home until I have seen the entire world?
-Sometimes I say things I don't mean just to play Devil's Advocate?
-I sometimes get my coffee with cream just to keep the DnD girls on their toes so they don't get too comfortable with my order and think I am predictable? ("Cause you don't knooooow me...")
-I hate when I walk into a store wearing clothing from that store and I look like a magnet for saleswomen so I go home and change?
-I hate being the only person in a store?
-I am conscious of the fact that I wear a different perfume every single day?
-I hate wearing a color on a holiday (ie- "Wear red on Valentine's; Wear green on St. Patrick's Day..." NO!)
-I often deny my Irish heritage and tell people I am 100% German, but I am all for St. Patrick's Day?
-I have gone to work without deodorant on by accident and really didn't care?
-I get mad when I come home from the gym and my mom ordered dinner and didn't get me anything?
-I may or may not have been involved in a hit and run... a few times?

So, that's this weeks installment of "Is it bad?" Now, your j-o-b is to copy the "Is it bads" and write whether you think it's really bad or not. That way, I get something to check in my comment box at the times that I hate my job and you get the opportunity to participate. Everyone wins! So, Happy St. Patrick's Day! And have a great weekend!

Picture Pages, Picture Pages

I am trying to do the whole Doogie Howser, MD thing and write everyday. It's going well except I fear that I might find myself by myself in subscription and readership enrollment. Speaking of NPH, As my brother said, it's always a good day when you get to see Doogie. I hope this made your day brighter. Seriously, who doesn't like Doogie Howser? And his rag-tag group of Vinnie, Wanda, and Janine. I know I heart him...

(I love gawker!)

Poster Child

Very busy this week with ASK testing, but I still manage to have time to write a paragraph or two. I went to dinner last night with Lisa to this place El Centro in Hell's Kitchen and there was this rather large couple sitting there dissecting the menu, atmosphere, and general restaurant-ness of the place. Now, this is all well and good to do quietly with the other members of your party, but when you are in a tight restaurant and you have people sitting about a foot away from you saying "Well, the guacamole was good but I can make a much better batch in my kitchen for less than seven dollars..." It kind of makes you hostile enough to say "Hey Wolfgang, why don't you go to your kitchen then and let me enjoy my seven dollhair guacamole!" It really can ruin the meal. They went on to order a "strawberry margarita WITHOUT THE ALCOHOL" (and they stressed "WITHOUT THE ALCOHOL") and then proceeded to discuss their decision for an alcohol-less evening. Thoroughly irritating people.
I think small restaurants are not for me anyhow. Being the clumsy girl I am, I need a restaurant where I can manuever through the tables. I don't want to have to worry about spilling my sake and chambord martini on some jerks LV bag and getting snarly comments in return (Eatery) or duking it out with some chick on the coat check line because she's first yet standing far, far away from the coat check area (Aspen... not impressed, btw.) Yikes, I am so hostile.
It's also very bad for me to go to a small, crowded restaurant because I am generally distractable. I tend to look around a lot (usually at people's attire) and therefore, a small, crowded restaurant gives me a lot to look at and a ton of distraction. I ton, I tell you! Then I get all involved in the antics of other people, and their conversations and I wind up saying something like "Oh my god, I have something to tell you... when we leave" and my poor companion has to sit there thinking "What could she possibly have to tell me that she can't say around these perfect strangers?" (Aaaah, Perfect Strangers. Love that Balki Bartakamoose... not so much on the Surreal Life, however- Creepy Creeperson.) Such was the case last evening when two lovely men sauntered into the restaurant and announced to the waitress that they had just seen John Rhys Meyers on the corner. I had read that JRM was seen at El Centro in the past few weeks, and that was another reason for my interest in the place (Lisa- Guy from Match Point, Alexander, Played Elvis in Elvis...) Because I am sickly obsessed with celebs of any alphabet level. Alas, JRM was not at El Centro last night, but I was of course up in other people's convos and behaving badly- yet another small restaurant no-no. I think I am going to eat my next meal out at Popeyes. Lots of room, easy on the eyes, no guacamole to complain about, and yet always some freakshow to look at.

Still hot... now angry???

I was just made aware by a dear friend o' mine that I appear "angry" at times on this, my lovely lady blog. I apologize if one feels this is the case. I think it gets to a point in the school year where you become sick of the sameness. I tend to get sick of the subject matter I teach, and the conversation at times in the Teacher's Room. Although people claim to become teachers because "every day is different"- the sad fact of the matter is everyday is not different. It's different than it was yesterday but the same kids with their wacky problems are still here and the teachers are still bitching about the same thing (I'll be bitching about the heat in my room until my 55th bday when I retire to West Palm or Tahoe - Tahoe? No thanks, I don't like Mexican...) The problems are the same (ie- heat, dirty rooms, absent or tardy lunch aides, crazy ass parents, limit your effin copies, who in God's name keeps calling Rochester, NY on the teacher's room phone?) and the kids problems are the same. Same, same, same.
So, as my dear old friend pointed out, yes, I guess I am angry. I am a little angry that nothing gets done to change things. Perhaps I should go Norma Ray (no relation to that smoker-voiced Rachel) on their asses and start the mother of all protests. (I wish I was Chicano... then we'd at least get an HBO special made out of it.) And perhaps I was comfortably numb over the past 4 years and didn't notice that things aren't perfect. I guess I am angry that I missed something (other than you, Dan...haha.)
In other news, I was in VT this weekend for a little fam bonding with Rob and Joyce. Good times. I realized that I can't hang like I used to when I was the youngest in the house and the first to go to bed. I took a nasty spill on Saturday when I was pretending that I was Picabo Street and wound up busting up my hip something nasty. I am currently walking with a cane and I decided to wear my orthopedics today to get the full effect of what life will be like when I am 60 (Clearly kidding...) Anywho, line duty calls. Happy Monday!

It's gettin hot in here...

My thought of today concerns the amount of money schools spend on things. Let's talk about it. Today I have on short-sleeves (not to be confused with Short-Sleeves, that kid from college whose sleeves were always too short and once, just once, I swear he had cigs rolls in them a la John Travolta in Grease.) I made a careful outfit choice today because it is supposed to near 60 degrees, but primarily because I know it will be Africa Hot in my classroom. Now, we get a note to read everyday at work about the day's events (printed on school paper, from a school printer, with colored ink.) Then there are always more photocopies going around saying a)we have to pay for our personal calls using the school phones and b)we have to stop making so many photocopies. Isn't that a little counter-productive? We get copies to remind us not to make copies? I am surprised they don't make phone calls to remind us to pay for our phone calls!
Moving on... today I walk into my classroom (oh, and my boards weren't cleaned last night yet someone was PAID TO CLEAN THEM) and it's actually hot in here. It's going to be 60 degrees today and yet the heat is on, the heat is a-on. I was caught up in the action but I was looking out for you, oh-o-o, oh-o-o, Tell me can ya feel it? Tell me can ya feel it? Tell me can ya feel it? The heat is on. (Oh my God, so sorry for that...) Doncha think we could save a few doll-hairs but cutting the heat on these 60 degree days? Doncha? And maybe we could email about watching our copy numbers? And maybe we could fire the custodian that doesn't clean my boards all week and have a kids we don't like clean them? Maybe if they did these little things I might have more than one computer in my classroom that works! Suze Ormen, watch out. JW is cutting corners and heads are gonna roll...

Agenda

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank some very special people in my life right now. First, I thank my fabulous brother TMW for posting the first quacktastic comment on this, my blog. (I look down, bite my nail, do a triple sow-cow, and continue...and yet people always look at me) Next, I'd like to thank my dearest darlings C and A for last nights festivities. Actual conversation included in our adventure...

"This is so good. It's like magic. Oh my god, I'm allergic to magic. Somebody get me my epi-pen."

Me-"This drink tastes like danger."
C- "Well, Danger is my confirmation name."

I'd also like to congratulate the lovely Chloe Dao for winning Cycle 2 of Project Runway. Although I am the consumate Daniel V fan, I am proud of the work Chloe did at making women's asses look fatter in light colored bias-cut satiny (not Santino) dresses. Was it me or was she the former spokeswoman for Pearl Cream?

And furthermore, what's up with NJ Transit buses? Is it me or do they pull over at a bus stop, eff with you that they are going to stay put, and then barrel at you as if you are a target. I wonder if they get extra compensation for scaring the hell out of 20-something year old women.

L & O: JW

Today has been a relatively interesting day. It all began when I walked into school and had a chat with my principal about a new student of mine. My cell went off the familiar ringtone of Kanye's Workout Plan and I realized by brother was calling. I answered the phone and my brother Rob says "Umm, are you at work? We need you to go down to the Auto Body Shop. Some thing has happened with your car..." I was actually hoping it was stolen so I could get my new X3, but much to my chagrin there were only body shop complications. My car has been dented and beat up since that wild night with Chalex on December 28th (Oh dear... I know what you did last summer. ) After weeks of driving around the tri-state area looking like WT, it finally went in the shop to get fixed on Monday.
So, I drive to the auto body shop (fighting the urge to go back into Dunkin Donuts and get a second cup of coffee in a matter of 30 minutes- but I didn't want the little man-ager to be on to me and say "Come again, mami..." to which I would have had to reply "You want me to come again? This is my second time in this joint this hour of the morning! If I come again you need to call Narcotics Anonymous because that is addiction, brother." I refrained from the second cup, btw. You can hold your applause- I am internally proud and don't require extra motivation.) I drive up to the auto body shop where the fuzz are waiting for me. Of course, in my jaded sense of reality, I develop my story on the way there of how I could have never stolen the cars because I was home last night watching Scrubs (duh...) and my parents will vouch as my alibis (BECAUSE I AM OFFICIALLY CRAZY AND I CLEARLY AM OVERLOADED BY L&O EPISODES...who thinks this way?!?!)I walk up to the open-windowed cop car and he asks me "You must be the owner of the Ford Mustang..." He proceeds to tell me that my car was not broken into and that they didn't want anything in my car. I mean really- I know it's beat up, but they didn't want anything in my car? Not even my Jessica Simpson Christmas cd? My 2001 Sony Sports walkman that skips even new cds?Nothing??? ("You want a pizza- wit NOTHING???") Frankly, these theives don't know what a treasure trove the old mustang is. Petty thief fools...Or would this crime be considered "grand theft auto?"
The policeman tells me that they tried to steal the other car, not mine (slap in the face.) Last night someone broke into the auto body shop, stole my license plates, and, in an attempt to heist an old lady Chrysler Sebring convertible, they took my license plates and put them on the other car. At the moment my car has to stay put because it is PART OF A CRIME SCENE. Can you believe that? He even said "We can't move the cars because we have to dust them for prints!!!" To which I replied by accident "Cool..." I am such a nerd. I returned to school to find the crazy crossing guard outside my school screaming "Wow Joy, you're awfully late today" I didn't reply. I just kind of laughed to myself and walked in the building.
Another day, another crime scene. I still think it's effin cool.
Update- I just ripped my skirt up the slit in the back to a borderline indecent length and Patty deemed me "Little Miss Funny Story."