I Want To Be a Profiler...

Confession time, people. I am addicted to crime shows. My Tivo is overrun with "Cold Case", "City Confidential", "American Justice", "The First 48", any CSI, "Dallas SWAT" and my favorite, "Profiler". It was really the predecessor to all the crime shows we have now, in my opinion. Have you seen this show? I watched it back in the late 1990s, and I hated that it ended..mostly because it was very abruptly with no decent resolution to the main storyline in the show. Lo and behold if my lovely Tivo didn't find it for me in syndication though! Robert Davi aka Bailey Malone...can you say sexy? A just off the soaps Julian McMahon pre-Charmed and Nip/Tuck...still want to have hot, steamy, dirty sex with him...and have his baby. The real person I watched the show for was the lead, Sam Waters, an FBI criminal profiler portrayed by the beautiful Ally Walker. Her job rocked on that show, even if some demented evil shitbag was ruining her life. I'm a person that likes puzzles and has an eye for detail, so I often try to convince myself that I'm waaay qualified to work for the FBI. Yeah. Right. But like Sam, how cool would it be to put away the sick and twisted and maintain the "Office Hottie" slot as well? But anyway, crime and detective work really fascinates me. I dated a homicide detective briefly in my younger days, but I think he felt I had an unhealthy obsession with his work. Maybe that's why it didn't work out....or maybe because he was 20 yrs older than me, I don't know. Does this mean I'm a police groupie? A crime hor? God, I hope not.

*But the real crime is why the Seasons 1-4 DVDs have been on my wish list for years yet not one of my family members has thought to purchase them for me. (Did I mention that I'm a big believer in wish lists and that you should never put anything you will buy yourself on one?)

What? How Can This Be?

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
bitch (8x)
shit (7x)
dead (4x)
fuck (3x)
gun (2x)
bastards (1x)

I was over at Jenny's (867-5309 hehehe)blog and found this rater. I can't believe I got a dirty rating? Moi!

Stupid fuckers at the bastard Mingle something or other site. Shit! That's all the words that showed up? Damn! I'm going to get my gun...

*If you go over to the sight, just know they want you to online date.

Spanky's Revenge

This cute lil shit must know I found a virtual version of him because he has been quite the Red Menace as of late. The last time he did something really batshit, I posted it here: http://sassyblondie.blogspot.com/2006/01/good-dogs-gone-bad.html

But I think he may have outdone himself this time. I was out most of the afternoon yesterday (God, I love being off work for a full month!!) and only came back briefly to feed the dogs. Because I've been off work, the pups are a bit spoiled having me around the house more. That morning, I had popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave and ate about half of it before leaving it on the table. I gave the pups a kernal or two (it was Kettle Korn) while I was eating it, and so Spanky must have taken a liking to it. Anyway, I came back to feed the dogs and then dashed out the door again. When I returned much later that night, I walked into the biggest mess to date, and that's saying something. First, there was shredded paper EVERYWHERE, along with my two couch throw pillows WITHOUT their stuffing (which was all over the room). It looked like it had snowed in my living room. Then, I walked into the kitchen and noticed that my kitchen towel that hangs on the oven door was shredded. As I walked further into the dining room, the real mess was discovered. One of the chairs had been turned over and the entire contents on top of the table was now on the floor: candle, mail, popcorn, candy (what was left of it all anyways)...and it was all shredded....including a diet Coke can! Now, I have four dogs, but only the youngest two were destructive at all. So I'm yelling and cussing, and generally having a rage attack when I notice that, while Spanky beelined it out the dog door, I had yet to see lil Cricket. I went outside. Still no Cricket. I go upstairs and find her in the bathtub, shut in the master bathroom. WTF? When I left, the door was open! After I cleaned up her mess, I returned downstairs to start there as well. However, as I was descending the last couple of steps, I see that Spanky is back inside, ON TOP OF MY TABLE chewing another bill!! I think I blew a brain gasket somewhere because I freaked out and actually felt a bit dizzy! Cricket ran behind the couch and Spanky just froze on top of the table. I grabbed him and chunked him outside and put the dog door cover on so that he couldn't get back in until I was ready (well duh, how are the others supposed to get out to pee now, genius!). I cleaned up the fluff and paper, even cried a little, I admit it. Then I went and took care of the kitchen. As I made my way to the dining room, I really started to cry (note: I cry when I'm really angry and frustrated). Not only had he destroyed everything in there, he pissed on my chair cushions...ALL of them. Which means he had to hike his leg in four different directions! He also left me a little gem under the table, if you know what I mean. It was a giant "Fuck You, Bitch" to me from my lil red dog, my lil Spankyman! Heartbreaking! After an hour of clean up, putting things in the laundry, and steam cleaning, I felt sufficiently calm enough to check on Spanky outside. As I took off the dog door cover, he poked just his head inside to scout the situation. (I was sitting down on the couch with Cricket. I'm prettty sure he shut her in the bathroom upstairs, folks. She's not strong enough and the other two girls don't hang out upstairs since the vents are closed and it's warmer upstairs during the day.) As he slinks all the way in, he comes over to the couch, sits down at my feet, and just looks at me with his head cocked to the side (much like in the picture above). Of course, crazy chick that I am, I start talking to him, "Why would you tear up Mommy's things? Why would you be that dog?" etc. Of course, he hopped up, started to snuggle up to me, and I fell for it. How do you punish an animal after the fact? I mean, I made him stay outside by himself for a time-out of 1.5 hours. Was that enough? I'm definitely going to consider crating him the next time I'm out for that long this summer. He needs to be reminded of how to go about staying at home without me. He's always been a bit of a quirky dog. All I've read on Min Pins says this is normal behavior....but he's not a puppy. He's 3 almost 4 yrs old for the love of Mike! Now I'm wondering if all the destructive behavior I've been blaming on Cricket was really all her. And my older two: They just can't believe the young'ens haven't been put out for good yet. My Boston Terrier actually gripes at them when I do..it's so funny. She follows me around and "grrrs" at them with me. Anywho, Spanky is in the doghouse for now. As I write this, he's sleeping on his back with his feet in the air on the chaise lounge, as if he had not a care in the world. Fucking lil bastard is so damn cute....shit I'm a big softie! BUT...there will be no "chewies" for him for a week. I can't reward that kind of behavior, right?

Wanted: Standing Wedding Date

So this year alone, I've attended 4 weddings. The 5th wedding was yesterday. It was a nice wedding, and the bride and groom looked very pretty and very happy. Of course, they are all of 23 or 24 yrs old. But I have confidence in the union being a lasting one. But, let me get to the real meat of this post. I'm single, and as such, weddings propose (no pun intended) an unusual challenge for me. When I receive an invitation, there's the dreaded reception RSVP where you have to put whether or not you have a plus one. God I hate that shit! I actually took my friend (who is a girl) to the wedding yesterday because she at least knows the bride and groom, and we crack each other up. Plus, she drove and I loaded up on champagne. But what I really need is that one person who will just be my standing wedding date, preferably male. Someone who won't freak out that they are being asked to attend a wedding (read=this chick must want to marry me because she's taking me to a wedding). That is where the crux of the problem lies. I'm not Miss America, but no one would be ashamed to be seen out with me in public, and I clean up pretty nice. I tend to only go to the weddings that have open bars. I am social and tend to hook up with fun people to hang out with at weddings. I don't expect my date to kick in for the gift. Shit, I even prefer to drive. Plus, I'm one hell of a fun drunk, if not a bit touchy-feely. No strings attached, gentlemen. So explain to me why I can't find this one person to be my standing plus one? Come on, guys, get over yourselves! There's no real pressure here. As long as you don't insult the wedding party, dance on the table, or burp/fart loudly enough for anyone but the immediate table to hear, or have a stick up your ass, I'm pretty sure it would be a good time. So, if you are interested in interviewing for this position, which always includes booze and cake, please let me know. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier. I have 2 more weddings before August, so I'm looking to fill this position in a timely manner.

Ding! Dong! The Wicked Witch is Dead...

Well, just gone really. I don't ever wish for anyone to die because karma is a bitch. This past week, the Jealous Bitch co-worker who has consistently tried to set me up to look stupid finally got a job somewhere else. I could never understand why after nearly 2 years, she still couldn't get over the fact that I got the job she thought she deserved. And it's not like I hired myself, right? However, she really gunned for me a lot, and has uttered many a foul word about me...many times right outside my office door. Granted, she gave me some puky fake apology (mostly because she was worried that the reference call would hit my phone first), but I was burned too many times. Silly bitch. Here are the highlights:

1. The first 3 months I was there, she refused to acknowledge my presence. When she finally did, she asked me how old I was. When I told her, she said, "Oh wow! We're the same age. I thought you were younger." I know, it sounds nice right? But then the follow up: "You're not married? Really? No kids? Do you not like kids? I guess that's why you got the job. They don't have to worry about you missing work or working late since you don't have a husband or kids to worry about. " And it wasn't said in a nice way either. BTW she has a brood who are sicker than any children I have ever met, and she trashes her husband all the time. She missed like 38 days this year because her kids were sick.

2. In a discussion with the math department (of which I was over seeing as how I have 12 yrs as a math teacher under my belt...all levels), I made this suggestion when she commented about how the students didn't know their multiplication tables. " I know exactly what you are saying. However, we can reinforce multiplication skills by remediating at TAKS level (TAKS=Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills) so that we do not use the bulk of instructional time to teach tables. Use homework and warm up times to support their deficiencies. " She then stood up and YELLED, "I KNOW HOW TO TEACH MATH!" I remained calm and responded, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything personally directed toward you. I was just making a suggestion to the group." Her: "I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU MEANT, AND I DON'T APPRECIATE YOU BELITTLING ME! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I CAN DO!!!" At this point, I simply told her that I was sorry if she felt I was doing any such thing, as it was not my intention at all. She promptly stormed out, and I was left with 5 more people looking like they had just seen a car wreck. I found out that she went directly to the other AP and "tattled" on what I had done to her. Then she went to my boss. They both told me later.

3. She came to my office a few weeks later and grilled me about my certification. When I told her that I had to take the TX test, she said, "You mean you aren't even certified yet?" to which I replied, "Yes, I am certified as a principal in the state of CA. So they gave me an emergency one-yr cert here, and I only have to take the TX test to certify here. " She replied, "I can't believe they hired you and not me. I'm taking my test at the same time!" I replied, "Yes, but I don't have any coursework left. I have a matriculated masters. " She left in a huff and went straight to my boss to complain. He told me about it later that day.

4. As mentioned above, I was over the math dept., so I was set to evaluate/appraise most of the math teachers...including Jealous Bitch (JB). So I actually let her tell me what day and period she would like me to come for the 45 min appraisal. Then, about a month later, I was gone for 2 days at a conference, and she went to my boss. She cried big crocodile tears to him insisting that she did not want me to appraise her because she just knew she wouldn't get a fair shake. HUH? WTF? And even worse, my boss fell for it and told her he would do it. No one called me. She didn't come to me for a month to tell me that she felt that way or anything else. AND I hadn't had much to do with her for the most part because I simply felt I should give her space.

5. This school year, she has complained to everyone else in the building nonstop that I am too soft on the kids when they come to my office, and that I always ask for her to explain referrals. WTF? I HAVE TO ASK! I'm the one speaking to their fucking parents, dumbass!

6. This spring, she has emailed me incessantly with information on other positions closer to my house. Now before you labor under the false idea that she was being nice to me, think again. She was not getting any interviews, and so she just knew that if I found another job, she would get my job (sorry, that wasn't going to happen either way). Of course, every email and conversation I had with her was about how far I had to drive, and that she understood why I was looking elsewhere. When I told her I wasn't leaving back in mid May, she finally stopped emailing me job alerts. Then she just recently took this job at a charter school in south Dallas.

7. Any time I sent an email to the entire staff, she would reply to ALL to correct any spelling or punctuation mistake I might have made (there were a few here and there).

8. She forced my hand finally when she tried to get me to bail her out during a difficult parent meeting. The fact is, if the teacher is wrong, I can't bail them out. I can say how we will rectify the issue. Had she given me all the facts BEFORE the meeting, I could have helped her out with suggestions on how to approach the parent with her side of it. I didn't let her get attacked, but she did have to answer some pointed questions. After the meeting, she burst into tears and YELLED at me for not helping her enough. I calmly explained that she came with info that I really needed BEFORE the meeting in order to steer the conversation towards resolution, but she did not do that...even when I asked. Again, she went to tell on me to my boss. He told me later.

9. She was the #2 detention and referral writer in the entire school. I wanted to ask her if she really liked kids. She would write kids up for "talking in line" or "making paper airplanes" (not flying them, making them), or the generic favorite "talking". Whenever I questioned her, she would of course go to my boss...and he would tell me later. Dysfunction junction anyone?

10. She would pop in to "chat" about my love life (or lack of) about once per week. She was always fishing for personal stuff from me. It must have been frustrating for her. I'm a vault.

There were several other small issues with her trying to undermind my authority, but I can say confidently that I handled them with grace. I never was rude to her or mean. Oddly enough, she sent me a nice email about how much she had learned from me. She also put in her home email and a "promise to keep in touch" tag. Again, HUH? Anyway, I do hope she is happy...FINALLY.

I will say that when my boss told me she was leaving, I did a little happy dance in my head. I'm a straightforward person, and all that behind the scenes shit she was pulling really made me tired. I don't really hold grudges, particularly when I don't really care about the other person in any significant way. How funny and poetic it would be if I did get another job before the summer is out. Like I said, karma is a big ole bitch.

HELP! My Blog Has Lost Its Mind!

Okay people, WHAT THE FUCK is up with my blog? I logged on this morning to find that half of my linked stuff and all of the archives have a strike through line! HUH? What is going on? I need more savvy experts to help me solve this problem...I have no idea how to do anything really, and when I link up things, I always have to go to help to tell me how. They did not have a solution or even a situation yet that I could find like this. And it's not MY computer...she's drug and disease free. If you can help, I would very much appreciate it and give you a huge virtual hug and and kiss. Gender not important in this particular situation.

Love,

Sassy B

All You Had To Do Was Ask

So I've probably not mentioned to anyone that I've been looking for a new job that is closer to home. Right now, as much as I love my job, I'm driving 45 minutes one way. I put 350 miles per week on my car. I've gotten 3, count 'em, 3 speeding tickets the past 18 months. So needless to say, I'd like to cut my commute in half or better. I actually went on a few interviews, but here's the scoop:

1. I interviewed at a 7-8 middle school in an affluent area. Generally, if you are allowed two assistant principals, you want a male and female. Since there was already a female principal and assistant principal, I was already starting at a deficit. I did, however, make the cut to the final three. Only it was me and two guys. Guess who didn't get the job? Am I bitter? No. The interview committee wasn't too nice, and one asshat was completely aggressive with me. He evidently was trying to crush my hand rather than shake it. I'm all for a firm handshake because no one likes the dead fish shake. But his was over the top! I refused to wince, however. Fuck him! Then he never really asked me a question but more or less through out, "Around here, we do things.." Some men really have inferiority issues...or else they are just complete dicks.

2. Interviewed at a K-5 elementary school at a small but growing district. It was the principal, me, and that's it. Very odd considering these kinds of interviews consist of a committee of some sort nearly 100% of the time. Anyway, he was a complete idiot, and I think I inadvertently insulted him. He made some lame joke that was inherently racist, which both shocked and angered me (Yes. Me. The lil blonde haired blue eyed Irish girl with freckles)I guess I made a face or something because he all of the sudden got rather curt with me. So no job there...thank God. I can't work for an idiot...especially if the pay ain't so great.

3. I went to several job fairs for various school districts, but not much came of them. I figure it's the universe's way of telling me to stay put, right?

Then...I happened to be checking school websites today, and I saw an Elementary Assistant Principal position just posted in a district that I would practically kill to get into. It's 10 minutes from my doorstep, pays great, and is really on the leading edge in terms of technology and pedagogy in schools. I taught with a guy years ago that is a principal in this district currently and has been for the past 8 yrs. So I took a chance and emailed him my resume, explaining that last time around, I couldn't get my foot in the door. I asked him to look at my resume and give me some insight. Only he went one step further: he forwarded it directly to the HR Director with a personal note vouching for what a great candidate I was, and that they should take a serious look at me. Wow! So people, keep your fingers crossed. This could be the best opportunity for my future advancement. Of course, I may not get an interview. Often postings this late mean they had some movement within the district and have someone from within in mind. They have to advertise by law. Anywho, I'm choosing to feel positive about it.

So when I emailed my friend back to thank him for going the extra mile, he replied, "Sassy, all you had to do was ask! I'm more than happy to help! Let's get together soon."

Life is about asking for what you want. The worst answer you can get is no, but you won't know unless you ask.

Dear Texas Rangers and MLB

You suck BIG TIME! No, I'm not a fan...I hate baseball. It's for pussies. But you take up an unfortunate amount of time on Sportscenter and my local sports news. I'd rather hear about Paris Hilton and her skags (skanks + hags = skags). Sure, Teixeira is somewhat of a hottie, but watching baseball these days is like watching paint dry. Golf is more exciting. Watered down pitching, overpaid "players", too many games, drugging, and no more Nolan Ryan, Cal Ripken, Jr., or other noteworthy retirees.

And Rangers, the brilliant big brass in your front office is paying another player TO PLAY FOR SOMEONE ELSE WHO ALWAYS KICKS YOUR ASS. (A-Rod? More like A-Hor) That's right. The Yankees pimp done took your best bitch, and you're footing her bills while she's on her knees for New York.

Baseball blows!

A Stick Situation

That Hor is up to it again, so I was reminded about another childhood mishap that my family still does not let me live down. It involves me, a stick, a fire, and total annihilation of my grandfather's toolshed. So, let's go back, back to the carefree days of 1979. It was summer in Texas: hot, humid, and neverending. I was 8, and my older brother, cousin, and I were at my maternal grandfather's house in East Texas near Cedar Creek Lake. Papaw had some acreage and built a little house for he and Granny some time before after he retired, so we were always thrilled to get the chance to stay for weeks in the summer time. I was the youngest and only girl in our little family gang that summer, so to say I was a tomboy was an understatement. It also meant that I was constantly tortured by my sadist brother and cousin. They would shoot at me from behind trees with BB guns, laughing maniacally when I would run in circles screaming getting scatched up by tree limbs trying to get away from them. Ah, such love between family members, eh? That summer, my grandfather was building an addition to the house. He and his contractors had cleared the area of trees for the planned addition, including removing the stumps, so there was a big pile of tree parts that my Papaw intended to burn. He'd been building up the idea of a bonfire to us all that week, so we were super psyched. We had bugged the shit out of him all day since the contractors had left, and so after dinner he finally told us it was time. As we looked on, he went to the toolshed and took his gas can out. He came over to the pile of trees, which was about 3 feet high but with a diameter of somewhere around 6 or 7 feet, and threw a little gas around the pile. We all stood about 5 feet away as he threw a match on our bonfire and it began to burn. Once the burn became steady, he allowed us to get a little closer. My brother grabbed a limb from around the edge that had a smoldering tip, and of course, my cousin followed suit. Then I watched them go to the gas can and pour a little gas on the tip and return to the fire to to "light" the end. Of course, this all occurred when my Papaw took had to go inside for a minute to take a piss. I also want to explain that this was one of those old, heavy metal cans with the word GAS in red letters. As the two boys started playing Star Wars with their sticks, I went to the edge of the fire and grabbed my own stick with a smoldering tip. Now don't get me wrong. I'm no pyromaniac, but there is something that is mesmerizing about fire. My Papaw came out the door yelling at me to get back from the fire, which I did immediately. Then I watched him take the gas can back to the toolshed just as my smoldering tip was dying. So, like my brother and cousin, I went to the gas can. Only, I didn't pour the gas because the can was too heavy for my puny 8 yr old body. I could tip it just a little, so I just touched my dying but still alive smoldering tip to the gas can spout. All of the sudden, there was fire on the tip of the spout! Needless to say, I ran my ass out of there as fast as I could! As I'm running toward my grandfather and the boys with my smoldering stick, I start yelling that there is a fire in the shed. I swear, it was like a movie where the main character gains information just by the reaction of the people she is looking at. Just as I reached them, I heard a huge "whoosh!" and everyone's mouth fell open. I turned to see the shed completely engulfed in flames. All I remember about the next part is a lot of screaming, cursing, and the water hoses from the front and back of the house. Luckily, the shed wasn't too large, and so my Papaw was able to put the fire out without having to call the local volunteer firemen. While all this was happening, I swear I didn't move from the spot I was in. Once the shed was reduced to a mere charred skeleton, my brother, cousin, and Papaw came back over to me. I quickly said, "I didn't do it!" to which all three looked at me, and then looked at my right hand. Yes, I was still holding my stick...which still smelled suspiciously like gasoline. I explained threw my tears that I only went to the gas can so that I could catch my stick back on fire like the boys, but that I couldn't lift the can, so I just tipped it and touched the spout. Once I got this much out, my brother and cousin started yelling, "Way to go stupid! The tip was still hot! You're so stupid! Ha ha ha! You are in SO much trouble!" My grandfather's face was controlled, but I noticed that the murderous expression softened just a little. Once I saw the crack in his reaction, I shamelessly used my little girl cuteness. I threw myself at him grabbing his leg (the man was 6'4), and he picked me up and told me that he wasn't angry, he was just so scared that something could have happened to me, or that we could have set off a fire that spread to other people's land, etc. Once he called me "Baby girl", I knew I was in the clear. The bonfire had pretty much burned itself down, and so my brother and cousin threw what was left of their sticks on the pile. Then we all turned to survey the damage. The shed was a loss, as well as everything else in it. The only thing that was recognizable was the silver gas can where the red letters told us it was GAS. Oh, and my stick was still in good shape...and it was still smoldering a bit at the tip...in my hand. He began to look at bit cross at that, so I made sure to tell him that the boys had been shooting at me with the BB gun too. (Ha! Take that you mean little bastards!) So, when the contractors returned on Monday, they added a new shed to their To Do list. I'm pretty sure Papaw told them what happened too because they would smile and kind of laugh when they saw me from then on.

So that is my stick story. And until my grandparents passed, it was told EVERY time that side of the family got together. Hot Stick + Gas=Shed Inferno courtesy of Sassy. My brother and cousin still bring it up to this day when we are all together, which fortunately (or unfortunately) is not often. When I remember it, I just remember how much I loved my Papaw and how much he loved us. The three of us did some crazy shit, but Papaw had one giant sense of humor. RIP Papaw. I miss you.