The Ramblings of a Sassy Blonde

Somewhat Down But Never Out

2011-07-13T11:28:00.005-05:00

As in previous posts, I believe I've made clear the bullshit that is going on in Mayberry and the campus I was "promoted" to. I use the quotes because evidently this was not a true promotion but simply a person to deal with all the shit for a year until they decided to move someone else over there. Yes, folks, it was not a permanent move. I have been deceived, abused, and worked to within a foot of my grave so that the Head Shed could install their golden child. WTF? Here are the highlights of my recent shit storm:

1. I neglected my family, friends, and personal life to take over at a troubled school at the REQUEST of the Sheriff and his minions for the past year. I shuttled out 5 idiots, reorganized the scheduling, instituted some much needed systems, and generally won back the support of the parent community and students. Then I find out that the job wasn't really ever mine anyway. Interim was never removed from my contract language as promised.

2. I hired some excellent staff. They are high performers and professionals. They don't engage in gossip and visit the rumor mill. They do their job and are nice to kids and parents. Unfortunately, there are far too many assholes that have been at the school forever. I hope they don't ruin my people! Additionally, I went through all of the aggravation of preparing a building to be shut down as there are new facilities for next year that the school will be moving into. Right now, all my shit is over at this new facility. I will not, however, be moving in.

3. I was the victim of vicious lies and gossip. I ignored it because anyone that knows me or has worked with or for me knows better. It has persisted and gotten more insidious. I have held my head high and given them the social finger in my mind for going on 14 months without losing my cool and responding unprofessionally. Right now, however, I would love to kick some serious ass and verbally shred some bitches.

4. I have consistently disagreed with the #1 Minion on some key issues, mostly because this person was making judgments and assessments based on looking at some numbers from a test. While I knew it was at great personal risk, I never believed this person would make it their mission to take me down in the eyes of the Sheriff. Guess what happened?

5. The Sheriff has pretty much checked out and left his balls in the pocketbook of #1 Minion. He's working on an advanced degree so that he can move on from Mayberry. He can deny all he wants, but according to my drivers license, I wasn't born yesterday. This leaves me with even greater concern that #1 Minion might be the Sheriff in waiting. Holy shitballs, I'm screwed if that's the case!

6. In this state, test scores are king. The school's test scores this time around were still better than last year's, but there were new requirements to get the ratings you want as a school this year. "My" school missed one of the requirements in one subject area by 2% points (the school would not have even be considered for a higher rating last year under the new requirements). #1 Minion has called this, "No better than complete failure." In two other subject areas, however, the school achieved it's highest scores EVER under my leadership. Who's the real failure here, bitch?

7. There was also an "informal" and evidently "anonymous" complaint made against me alleging that some of the rumors I listed in a previous post were true. #2 Minion, aka Skeletor, was told by #1 Minion to investigate. Basically, the outcome of this witch hunt was that, while they cannot be substantiated, evidently I'm the designated asshole on the Minion Coven's shitlist. I had to sit through a long ass session of having my fucking character assassinated with no recourse. No proof was given but guilt was assumed since someone else fucking said it. I find it fucking amazing that in the space of 14 months I have evidently developed a completely different and most horrible personality. Seriously?

8. At the onset of this "investigation", I obtained the services of an attorney in case they tried to bend me over on such nonsense. He is ready to move forward on some serious shit, but I'm trying to decide if I'm going to commit career suicide and sue for harassment and unethical labor practices. Depending on what they end up doing, I'm possibly looking at walking away from a 17 year career in my chosen field of work. Needless to say, I am a bit stressed.

9. The official word currently is that I'll be reassigned to a previous position, which includes a substantial pay cut. There were threats of possibly trying to terminate. Of course, I'm more than aware that there are absolutely no grounds. This means I would have to take things public, which they most certainly don't want me to do. I might lose a career, but they will lose money, credibility, and possibly their power as well. Due process was not given, and so I could really bend them over a this point.

10. I'm obviously working on an exit strategy with my reputation and dignity intact. I'm currently contracted for two years, so unless I commit some heinous crime, I cannot be terminated. I have done a complete data dump of my email, digital files, and meeting notes from the past 5 years that I'm storing here at home. If I am the subject of any retaliation or harassment for seeking the advice of counsel, I'm set.

All in all, I'm deeply offended, disappointed, and disheartened. It sucks to work your ass off for people and then become the target of some shady bullshit. Think good thoughts for me, my friends. I'm out there again filling out applications and sending out resumes and letters of interest hoping to start anew in a much bigger place. I'm just over this small town Mayberry shit. At any rate, I've learned something from this experience, right?

If I Was Getting This Much Action, I'd Be In A Much Better Mood

2011-03-30T11:57:00.005-05:00

It's March...almost April, people! Where the hell has the time gone? Here's where:

1. The first semester of this term has flown by with countless aggravations. I'm worried that my promotion is really an experiment in sleep deprivation, stress management, and bullshit tolerance.

2. We are getting ready to move into a new facility, and I've just about decided that it could be years before I ever see a real summer vacation again.

3. Although I should be past expecting adults to act like, oh I don't know...ADULTS, it appears that after 40 yrs on the planet I've maintained way too much of my naivete. I've managed to piss off most everyone because I have these outdated expectation that people do their jobs, talk nicely to the youngsters in their care, and speak respectfully to their bosses. I know...crazy huh?

4. I live for one moment of peace. Just one.

5. I've given up red meat for Lent. Since I am a picky eater, I'm thinking this might be how I lose some weight because vegetarian fare is, in a word, disgusting.

6. I've been called a racist, a bitch, and accused of countless other crimes. It's amazing I'm allowed to walk around free, isn't it?

7. Some of the hilarious and seriously idiotic rumors going around about me: I'm evidently sleeping with just about every male I'm seen with at work; instead of being away at training, I got a boob job; I hired my new black assistant principal only because I'm sleeping with him AND he didn't speak ebonics in the interview; I hate religious people because I'm an atheist; the degrees hanging in my office were bought on the internet; I'm most likely pregnant and don't know who the father is, but he is likely my new AP; a few people were fired because they stopped sleeping with me; even though I'm evidently sleeping around, it's not just limited to men; I have a raging meth problem; I'm really a robot (okay...I made that up, but seriously, look at all the other shit!).

8. Although I've pretty much weeded out as many as the dumbass incompetents I can, there are those who seem to be untouchable...for now. I'm pretty sure that they are the idiots spreading the falsehoods listed above in #7. Unluckily for them, I have an infinite capacity to wait and work on them methodically.

9. Thanks to the Tea Party, I'm trying to figure out how to shave off $50K from an already stretched budget. I'm all for spending reform, but I can't really guarantee anyone can learn anything in a class of 45. All you rich fuckers need to pay more taxes already...otherwise your offspring will be even dumber than they already are. Additionally, how about the oil companies quit lying to us and kick in some money to the schools?

10. I'm seriously considering quitting my job and become a squatter at the Governor's Mansion.

Despite all of the above, I'm still working like a crazy person and sleeping only when necessary. My boss demands it.

How y'all doin'?

It's Hard to Shake a Case of the Dumbass

2010-07-27T21:50:00.003-05:00

So I've been working like slave labor all summer trying to hire cool kids to replace the idiot sacs that left. So basically, I've been an interviewing whore all summer long...and now it's like a few weeks until school starts again. I actually crunched the numbers, and I've interviewed or pre-screened roughly 250 people. Yes, that 2-5-0. At this point, I'd like to take my ass to a beach somewhere and stay mute for a month. I know sign language, so I think I could pull it off. Of course, I'll have to look up the sign for "Belvedere martini, make it dirty with 3 olives", but I'm educated so I figure I can wing it.

During this "experience", I've learned a few things. So hang on tight while I lay some serious wisdom on your ass:

1. When a resume contains a space where some dumbass decides to list his supposed IQ, chances are he's the worst kind of dumbass. Here's a little tip for you, Mr. I-think-I'm-so-fucking-clever-for-trying-to-list-some-ridiculous-IQ number-on-my-resume: Unless you are Stephen motherfucking Hawking, John Nash, or that Marilyn Vos Savant bitch, your IQ number is a big, fat, fucking lie. Even Donald Trump wouldn't hire you just so he could fire you. Stupid ass!

2. Dear Aggressive Applicants: It is outrageously inappropriate to drop by my office unannounced demanding to speak with me about the position, as it is equally inappropriate to call me and leave a voicemail demanding a return call to "discuss your qualifications." It's like dropping in at someone's house that you don't know unexpectedly and inviting yourself to dinner and a skinny dip in their hot tub. Listen up Gen Y slackers and mama's boys, when you harass me for a job, I find myself hating you with a white hot, burning kind of loathing. If I wanted to interview you, I'd have called you in for, yes, a fucking interview. Don't make me get a restraining order...or my gun.

3. If in an interview you try to be everything you think I want, I instantly distrust your flip-flopping ass. And you don't care about money? Seriously? I'm smarter than I look, junior.

4. If you don't know the answer, do not, I repeat, DO NOT try to fake it. Those framed diplomas on the wall are real. I'm smarter than I look.

5. It's probably not the best idea if you chunk the deuce with a "Peace out!" as you exit my office after a lackluster performance in the interview. It only makes me think that you rented the suit and tie, and that your real wardrobe consists of pants near your ass, a backwards baseball cap, and a t-shirt that reads, "Everything's a good idea when you're drunk."

6. Hey Einstein: I check references. It's not a good idea to ever put bullshit on your resume. Additionally, you might want to ensure that your references actually have positive things to say about you. You cannot bullshit a bullshitter.

7. Finally: I realize that the economy is in the shitter, and many of you are looking for a job. Newsflash! Not everyone can teach, and just because some greedy ass program gave you an official-looking letter stating you are eligible to get a teaching certificate does not mean I want you anywhere near children. Or me. I'm convinced that the old adage, "Those who can't, teach, " should read in this new age, "Those who can't have gotten a degree in finance, business, marketing, or liberal studies." I'm infuriated that you really are delusional enough to think that your degree somehow trumps 2 of mine. Fuck off you no-job-having piece of shit!

Okay. There are SO many more pieces of wisdom I could share with the current job-seekers out there. I'm thinking of starting a side business devoted to contract killing just these kinds of people. I'm up for some help in naming my future corporation and for tag lines. Anyone?

No, I'm Not Dead. I Got A Promotion!

2010-05-28T21:56:00.007-05:00

Hello friends! I'm back, if only for a short stay. Come on...you know you missed me. I've missed you. Yes, I have!

Things have been hopping here in Mayberry. At the close of last summer, I was moved to the local Mayberry High. I spent most of the year there until...I got a promotion. I'm now the head bitch at the nuthouse that is a junior high school. And I love it! I taught this age most of my career. Please, don't be concerned. I'm fully certified and even slightly qualified enough for the position. It's been quite hectic, as the promotion came in March due to some mysterious happenings that saw the exit of the last head bitch in a demotion. She was my friend until now. I know it's not personal, but it sure feels that way. It wasn't like I was plotting against her. I had no idea. She snubs me now though. Sad but true. So I should be deliriously happy, no? Well, I am excited. I mean, I didn't just show up and get the job...I earned it. But here are some highlights:

1. The place is teeming with full on idiot sacs. The one bright spot is that a good chunk of them have been given their walking papers. Yes Margaret, God is here, and He is listening.

2. No one can seem to solve even the tiniest, most minuscule fucking problem. Someone is constantly coming to my office with questions like, "There's no toilet paper in the ladies bathroom! Whatever shall we do?" Are you serious? Go get a roll for the shitter and leave me to my very important work, bitches!

3. Although I tend to rant a bit (!) here, I'm generally a happy and positive human being. This is not the case with many of the staff. Not only do they bitch and moan about no toilet paper in the shitter, they seem to think that college degrees are just given to blondes, and I evidently can't tell when some shady jackass is trying to pull one over on me. Attention: I am pretty damn smart. You do not fool me. You cannot bullshit a bullshitter. That is all.

4. The sheriff and his minions are seriously fucking micromanaging me. Witness an email I received recently after sending out a simple informational email to my staff:

"Sassy,

In reading your email to staff of May 13th, I'm concerned that you did not elaborate enough about the concerns we notified you of. Please see the attached to send to your staff. Ensure that you copy and paste into your email. Thank you!"

How about telling me that you are monitoring MY email to MY staff on MY campus that YOU chose to make ME the principal of? Now writing an email is like writing my master's thesis since I write and rewrite it 3o times because I know you bitches are watching. Thanks for that.

5. There are 3 minions that never seem to communicate and end up telling me 3 different things. This means at any given moment, I can be shit out of luck 3 different ways. With this kind of misinformation, I feel as if I'm working for the government...without all the days off.

6. If I get one more call from someone, parent or other, that wants to bitch about what happened before I ever came to the campus, I might slit my wrists. Listen up, people. I WAS NOT HERE. I CANNOT JUMP INTO A TIME MACHINE AND FIX ALL THE SHIT YOU FELT WAS WRONG BEFORE I CAME HERE. There is a week of school left. Cry yourself a river, build yourself a bridge, and get the fuck over it already. Your kid is not going to Harvard. Or Yale. Well, maybe community college...

7. A tip for anyone out there working with teenagers: They are teenagers. They thrive on drama. They will say mean and ugly things to you and everyone else. Get some self-esteem and stop fucking taking everything personal. Aren't you the adult? Here's a suggestion: ACT LIKE IT. And if I hear you be shitty to one more kid, I'm really gonna have to choke the life out of you. I cannot stand a bully. Or an idiot. Or you. Capiche?

8. This is the 3rd time I will get screwed at tax time because rather than spread my additional pay for the past 8 weeks out, you are giving it to me in a lump sum causing me to have to pay Uncle Sam at the end of the next tax year. I might as well just put it in savings to take care of the fucking tax burden you've bestowed upon me yet again. Thanks for the raise.

9. I have had to visit confession quite frequently for the above, and well also because there is some hot little 24 yr old coach that I want to crawl all over. Seriously impure thoughts about my subordinate. Rawhr! Luckily I have unparalleled self-control, or I might end up on television for sexual harassment.

10. I often imagine that I fashion a shiv out of a pencil and shank some of my employees. Of course, it's just annoyance at the pettiness and stupidity of a handful of dumbasses. I'm a lover, not a fighter. Besides, I fashioned a voodoo doll out of paper and use it to wreak havoc on them. No need going to jail over a case of the dumbass.

Seriously, I'm happy to have gotten the promotion. It's a big deal and what I have been working towards in my career. I just thought it would be under much better circumstances. Truthfully, it's all been a bit overwhelming, particularly since all eyes at the Head Shed are watching me....closely....so close I can smell what they had for lunch on any given day. They are truly trying to support me but smothering me is more like it. I keep thinking next year will be better. It has to. I don't like having to see Father Glen so often. He still has no fucking sense of humor. Shit! I just insulted my priest...again.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned....

Sleeping Under Erotic Art

2009-08-02T13:28:00.005-05:00

So it's been awhile...how are you? I have been rather busy going here and there and generally sleeping far too much. But hey, I've been on vacation, and one has to make the most of time off, right? Right?? That's better. So I wanted to share an interesting vacation story because anyone who knows me knows that I cannot travel without something strange and/or painful happening to me. The dark cloud of travel just hangs over me, unfortunately.

So my friend Reedsy and I went on a cruise to Mexico. Her gracious husband decided to give her a getaway with a friend, and I was honored to be "the friend" in this scenario! Woo hoo! So we have a rather uneventful drive to our port and get ourselves on the ship. We were a bit dismayed to find that our cabin sported bunk beds though. But hey, it's not like we were lesbo lovers on our civil union honeymoon, so I took the top bunk since Reedsy has the bladder the size of a pea. After our first night on the ship, we had returned from dinner to our cabin. As I exited the bathroom, I could see that Reedsy was peering curiously at the painting that was above my top bunk bed. I only noticed it was some kind of gawdy-colored abstract but never studied it closely. The following conversation ensued:

Reedsy: Hey Sassy...um, look more closely at this picture. What does that look like to you?
Sassy: It's ugly as shit.
Reedsy: No, I know. But LOOK at it...
Sassy: Holy shit! That's vag!
Reedsy: I KNOW!! I knew I wasn't crazy!
Sassy: OMG...I've been sleeping under vagina...and wait, look at that!
Reedsy: What?
Sassy: THAT is an abstract man with a huge penis! And there's splooge!! In her hand! See it?? Holy shit!
Reedsy: OMG! What the hell?? It is!!
Sassy: We have abstract erotic art...penis and vag!!
(continued with deep gut laughter and a few "ewwws")
Sassy: We gotta get a picture!
Reedsy: Read my mind..I'm on it!

Here's the painting:

Yes, dear friends, I slept under erotic abstract art that week. In reflecting on what was an altogether fanfuckingtastic time, I still have a few questions for Carnival Cruiselines, however.

1. Could the bathrooms be any smaller? I mean, you couldn't move from the shitter to the shower without hitting your midsection on the sink. WTF?

2. Why the hell was alcohol so fucking expensive? I felt like one drink was $35. It's not like you're the Sky Bar or something! Get over yourselves! Duty-free my ass!

3. I understand the conundrum it must be to decide how to decorate an entire cruise ship. I mean, why go with a nautical theme when you can adorn the walls of your cabins with abstract porn? Is this REALLY where the built in gratuity went?? Who was your decorator: Larry Flynt circa 1982?

So, despite all of that, I thoroughly enjoyed snorkeling, horseback riding, rock climbing, ziplining, and rappelling....and some great quality time with my friend Reedsy. Plus, we had some great dinner companions from Chicago and Louisiana. Loved those two families! And our dining room staff performed quite well each night. And hey, we did get ourselves a bit tipsy in Cozumel. (Damn that Senor Frog and Jimmy Buffet) Unfortunately, the last day at sea I also fried my front side like a bad piece of fucking bacon...so bad so that just this past Monday did I finally stop peeling (3 weeks after the return and the second peeling)...despite the fact that I used 50 spf as my dermatologist insisted! Friends, did you know there is such a thing as "sun poisoning"? Me, I did not. However, it seemed strange to me that my sunscreen kept me safe all through our excursions in the sun and on the beach, yet the last day it did an epic fucking fail. Here's hoping that I don't get that imminent skin cancer that my negative ass dermatologist insists will happen to my fair-skinned, light-eyed self. All in all, I had a great time though!

Thanks again, Reedsy! xoxo

When I get a chance, I have few other stories to tell about what I've seen and heard...

Barbie and Jasper Cullen (with a lil boob on the side)

2009-06-05T22:01:00.003-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, one of my oldest friends came out so that we could have a good old-fashioned girls night. We had made a plan to see this band called 100 Monkeys, of which one of its members is Jackson Rathbone aka Jasper Cullen from the movie "Twilight". Now, I'd never heard of them prior to her pointing me their way, but I was excited nonetheless. So we first view art at this gallery (art show was Mr. Rathbone's sister's), and then we headed to the upstairs of the art gallery where we were up close and personal in a rather intimate show with the band. I was rather impressed! We later hit up a pub where they were playing a midnight show, and this is where things get weird for ole Sassy and Reedsy (friend). So let me set the scene: It's a very warm, very humid night in Big D. A/C in Texas is a must, people! It's fucking hot, and you feel as if you are melting once you step outside the cool oasis that is central air conditioning. As we are sitting in this room that must have doubled for a fucking sweatbox torture hole with no ventilation sweating our asses off, Reedsy decides she'll grab the first round of beers. Now, while she's gone, I take a seat on this lounge chair thingy next to these two young women. As I am sitting there with steam coming off my body from the level of heat and lack of air, I hear one say to the other, "Oh no! You are SO much hotter!" I stifle a laugh because as I turn to look their way, I make eye contact with one of them who I swear looks just like a Barbie doll, down to her platinum blonde hair and flawless skin. Both are dressed in skintight pants and very low cut tops, but Barbie's boobies are fucking perfect! They aren't freakishly large or anything crazy like that though. It's unreal, and so I quickly make the determination that they are indeed fake boobies, and that she and her friend are most likely strippers.

Now, as is how it always goes with me, these ladies start talking to me, first about the band and what I know about them, and then about themselves. So I decided to ask them questions. I first ask if they are from the Dallas area, to which they both say no. "Chrissy" is from Ohio originally, and Barbie is from Houston. However, they've both just arrived in town today from Midland. I ask if they are living there for work or for school, to which they answer, "Oh, we work there." I reply, "Oh, so what do you guys do?" *Crickets* The two girls just look at each other with more than a bit of reticence. I mean, the pause was definitely one that you would refer to as a "pregnant pause". So I lean in conspiratorially and say, "Y'all are strippers, aren't you?" Barbie breaks out in a huge smile and says, "YES! But we prefer the term "dancers". How did you know?" I explained that the boobies gave it away. So ensued a conversation of about how it was the best investment she ever made, and that she and her friend bank about $200,000 a year "dancing". WTF? I have two degrees and $35K in student loans, and these bitches are pulling in $200K for taking their clothes off? Where is the justice in that, I ask?! About this time, Reedsy returns with the beers and hears the course of my conversation with Barbie and Chrissy. I lean in and tell her that Barbie's stage name is "Malibu", and that they pull in some major coin doing what they do. She replies, "You meet THE most interesting people, Sassy!" Then Barbie launches into the fact that she wants to sleep with Jackson Rathbone, or any of the guys because they are quasi-famous, they drove all the way down here, yada, yada, yada. Then she goes back to her boobs and that I should feel them. Pardon me? I tell her, I don't think so. She says, "But they aren't hard like other types of boob jobs, come on, feel 'em!" At this point she grabs my hand and puts it on her left boob...so I squeeze a little. Damned if they didn't FEEL REAL, people! Several friends have had boob jobs, and they always want you to feel them. (Yes, gentlemen, we cop a feel of each other in private sometimes...but it's totally innocuous you fucking pervs!). Anywho, I exclaim, "They DO feel real!" Barbie leans in, gives me a wink, and says, "That's because I got silicone not saline. Silicone tits feel real. Here, feel the other one!" Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that there were a few gentlemen that had gone from trying to just glance over at Barbie to outright staring as I copped a feel. So,I let her know that I can't cop another feel of her in public, so she laughs and goes off on some other tangent about how smart she is, the options she had after high school, and why she chose to become a "dancer". Yeah. Right.

So to end the night, we did get to talk to a few of the band members, but Mr. Rathbone was not talking to anyone other than his family that was there. So, we left and headed home. All in all, it was a top night. We got some great pictures, heard some great tunes, and met a real live Malibu Barbie. Plus, I got a little more action than I bargained for. All I know is, when I go for the new boobs, I'm totally getting the silicone. Ladies and gentlemen, I shit you not, they felt like the real deal.

**BTW Barbie was stunningly beautiful...with or without the fake boobies. She truly looked like a Barbie doll. She was sweet if not a bit shallow. I really have no judgment about strippers though. Live and let live, I say...

Shitty Neighbors Who Can Suck It!

2009-05-13T18:20:00.005-05:00

Hello All! I've been very busy as of late trying to get my shit unpacked at the new place...which I love! Lots more room and a great big yard. I got new furniture, a new washer and dryer, and I'm closing in on my 2nd full week of being here. Which leads me to the latest bullshit.

As you are aware, I have four small dogs. Now, I've lived several places with these animals, and I have never had anyone complain about them. I try to keep them in line. Recently, I had a visit from the 5-0 regarding a complaint about barking dogs. Of course, this complaint was vague, and I really don't think it was my dogs they were referring to, mostly because one of them had his vocal cords cut, two are old and not easily excitable, but there is one that can be a barker. However, my dogs mainly stay inside, and they aren't barking up a storm at one another. This I know for a fact! Perhaps now is the time I should mention that other than my neighbors who share the other side of the duplex, I am surrounded by people who own dogs. The lady next door in a different duplex has two barky dogs. The people behind me have a rather large dog that barks DAY AND NIGHT. So I find it difficult to believe that, in the short time I've been living here, it is my ONE little dog that is bothering anyone. So I asked the cop to tell me who made the complaint. He refused. I reminded him that I was pretty sure it was public information. He did not take that well. Needless to say, I just let it go. He was a complete dicksmack about the whole thing. Give me a fucking break...a dog that barks is that serious? I can't slap a silencer on my baby all the time...I mean there are times when she's gonna bark. Having said this, I KNOW she doesn't bark or howl or anything like that all day or night. How do I know? My former landlady remarked constantly how she didn't even know the dogs were there most of the time...and my little place sat directly behind her house where we shared the backyard. Shit, I could open my back door and see her bedroom windows. But I digress. My immediate neighbors next door seem really nice, but the guy does work at night, so I hope it's not him complaining. At the very least, they simply could have come over and told me about it rather than call the fucking cops and report me for noise. Yeah...we're just a house full of party animals out here in Mayberry. Motherfuckers.

So, to you shitty, fucktard neighbors:

Kiss my big white ass and go suck it! You want complete peace and quiet, move out to the back 40 and get out of Mayberry proper. And don't worry, I drove by all the above mentioned places and took down your fucking addresses. The next bark I hear, I'm calling the Po Po on your hillbilly, white trash, small town asses. Mess with the bull, you're gonna get the horns. Oh...and kiss my ass!

*I'm so pissed!

Evidently, I'm a 13 yr. old Girl and Boy

2009-04-10T18:43:00.004-05:00

So I'm packing a bit today. Yep, Sassy's on the move again. No, I'm not going anywhere other than moving into bigger digs and Mayberry proper. Please hold your applause.

Anywho, I have been packing, and I decided to start with my CD and DVD collections. As I was packing them up, I noticed that I have rather eclectic tastes in music and movies. Mostly, however, I just noticed that I seem to have the same titles in each collection as a 13 yr old teenager might have. Now I use the word teenager because I don't really know I could specify gender if pressed here. You wouldn't believe the crap I have (that I absolutely LOVE) in my collection. Yes, of course I still have my Culture Club's Greatest Hits. I mean, who doesn't? But I also have other examples of great music such as Spice World, The Chronic, and Shaggy. Movies? Well, there's "Dude, Where's My Car?", all the "Saw" movies, "Wayne's World", "Mortal Kombat", "The Fast and the Furious", well you get the picture. (By the way, I saw "Fast and Furious" this afternoon at the theater....Vin Diesel and Paul Walker? Rawhr!).

So, I'm thinking I should give away some of these musical and theatrical gems. I mean, I'm a grown woman, right? Ass sphincter says what??

It's Official....

2009-03-26T18:41:00.004-05:00

I dropped a small fortune today for my sister's birthday gift, which also happens to make me very, very happy. July 24th at the Superpages.com Center (lame name), we will be all about these boys:

Although her birthday's April 15th, these guys don't come to Big D until July. Great seats and will try to score the backstage passes next! *SIGH* I love them...

Damn, I Love This Song

2009-03-23T22:22:00.005-05:00

Do you ever get a song stuck in your head? Well, do you? I've been playing this song nonstop in the car for a solid 2 friggin' weeks yet I am still love, love, lovin' it! So if you see me pointing and singing in the car, you can almost guarantee that I'm either singing this song or my T.I./J.Timberlake "Dead and Gone". I'm stuck on these, bitches!

Show Me What I'm Looking For

Wait, I’m wrong
Should have done better than this
Please, I’ll be strong
I’m finding it hard to resist
So show me what I’m looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I’m lost
Oh lord, I’ve been waiting for you
I’ll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for…oh lord

Don’t let go
I’ve wanted this far too long
Mistakes become regrets
I’ve learned to love abuse
Please show me what I’m looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I’m lost
Oh lord, I’ve been waiting for you
I’ll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for…oh lord

Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I’m lost
Oh lord, I’ve been waiting for you
I’ll pay any cost
Just save me from being confused
Wait, I’m wrong
I can’t do better than this
I’ll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for…oh lord

Seriously, I think if you showed up on my doorstep with a guitar, I'd jump on you without even asking if you actually knew how to play it. Boys with guitars...*SIGH* Show me what I'm looking for indeed...RAWRH! (Band's name is Carolina Liar that sings the song above)

*I am wondering these days if I should have been a groupie in my younger days...but now that would be just sad. I mean, leather pants are so uncomfortable, and my boobs are real.

I'm Getting Her on Facebook Next!

2009-03-20T10:56:00.004-05:00

Hi All...short post today just to introduce you to a new blogger. My little sister has finally made it into the 21st century and started blogging. She went with Wordpress, which I guess is okay, but somehow I feel a bit betrayed. I mean, if Blogger is good enough for me, what gives with her going behind my back to Wordpress?? Ah well, you can only teach 'em so much, eh? Seriously though, please visit her! If she thinks people are reading, she'll actually keep up with it! She wrote a sweet post about yours truly. I'm still on my vacation, so I'm keeping this short! I'll be back with maybe a sad but true childhood trauma soon!

Now...if I can just get her on Facebook, my mission will be complete!

Girls Gone Wild...Kinda..Well, Maybe...Um, Probably Not

2009-03-06T19:36:00.005-06:00

This weekend is a "Girls Weekend" with some of my sorority sisters from college. I'm hoping we are going to grab a cab and then hop some bars. However, we are older and wiser now, and so I'm worried we won't do anything but sit at the house and drink Merlot. Blegh. I need some down time, upbeat, dirty martini drinking, flirting with young bartenders, shaking my ass, throw-caution-to-the-wind kind of fun, people!

To My Girls-We are NOT dead! Stop acting like we're too old to let our hair down and have a little fun! I promise I won't tell your kids! Ok bitches, on three....

Have Skills, Will Travel

2009-02-25T22:58:00.002-06:00

So someone give me a job! I mean, I'm seriously good at what I do! With all the talk of the underground here, I'm getting concerned that I might be promoted again and then I'll have to stay here. What's a girl to do?? If you have pull in the education arena, I'm willing to move to the following states:

Tennessee (I just like it there..Elvis liked it too.)
Colorado (What ISN'T to like there? Plus my BFF lives there!)
North/South Carolina (I like them. They're "southern people")
Arizona (Only in the northern regions...I don't want to live in the southern desert)
Virginia (Granted, Dyckerson lives there, but it's generally a nice place. Near the beach, please)

I might also be persuaded to move into your mansion and be a "kept" woman. Send me your financials, and I'll peruse them in my spare time. Oh, and you must love dogs, particularly my dogs, and they must love you.

Okay...I'll just wait here for the offers to roll in.....

Reality Bites

2009-02-21T22:55:00.003-06:00

Holy shit, is there NOTHING else on television except reality shows?? I'm fucking sick and would like to find something, ANYTHING worth watching that does not involve imbeciles saying and doing completely moronic things for their 15 minutes of fame. Did you know there's even a Reality Channel? What the hell? A whole channel dedicated to nothing but shitty reality shows? What's next? A channel for people rejected by reality shows?

When I got home last night, Tivo decided to record some reality shows for me in my absence. Now, I know what you are thinking: Tivo chooses for you based on your past tv viewing habits. Listen, I watch Dancing with the Stars and The Amazing Race. Every once in a blue moon, I might tune into American Idol and the trainwreck that is always The Bachelor/Bachelorette. But Tivo, in his infinite wisdom, decided that I needed to watch some new reality show called High School Reunion. Let me just say, how they could get people to do something so stupid, I'll never know. Maybe it was the free 2-week stay in Kaui in a fancy resort? Who knows? What I do know is that nothing is more pathetic than to hold some stupid grudge from 20 years ago in high school. Well, maybe the one thing more pathetic than that, they are fighting and crying over it on television for the whole world to see...and using their real names. Or maybe it's the fact that I watched the whole first episode. Dammit!

At least there's Netflix...

**I'm tired of being sick...can you tell? Hope everyone is staying healthy and happy!

I'm Blue (and Still Seeing Red a Little Bit Too)

2009-02-04T23:34:00.004-06:00

No one wants to hire me out of Mayberry. It's like I've been sucked into a black hole and can't get out. I had this phenomenal opportunity early in the week for a job that was tailor made for me, people. I mean, it's like they wrote the job description by peeking into my head. So I spend two days with these people. I tell them about myself, my educational journey, my vision of the work ahead should I actually get the position, yet I am not getting the position. The first day, which by the way was a LONG fucking 7am-8:30pm day, I had them in my hip pocket. I'm an excellent read of people...seriously, ask anyone. I KNOW when they hang on your words, when their questions are designed to slip you up yet you blow them away with your answers. And after that first day, it was obvious that I had them. Hell, they were already talking to me about WHEN I start the position, not IF. The second day I was really ready to seal the deal. I had a couple of meetings with various constituent groups, and then went to finish the day with Headmaster. In all of our numerous phone conversations (read: 5), and then in our in-person discussions, he was really impressed with what I bring to the table. So much so, that even he was talking in "WHEN" rather than if. But on this day, I get "the look", and the starting sentence of, "EVERYONE is really impressed with you and genuinely like you..." shit. Not. Good. So I had to sit there with a stupid smile on my face and nod as he basically told me that while I have everything they want in a person to fill the position, I lack a certain "sophistication" that they feel might impede my winning capacity with the parent population which would make me very unhappy in the position. Excuse me?? When I asked him to elaborate and expand on this observation, he told me that with the economy like it is and the need for private schools like them to maintain and even increase enrollment, that they need someone who is more of a politician. Again, excuse me? Nowhere in the job description or in ANY of our conversations was that mentioned as a prerequisite and mandatory skill. And then to basically infer that I'm some hayseed that does not know how to handle "high-powered and challenging" parents? Pardon me, fuckwad, but I can guarantee there is not ONE family in that school that could be nearly as high-powered or challenging as the parents that I dealt with successfully on a daily basis at the school where I worked in Los Angeles. One person even referred to me snidely as "homespun". To my face, people! My answer to that? I will take that as a compliment since I am proud that I'm down to earth and accessible to others. Everything I have ever gotten, I have EARNED through hard work and sacrifice. I think it is important to live as my authentic self and to not try to pretend or act pretentiously. What I do know is that I was more than qualified for that stinking job, and I now feel as if my time was completely wasted because they were looking for some snake oil salesman to glad hand rather than to ensure that the students at the school were getting the best education that their money could buy. Sons of fucking bitches! I'm not often prone to sour grapes. I think it's a waste of time to blame others for our failures. However, I really feel as if I was blind-sided and totally misled. And I know that I am coarse and inappropriate more often than not on this blog, but it's my outlet, a place where I don't have to censor what I say or how I say it. I don't really talk like this in my daily life, especially not in my professional capacity. I'm really quite articulate and very professionally put together.

Needless to say, I'm feeling completely discouraged and starting to doubt that what I've done for the past 15 years of my working life is of any worth to anyone. I cried all the way home on the plane. I'm so frustrated and don't really know what else I can possibly do to make things happen. This was by far the best fit for me in terms of a job, yet I still wasn't good enough. I'm a good person, I care about people and what I do, and I work hard because I believe in what I do. What the hell more do people want from me??

*Sorry for the whining. I'm feeling quite low at the moment. I'm tired now...

The Origin of the F-Word

2009-01-27T22:33:00.004-06:00

We're having some rather dubious weather here right now, and so some co-workers and I found ourselves with some excess down time today because even if we had to leave the building, no one wanted to go out in the icy mess. So like the intellectuals we obviously are, we sat around a table with hot tea and discussed terribly interesting things...like how swear words became swear words. Now I don't know about you, but I have often wondered this. Who decided that you can't say "shit" in civilized company without being reprimanded? Why are euphemisms for the male and female anatomy considered uncouth? And why is the most used and taboo word, "fuck," considered so taboo? So we did what any educated group would do: we consulted the internet. And lo and behold, we found something that explained all anyone might want to know about the origin of the f-word. Here's the info:

Probably the most used and common swear word is the F-Word (FUCK). Many others as the M-Word (MOTHERFUCKER) derive or are complemented by the F-Word, and most of the others (like Ass Hole) and (cunt) have an actual meaning but have become swear words.

So, the only interesting one to research is the F-Word. Here some theories about its origins:

1. The American Heritage Dictionary says its first known occurrence in English literature was in the satirical poem "Flen, Flyss" (c.1500), where it was not only disguised as a Latin word but encrypted "gxddbov" which has been deciphered as fuccant, pseudo-Latin for "they fuck."

2. When doctors wrote a diagnostic notation on the documests of soldiers in the British Imperial Army reporting sick and found to have Sexual Transmitted Diseases., the abbreviation F.U.C.K. was stamped on his documents. It was short for "Found Under Carnal Knowledge."

3. In the 15th Century, when a married couple needed permission from the king to procreate. Hence, "Fornication Under Consent of the King" (F.U.C.K.).

4. May be an acronym of a law term used in the 1500s that referred to rape as "Forced Unnatural Carnal Knowledge" (F.U.C.K.).

5. Referring to the charge for prostitution in England : "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge (F.U.C.K.)."

Interesting, isn't it?

So the next time you drop an F-bomb, you're a little bit smarter for it. And if anyone gives you any shit, tell 'em to go fuck themselves.

Keeping It Real...

2009-01-18T21:04:00.003-06:00

I think I've mentioned that I moved to the backwoods (close to Mayberry) this past summer. It's a quaint place that actually does boast the trifecta of restaurants: Applebee's, Chili's, Olive Garden. Date night in a small town! Woo hoo! But seriously, I can handle small towns for the most part. What I really dislike is the fact that I run into students when I need to do shopping of any kind. Now why should this bother me? Well, I often like to just roll out of bed and head out, often in what I wore as pajamas. However, I have found that in such a small area, the probability of me encountering someone that I work with , work for, teach, taught, supervise, etc has grown exponentially. I mean, I can't really hide my beer and condoms under my frozen peas, can I? Case in point: I was at the Walmart last weekend, just minding my own business, when I felt someone following me. Paranoid much, you ask? No. I stopped and took a left into the toilet paper aisle and then caught 3 students (think nutty buddies) from the campus where I used to be the assistant principal indeed following me. I could hear them whispering and giggling as I grabbed my 9-pack double roll Quilted Northern. As if one's teachers and/or principals do not have a need for toilet paper? When I smiled and said hello, the boys looked wary, as if they weren't quite sure if I'd sprout another head. I decided that I should just keep going, and I thought nothing of it until I got home and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair was in a scrunchie on top of my head, reminiscent of those classic, kid-friendly Fraggles (the curse of curly hair!). I was devoid of makeup except for the faint smudges from yesterday's mascara. I was nattily attired in a red sweatshirt, my SpongeBob fleece pajama pants, and black Chuck's converse trainers. Frankly, I'm not sure they really recognized me at all and probably thought they were following a bag lady. Either way, I felt a slight flush of embarrassment. This is when I miss living in a real city. No one cares if you go to the market in your pajamas. No one cares if you have make up on, or if you reek of last night's boozapalooza. And the greater square mileage all but guarantees you won't run into the people you work with. But in a small town, people take note of that shit. I actually had a colleague mention to me that they had heard I was wandering Walmart in my pajamas. WTF?? Since when is that news? I mean, it wasn't like I was running around braless or something! Of course, it was a Sunday, and seeing as how I'm not a regular churchgoer, perhaps the shock that I had slept in and forsaken the baby Jesus did not go unnoticed...nor unjudged (yes, I'm making up terms now). So now I'm forced to at least put on some lipgloss, wash my face, and wear street clothing rather than pajamas if I want to dart out to the market. Often I put on a little mascara and tinted moisturizer as well. It's ludicrous, but I've bent to the will of the Mayberry area small minds. Perhaps in a few short weeks, I'll be able to thumb my nose at these rednecks as I prepare for a new employment adventure. One can only hope...and light candles and say 14 Hail Marys and 8 Our Fathers every day until it's a lock. Who knows? One thing I know for sure is that nowhere in the Holy Bible does it say that you cannot wear pajamas or no make up when you shop at Walmart. He who has no sin cast the first stone! And I never shop on Sunday. Never.

**Got an important trip coming up, so start praying bitches!! Momma needs a brand new job!

Welcome 2009...You Bitch!

2009-01-02T22:37:00.004-06:00

Happy New Year everyone!! I trust you are all recovered from the celebration? Although I normally look for any reason to imbibe large quantities of champagne, I was very moderate this year. Mostly because I didn't want to encourage my pants to text people without permission nor did I want to throw up on Roach Clip. Yes, I spent the evening at a lame ass party at a hotel downtown with Roach Clip. Now, don't get me wrong, I like parties for the most part. There's plenty of people to dazzle with my engaging conversational style and rapier-sharp wit (much less indulge my own delusions, eh?). Now I know what you are thinking: Why is she bitching about actually having a date and plans on New Year's Eve? So okay, I'm not really bitching per se. I just have never had much patience with the eternally pretentious uptown crowd. I'm not really "into" the "in crowd". I'm just not. Perhaps it was all the time I spent in Lost Angeles. Maybe I'm just getting old. Who knows? Very little about such things engages my cerebral cortex. I did enjoy myself the first part of the evening, but once the ball drops, people get entirely too annoying for me. I think I have mentioned my distaste for strangers touching me. Why is it that people think it's okay to try to kiss on complete strangers after midnight? I'm not any kind of big germaphobe, but ewww! Keep your spittle to yourself, bitches! Poor Roach Clip was not the pillar of restraint in the alcohol department, which also annoyed me since I had to deal with his drunk ass until 2am. I finally had had enough and stuck his ass in a cab and sent him home. At least I hope he made it home. I haven't heard from him as yet. Now before you start judging me, I'll have you know that we are not serious. At least I'm not serious about him. We're really just friends, but he insists on trying to segue most every outing into some kind of situation where I might consent to have sex with him. It's not that he's a bad guy. It's not that I don't find him attractive. But I don't wish to pursue anything too serious with him, and I have my suspicions that one night of doing the deed would change him into a Stage One Clinger. No, not because I am so spectacular in the sack (hey, I've not had any complaints, so shut the hell up!). Mostly because he's that kind of guy. Plus, he's hit 40 and doesn't want to be alone. He's said as much in our many conversations, so I can say this with conviction. And quite frankly, I'm not going to be the one some lonely sad sack "settled" for, nor will I settle. But hey, I got semi-molested at a New Year's party, so that's more action than I've seen in..well, a while. Gotta find that silver lining, right?

So, as you know, I always have hopes for each new year. I don't really like the word "resolution", so I have hopes. I won't bore you any longer by posting them all, but I will say this:

I hope you all have a peaceful and prosperous 2009. I hope that you find what you are looking for, meet all your expectations, do what you most desire, or whatever. I'm working on a few hopes myself for this year, and I will build on my hopes from 2008. Thank you all for stopping in once and awhile and making me laugh. I really love to laugh...

XOXO

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

2008-12-09T18:19:00.002-06:00

Whew! Have I been busy or what? Damn! You guys doing okay? Well, I've shamefully fallen behind on my blogging, both reading and writing. But in my defense, the last 6 weeks before school lets out for the Winter Break are brutal. So here's a quick catch up:

1. My trip to the Rockies: Once again, Denver never disappoints. I spent a week with my BFF and her family enjoying the crisp, clean Colorado air and even some snow! Woo hoo! I fucking love snow! We did our usual night before Thanksgiving club appearance, but this time my pants were much better behaved than last time. I didn't get any messages from my sister or friends saying that my pants dialed them or texted them. I guess the new phone helped with that. The Crackberry was terribly prolific without encouragement, but my Blackjack is very well behaved.

Of course, I did meet many drunken strangers, one of which who insisted on buying us girls Patron shots everytime we saw him at the bar. Tequila is so foul-tasting that I wonder how the shit ever sells in shot form. When people tell me that there is a difference between Patron and Cuervo, I wonder what the hell they are really talking about. I mean, straight tequila tastes like shit. Shit is always shit, regardless of what kind of label you stick on it. No good drunken stories this time...damn, I must really be getting old!

2. Job-hunting yet again: I've been applying for several jobs all over the country, both through my recruiter and a new agency. Surely someone will think I'm worth hiring out of this one-horse town. I am actually going to Memphis for an initial interview with a school on Friday. Not sure if I really want it, but hey, if they want to fly me out there, I'm game. I also applied for a job at the Mayberry High School. It's more money and good experience. I will get the courtesy interview, but I have a snowball's chance in hell of getting this job. I mean, if they actually did hire me, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass might actually have to admit that I'm superior to them in every way. Like that's really going to happen in a assbackwards place like Mayberry...

3. Insomnia: I had a streak of sleepless nights going a few weeks ago that lasted a personal best 6 days with no sleep. I finally got my Lunesta scrip and slept 36 hours straight. The pups sure made me pay for that. Insomnia sucks ass...as does the stress that causes it. As are the people who cause the stress that cause me to become a zombie from my insomnia. Fuckers!

4. Christmas: I LOVE Christmas! Seriously, it's my most favorite time of the year. I love to see all the decorations and Christmas cards and giftwrap. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and lovey dovey. Plus, I shop year round for gifts, so I never have to worry about dealing with the idiot last minute shoppers who mow each other down on Black Friday. I can't believe people trampled some poor lady at a store in NY and then actually got pissed that the store managers and employees made them wait so that they could allow the proper officials to remove the DEAD BODY blocking their entry. WTF?? Listen, if you bitches are so desperate for a good deal on a flat screen or Xbox 360 that you would kill someone else without any regard, you got bigger problems than an old tv. God sees that shit, you know...and karma is a bitch too.

5. Dating: I'm "casually" seeing Roach Clip, but I'm not sure it's going anywhere. I mean, he just doesn't understand my addictions to Facebook, my car concerts, or my desperation to get the hell out of Texas. AND he doesn't watch my tv shows. That's a problem, especially since Lost is coming back soon. Plus, I don't think he has much respect for my love of shoes and handbags.

6. Interesting story: I am getting over a pretty bad cold. Actually, I'm almost completely well. However, the Control Freak on my staff was complaining that I should wear one of those masks while at work so that I didn't "expose everyone to my germs." Now what I really wanted to say was that since I was "exposed" to her dumbass shit everyday, it was almost even. What I did say was, "Well CF, how about I get you a mask if you are that worried about it?" She agreed that would be very considerate of me. The next day I brought in an old Monica Lewinsky halloween mask and presented it to her. I wonder if she got the message that I think she sucks?

7. I got this heartwarming Christmas story via email from the Bubbly Brunette today. May you enjoy it as much as I did:

When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Pre-Christmas pressure.Then Mrs Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drank all the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.Just then the doorbell rang, and irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?'

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

That's all I got...I'll catch up on the more interesting ramblings soon.

A Quick List...

2008-11-16T23:58:00.006-06:00

I've been absent awhile, but I've returned with a quick list...my Shit List. Since taking this new position, it seems to have lengthened a bit dramatically. Coincidence? I doubt it. I'm a bit irritated right now, so I will apologize in advance for the following. Having said that, here's my current Shit List:

10. Mighty Dyckerson-What else is there to say? Isn't he on everyone's shit list? (Just kidding, Dyckie...you know I love you.)

9. Lying Bitches-What do you get for moving to a small town and away from civilization? That's right! Gossipy, lying bitches who make up what they don't know. Listen you skags, if I WAS having an affair with the married colleague you all have the hots for, I might be in a better mood. But I guess I should be flattered that you bitches even think something's going on. Perhaps you old bags don't remember ever having male friends. The next time you make some shit up, I'll have your fucking jobs. I didn't ask for you bitches to work with, I got stuck with your sorry asses. Stupid, redneck whores!

8. Birthdays- OK, so just MY birthday. You know how I feel about my birthday.

7. Slow Ass Drivers-Listen, can't you fuckers read the speed limit signs? I mean, I can't TAKE it anymore! Get with the program or get the hell out of my way!

6. Jesus Freaks-Look, I'm Catholic. I believe in the Holy Trinity and all that. However, I really wish you bible thumpers would give it a rest. As far as I know, Jesus does love me. I don't need you all quoting scripture and telling me how to vote, much less how to live my life. I'm smarter than I look, and not joining your church isn't going to be the reason I go to hell. There are so many more reasons than that...

5. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum-Also known as high school assistant principals in Mayberry. These guys make doing my job unending torture. Listen up, dipshits: if you need to go back to school to learn what is legal and what is not in terms of disciplinary action in schools, please do. The minorities in our district could use the relief of not dealing with your stupid redneck asses for awhile. And stop calling me "sweetie" and "darling". I'm done with the condescending bullshit. Oh, and fuck you too. I'm smarter than the two of you numnuts put together.

4. Network News-My good tv interrupted or completely preempted for long-winded gasbag pundits telling us all what we can read and see for ourselves. And who the hell cares if election coverage went all "high tech"? It still fucked up my Tivo schedule. And by the way, if you're going to look for ways to smear some no name from Alaska, at least get your fucking facts straight. How is that any different than these idiots sending out mass emails about the coming of the Antichrist straight out of Illinois? Do you really expect us to believe that you just got "duped" by some guy sending you information from his mother's basement? Are allegations not vetted anymore at the networks? This is why your audience share declines year to year. Your viewers have already gone "high tech" and get their news online. Oh, and the website you need is: www.snopes.com . Check it out.

3. Banks and Insurance Companies-They have been robbing us blind with their fees since forever, and now they've caused an economic collapse. And they want us to pay up some more because they gave credit to anyone with a pulse at a variable rate and are surprised that people can't pay them back? Shame on you. Just shame on you. In one week my bank (Wamu) and my insurance company (AIG) bit the dust. What the hell? If Nissan goes under, it'll be a trifecta!

2. Prop 8 in CA and those other states too-Listen, I don't care what other people do in their own lives as long as it doesn't mess with mine. Here's a proposition for you: how about worrying about your own damn marriage instead of worrying about someone else's? I'm not gay, but I don't give a shit who is or whether or not they want to get married. What's next? An amendment to stone single people in their late 30s? I'm just glad to know SOMEONE is still interested in getting married. Other than the Prohibition Act (which was subsequently repealed), what other amendment in history (granted these are state constitutions being amended) was passed to take away rights? Frankly, the inevitable has just been avoided for a few more years.

1. Abusers-If I have to read one more story about some fucker abusing their kid, their spouse, or an animal, my head might explode. I will never understand how anyone we call human can be so inhumane. People are more worried about "going green" (don't get me started on the tree huggers either) than punishing mean. I'm fast becoming a proponent of vigilante justice. If you see a story about some asshole getting the shit beat out of him in a dark alley, it very well could've been me who whipped his ass with a sock full of quarters. Who needs a gun?

Whew! I guess that counts more as a rant than a rambling. On a more positive note, gas prices are continuing to go down, I got a great price for my airline ticket to Denver, and I've had a few more quality dates with Roach Clip. No real love connection yet, but damn is that man a lot of fun!

*Insomnia robs me of my much needed beauty sleep...and also makes me cranky and particularly foul-mouthed. Perhaps I'll write something much more full of sunshine in a few days once I fill my Lunesta scrip.

Checking In...

2008-10-29T20:00:00.003-05:00

Whew! I've been so busy! How are y'all doing? I don't have time to write until the weekend, but if you stop in, please tell me what you've been up to! Seriously, I need to live vicariously through someone! Be a friend.

When It Rains, I Certainly Hope It Pours

2008-10-05T17:36:00.005-05:00

Hello! How are y'all? Doing okay? Good. I have a couple of things to ramble about today.

First, it's nearing that time again, and I'm heading to the Rockies for Turkey Day break! Woo hoo! Another Jewish Thanksgiving and hopefully no random pants texting. Denver, brace yourself! Sassy's coming back to town! Are you ready? I'm on countdown...

Second, I had a date today with a guy I knew in high school. Nothing too serious really, just two people who haven't seen or spoken to each other in 20 years having a nice lunch and a few martinis. This guy, we'll call him Roach Clip (mostly because he was a huge stoner back in high school), sat behind me for a whole semester of health class. Actually, I should say he slept behind me. Every day he would come in and be all, "Dude, I smoked most of a bowl this morning and ate like 8 Poptarts this morning. Wanna meet me after 5th period and finish her off with me, Sass?" Shades of Jeff Spiccoli without the surfer motif. Yes, a class act. However, in my limited knowledge of the drug culture and the naivete of being 16 years old, Roach Clip seemed extremely funny and somewhat charming as well. Anywho, the health teacher was also the assistant girls' basketball coach (in other words, one of my coaches), and she was constantly bitching at Roach Clip for sleeping in class. So he and I struck a deal that I would wake him up by kicking the leg of his desk if she was giving our little area of the room the stink eye. One day I was absent, and when I returned the next day Roach Clip had his panties in a twist about how I could not be absent again because Coach Clit (his moniker, not mine) kept on his ass all class. He needed me, he said. I was his buffer. A bit peeved at referring to me as a buffer, I told him to shut the fuck up and stay awake in class. The next day, he was actually in class before I was. Class almost always started late due to it being 1st period and early basketball practice keeping Coach Clit and the rest of the team (including me) running a bit late each day. But anyway, I walk in and see him sitting there all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (well, I can't really speak to the tail thing), looking so alert that I wondered if his dealer had been locked up and therefore he had not smoked out prior to coming to school that day. As I approached my seat, I noticed a strange look in his eyes. They seemed a bit...well, off. As I set my books down, took my seat, and then turned around, I almost wet my pants from laughing. Roach Clip, an accomplished artiste it seems, had painted exact replicas of his real gaze ON HIS EYELIDS!! Holy shit, I could not stop laughing! When he opened his eyes to see what all the cackling was about, I tried valiantly to ask him, in between gasps, how the fuck he did that! Roach Clip's answer: "Sass, I was smoking some really good shit last night and had a fucking light bulb show up! If Coach Clit is gonna stay on my ass all the time about sleeping, I need a disguise, man. So I took out a picture of myself and totally painted my eyes on one at a time. Pretty bitchin', eh?" More hysterical laughter followed from me until I had to excuse myself to the ladies to get some tissue to try to save what was left of my mascara. I'm not kidding, guys. It looked completely real from a distance. I was fucking amazed! So anyway, I brought up that old story at our lunch because ole Roach Clip has gone legit. He's actually quite an accomplished graphic artist with a rather normal existence. Who knew?? I mean, he was a year older than me, and I hadn't seen him since he graduated. Plus, he's a hell of a lot cuter..rowrh! So yes, I had lunch and martinis with Roach Clip, and dammit if I didn't enjoy the whole thing! I guess Facebook is good for one thing, eh? We ended the afternoon with hugs, kisses, and promises to get together again real soon, but I did say that I might have to frisk him for drugs the next time. I mean, I can't get caught up in a drug raid if we end up at his place.

Lastly, I had another date last week that was also a winner. The man is quite handsome, which of course makes me a bit on edge about trusting him. You all should know my stance on beautiful men by now. But he's so nice....I hope he doesn't turn out to be a complete slapdick. I could use a few nights here and there with a beautiful man. And I'm fairly certain he's never done any drugs. Did I mention that he's not such a bad kisser either? This is a good sign...stupid Father Glen. What does he know?

Dare I say that things might be looking up for ole Sassy? It's been a long, dry summer, but I think I smell rain....

Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned...I Don't Like You

2008-09-29T11:12:00.005-05:00

I went to confession yesterday for the first time in a few months. I forced myself to go in and talk to Father Liam's successor, Father Glen. At first, I thought I might be uncomfortable, but then I just decided that Father Liam thought I was a little off too, so what do I give a fuck with that new guy thinks?

Here's how it went:

Me: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been awhile since my last confession. Well, since Father Liam abandoned me, and I got stuck with you.

FG: What is it you would like to confess...since you are stuck with me? (Nope, there was no chuckle with this to convey that he might have a sense of humor!)

Me: Well, I've been having impure thoughts....like constantly.

FG: Have you prayed about it?

Me: God yes! I pray every night that my impure thoughts will come true! (Insert laugh here)

FG: (Cleared throat in a disapproving manner) I see. What do you feel is impure?

Me: Well, I work with mostly women so I don't have impure thoughts about them although I do have some evil ones, but there are a couple of guys that tend to make it into my thoughts, impure as they are. One is married but the other is a new guy and divorced. I admit to being flirty with them and getting a reciprocal response. Is this wrong? I mean, it's not like I'm touching them inappropriately or speaking in any kind of sexual innuendo, right? But I certainly have had some steamy daydreams involving them. Plus, one isn't even married, so it's okay to flirt with him, right? And aren't they just as culpable since they are flirty back at me? I mean, it isn't like I'm the only one at fault here, right? (Jeez Sassy, guilty much? )

FG: So you are having thoughts of a sexual nature about two men you work with. Are you acting on these thoughts?

Me: (Long pause wondering if he means acting alone or with them) NO! What kind of gal do you think I am! I'm not a home wrecker or a whore! Jeez! Are you supposed to call me names?! And do you really think I'd be here confessing if I was getting it on with one or both of these men? (Ok..unfair and trashy sounding, but he pissed me off!) I came here seeking guidance and penance. Isn't that why I should come to you?

FG: Sassy, I am not saying these things to be unkind. And I was not calling you any foul name. Is this all you have to confess? (I think he was trying to rush me! WTF?)

Me: Isn't that enough? You want more? Okay, I lied to my coworker and told her that I would be sad that she would be leaving to stay at home with her grandbaby when I really wanted to jump up and down and do cartwheels. She's a b--witch, and I'm marking off days on my calendar until that baby is born so that I can be rid of her. Then, I was rude to an old lady at the grocery store because she took up the whole aisle, and I was in a hurry. She was in one of those automated carts and wasn't in much of a hurry. Although I did instantly feel bad that I was rude when I walked around here and so came back and got some tomato soup off the higher shelves for her since she couldn't reach it. I also cussed at a salesgirl for overcharging me on an item and then blaming the register. I mean come on, learn how to find mistakes yourself and stop relying solely on the machine. She actually ARGUED with me until I came back with the sign from where I got the item in the store. Then she got pissy with me because she was wrong. Did I get an apology? No. Customer service is dead!

FG: (After a big sigh) Okay, your penance is 3 Hail Marys and 1 Our Father. Go forth and sin no more. May God bless and keep you.

Me: Really? You're using the "go forth" line? Okay, but--

FG: Make that 2 Our Fathers.

Me: Dammit! Oh! Ok.

Now this was lame, people! What kind of priest is he? I demand a better one! They must bring Father Liam back!! They MUST! Father Glen? Seriously? He doesn't even have a good accent or look fatherly at all! The man is a newbie! I felt more like I was in the principal's office. That confession did me no good! I did my Hail Marys and Our Fathers, yet I'm still having some racy, inappropriate thoughts about those two gentlemen. I got no advice, no thought-provoking anecdote..nothing. Shit! Now I'm going to have to start shopping for a new priest. I miss Father Liam...

*Yes, I'm going to seek absolution for cracking on the new guy.

**Impure thoughts shouldn't be a sin until you act upon them, right? Right?? Can I get an Amen??

I Love a Chrome Dome

2008-09-06T17:17:00.005-05:00

Hey! Don't be making that all nasty, you freaks! I've been having some trouble lately coming up with anything to write. I mean, I tend to write about things that happen to me, and unfortunately, not a whole lot happening here in Sassytown other than my fucked up job. But when I was out at Happy Hour the other night, a bunch of us were talking about what attracts us to the opposite sex. It was all fun and games until I laid out my love of bald men. Yes, I said I love the chrome domes. I don't know why, but bald men are sexy to me. Not the poor sacks that have the ring of hair...the totally smooth-as-a-baby's-ass bald guys. I don't quite know where this fondness for the hair-challenged male came from. It's not a Daddy thing because the men in my family all have a head of hair..thinning in spots, but nowhere near bald. I mean, I tend to look at eyes first, so maybe it's because without all the action going on with the hair, the eyes stand out. Needless to say when I dropped this little nugget of truth, I heard crickets around the table. Finally, someone spoke up and said, "What? What the hell is that all about?"

That's when I started thinking. Yes, I was completely devoid of thought until that point in time...it was Happy Hour and there was alcohol after all. Not surprisingly (and mostly because the gals were getting shit-faced), my bald statement started a new line of discussion. Sure, we all want a sensitive (but not crybaby ass), honest, romantic guy who has a job and can step away from his mommy. But the conversation got more interesting when we started talking physicalities:

Friend #1- "I like a nice smile. I can't be with some guy with jacked up teeth." (And she's even British...that just doesn't seem right considering the teeth on sooo many British guys)

Friend #2: "I'm quite fond of the ass on a man. There's nothing like a nice, tight ass! Woo!" (We all secretly wonder if she's not into woman ass as well though)

Friend #3- "No offense, Sassy, but I like my men hairy." (Yes, I can't believe I have a friend who likes the hairies...eww..just eww.)

Me: "Well, besides the baldness, I'm into the eyes and a man's hands. Nothing like a good set of hands all over you. And if they can't make me laugh, my panties stay on!" (That's RIGHT! No laughy, no nookie!)

Friend #4: "I like a big dick. Period. I'm a simple gal." (She's the groper of our group...use your imagination there)

So what is it that leads us to focus on particular body parts? I mean, I know guys tend to talk quite a bit about big titties (the hyperfocus there always confuses me), but surely there's more to it than that? I need answers people, and I need them now!

The Land of Misfits

2008-08-24T16:25:00.005-05:00

Ok, so I know I told you all about the "promotion" I just got last month. More money is good. The actual position: not so great. First, I have a crappy staff that no one had the cajones to get rid of in prior years. When I say crappy, what I mean is fucking shitty. These morons would make you question how the hell any one of them could have gotten out of kindergarten much less a 4-yr plus degree program! There are a few bright spots in this vast wasteland, however. *Here's the rundown:

Pops: 65 year old guy who has done everything from coaching to being an interim superintendent for a podunk district. He's one of the two-man team of certified teachers on my staff. The most capable of the group, but it seems obvious to me that he doesn't really like kids. Particularly the kinds of kids he'll be working with for 7 hrs a day. He's very polite, but he strikes me as the kind of guy who will "Yes, ma'am" me and then rip me to shreds behind my back. He has already tagged me as "too soft on the dredge that will darken our doors this year". That dredge he's talking about? Kids. Granted, they are the more difficult kind, but I wouldn't ever characterize them as "dredge". Fucker! I hate people who lack compassion because they have no real understanding of adolescents. I seriously want to kick him in the face every time I speak with him. Asswipe.

Pathetic Pickled Pete: The second of the stellar certificated staff. He's a burned out alcoholic with maybe one brain cell left. The man can't put a coherent sentence together. I'm not exaggerating for comic effect here either. He's famous in the district. He evidently finally kicked his alcohol and drug habit about 10 years ago. Unfortunately, that was far too late. He's not as anti-kid as Pops, but I think that's because he's very possible the only walking vegetable I have ever known. He reminds me of this guy from high school who used to huff paint and freon. He told me this bizarre tale about his mother's garden that was completely out there. He's 45 but looks 20 yrs older. Oh, and he lives in his mother's basement. No people, I couldn't make this shit up! He has to be told specifically what to do like a 4 yr old child. And then still, I don't think he gets it. I live with the desperate hope that he at least remembers some of what he learned before the drugs and booze. The man has a masters degree for the love of Mike! (Oh, and his name is not Pete..even I'm not so cruel as to out him on the internets!). He has an extensive "growth plan" with all kinds of things he has to do by a certain deadline, which he isn't even close to completing. But because this is education, I probably still won't be able to get rid of him at semester. It's fucking ridiculous! Public education, my friends, public education.

The Bossy Hypochondriac: This woman is a teacher's aide. The PC term is "Paraprofessional", but I'm not particularly PC. First, she does have some serious health issues. However, she invents 3 times as many more so that she can bore me senseless with her descriptions of it. That's time I'll never get back, people. NEVER. To say she is bossy may be an understatement. In the week I've worked with her thus far, she's pissed off 18 different people who have called me infuriated. Did I mention these people range from the Director of Curriculum and Instruction (a bit like an asst. superintendent) to the district textbook coordinator? I've had 25 different conversations with her about her authority (or lack thereof) and professional behavior. She just fucking doesn't get it. I feel like stabbing myself repeatedly in the eye with a sharpened pencil every time I have any lengthy exchange with her. I'm certain to continue to piss her off because I can't imagine she'll make it through the year without me having to write her sorry ass up! She's also told me all about the "bad kids" that are coming and how she'll be laying down the law with them. Talk about someone who really has a distorted view of her own position! Holy Jesus! Pray for me, people! I don't know that I will make it 6 weeks before I kick her in the gut and beat her senseless with an Algebra 2 textbook. I've asked her very nicely on repeated occasions to stop saying, "But that's how we've always done it!" Stupid bitch...I want to shank her with a filed down toothbrush. I'll get to work on that shank the first day of school.

The Gentle Hindu: Now this guy just makes me sad. He's a 70 yr old Indian man who was once a college professor in his home country. The man is brilliant and working in a job that is not only entirely beneath his qualifications, but he's so unfailingly kind and unassuming that you rarely notice he's in the room. Not a great match for a disciplinary alternative school. He has a beautiful accent and impeccable manners...all of which render him useless with difficult adolescents. They just won't respect him. I'll be fighting a battle with the kids all year about being respectful to this man who really deserves so much respect that I'm awed by it. He's the other teacher's aide. Yes, that's right. He's a teacher's AIDE. So this brilliant man will be mostly responsible for grading completed work and filing. He's very slow and shows no initiative. He's just a meek guy. For some reason, I feel guilty and ashamed when I have to ask him to do anything. The man is really too old to be working in this setting. He should be enjoying his grandchildren!

Teacher of the Decade: I love this woman! She's in her 50s and has been in the district for 20 yrs. She's also a legend in the district. She was a master teacher and could write her own ticket in just about any other district she would even think of choosing, but she stays in Mayberry. She runs the credit recovery program as well as several other programs for home bound students. She's smart and seasoned, but she has a love for kids that rivals my own...if not surpasses it. The credit recovery program, however, is bleeding money. When I got the financials two weeks ago, I went into shock. She seems more than willing to work with me on the changes I have outlined to make the program better. She and I worked together the past couple of years on some other projects, so I feel I have an ally in all of this. We'll probably do happy hours together too. Did I mention I most likely will become a lush this year. The worst part? She mostly works out of an office in a completely different building. Yes, my shit luck just gets better, doesn't it?

The Organization Queen: I love this woman too. She's real. She's the "paraprofessional" that does the day-to-day running of the credit recovery lab. She's been moved out of her little domain into mine and is not so happy about it. Mostly for the same reasons I'm not happy: those top three from above. She has lost her own room and is now relegated to a corner in the main disciplinary program classroom. While she's not happy with that, she's at least happy about having me as her new boss. Thank God for small miracles! She's very outspoken, a bit rigid, but she's willing to see things in a different way. She's quite possibly the most organized person I've ever met, next to my BFF ATown. I do feel, however, that I'll be breaking up smackdowns between her and the Bossy Hypo. She's in the happy hour crowd with me as well.

So there you are. Quite a year coming up for ole Sassy in Mayberry. My office is an odd rectangular shape that feels cramped with my stuff in it. I still have no phone or computer. The bitches at the high school will prove to be difficult because they are not at all concerned about the kids they send over. But hey, I wanted high school experience, right? At least they moved in our furniture last week. Finally. Only less than a week before school starts. Yeah.

I'm thinking now that I most definitely should have asked for more money.

*No names, of course. I have to invent little nicknames that are neither clever nor funny, but they are exactly fitting.

Under the Bridge

2008-08-05T20:36:00.007-05:00

As you may or may not know, I moved recently. And as always when I decide to travel in any way, the dark cloud of travel once again followed me. Let's set the scene:

It's Texas...in August...otherwise known as the 7th level of Hell. To say that it's fucking hot here...well, that's just not enough! It's hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock, that's what it is! 107 degrees? WTF? This isn't Phoenix, people!

Anywho, Derk and my BIL along with close friends of the family were kind enough to show up to throw their backs out for me. I had rented a 24' UHaul monster truck that my BIL was kind enough to offer to drive even though the man has screws in his leg from a recent house painting injury (yes, we're a graceful lot, my family). Now I'll skip the 4 hours of loading all my shit and get to the real issues of the move. Derk, my niece and FoF are in my car, and my BIL, his nephew, and Dewey are in the monster truck. About 12 miles from my house, Dewey (strapping young friend of the family) calls me on my cell to tell me that the truck is running hot, and we need to take the next exit off the freeway. So we exit, and as I take the turn to the gas station, we look back and see that there is smoke and steam rising from the monster truck and there is a big bailout by the boys driving. I mean, who knew a guy with a broken leg could move his ass so fast? Yes, the UHaul blew up, which caused my niece to have a panic attack and me very nearly a heart attack! So, we ended up having to park my car under the underpass and wait 2.5 fucking hours for the mechanic from the roadside assistance to show up because you know I couldn't just leave that bitch there. But hey, we had beer and a sense of humor. Of course, we weren't in the best part of town, but several Mexicans waved at us as they drove by, and a Dallas County sheriff asked us if we needed any help. Did I mention it was 2,000 degrees out that day? So, what should have been a 6-8 hour smooth operation turned into a 14-hour nightmare. Yes, the mechanic showed up and fixed the truck. Yes, I called the UHaul place and ripped them a new asshole. Yes, my move was free save for the $37 in gas I put into that piece of shit. Yes, I can hardly move as a result of moving my shit. I hate moving. It sucks big, hairy, dirty balls. Next time, I'm selling everything and starting out fresh!

But look what I got in the mail as a housewarming gift (minus the puny, girlyman arm):

Dyckie, in the future, I should let you know that I prefer diamonds...

And I'm too tired to make this funny...

*Seriously people, I don't really talk like this in "real life"...I'm not nearly as profane. But it's really fucking hot here!

Soundtrack of My Life...For Now

2008-07-21T00:20:00.001-05:00

Recently, I read an interesting post at Okay Seriously where she completed the "soundtrack" to her life. Being quite a music buff, I started thinking immediately what my soundtrack would be. So without further ado, I give you the Soundtrack of My Life as it is now (I can't say how it will be tomorrow):

Opening credits: Extraordinary-Liz Phair
I love this song even though I know she got a lot of flack for supposedly "selling out". With "I am extraordinary/if you'd ever get to know me", I think that's how everyone should feel about themselves.

Waking Up: Here Comes the Sun-The Beatles

Average Day: Everyday America-Sugarland
I work in Mayberry. What else can I say?

First date: Take a Chance on Me-ABBA
God I LOVE this song, and I don't care who knows it!

Falling in Love: I Bruise Easily-Natasha Bedingfield
I also thought "I'll Be"by Edwin McCain. I love him. That song is amazing. And then I also considered "I Think I Love You" by the Partridge Family. Really.

Love Scene: At Last-Etta James
This song has such a sexy vibe. It's definitely on my "sex songs" list along with "Possession" by Sarah McLachlan.

Fight Scene: Eye of the Tiger-Survivor
Other notables were "We Will Rock You" and "Another One Bites the Dust" by Queen.

Breaking up: No Ordinary Love-Sade
Holy shit! This must be one of the best songs ever recorded! I also thought of Puddle of Mudd's "She Hates Me"...I love that song.

Getting Back Together: I Will...But-SHeDAISY
Ladies, if you don't know it, you should really take a listen.

Secret Love: I Love You-Sarah McLachlan
This song just ACHES.

Life’s Okay: I Could Not Ask For More-Edwin McCain

Mental Breakdown: Crazy-Patsy Cline

Driving: Hotel California-The Eagles
I will sing this song at the top of my lungs with all the windows down! I love it! Also in the running was "Drive My Car" by the Beatles, "Heads Carolina, Tails California" by JoDee Messina, or "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman. And what about the classic Roger Miller "King of the Road"?

Learning a Lesson: Say-John Mayer

Deep Thought: Thank U-Alanis Morrisette

Flashback: Footloose-Kenny Loggins

Partying: Blue Monday-New Order/Blister in the Sun-Violent Femmes
What can I say? I can't tell you how many times in college I was drunk, and the Violent Femmes were playing in the background...

Happy Dance: Pocketful of Sunshine-Natasha Bedingfield
I think I might have a girl crush on her. I also like "Bust a Move" by Young MC and "It Takes Two" by Rob Base for a little happy dance.

Regretting: It's Too Late-Carole King
This was before my time, but the woman is incredible. This song always makes me a little sad.

Long Night Alone: Here With Me-Dido

Death Scene: My Immortal-Evanescence
This song is so depressing yet I still love it. Also, "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye"-Boyz II Men.I'm a sucker for harmonies..

Closing Credits: 100 Years-Five for Fighting

*Bear in mind that there were so many songs that could go with any label. It was really difficult...try it yourself and let me know!

Reversal of Fortune

2008-07-15T21:59:00.005-05:00

I have to relay a very interesting story about some things that took place early this week. As you may or may not know, I'm STILL working my contract days in Mayberry. Some genius thought it would be great to make sure all campus offices were open all summer...which basically means that those of us working an 11-month contract had our vacation time broken up so that you end up doing two weeks on and then two weeks off all summer. Anywho, when I got to work on Monday, I received a brief email from the Sheriff's secretary which summoned me to a meeting in his office later that day. CCed in the email was the name of one of the Asst. Big Bosses, so I must admit my fertile imagination began to conjure all types of scenarios as to why this meeting was taking place.

When my boss, Big C, came in later that morning, she looked a little off. I thought it might be related to the less than stellar test scores we had received back that morning. I asked her if she knew why I was summoned over to Alliance headquarters, and I received a curt, "I was told not to talk about it, " in response. Now this is when I really started to worry about my continued employment. Don't get me wrong, I have done excellent work in Mayberry. I'm relatively well-known and liked around the district. However, I have seen 5 people unceremoniously shown the door in Mayberry since the new Sheriff took over. Without any elaboration as to the context of this meeting and Big C slapped with a gag order, I admit I was starting to sweat a little. For 3 agonizing hours I wrung my hands over what I could have possibly done to get terminated. Did they find out I'd violated the acceptable use of technology policy when I blogged that one time from work? Did I forget to sign something that had resulted in a lawsuit against the district? Had I managed to fly so far under the radar that he thought I was just coasting along without doing any real work? Had (God forbid) there been some kind of accusation been made against me of inappropriate conduct? Time just ticked by painfully slowly, and I was thinking up all sorts of horrible outcomes. You can imagine how I worked myself into a fucking lather waiting for this mystery meeting!

Now cut to me arriving at Alliance headquarters for the ill-fated get together. I was shown to the Sheriff's office where I found not only him, but the Asst. Big Boss AND the HR Director! I thought, " Holy shit! The HR Director? I'm SO getting fired!" Somehow, I remained outwardly calm and stumbled to the chair I was offered. Here's a transcript of the initial few minutes of the conversation:

Sheriff: Sassy, thank you for coming.

Me: Mmm hmm...no problem.

Sheriff: Well, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here on such short notice.

Me: Yes sir! Umm, are you going to fire me?

Sheriff: Of course not! (much hearty laughter followed) I asked you here along with Asst. Big Boss because we want to ask for your help. We have a need in the district that we feel you are the only person that can help us.

Me: Okay...

Sheriff: Sassy, I'd like to offer you the position of Head of Important Other Programs.*

Me: I'm sorry, what? You aren't going to fire me?

Sheriff: Oh no! I'm offering you a promotion. What questions do you have for me?

After I regained consciousness, I asked several pointed questions, and the Sheriff and Asst, Big Boss began to gush about me, my skills, my job performance, and how they had spent weeks interviewing outside candidates that they just didn't feel would be the best fit for the position. I then asked why me for this position. What followed was another gush of compliments about how they had decided to look at people already in district and that my name came up over and over. I thanked them, and then I asked another very direct question: "In my experience, this kind of position is where districts often dump the mediocre or assign people whom they hope will quit because they don't really want to have to fire them. This isn't the case here, is it? Because if so, I can say with confidence that I have done an excellent job, am far from mediocre, and if you wanted me to leave, you'd just have to ask. " His reply, "Sassy, if I thought along those lines, I'd just terminate your employment here. Surely you know by now that I don't tolerate mediocrity? And with someone of your caliber in this position, we hope to eliminate that perception and get the various programs up to snuff. I , well we feel that you are the best person for the job."

After I regained consciousness a second time, I accepted, thanked him for the confidence in me, and was ushered off to the HR Director's office to discuss the benefits of said promotion. Along with some added status, and a newer, bigger office, the position comes with an big ole pay raise! HOLY SHIT!!!! Do you think they read my blog??

So there you have it! I got a promotion! And a big raise! Yay ME! Although I'm very sad to leave my current campus, I'm extremely excited about the possibilities and the broader experience my new job has to offer. Although the next two weeks will be extremely busy for me with my residence move and now setting up a new office, I just want to say THANKS to all of you for your support and encouragement. I heart you guys...

XOXOXOXOXO

*Name changed to make sure I can't be searched and fired! :)

Don't You Want Me?

2008-07-04T10:54:00.012-05:00

Well folks, it's back to Mayberry for another year. Now this isn't necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I love the fine folks in Mayberry! They are not only kind, they are mostly a lot of fun. However, Mayberry is not a place that will allow me to move forward professionally before reaching my 50s. A dead end you say? Yes, I'm afraid so. I'm sure at some point, I'll tire of the kindness and fun...and the small paycheck. But hey, I'm taking steps to move closer to Mayberry if for no other reason than to stop the senseless rape that occurs to me endlessly at the gas pump. I cannot continue to be a victim of such violence! So my new commute will be about 10-15 minutes versus the 45 minutes I've maintained for the past 3 years. I'll no longer be a homeowner, but ask me how sad I am about not pouring anymore of my hard-earned cash into this godforsaken money pit. Anywho, the real reason for this post is to ask you for a job. (No, Dyckerson, not THAT kind of job! Jesus H. Christ you're a perv!)

So here are my qualifications: I'm an experienced educator. I have an enviable and impressive amount of diverse experience that should make me attractive and valuable to most any organization. I have a masters degree and will be working on my doctorate in the next 3 years. I'm a problem solver and damn good at it! I'm dependable, responsible, and extremely loyal. I care about my coworkers. I am excellent in crisis situations (ask anyone!). I have no police record, and my driving record is surprisingly clean. I'm certified to restrain you, and I can do so without hurting anything more than your pride. I am certified to deliver first aid and CPR. I'm certified to teach and manage and evaluate both adults and children. I read pretty well and quite often. Most people think I'm the shit (seriously, most people do like me). I'm in relatively good health (maybe a little chubbier than I would like, but I'm committed to taking care of that), but I've only filed one workers comp complaint ( a rotten board at a stadium was certainly not MY fault). I have low blood pressure and high energy. I have a strong work ethic, and a sunny disposition. I love dogs, and well, they love me too. Well, most animals really. Children of all ages love me. I'm generally told that I make people laugh, both at me and with me. I'm all the rage at weddings and barbecues. I have a Tivo. I have big boobs. I'm a hugger. I wear clean underwear. I bake. I go to confession (although to be honest, that's dropped off a bit since Father Liam took that post in Bolivia). I look people in the eye and have a firm handshake. Although I do enjoy alcoholic beverages on occasion, I'm drug and disease free. I'm from Texas, but I've lived on both coasts and actually want to move away again. I mean seriously, why wouldn't someone offer me a position with more money and a bigger office? What the hell is going on? What does a gal have to do to move up around here?

If my qualifications might meet your needs, please inquire within. Serious inquiries only, please. I'm pretty busy around here as it is.

*You might also remember that I own a gun and know how to use it. Thanks!

Champagne Wishes and Smalltown Dreams

2008-06-28T09:25:00.007-05:00

If you've strayed over to this blog periodically, you might know that I love, love, love champagne. LOVE. IT. Now, this is not your passing romance with a beverage. It ranks up there with Diet Coke and dirty martinis. However, it is a wonder that I ever developed such a love for the bubbly considering my first experience with it. Let's go back in time, shall we? Back to a time where the innocent were still innocent....

It's the late '80s, and I had pictures of U2 up in my locker. I wanted to be Madonna. I felt she and I were kindred spirits. Picture a small, country-type, BFE town in the bible belt and a young, fresh-faced, curly-haired, high school Sassy. A blonde with a yearning for greener pastures than Podunk, USA. In the small town where I went to high school, the big event was to go out to someone's daddy's pasture with a keg in the back of a pickup truck and drink beer and smoke for 4 hours...or cow tippin'. But not me, I had bigger dreams!

Sassy had a best friend in high school named Kathy. (We're not friends now, so I can use her name) The Kathy-Sassy mix always tended to lead to some kind of incident that neither one of us would tell our parental units. Oddly enough, they never suspected that we were doing anything untoward. Huh. Anywho, when we were 17, Kathy worked at this pizza place with all of these older guys that we thought were just oh-so-dangerous. They often invited us to party with them after hours, and we thought we were the shit. Now please understand that we were very naive compared to them. I didn't even have a drink until I was 15, and even then it wasn't something I did regularly. One night (was it New Year's? I forget) we went to a house party with a couple of the guys (ok, it was a date but at 17, a guy that was 23 was way over my head). At the house, there was any assortment of liquor, beer, wine.... and then they brought out the bubbly. The chick that owned the house thought it would be a fucking great idea to serve champagne and strawberries to minors who weren't, shall we say, experienced with drinking much of anything. After the first glass, I thought to myself, "Self, this shit is fucking fantastic! Get that guy to pour another!" About 4 glasses in, I decided that I would sample the strawberries, and besides, the idiot cradle robber I was with was more than happy to push more liquor on me. Piece of shit high school dropout pizza delivery boy...oh yeah, SEXY. But I digress. So after about the 6th glass, I lost count of how much champagne (and yes, it was rather inexpensive at that) I actually imbibed, and I'm pretty sure I had strawberry seeds in my teeth. (And hey, the bubbly-strawberry union really tasted fanfuckingtastic!) Plus, the fuckwad I came with was practically giving me a tongue bath that he mistakenly called "kissing".

Note: Fellas, you really need to control your spittle and tongue. There's a right way to kiss, and then there's what I refer to as the leaky spigot. Eww. Just ewwww.

So around about 1:30 am, I'm completely loaded and want to go home. Guess what? That's right! The "gentleman" told me, "Hey babe, you can sleep with me. I won't touch you. Hehehe" Yeah. Right on, shitbag. Not wanting to be the next statistic that would ultimately become a Lifetime "Moment of Truth" movie on date rape, I went in search of my "best friend" Kathy. I found her in short order...having sex with the other guy we came with. (Did I fail to mention that Kathy was a bit of slut? No?) Since she obviously wasn't going to be getting a ride home, I called up a friend who graciously came to get me and drop me at home. (Her mom was our lesbian pharmacist in town.) Now at this time, my sister and I shared a room because my loser pothead brother got a room to himself. My father was away working a lot, so we pretty much took care of ourselves. Anywho, I got home and managed to get myself (somehow) into some pajamas and decided to call my friend Steph (we're still friends, but I have several friends named Stephanie, so no one will be able to really know which one I'm talking about) for a play by play of my evening with the shitbag. I started babbling away about my night, and my poor baby sister, Derk, was trying unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. Then it happened. I got this terrible stabbing pain in my gut, and I said, "Uh, Steph, hold on a minute!" and then I leaned over the far side of my bed and promptly threw up all over the carpet. Projectile-style. Strawberries and champagne, my friends. I don't even know if the pinkish tinge ever really came out of that spot on the carpet. Derk jumped out of bed and started freaking out (she's a freaker outer type), and so I got up and ran to the barfroom, uh bathroom, to finish what I had so casually started. Now I don't remember much after lying on the floor next to the toilet once my dry heaves had passed. The next day, however, the evening's events flooded back to me along with the absolute worst hangover I have ever had to this day in my life. Derk was kind enough to bring me some water, but there was a funny smell in the air in our bedroom. No dumbass, not vomit smell. Gross. It was a clean smell. Turns out, my 11 yr. old sister went the extra mile and CLEANED UP MY VOMIT. Yes, we're THAT close. She was worried (and apparently I had indicated my own worry that night...for quite a long stretch) that I would get an ass whoopin' deluxe from dear ole Dad if he found out. Especially since I was supposed to be home with Derk.

So, apart from the 3-day hangover, the projectile vomiting, the tongue bath from a fuckwad, Derk freaking out, and the pink tinge to a 3 x 3 area of the carpet on the far side of my bed, it was quite an entertaining evening. It would be quite a few years before I even thought about trying champagne again. But alas, change was inevitable in smalltown Podunk. Steph graduated (she was a year ahead), Kathy dropped out and ended up a couple of years later having to dry out and detox in a "center", and I eventually went on to college and moved out. Derk, however, never let me forget that night. But that's okay....she cleaned up my vomit. Of course, she got me back by coming out to stay with me for a few weeks when I was in college and having sex with her skanky boyfriend on my livingroom floor. I'd say we're even...

*Seriously, Derk! Did you think I didn't know?? XOXO

**Kathy is now happily married with two kids and lives in the same area where we went to high school. WTF? The bitch goes to rehab and still comes out ahead?? God is giving me the finger!

Hit and Miss

2008-06-26T12:36:00.006-05:00

So I went for this job interview out in the Carolinas. It was unexpected, and they flew me out and put me up for a few days so that they could send me to various groups of people who asked me the same questions over and over. Seriously, answering the same questions from 9am-6pm nonstop is exhausting...and I know that they must think I had canned answers. But seriously, ask me a new line of fucking questions then! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Anywho, long story short, I didn't get the job but another invitation to come back to go through another round of interviews in the fall. Huh? WTF??! Turns out, they did a quickie search for the position, got my file from my recruiter and thought they'd only interview me. Now, this could be rather disturbing, eh? I mean, I'm the only person they interview, yet they don't like me enough to give me the goddamn job? I was a bit upset...okay, I threw shit and cursed their names...I really wanted this particular job, and they had thwarted my ambitions! But my recruiter called to talk me off the ledge with an explanation that made much more sense. And he also said that I have the edge when I go back for a second round of interviews since I've met some people and they "know" me in a way. Of course, then he followed it up with "if you are still available when they finally decide to pull the trigger." I heart my recruiter. He thinks I'm the shit..for real. The trip was generally a good one except that I got stuck overnight at an airport (will the dark cloud of travel always follow me??) on my way back home. The bright spot there is that I got to enjoy the company of several officers in our fine military. Cute boys in uniform? Who am I to complain? These poor guys had just spent 30 hours coming back from Iraq! Seems sandstorms delay flights there. Who knew?

Next on my agenda is a move to a new place. I'm leaving my current shit hole money pit and moving into a tiny rental near work. It might as well be a dollhouse, but it has a fenced yard and the lady loves my dogs. Finding somewhere to live when you have 4 dogs is not as easy as one might imagine. I'll have to store A LOT of my stuff in a storage unit, but the rent is dirt cheap, and my credit cards are screaming in agony for some relief. Maybe some sucker will buy this pit of hell along with its bastard demons..um HOA. I'm going to let them know I'm number one when I drive away from here! The only thing I'll miss terribly is the pool. I do love to float around and work on my skin cancer. *And I'll live kinda more in the boondocks, but being 10 minutes from my work is a good thing in terms of time and gasoline since we are being bent over by the oil companies.

So sorry folks, I got nothing funny going on right now. Perhaps a childhood trauma...I mean story soon.

*My friend out in Lost Angeles says gas has officially hit $5/gallon. Holy shit! I'd have to walk everywhere or hitch a ride with the day laborers to get to work around there!

Fat Dads in Minivans

2008-06-10T09:19:00.008-05:00

I fucking hate minivans! HATE THEM! First, they are really ugly. They just are. Second, please don't try to say it's an "all purpose vehicle"...just another name for a minivan. Lastly, people who drive them seem to think they can drive however they want and no one will care because they might contain small children on board. They pull out in front of you on a 45 mph busy street. They change lanes without using a signal. It's like they think we are saying to ourselves, "Oh no! I better wreck my own vehicle before I plow into the dumbass minivan that just pulled out of that parking lot in front of me as I'm going 45-50 mph. They might have kids in there!" Chaps my ass! Now it's been a while, and you may have forgotten that I have quite a lengthy commute to work. The positive in my commute is that it's all mostly interstate driving...four interstates to be exact. Now aside from the county sheriffs that are now acting as traffic cops (which is a whole different issue that chaps my ass) and ruining my pedal to the metal, there are couple of other things that really piss me off on my drive to work. One of these things: Fat assholes in goddamn minivans that drive as if they are on the Indy circuit! Do you know who I'm talking about here? The slightly pudgy, middle-aged balding guy who is driving a maroon or green (do they only make minivans in those colors??) minivan like he's being chased by the demons of hell? Ring any bells?

So anywho, it's THAT guy that tries to kill me at least 3 out of 5 mornings. He's pushing 95 mph, weaving in and out of the four lanes, tail gating, ignoring construction and signs that warn him that traffic fines double in work zones (Where the fuck is that county sheriff when THIS slapdick is on the road??), and he's cutting in on cars with barely an inch to spare between bumpers. And when someone has the audacity to honk at him, he gives them the social finger! WTF? Any given day, he's going to be the reason that I sit in bumper to bumper traffic due to an accident caused by a minivan driver who cut off an 18-wheeler, who lost control of his rig (because jeez, the poor man can't seem to stop on a dime), and now they've shut down 3 of the 4 lanes on my interstate! I can't TAKE IT ANYMORE!! Get that shit under control, man!

Listen Pops, I know the old lady carries your berries in a box in her pocketbook, but this idea that you can grow new ones by driving like a complete bastard maniac in the minivan that was meant for your wife is not the best. I can get behind a little speeding, and granted, you do have much more to make up for than I since you're driving that vessel of emasculation, but the weaving in and out at excessively high rates of speed, the tail gating, the bird shooting...it's got to cease and desist. I still have some things I'd like to do in this life, and you are precariously close to killing my dreams with your fucking mini van and checkered flag mentality. I mean, YOU married her. Don't make the rest of us pay for your mistake. I'm just sayin'....And dude, the spoiler is just pathetic.

*No offense to you gentlemen who give the newer car to your wife and kids for safety reasons...unless you are driving like an asshole. In that case, I hope I offended you deeply.

**School's out, but I'm still working and counting the days until I can just float on my floatie at the pool and work on my skin cancer.

Condoms Don't Grow On Trees, Do They?

2008-04-27T20:00:00.003-05:00

So, I'm only back for this post because after about a week, I'm compelled to share with you my discovery.

It's getting warmer in Texas now...fantastically sunny but chokingly humid. Then there are the storms. But one day last week, it was a beautiful sunshiney day here, so I thought I might take the pups for a nice walk in the park. So I outfitted the crew with their harnesses and retractable leashes and set out for the wooded footpath of a local park. It was actually really nice, as everything is turning green again since the advent of spring. So I'm walking trying frantically to keep from being brought down by the excitement of four dogs on retractable leashes (I mean really, what the hell was I thinking??), when Spanky, the lil red menace, darted off the concrete path into the wooded part of the wooded footpath. As I'm calling to him to get his ass back to the pack, he emerges with something in his mouth. At first, I think it might be some food wrapper that some dumbass discarded because he was too much of a lazy ass to put it in the some 50 trash cans located along the path. Nothing like killing the local wildlife with a Snickers wrapper, eh shithead? But where was I? Oh yes! When I reeled him in to take a closer look, I was a bit taken aback at what it was: a condom. Unused and in the wrapper, you freaks, so don't even go "there". Curiosity got the best of me, and so I guided my little menagerie off the beaten path and let Spanky take the lead. Lo and behold, he led us to a suspicious looking paper bag behind some shrubbery. As I got closer, I picked up a stick and started poking the bag. I mean, what if it was a bag full of disposed of needles left by some whacked out junkie? I wasn't about to become some freakin' statistic! Anywho, as I used my extended arm to upturn the paper bag, out fell about 25 condoms! There seemed to be an assortment: ribbed, flavored, colored, you name it! Now, I don't know about you, but this seemed odd to me. I knew from health class in 6th grade that condoms didn't grow on trees...or in the bush either, so to speak. I know what some of you are thinking: "Holy shit! She hit the mother lode! What park was that? Can she draw me a map?" Alas, I was more perplexed than anything else. Who left this little treasure trove behind? Was it a new species of whore? I mean, I've heard of lake whores, truck stop whores, and other types of whores, but a park whore? Was there a whole new underground of bitches peddling pussy at the local park now? And then I thought, am I standing where some skanky bitch bent over for a little park action? So after I got over the first reaction of disgust, I got mad. What the fuck?? Is no place sacred anymore?! Why must these people ruin the tranquility and family atmosphere of my park? And what obscene things must the ducks have seen and had to endure? Isn't that animal cruelty? And what if that nasty snatch had left a used one lying around that might have choked and killed my beloved dog? So you know what I did next? I took my stick, dug a hole, and buried that booty! Ha! Serves 'em right for defiling my sanctuary! And I hope the next time some lame ass idiot who goes to the park to get a hummer thinks twice and takes a good long look at whether or not the park whore has a fever blister...or blisters elsewhere. Listen asshole, go sign up for Match.com to get laid like everyone else!

You Can't Make Me Do It

2008-04-07T18:27:00.002-05:00

I'm taking a blogging vacation. A short (hopefully!) hiatus, if you will. I need some solitude. It could be days, weeks, or even months. I'm not sure yet. Feel free to write something for me and send it to me. I'll be glad to post it. Seriously. And I'll still be reading all y'all...

Shit! You Should Just Stay Home...

2008-03-31T18:39:00.005-05:00

**The above title was given to me by a friend while having dinner. And he doesn't even know I have a blog!**

Recently, I've had the opportunity to travel via airplane twice in the past two weeks. What's that you say? Lucky me? Well, while I would tend to agree with you overall, I seem to have somewhere gotten stuck under the dark cloud of travel. Here's a short synopsis of my trips:

1. I was stuck at the airport in Dallas for some 8.5 hours due to storms and possible tornadoes. When I finally did get my ass on a plane, I missed my connection in Atlanta, the black hole of airport cities. I made it to Asslanta about 1am, and while the airline graciously gave me a discounted hotel room voucher, the luggage jockeys at the airport lost my bag. Finally, at 2:30am, they located my bag (it had apparently been stuck in the chute, and I got to spend a whopping 4 hours at the hotel, sleeping for 3 and showering and such for one, only to have to return to the airport to catch the first available flight to my destination. On the way back, I got delayed again...in Asslanta. That airport sucks huge, hairy balls! Plus, they weren't very friendly. Now this wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been on my way for a fucking job interview. So I basically looked like hammered shit for the all -day job interview at some fancy school in Maryland of which I didn't end up getting the job anyway.

2. On my second trip out east, my connection was in Memphis. Memphis, unlike Asslanta, is a great airport full of friendly and helpful souls. My only mistake there was deciding that I needed some coffee at the Starbitches for the first time in over a year. So I'm waiting in line, and there is a couple in front of me arguing. They appear to be Latin, as the expletives were in both English and Spanish. As we reach the waiting area to collect our beverages, the crazy Latin bitch takes her scalding hot coffee and throws it at her boyfriend/husband/lover, whatever. Turns out he's quite agile, and jumps quickly to avoid most of the hot liquid...so the rest hits me on the right side of my goddamn face! Evidently, I must have called out and jumped back, causing me to lose my balance and fall on my ass. As I'm sitting there thinking I've most likely been disfigured by some crazy bitch, the airport people bring the first aid kit and put me in a chair. As it turned out, I had streaked, angry red scald marks across my left cheek and lip. Thankfully, none of it got to my eye. Yep, it was starting to blister and hurt like a sonofabitch! While all of this was happening, myself and about 6 others were being paged at the gate. It was quite a ruckus, and so I was wheeled to the gate (oh, did I forget to mention they put me in a ridiculous wheelchair??), I arrived to find out that the flight I was on was severely oversold, and so they were putting me and a half dozen others on a flight that left later. Fabulous. So when I arrived at my destination, the rental car counter was already closed, so I had no way to get my rental car. Yes, stuck at the airport again. On my return trip, I got another weather delay. I made it home almost exactly 12 hours after arriving at the departure airport. Another fantastic trip, ladies and gentlemen.

So there you have it. And in case you're wondering, I'm looking like some reject from Extreme Makeover with my face all peeling and disgusting looking, particularly the right side of my upper lip. So now, I'm more hideous than ever! Want a lil kiss, y'all?

**Father Liam will most definitely be seeing me this week, but I'm tempted to wait until my lip heals and is less noticeable. I don't want him to think he needs to heal any lepers.

***Some children today asked me if I had a staph infection on my lip. WTF? EWWWW!! I'm a monster!!

Sassy Blondie: Crime Stopper (almost!)

2008-03-23T11:32:00.002-05:00

HOLY SHIT, you guys!! I just witnessed a crime! I was coming back from running a simple errand (okay, so it wasn't simple...I went to get bent over at the gas pump), and I turned onto the street that eventually leads to my townhouse "village" (Fucking HOA bastards! I wonder how much that stone and metal sign cost me!), and I spilled my diet Coke. So, I pulled off said street into a bank parking lot to get the lid back on my Route 44 drink (I heart Sonic). That's when I saw it! At the drive up ATM, I saw a Ford Escape parked there, it's owner getting cash. Then as I watched, the perp strolled from behind the hedges and came around to the driver, pulling a huge fucking knife! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!! I didn't know what else to do but start honking my horn and dialing 911 on the Crackberry! I just laid on the horn, and much to my amazement, I started coasting my Nissan in that general direction! While all of this was happening, I was thinking to myself, "Sassy, you know you'll run that motherfucker down if he starts heading your way, so shut your mouth and hit the gas!" As I hollered into the phone to the police (I was still leaning heavily on the horn), I saw the shitbag criminal run off, and the young guy in the SUV jumped out and started running towards me. I assured him through my cracked window that I had called the police and they were on their way. Then he just sort of crumpled. Being a bit too soft-hearted maybe (or stupid...it's a toss up!) I quickly threw the car in park and got out to go over to our victim. He looked to be in his early 20s, skinny, harmless enough that I could take him in hand-to hand, so I just started talking.

Me: Are you alright??! He didn't cut you did he?

Him: No, uh...I don't think...uh no.

Me: I have water in my car, would you like me to get it for you?

Him: Fuck! That scared me shitless! Thank God you came by!

Me: I can't believe this! It's 10:30am...broad daylight! Are you sure you're okay? What's your name?

Him: Jeff. Did you see that knife??!

Me: Yes, Jeff, I did! I'm Sassy. You're so lucky though! Why don't you let me go get you that water? You gonna be okay for a minute, sweet pea? (patting his shoulder)

Him: Uh...yeah...okay, thanks. I need to call my parents.

So as I went to the car to grab a water bottle, the cops showed up. One was African-American, the other Hispanic (you'll see why this is relevant as you read on). As I was bringing the water over, I heard the young guy say, "That lady saw the whole thing! She scared him off honking her horn and driving at us!" At this point, I start to think that maybe I should have just called the cops and then took off! I mean, I don't have the best track record with the city's finest.

Cop: Ma'am, did you see what happened?

Me: (pausing to decide if I should admit it or not) Um, yes sir, I did.

Cop: Can you start from the beginning?

Me: Told him the story.

Cop: Can you describe the man you said had a knife?

Me: I think so, but you're not going to like it.

Cop: I would just like a description if you can remember, ma'am.

Me: He was either a lighter-skinned African American or Latino man (I was really hating giving my statement, and I wanted to be as politically correct as I knew how), about 6 feet tall, wearing a red shirt, white hoody with some writing on it that looked silver, and blue jeans. He had on red basketball shoes. (What the hell? How did I remember all of that???) I have no idea how old he might have been.

Cop: Could you see his face?

Me: No sir, he had the hoody on, so I didn't even see if he had hair.

Cop: Any tattoos, earrings, a watch?

Me: Not that I recall. Sorry. I know that sounds like just about anyone. How much did he make off with?

Cop: The kid said he took out $200, the guy took that, but then ran when you started driving up and honking.

Me: Well, at least no one got hurt. I can't believe he was out robbing in broad daylight! What the hell? And surely he realizes there are cameras at ATMs??

Cop: Yes, ma'am. We have seen quite a few of these lately, and based on the ones we catch and the victims who get the same thing while pumping gas, we believe a lot of it has to do with people desperate for gas money.

Me: Excuse me? Are you serious? That is unbelievable! What the fu--uh hell??

Cop: I know, Ms. Blondie. We've apprehended teenagers, old men, women, you name it.

Then he took my information and said I could go. I checked on the kid again, he thanked me for the water and my savvy crime-busting skills (not really...just thanked me for helping), I gave him a quick hug and pat, and I got in the car and made my way home. As I walked into my money pit, I began to feel a little bit more proud of myself. I mean, I did act when I saw a crime happening, when most people these days don't even think twice about ignoring it. I hope that poor kid is okay. I thought he was going to pass out, and he had the shakes and was crying a little too. Poor baby!

So there it is! My crime-fighting skills at work! Whew! That was pretty scary though. I hope they find that slapdick criminal, but I don't have much faith in that. I mean, how many resources are they going to use to find $200 for that kid? I fucking hate criminals...

*I know I promised a post about my misspent youth, but this JUST HAPPENED! Watch yourselves at the ATMs and the gas pump! Be safe my babies!

I'm A Failure (At Least Right Now)

2008-03-10T18:28:00.003-05:00

So as I'm sure you have surmised by now (and if not for the fact that I've said as much already!!), I've been extremely busy in Mayberry. Because I am currently the only AP, I'm doing the job of 2 people on a campus with 800 kids. Then, the Alliance (which is my new moniker for upper admin) went and moved our lady counselor to another school that is "in crisis", leaving us even more so short-handed. So I'm now splitting counselor duties (did I mention that I'm nowhere near being qualified as a school counselor?) with Big C. And I'm failing at all three jobs miserably. There just isn't enough time in the day to deal with all of my work, and it's getting to me. Not because I now have 3 months worth of important paperwork backed up. Not because I'm over scheduled with meetings and other campus duties. Not because I've fallen behind in my teacher appraisals, which should have been completed in February. Not even because I can't seem to do anything that pleases my teachers. What's really getting to me is that I'm failing my kids. (And by "my kids", I'm referring to the students on campus since everyone knows I'm a childless spinster.)

I'm behind in discipline. I've been unable to meet with my at-risk student mentees regularly. Matter of fact, I saw one for the first time in 2 months today, only to notice that he's literally walking out of his shoes because the family is so poor, he doesn't have any others. This sent me over the edge. So I left the building and cried all the way to Wal-mart to buy the poor boy some decent shoes. Then I cried all the way back. Several students came in today asking why I didn't want to see them. The lump in my throat almost choked me. I tried as best I could to explain that it wasn't that I didn't WANT to see them, but that I had not had sufficient time. Who tells a bunch of little kids that they don't have the time to care? I hate not being on top of the things that matter most.

As we approach Spring Break, I have another week with a ridiculous schedule. And I'm even going to work over Spring Break to catch up on the mountains of paperwork that must be entered into the computer. My only hope is that I can somehow do something right this week that will make a positive difference to someone on campus.

No, I'm really not whining. I'm a realist and understand that this is just temporary until the new guy comes on board with us in April. I just don't like feeling like such a failure, when only I know how fucking hard I've been working.

*Sorry that Debbie Downer got a hold of my blog post. I hope everyone is well, and I'll stop in and read y'all when I can!

**I promise a post detailing ridiculous stories from my misspent youth very soon.

The Return of the Nutty Buddy

2008-02-29T18:47:00.005-06:00

Yes, I'm still alive. Stop your bitchin' via email and recognize that I really am busy (Hor, it's true!), and blogging still doesn't make the top of my priority list.

Anywho, I decided to share something rather interesting that has resurfaced at work. As you know (or you should by now!), I am an administrator at a school. I handle all kinds of tasks, student discipline being just one. Early in the year, I saw an inordinate amount of the phenomenon known as the "Nutty Buddy" pop up all over my campus. Are you familiar with the Nutty Buddy? Gentlemen? Here's the gist:

Young boys run up to each other in the hallways, in the gym, in the classroom, at lunch...wherever there is a free minute....and they punch each other in the crotch and run away squealing with laughter. They have just made their victim a "nutty buddy." Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought boys were more leery of touching each other's genitals unless they have a bent to that particular gender. Harmless fun, you say? I think not. Often, the person being punched drops everything they are carrying, and they all the time let out a scream of agony and collapse in a heap, writhing and holding their junk. And sometimes, there are even tears. What the hell is this madness?? But it's when the witnesses to this crime come forward, or I get a call from the school nurse, that I come into this ridiculous situation because a disciplinary referral then gets written.

I had one such nutty buddy incident today, which the likes of I hadn't seen since at least October of last year. The crotch puncher was brought to my office with an ice pack on a rapidly bruising cheek, and the crotch punchee came to my office from the nurse with an ice pack for his family jewels. Here is the conversation:

SB: Nutty Buddy Victim, please tell me what happened. (I took out my legal pad to record this exchange.)

NBV: Ms. Sassy, he punched me in the nuts!

SB: Okay. Then what happened?

NBV: I punched him in the face! He-

NBP: I didn't hit him that hard! And anyway, he punched me in the nuts 3rd period!

SB: So what you guys are telling me is that we are back to performing "nutty buddies" on each other? Why? Didn't I make it clear last fall that when you put your hands on someone else, my options for how to deal with it are few? NBP, why would you even think about touching him there in any form or fashion? NBV, DID you punch him in the nuts 3rd period?

NBV: (mumbling) Yes. But I was just playing!

NBP: (beginning to cry) But I didn't WANT to touch him there, it's a GAME!!

SB: So tell me, is it fun now?

Both boys: No! But we were just playing around...(crying and more crying)

SB: I understand that, but I'll be calling your mothers to explain how you are both going to In School Suspension for touching each other in the privates! I will not tolerate this kind of inappropriate behavior on campus. Just STOP touching each other, and for sure stop hitting each other in the nuts! It can cause some very serious health problems for you!

This statement caused all out sobbing. As you can tell, neither had a good explanation for why this is considered the thing to do. After some uncomfortable calls to their poor, beleaguered mothers, I set them up for a couple of day s of ISS. But what the hell? And then one parent calls me to set my hair on fire about how her kid has bruised testicles?? Excuse me? How the holy fuck is that MY fault?

Listen gentlemen (and you too, Dyckerson!) I know how pleased and proud you are of your junk, but this kind of behavior is just fucking stupid. Punch your own berries all you want, but for the love of Mike, give us all a break and keep it isolated to your own crotch area. I've had all I can take of crotch-related incidents!* Now go call your mother and tell her how sorry you are that you were a nasty ass lil punk for causing her so much grief! And if you have boys, take the strap to them because I can guarantee they are not the sweet and precious baby boys you think they are! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I need a drink...

*The past two weeks, I have dealt with incidents of boys getting caught in the bathroom rubbing themselves, coming from behind one another and grabbing the family jewels from between the legs and running off, and general filthy language about sucking dick and bitch-slapping their "girlfriends".

**I need a vacation. And a new job. Please help me.

***I love my job. Really.

For The Boys

2008-02-13T19:04:00.010-06:00

Okay, so I'm still too busy to put down anything original here, but I thought I might share some information that would be helpful to my clueless male readers. I received this information via an email from my beloved little sister. Gentlemen, the myth about women being complicated is just that, a mere myth! Below, I offer you the 9 words women use and their true meaning. What can I say? I'm a giver...

1. Fine:This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

2. Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

3. Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

4. Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!

5. Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)

6. That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

7. Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or faint. Just say you're welcome in a warm manner. (I want to add in a clause here - This is true, unless she says "Thanks a lot" - that is PURE sarcasm, and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say "you're welcome" ... that will bring on a "whatever").

8. Whatever: Is a women's way of saying, "FUCK YOU and the horse you rode up on, you stupid bastard!"

9. Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking "What's wrong?" For the woman's response refer to # 3.

So, am I right, or am I right? You can send cash in lieu of your thanks, however.

*Hope you all have a sweetheart for V-Day...give 'em a kiss and say it's from me..

Givin' It Up

2008-02-06T20:14:00.000-06:00

Today is Ash Wednesday, which means for Catholics and other Orthodox religions begins the Season of Lent. (No, Dyckerson, L-E-N-T not l-i-n-t! Pay attention, man!) What is Lent, you ask? Well, Lent is a forty-day period before Easter. It begins on Ash Wednesday. We skip Sundays when we count the forty days, because Sundays commemorate the Resurrection. Lent begins on February 6, 2008 and ends on March 22, 2008, which is the day before Easter. Lent means I have to give up sinful activities until Easter. Moi? Sinful activities? Sometimes I just don't understand my religion of choice!

So I had to visit Father Liam this evening to receive my cross of ashes on my forehead. Technically, I'm not supposed to wash it off until sunrise, but I had to take a bath, right? So in receiving the blessing and talking with my beloved Father Liam, I asked him a few questions for clarification:

SB: Father, are you sure I can't wash this off until the morning? I mean, I didn't stop at home to wash my face before coming here, so what about my makeup?

FL: The cross of ashes represents visibly your reverance of your relationship with Jesus. It is not a sin to wash it off.

SB: Great! Thanks! But Father, what should I give up for Lent?

FL: Perhaps you should pray to Him and seek guidance on that.

SB: So God will tell me what I have to sacrifice for 40 days? Couldn't you just help me out? I mean, aren't you my spiritual guide on Earth?

FL: It is not for me to choose your sacrifice. Would you like to sit for confession?

SB: Umm, that might take a while, Father. I've had a rough couple of weeks at Mayberry.

FL: As you wish. Just remember that your sacrifice should be meaningful.

SB: I KNOW that, Father! I just think there should be some kind of example list to help people out who are struggling, you know?

FL: You always amuse me, SB. I know that you know what this Season of Lent will mean to you. (This was said with a raised left eyebrow)

SB: You're right, Father! I'm just givin' you a hard time. Hehehe.

FL: So I'll see you next week for confession then?

SB: It's a date! (wink wink)

So readers, this Season of Lent, I've decided to give up...wait, I'm NOT telling you guys that! Just know that I'll be sacrificing some sinful activity and continue to pray for me.

*Okay, I've decided I definitely should give up flirting with my priest too. I'm thinking this might be a good idea. It's only 40 days, right?

I'm Sick and I Sound Like Kim Carnes

2008-01-27T08:32:00.000-06:00

***THIS JUST IN: I got in to see the doctor and begged for a penicillin shot. Yes, a mamby pamby measly lil MD is no match for Sickly Sassy! So he leaves me in the room, and in walks my nurse: a MALE nurse. So I had to drop 'em and lean over the table for my shot in the ass! After an what seemed like an eternity, he finally takes out the needle and starts to rub the injection site. Now ladies and gentlemen, you might think this is some kind of erotic interlude, but unfortunately the nurse looked like a 6 foot Howdy Doody...who was rubbing MY ass! Perhaps one day the sting of embarrassment will subside...***

This will have to be short. I'm sick, sick, sick. I'm sneezy, achy, sleepy, feverish, and bitchy. I kept telling myself and everyone around me on Friday that I was not sick. The only one who believed me was me and the Indian UPS guy. I've been taking all kinds of vitamin C, Theraflu, Halls cough drops, Nyquil, and none of it has made the gravel that has moved in at the back of my throat bust up and move on. My nose is sore from blowing (please, Dyckerson, I'm not in the mood), my throat is swollen, my body aches, I'm running a temperature, and I've slept more than Rip Van Winkle. Plus, I desperately need a shower...which I intend on having once I've finished here.

On an interesting note, however, I was watching television when this song came on that I liked. I thought I might sing it. What came out of my mouth shook the earth and sent my pups running for cover! I swear, it was frightening. Then I thought about that old "Bette Davis Eyes" song from my childhood (I'm in no mood for age jokes, people!) and decided to try that one. I might as well be Kim Carnes twin. Who knew? "Her hair is hollow gold...her lips are sweet surprise..."

Anywho, I'm sick, sick, sick. And I hate it. And I hate all you healthy people. And I hate all those brats who most assuredly breathed on me at work giving me this crud. I blame you all! I'm going to have a shower now.

*Of course I don't hate kids...I love kids...I'm just sick...and bitchy...and did I mention sick?

**I haven't seen Father Liam in a week! Do you think he misses me??

The Albino Behind Me

2008-01-21T11:25:00.000-06:00

I'm of a "certain age", and while I've been many places and experienced many different things, I never thought my most recent trip to Walmart would yield me a new and somewhat creepy experience.

So, I had to visit Walmart for those most basic needs: food, drink, dog food, hairspray...you understand. I decided that since I was in my civilian clothes (no SpongeBob pants, mind you...I learned my lesson!), I could venture again to the local Walmart Neighborhood Market. All things considered, my shopping experience this time was very routine and nothing to write home about. Until I got in line at the checkout. As you might have pieced together by now, I tend to have some unusual experiences while waiting in lines. If you haven't pieced that together by now you are either new to this blog, or you're a complete fucking idiot. Take your pick.

Anywho, I was waiting in line perusing the latest rags that had either "Britney Spears Shocker! She wants another baby!" or "Thinner thighs and rock hard abs in 2 weeks!" headlines on them, when I heard someone roll up behind me. Being a curious and observant individual, I turned slightly to catch a glimpse of my newest linemate (I mean, it could be some hot guy who likes SpongeBob pants!). I was not, however, prepared for what I saw. The man behind me was a REAL LIVE ALBINO! Holy shit! I know I was staring, but I'd never really seen one up close and personal! I quickly turned back around and, heart racing, sent off a quick text about said albino to someone I knew who enjoyed the freakish and odd. Then try as I might, I could not help but to keep sneaking glances at him. I mean, the white hair, skin so light it was practically translucent (WAY whiter than yours truly, thank God!), the odd, red-rimmed eyes (but they weren't pink in color like albino rats or anything) that were surprisingly very dark. It was all too much to ignore!

Of course, when you are trying to be inconspicuous, you inevitably get caught. Dammit! So about the umpteenth time I snuck a glance, the unexpected happened: dreaded eye contact between me and my albino. Not one to be nervous in social situations, I was temporarily immobile. I just stared. Finally, after what felt like days of connection, I kinda just smiled. Then, he smiled in return, and the stuff of nightmares was born. His teeth were kind of a dull yellow, which contrasted sickly with his pasty complexion. I thought I might drop dead of a heart attack right there! I know, I know, it's sounds so mean, but what the fuck? This was uncharted territory for me!

So I quickly turned around and started clumsily putting my items on the belt thingy when it happened: I dropped my damn green tea carton! As I quickly bent down to pick it up, the white devil stooped down as well, and then we were face to face, only inches apart with our hands on my teabags! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I think I mumbled, "Thanks" and he replied, "No problem, sweetheart, " smiling his creepy smile. I think I flinched. Needless to say, I got out of there was quickly as I could. And I also did have nightmares about fanged albino killers!

Today though, I just feel shamed. I mean, he wasn't cruising the WNM for his next victim to cannibalize...as far as I could tell from his shopping cart, he was getting chips and beer for the football game. Why oh why had I reacted that way?? I'm sure he thought I was a complete batshit bitch who was off her meds.

When I went to see Father Liam this morning, I confessed my obvious prejudice, and he said, "We all fear what we do not know, Sassy. But he is also one of God's children. Being kind to those who are unlike us shows His grace." Motherfucker! Thanks for the guilt trip, Father Liam! And two Our Fathers included in my penance? Shit! He was an ALBINO for chrissakes!

*Father Liam may be leaving me! They may send him to a mission in Belize! BELIZE! How the hell am I going to deal with that? Do you know what it takes to break in a new priest?? I'm quite certain Father Liam already thinks I'm a little bit crazy, but he's not new to the priesthood and seems to be handling me quite well. Please God, don't send me an albino priest...I'll end up in hell in a handbasket for sure!

Another One Bites the Dust...and Can Bite Me While She's At It!

2008-01-15T18:20:00.000-06:00

So I don't think I mentioned that there was this secretary in my office that totally tried to get me in trouble. She said I was "contributing to a hostile work environment" in a complaint to my old boss. Excuse me, bitch? Anyone who knows me or has worked with me would find this to be a completely ludicrous accusation! However, we had to go through the whole formal mess, but I was vindicated in the end. So since then, bitch secretary (BS) has had to be all nicey nicey to me. I've been professional and courteous but no longer warm and friendly with her after that ridiculous shit. Fuck her! I save my sunshine for people who deserve it!

So anywho, last Friday, the stupid BS turns in a resignation letter to both Big C and me. When we had a conversation with her, she cried around about not being happy with the job and that she just felt she had not been adequately trained...blah blah blah. Then she drops a bombshell: That stupid BS is over TWO MONTHS BEHIND in her work! Messing with average daily attendance (ADA), which is linked to state money for a school district, is a complete disaster! We are in noncompliance with state reporting regulations, and she took another day off today! WTF?? Now, this also means that she has also been LYING to me about truancy filings, 5-day absentee letters, and 10-day absentee letters! These are local policy requirements, which means I could be in trouble too! Stupid, lying, good for nothing sack of shit!

Today, I had a "pop in" impromptu meeting with one of the big bosses. And he was not happy. In fact, he grilled ME on why I allowed that stupid, fucking BS to get so far behind on such important reporting. Yes, I am the designated idiot stick in charge of overseeing attendance and residency on my campus. At first, I thought he must be out of his overpaid, motherfucking mind! Then, I had to spend the last half hour of the one hour ass chewing explaining how she refused to talk to me for nearly two weeks, and then continued to lie to me about having things done. I had to print out emails with directives I had sent to her regarding these issues, just so that he could see that my ass was covered! Needless to say, my day did not go well.

What I really want to know is how the fuck is this bitch's incompetency MY fault? I didn't hire her! It is not MY job to take, record, and verify attendance! That's what they've been paying her for! I simply make sure that we follow up on attendance issues..WHICH I FUCKING DID! I'm still not sure he isn't going to try to pin this on me, but in all fairness, he really can't do so. I just don't trust the slapdick Sheriff or his posse of accounting flunkies. Son of a bitch! I cannot wait to leave Mayberry behind!

But, that stupid BS bit the dust at least! I WON you stupid whore! Fuck you and your bullshit excuses! You just shot to the top of my shit list, and when Sassy ain't happy, ain't no one happy! Kiss my ass you sorry piece of shit!

*Father Liam will be seeing me this week, I'm afraid. Of course, he'll give me the whole "to forgive is the right thing" spiel. Fuck!

Well, DUH!

2008-01-10T20:46:00.001-06:00

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So I know it's lame, but I'm busier than a lesbian at Lilith Fair right now! I got no time to write anything substantial. Besides, I'm sure you've heard about my legal troubles by now.

SpongeBob Might Get You Some Action (Unwanted, Of Course)

2008-01-04T10:03:00.000-06:00

So I'm on the waning last days of my extended winter break until I have to return to Mayberry. Blegh. I always know that I've been off too long when I can't find enough stuff to do. Everyone else is at work, and you can only watch so much Lifetime TV (that sappy shit makes me bawl like a baby!). So when I got up this morning, I wanted to make pancakes. Pancakes and I have a rocky relationship...mostly because they are full of bad carbohydrates, and I get a little free with the syrup. Anywho, I love pancakes, but I only eat them maybe twice a year. But I digress. I got up and wanted to make pancakes, but I did not have the proper ingredients or any syrup. That meant a little jaunt to the Walmart Neighborhood Market. For those of you who don't have them, it's basically a Walmart supermarket only. Lucky for me, there's one just a short mile or so from the house. Now, I don't normally like to go out while still in my pajamas. And by pajamas, I mean SpongeBob Squarepants fleece bottoms (Christmas present from my cutie patootie 9 yr old nephew) and a Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt (please Lord, let them make the Superbowl this year). But I decided that this was an emergency. I wanted those fucking pancakes, and shitty McDonald's rubber disks were not going to satisfy my craving. So I put my hair up and threw on some shoes and a bra and headed out the door. It was 7:00 in the morning, so who would I really see, right?

As I walk into the WNM, I notice that one of the cart wranglers looks at me funny. I smile and say, "Woke up, needed pancakes." He replies, "I like those SpongeBob pants!" I nod and keep walking. Of course, I only went in for one or two things, but as everyone knows, Walmart always sucks you in, so I was there an hour...shopping....in my pajamas. However, I found it very strange that so many people were: A) in the WNM at 7am and B) felt compelled to talk about my pants. Men, women, and children of all ages seem to react to ole SpongeBob. By the time I was in there for 20 min, my reply to people's, "Hey! I like those pants!" was "You know, they like you too!" (Evidently, sometimes, Sassy says things that give the wrong impression.) While I was checking my egg carton for any breakage, an older guy in his 50s, I'd say, was doing the same near me. He looks over and says, "Those are some fancy pants!" I laugh and say, "Well, I like them!" He replies, "I like them too." My response: "You know, they like you too!" Hahaha. What happened next has NEVER EVER happened to me in all my life. This STRANGER reached down and rubbed my thigh and said, "And they are so soft too, huh?" I was dumbfounded! I kind of jumped back and said, "Excuse me?!" WTF?? Anyone who knows me is aware of my no touchy the Sassy rule if I don't know you. Talky: sure. Touchy: HELL NO! He goes on, " I was just admiring how soft they are. They must be very comfortable." I just continue looking at him in horror. "Listen, mister, you can't go around touching people's pants. It's creepy and weird!" His reply, "Well, you did say they liked me too. I was just being friendly." Wink Wink. I thought: Holy shit! I think Ted Bundy's brother is in my Walmart Neighborhood Market!! I couldn't say a word to that, so I practically ran to the checkout! Thank the heavens for those fucking self-checkout lanes! I must have checked and paid for my items in record time. As I was leaving, I saw TBB checking out, and HE SMILED AND WAVED as I passed. I ran to my car, threw my lil plastic Walmart bags into the trunk, not caring about my eggs and other breakables, and got the hell outta there.

How is it that I missed that maniacal gleam in his eye? Why am I a magnet for the weirdo shitbags? This just solidifies my resolve to NEVER EVER leave the house in my pajamas. SpongeBob attracts the creepy and odd. It's dangerous out there!

**I was just thinking about how uneventful my vacation has been, and so I thought I would have to wait to update the ole RofaSB next week since I'd be back at work and some crazy shit will happen for sure there. But I made my fucking pancakes! Yeah, those are the pants...

Rambling Reflection

2007-12-29T07:58:00.000-06:00

I'm coming up on a New Year, and this is always the time I start really reflecting on what's happened the past year. I don't know that it's been all that exciting, save for one thing. But I won't talk about that. What I do want to talk about is what I hope for the new year. That's right, you bastards, this is not going to be funny or entertaining! It's going to be sappy and cryptic! Deal with it! Now join hands in a circle of love...

I hope that I do fewer things that compel me to go to confession (even though I do have a little crush on Father Liam). Shit, is that lust?! Damn! I'll get my keys...

I hope that I am a better friend to those of you that I've kind of neglected this year. You know who you are, and I'm sorry. I do love you. Now please stop laying a guilt trip on me every time we talk. It's not fair. I do have some semblance of a life of my own, you know. Bitches! (Sorry, just kidding...)

I hope that I can quell the restlessness that really grips me about every 2-3 years. I came "home" to stay, I thought. But home isn't as sweet as it used to be. (Hor, I'm coming to the Ghetto next! Maybe it's "sweet"?)

I hope that I'm not kidding myself about being restless, and that it's more about me being less happy than I think I am. That would totally suck.

I hope that I've met the last of those people who would manipulate and abuse me. I've worked in earnest to purge those people from my life the past few years. I need the peace. (Dyckerson, I said PEACE not PIECE!)

I hope peace finds those of you who desperately need it. (You know who you are!) I've heard everything you've said, and I care. Stop looking for the worst that is happening in your life this next year.

I hope that my tendency to take good care of others extends towards myself more in the new year. I just feel at my best when I'm taking care of someone else.

I hope that my grandfather truly knows how much I love him, even though my weekly visits have been haphazard lately, at best. It scares me how old he looks every time I see him.

I hope I can find the job that is right for me. I want the freedom to do what I know is right every day without always having to ask for permission. And I want a bigger office. And better pay. And more people to boss around. I'm not afraid to admit it.

I hope that I never see another Red Bull and Vodka. (Okay, maybe I don't REALLY hope that, but they are the devil, people!)

I hope I can finally make a decision on something that has been on my mind constantly. It just scares the living shit out of me.

Happy New Year! If you make resolutions, I hope you can stick to them. If you don't, I hope you know that other people don't think as much of you as you do of yourself. Everyone should have some kind of improvement plan for a new year! XOXO

PS-I also hope I don't have any injuries this next year. My torrid (albeit brief) affair with the physical therapist aside, I really thought it sucked to be on crutches and in a finger splint.

Dear Santa

2007-12-22T21:20:00.000-06:00

Dear Santa,

Sassy is not happy, you fat bastard! It's been quite a while since you brought me anything worth a shit! I've given up this "being good" business all year long in hopes that your ginormous ass might bring me something I actually asked for at Christmas. And while we're on that topic, who the hell died and made you the final decision on what is deemed naughty and what is deemed nice? That mean ass little shit Jimmy Turner tortured me in kindergarten, and he still got the fucking motherlode that Christmas while I got a black eye and scabby knees, courtesy of that "nice" little shitbag. Screw you and the sleigh you rode up on, you pathetic excuse for an elf!

And I'm putting you on notice: If you try to stuff your bloated, stocking-clad self down my chimney this year, be prepared for a crotch fire! And I really don't appreciate the reindeer shit you tracked in on your stripper boots last year, so if you are stupid enough to try the chimney even after my above warning, wipe those things off, or I'll shove them down your damn throat! Yeah, you heard me, you jolly, junk-tucking piece of shit! Stop trying to act like your "marriage" is for real. So, you know what it is I want for Christmas, and unless I see it on December 25th tied up with a nice red bow, just keep walking, mister! And stay out of my nog too! And don't try to sneak in here while I'm at my sister's either, like you did last year. Your stench lingered long after you had gone, and I noticed I was missing some panties. Remember: I'M watching YOU.

Love,

Sassy Blondie

Proud member of the NRA since 1996

*Just want to wish all of you non-Jews and believers a Merry Christmas! I hope you get what you want in your stocking and don't end up in the emergency room. Also, don't drink too much and throw up on your Aunt Gertrude's Christmas sweater...even though it would truly be a vast improvement to it. XOXO

Team Up! Whatever..

2007-12-18T17:51:00.000-06:00

Big happenings today in Mayberry. My boss is leaving to take over another school and Big C got the interim job as Head Bitch. Now while I am sad to see my boss leave, I'm ecstatic at the things Big C and I can do now! She'll be fabulous! Onward and upward, right?

NOW. The title explanation: As I mentioned in some earlier writings, Mayberry got a new Sheriff this year, and he's really rocked the boat since his takeover. Heads have rolled and shit lists have been made. One thing the Sheriff has pushed this year is the idea of the "Administrative Team". His motto has been, "Team Up!" No more secrecy, no more warring factions, just one big happy team holding hands and singing Kumbaya. So today, 5 minutes before the big staff meeting to tell everyone of all the changes, I get the information. Yes, I fucking said 5 goddamn minutes (Yes, I'll be seeing Father Liam again this week!). Never mind that this decision had been made final at 8am this morning. Never mind that those fuckers had ALL DAY to let me in on this shit. My boss tells me at bus duty, "Sassy, I wanted to tell you before the meeting so that you wouldn't be surprised, but I'm going to the other school. I'm sorry that I couldn't' tell you before, but I was told I couldn't tell anyone. " Excuse me? I'm part of the motherfucking administrative team, aren't I? And if that wasn't bad enough, when giving his farewell speech to the staff, called me by someone else's name. The lady who was there before me. The lady whose fucking shadow I've been struggling to get out of for the past 2 fucking years because she was the goddamn Super Assistant! Everyone in the room jerked their heads at me when he did this, and he didn't even realize he'd done it. Huh? I know it was an emotional time for him, but it made me feel completely shitty, and I fucking despise the pity looks the staff gave me. Then when Big C spoke, she did say something really nice about me. (Thanks, Big C! I can't wait for us to get started after the holidays.) Later, she came to my office to tell me how horrible she felt that she wasn't allowed to tell me. Then she told me how hard it was to hear him call me by the other name yet again. I really appreciated that.

So it's yet another shakedown in Mayberry. I'm sad to see the boss move on, but I'm excited about the work I can do in what I hope is the last 6 months I am there. We have a great staff, and I know things can only get better. At least I know Big C won't hide out in her office.

Still, somebody find me another job. Mayberry needs to be my past in the very near future.

And a big middle finger to the Sheriff! Team up, eh? Whatever, you asswipe!

*I'm okay, I just hate hypocrisy.

Evidently, the Post Office Always Delivers Something

2007-12-14T15:42:00.000-06:00

So I'm at the post office today after being sent home from work all sickly. I thought I might just be able to time it right so that I didn't have to wait in line. I mean, people still work at 1:00 in the afternoon, don't they? Apparently not. That bitch ass line was out the door! And it's colder than a witch's tit out today too! So I'm waiting in line with my package trying to fill out everything so that people don't get all shitty from the line when I make it up to a postal person, and the old guy with a cane behind me starts talking to me.

OGwC: What ya got there, sweetheart? Sending out some Christmas gifts?

Me: Well, I guess it's sorta like a Christmas gift, but it's cookies.

OGwC: Oh how delightful! Nothing says, "I love you" like homemade stuff.

Me: Umm...I wouldn't say that these are the "I love you" type of cookies! Ha ha

OGwC: Well darlin', you just remember that they can! Pretty girl like you should have a lover.

Me: Uh huh...well, thank you!

OGwC: You are a sweet girl! (Pats my arm and smiles warmly)

Me: Why thank you. (Smile warmly back at him)

Then I let the old guy in front of me because I was still trying to address my package. Then I drop my car keys. As I reach to pick them up, my head collides with a Good Samaritan who was also trying to pick them up for me. After the initial, "Doh!", I see that this is a tall kid of about 21 or so. Here's the conversation:

Me: Thank you so much! I'm so sorry that I knocked you in the head! Ha ha

Him: No problem! Ha ha It was my fault. My mother always said to help out a lady in need.

Me: You're mom is a smart lady. But really, thank you.

Him: You sure got your hands full there. Do you need some more help? (Winks at me)

Me: I'm fine, thank you again.

Him: You sure have pretty eyes. (He was more or less ogling my cleavage, however)

Me: Thank you. I had nothing to do with them. All my father's doing.(I turned back around)

Him: (Taps me on the shoulder) Are they real?

Me: No, they're glass. I'm blind.

Him: Ha ha! That's funny! I meant are they the real color?

Me: Yes.

Him: They sure are light.

Me: Uh huh. (still keep turning around after answering him)

Him: Does your boyfriend like them too? Do you have a boyfriend?

Me: Listen, Romeo. I'm at the post office so that I can get some things sent off. I'm not here trolling for some ass. I'm not sure where this conversation is going, but I do know it will not be having me as a passenger. Thank you again for helping me with my keys, but you're too young for me, and I'm out of patience.

Him: Uh...well...sorry. "Bitch...must be a lesbian" (under his breath)

Okay people, what the hell was that? The old guy, he was pleasant, and I'm normally okay being up for a chat. However, I don't need Grandpa Jones to tell me to find a lover. I have grandparents to remind me that I'm single again. Secondly, what was Junior thinking? Is the post office the new singles hot spot? What a freak! And to think that, in the beginning, I was thinking how nice it was that someone his age was a gentleman! I will never understand why not being interested makes one a lesbian. Surely you boys grow out of that?

Again with the little boys and old men!

Hey Junior, a little piece of advice: Don't be talking about a girl's eyes while speaking to her chest. Newsflash: They don't talk! Also, don't be running your game at the post office. I'm sure there are much more interesting places in which to proposition the ladies.

Do I just have a sign on my forehead? It's not like I'm super hot or anything. Jesus! Although I've had quite a run this past month or so, men don't regularly hit on me. At least, I don't think they do...not in any serious manner anways. Whatever...

*Yes, I know I shouldn't have gone to the post office if I was running a temperature, but I had shit to mail! And I never get off work soon enough to actually get to the post office, bitches!

**And I know I was rude, but I'm sick and tired. Give me a break!

Taking His Balls For A Ride

2007-12-09T15:10:00.000-06:00

Really, gentlemen, what the hell is this:

I'm not sure if this phenomenon is catching on everywhere else, but this douchebag had a fake silver set of balls hanging off the rear of his truck. How did I notice this? Well, first of all, he was driving like 12 mph...just to annoy me, I think. Otherwise, ole Blondie here could not have had the time to search out her Crackberry and snap this little photo. What you can't tell from the crappy cell picture is that they are shiny and silver. Was this a Christmas statement? Silver Balls? Ha. Ha. You dumbass loser. Worse yet, when I passed his stupid ass, he had a pair of what looked like foam titties hanging from the mirror. I think I even threw up a little in my mouth. Classy.

Really, what the fuck? Is this supposed to make other men feel inadequate and the ladies swoon? What part of such an action would make sense? Has there been a staggering increase in douchebaggery in the last few years, or am I just getting old (Don't you DARE answer that, Dyckie!)? Am I supposed to see this tasteful display and drop my panties, panting with desire? What it really makes me want to do is take them and shove them down his shitbag throat! Better yet, grab my pistol and put the poor wanker out of his misery.

Gentlemen, a word of advice: if you have to advertise you have a pair on the backside of your truck, that's pretty much an indicator to us gals, and the gay parade as well, I'm sure, that you are afflicted with one or all of the following:

1. You evidently have no balls, so you bought some cheap ones at the Gas & Sip.

2. Your balls are indeed small and inadequate (along with your penis).

3. You are proud of your 5th grade edumacation.

4. You think you are incredibly cool and all the ladies love you...but you are still living with your mother and working the drive-thru.

5. You dropped your dick in the dirt, and now no chick wants your rotten, herp-afflicted ass. Therefore, you have to act like you are Jimmy Big Balls to save face.

Seriously. Just stop. You're embarrassing yourself. And stop popping your fucking collar while you're at it. Jesus....

*Where the hell would you get something like that? I shudder to think of the Google search phrase. Hor, I hope this isn't a hillbilly thing. If so, you should check the vehicles of all your male kin. ;)

A Dilemma: Short, Sweet, and To the Point

2007-12-02T08:51:00.000-06:00

Well, it's just 29 more days until the New Year's Eve mess. Yes, I said mess. This is another time of the year where I have struggled the past couple of years. About this time, invitations and questions of what my plans are start to trickle in. What to do? Where to go? Take someone with me? There are so many decisions that go into navigating New Year's Eve. Do I accept and invitation to a party at a friend's house (did I mention married friend with ONLY married friends besides me and her husband's 65-yr old uncle Bert that will attend?). Do I risk my life and take the celebration to the street with other single party-goers and risk groping, drunk bitches spilling drinks on me, and certain death on the highways on the way home? Or do I sit through Dick Clark and that stupid little dick Ryan Seacrest here at homestead?

Decisions, decisions. I need some help, people. This is only the second occurrence of New Year's after the fiance's death (going on 3rd actual year). Last year I simply couldn't bring myself to do much of anything, and sadly went to bed prior to midnight. This year, however, I'm not feeling the same way. It's just been a long time since I have had anything other than standing plans for this event.

Got any suggestions? I'm listening...

*I know Christmas is next, but that's a family time. I'm a planner, and as such I need to get my plans in order well in advance.
**I would take this question to Father Liam, but I think we all know what he'd say.

Little Boys Love Me, Old Men Adore Me

2007-11-28T20:06:00.000-06:00

Yes, I know that sounds creepy as shit, but it is true. I'm not quite sure why, but I offer up the following examples:

Example A: When I was teaching middle school, I was mostly well-liked by my students in general. I taught math, made it fun, and of course, my sassiness ropes most smartass teenagers in. However, there were many times that my little boys had, shall we say, strong and inappropriate feelings for me. My tutorials were full of boys, and it was not because they were struggling with math. They liked to hang out in my room and shoot the shit with me. At first I thought it was because I was knowledgeable about sports. I was raised by my father, and he never got much into Barbie and Ken, so I did a lot of boy stuff with my dad (except the lighting farts thing...I just don't get it guys!). We still do our NCAA basketball tournament brackets and bet a pounder of peanut M&M's on the championship. Anywho, I digress. So little boys were always hanging out, trying to give me hugs, and generally making the googly eyes at me. With 6th graders, they seemed more like innocent crushes, but with my 8th graders, it was as very different story. In my 12 yrs of teaching, 6 of them actually tried to kiss me! WTF? Several did a "boob graze" thinking I was unaware (of course I called their mommas!), and several also wrote me love letters in their math journals. Yes, they professed love between the lines that were supposed to be reserved for telling me what they did not understand about math and demonstrating what they did. Many times, I had to have schedules changed because some teen Lothario just wouldn't listen to my objections about unnecessarily touching me. Still creeps me out to think about it. My first year teaching, the high school brother of one of my 5th graders wrote me love letters and showed up at my school far too often until I finally had to call his parents in. And by love letters, I really mean filthy sex invites. I had to get a restraining order.

Example B: I think I just have a face that people feel comfortable talking to. Particularly old men people. I can be in the store, at work, or even on an airplane, and these grandpas start chatting me up (usually not in a lecherous way, but still). Of course, I'm a nice person (SHUT IT BITCHES!), and people in general tend to interest me, so I will converse with them. Recently, on the plane ride back from Denver, an older gentleman of 82 sat next to me on the plane. He was lovely, and I shared my iPod with him. It never fails that at the end of such exchanges with the old farts that they refer to me as "delightful" and "adorable". Not uncomplimentary, but I still don't understand how I end up in these conversations with men my grandfather's age instead of the hot backpack guy two rows up.

Example C: At my current job in Mayberry, I have a never ending stream of little boys wanting to see me. I can't walk down the hallway without several stopping me with, "Hi Ms. Sassy! Can I come and talk to you later?" or "I need to see you!" Do I appreciate the adoration of children? Absolutely. I love children. But today, one of the busiest and most hectic days for me in a long while, I had a steady stream of little boys vying for my attention. Some threw fits to get sent to see me...and told me so outright. Excuse me? That cannot be happening. I don't want anyone to think I'm some kind of little boy diddler! In this day and age, people are cutting eyes at educators who seem popular with today's youth (thanks for that, you stupid statutory bitches on TV!).

Now, I know you are thinking that I should really be grateful for such attention and devotion from boys and old guys, and on some level, I am flattered. BUT. Guess what? I'm not a little girl, and I'm not an old woman yet. Where the hell are all you bastards in between? I think we've established that I'm a sassy blonde that's more fun than a barrel full of fuckin' monkeys!

What gives? I want answers, and I want them now!

*I asked my priest what he thought while I was at confession. All I got from him was the "God has a plan for you, Sassy. Count your blessings!" Gee, thanks for nothing there, Father Liam.

**Shit! I just insulted my priest. Guess I'll see him again before the week's out. Being a Catholic is not easy, people.

Did My Pants Text You?

2007-11-25T18:25:00.000-06:00

Well, I'm back home after a fantabulous week-long jaunt to the Rockies! I had a lot of fun, discovered yet again that, I should just never drink again, and that I miss my friend there more than I knew. While I've been relaxing by a fire here trying to get myself excited about going back to Mayberry tomorrow, I found myself starting to giggle about our pre-Thanksgiving night on the town.

So, my friend, ATown, and her sister, JLove, took me to this bar that boasts "The Biggest Pre-Thanksgiving Bash in the Country!!" on Wednesday night. Now, I'm not exaggerating when I say that people wait HOURS in the bitter cold to get into this bar on this night. It's fucking crazy! Last time I visited, we were the crazy fucks who waited 4 hours in the cold to get in! However, this year, I had flown into town a couple of days early, and so we got there without having to wait more than 15 minutes. First, I want to say that I think it's stupid and pretentious for bars to make people wait outside in some vain attempt to prove they've got the biggest dick in town. That shit is all over LA and NY, but Denver? Plus, I've never been one to frequent such places anyway. Get a few drinks in me though, and well...let's just say that it was a milder version of my wedding behavior. And, evidently my pants were texting like crazy!

Anywho, the three of us got in, and yours truly headed for the bar. I mean, if I'm going to have to be at a bar/dance club, I'm going to need to drink. I really detest crowds, particularly drunk and handsy ones, as a general rule. I told the girls, "Hey, I'm just going to stick with beer tonight. No need for me to get rowdy." Yeah. Right. So I had a few beers, met some interesting gentlemen who are correctional officers at "the prison" (hell if I know which prison they were referring to), and then had a few more beers. During this time, ATown met a hot engineer (I know! It sounds so much like an oxymoron) who whisked her away for a shot, and JLove and I took it to the dance floor with the prison boys. Or at least that's what I thought! As I shook it to my love, J. Timberlake, with Prison Boy, I looked to my slight right and saw some toothless moron all gangsta-ed out draped all over JLove like a dirty shirt. Now I know that this doesn't seem amusing or otherwise interesting, but JLove is not known for her dirty dancing...at least not to my knowledge. So, G-Money was behind her at first, and she was completely oblivious to his antics (or dry humping...it was a judgment call). But when she turned around, it got SO MUCH BETTER! He started by holding her waist with one arm and then just grinding on her so intensely that I started to wonder if he would start a fire. I swear that I smelled smoke! Then his arm left her waist, and he began to run his fingers through her hair and cup her cheeks (on her face, Dyckerson, you perv!)...all the while still getting the friction on below the waist. I thought I might literally wet my pants by this time because it was so fucking hilarious! As the spectacle continued, G-Money just disappeared from the vicinity of JLove, who starts looking around confusedly. It was like he was never there! I thought that I should've told JLove to check her pants for burn marks. If only I had thought to take pictures! ATown and I continued to laugh and ridicule JLove for days afterwards about her foray into the thug life.

Meanwhile, I had my cell in my pocket, and evidently my pants were texting random people from my address book as I shook my money maker. When I left the dance floor, my pants were buzzing with about 8 different, "Huh?" texts from friends. Plus, my sister texted me the following, "Tired and n bed. Is everything ok?" to which I responded "At bar dancing. Music is fkng gr8! Phone n pocket!" She texted back, "No shit, Sherlock! I just got a voicemail with the entire song, Holla Back on it! I think you've had enough, Blondie, when your pants start joining the party!" Now this information nearly did me in! Prison Boy returned with another Red Bull and vodka (umm, did I mention that somewhere during the course of the evening I broke my beer only policy?), and asked if I wanted to go upstairs for a bite (restaurant was upstairs you gutter minds!). I politely declined...and unfortunately had another couple of drinks before Prison Boy ran into me again, this time with a short, older Korean woman in tow. He gave me this look that said, "Please help me!", as the Korean midget said, "So are you REALLY his ex-wife?" Smoothly I replied, "Of course! We were together what, honey, 5 years? It was an amicable split." I think he kissed me out of deep and sincere gratitude. Then she asked, "Well why did you guys split up?" My reply: "Well, he wanted kids and I'm barren," delivered with a straight face and no emotion. She squeezed my arm with a look of pity and then walked away. Again, I thought I might wet my pants from laughing so hard after she left.

All in all, I had a good time that night...what I can remember of it. The next day, Thanksgiving, I woke up and could barely walk. All that dancing following a day where I was tortured at the local gym added up to my legs being unable to support the rest of my body in any normal fashion! Anywho, I'm thinking Denver looks like it could be a strong contender for the next residence for this Sassy Blonde. Who knows?

*Thanks for a wonderful time, ATown! You gotta come to Dallas next time! XOXO
**I don't recall the cab ride home, and I hope I didn't drunk dial.
***I'm going to confession very soon.

Does This Mean I Need An Intervention??

2007-11-21T15:45:00.000-06:00

Lets101 Quizzes - Fun Quiz

So, okay...for the most part, Astrology is a bit out there. However, I feel they've hit the nail on the head here with their assessment of yours truly....except for the lying part. I detest liars and do my best not to tell a lie when the truth would serve me better.

XOXO

A Quickie Before I Go

2007-11-19T08:26:00.000-06:00

Well, I'm leaving for my trip to Denver today (in about 7 hours! Woo Hoo!), and although I wasn't going to post anything, there's this song that I heard over two weeks ago, and it's stuck in my head. It's by a country artist named Miranda Lambert, and she just so happens to date another country artist, Blake Shelton, whom I've known since he was a bratty kid. I went to college with his bitch sister, was her dorm RA actually, and well...I forget where I'm going with this. Anywho, it's a connection that was unexpected. But it's a touching song of a woman waiting on her man to walk through the door...so she can blow his ass away. So, this is obviously a love song:

Gunpowder and Lead

County road 233, under my feet
Nothin' on this white rock but little ole me
I've got two miles till, he makes bail
And if I'm right we're headed straight for hell

It's half past ten, another six pack in
And I can feel the rumble like a cold black wind
He pulls in the drive, the gravel flies
He don't know what's waiting here this time

His fist is big but my gun's bigger
He'll find out when I pull the trigger

I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun
Wait by the door and light a cigarette
If he wants a fight well now he's got one
And he ain't seen me crazy yet
He slap my face and he shook me like a rag doll
Don't that sound like a real man?
I'm going to show him what a little girl's made of

Gunpowder and lead

*Not what I'd call a lyrical masterpiece, but it's rockin' and rowdy...which I love. I'm not normally into pissed off girl songs unless it's old Alanis Morissette, but I like this Lambert chick's style! Plus, any man that would slap me around would get the end of my gun too.

**Stop bitching that it's country! Jeez! I have no patience for musical snobs! Just listen to it! Branch out and expand your narrow ass horizons...

***XOXO

No Mas, Por Favor!

2007-11-13T18:12:00.000-06:00

Okay, people, I have to relate what happened on my drive home yesterday. I think I barely escaped with my life! I was almost killed by a drunken Mexican. Now, before you race baiters start flooding my inbox or sic LULAC and La Raza on me, I will explain why he will be referred to as the Drunken Mexican.

First, he had a"Viva Mexico!" sticker on the bumper of his 1960-something Ford Fury. (I really don't know when they made the Fury, but this car was definitely from the 60s in body style)

Next, there were 3 other indicators: blaring music from the Spanish-language radio channel, 2 Virgin Mary statues (one on the dash and the other in the back window), and a sticker in the back window that said, "Everybody loves a Mexican". He was brown of skin as well, although that proves nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Anywho, I commute 45 minutes to and from work, so by the time I'm closer to my house, I'm so ready to get there. So I'm driving down a busy road called Belt Line when I notice this old car weaving a bit. My first thought was that some fucker was on his cell phone trying to text while driving. I really hate that shit, and so as I continued to drive, I started noticing all the adornments to his vehicle. Then, the weaving got rather dramatic...so much so that I had to act quickly to avoid him swiping me. It was then that I had to make a decision: Speed up and risk a ticket from a bored city cop, or stay the course and let Jose Cuervo put me into the wall. Then we came up on a red light. He came to a quick stop...the kind that makes a little tire squeak. As I was thanking Jesus that there were no pedestrians in that crosswalk at that moment, the light turned green, and I hit the gas to get around him. Unfortunately, Johnny Bravo wasn't having it! He punched the gas and continued his drunken weaving along the road. I'm starting to panic because I really need to get over to take the right onto my street. As I continued to check my mirror and slowed down to look for an opening, I was momentarily struck dumb because the Holy Virgin toppled over and bounced out the back window! Holy SHIT! That right there almost caused a 5-car pile-up behind us! I finally regained my senses and slowed down to a crawl to try to get behind him so that I could turn on my street...which was answered by a furious cacophony of foreign and domestic car horns. When I finally did get over, I drove 10 miles under the speed limit to distance myself from the Drunken Mexican. Of course, this was viewed rather odiously by my fellow road travelers. I got 3 fingers and a loud, "Get the fuck out of the way, bitch!" My response was to point and sing. Finally, as I pulled into my garage and turned off the engine, I was sorry that I didn't get a chance to snap a photo. But it was a bit frightening, and so I thought I did the right thing by keeping both hands on the wheel. Who knows?

So, Drunken Mexican, wherever you are, I have just one thing to say: No mas, por favor! No mas!

*He's lucky I was listening to Sugarland and not my Metallica....that's all I'm going to say. And he better go to confession for both his drunken escapade and for throwing the Virgin Mary into traffic. God sees that shit, Drunken Mexican. God sees that shit.

A Little Sugarland Is Good for You

2007-11-11T10:09:00.000-06:00

Folks, I went to an excellent concert last night: Sugarland. Yes, I know it's country, but you can't argue with true talent no matter what the genre. Magic Man got the tickets, and we were front and center for the concert. Anway, I can admit that I have a girl crush on Jennifer Nettles, the lead singer. I mean, just look at her...and she can wail! AND I got to meet her! Talk about a nice, down-to-earth person. She's from Georgia, so her accent is thicker than mine, but her voice is very low and throaty. (No, we didn't make out or anything...I'm just a fan, okay?) Plus, she said she loved my earrings (so glad I wore some since I almost NEVER do!), and we talked about having naturally wavy/curly hair. In girl world, it was pretty damn cool. Now you should know that I'm not one to get starstruck. Mostly because living in LA and working at the fancy school I met so many. But I'll admit it: I gushed a little once I got backstage...but just for a moment.

Anywho, they started the set off with a song called Speed of Life, did a version of Beyonce's Irreplaceable that was pretty cool, and finished out with a song called Sugarland. A kid named Jake Owen was the first opener, and I think I agree with the judgment that he's one to watch. Little Big Town came next, and they were amazing! I bought both of their CDs before we left, and they were so much fun backstage. But back to Sugarland: What I really love about this band is that they seem so normal. The show was not in what I would consider a small venue, but I felt like I was at a VH1's Storyteller gig. They made it much more intimate simply by the way they introduced each song. They also peppered the performance with songs from their first CD, which I LOVED. And I don't know if you caught the CMA's on Wednesday night, but they performed a song called Stay that left people looking dumbfounded and awestruck because it was so fucking brilliant. Well, I got to hear it live, and I was again awestruck. Everyone went crazy for Baby Girl and Settlin' as well. And okay, I admit I made out (not a big make out in public kind of girl) with Magic Man when Want To came on...I fucking love that song. Two thumbs up, people! If there was anything that one could criticize, it's that Jennifer just can't dance, and she sometimes (okay all the time) looks a bit awkward jumping around.

All in all, I had a great time. It was a concert with mostly grown ups, which was a twist from just about every other one I'd seen in the past, oh, 5 years. Even if you aren't a country music fan, you should check out Sugarland and Little Big Town. The songwriting alone is worth a visit to the websites.

**I broke it off with Magic Man last week, but he still took me to the concert. It's an amicable split, and we have plans for the Stars games too. Too bad I couldn't bring myself to tell him that he needs some help in the ole bedroom department. I tried, but the male ego can't take it. He's a good guy nonetheless.

What The Hell Is Wrong With You?

2007-11-05T18:01:00.000-06:00

Listen up, people! Newsflash: I am a perky and happy morning person. I bounce out of bed at 4am each morning to get my workout on, hit the shower, and get myself beautified for work. I don't complain about your bitchy non-morning person asses, so don't shit on my sunshine day with your bad attitudes. Here are the comments I received this morning upon arriving at work:

Big C (colleague):What's up with you? You seem extra perky this morning. What the hell is wrong with you?

SB:I am normally perky, aren't I?

Big C-:Well yes, but you are extra annoying this morning just bouncing in here that way.

SB:Thanks! Have a good one! (exit her office)

**************************************************************************************
SB:Good morning, Head Cheese (boss)! Have a good weekend?

HC:I'm a bit tired. I spent the whole of the weekend working on..blah..blah..blah...project for my daughter and her lab group for Physics. What's up with you? You seem extra perky this morning! What's that about?

SB:Had a productive weekend, HC.

HC:Well okay then. You might want to stay away from Big C, she'll be annoyed more than usual with your morning self.

SB:Thanks! Have a good one! (exit his office)

****************************************************************************************

Secretary 1:What are you on this morning that you are so annoyingly happy and perky (that word again) on a Monday?

SB:I'm high on life, S1, high on life! lol How are you this fine morning?

S1:Get away from me.

SB:Thanks! Have a good one! (walk away from her)

***************************************************************************************

Ditzy Brunette:Someone seriously needs to give you some downers. I can't take all this pep and smile in the morning.

SB:Thanks! Have a good one! (walk away from her)

****************************************************************************************

Okay, so you can see why I returned to my office a bit deflated but not too much so. So then I hear Coach Pappy walking in (he's a loud talker but one of my favorite people):

CP:Glad you could make it! How's it going this morning?

SB:I'm fabulous, CP! How was your weekend?

CP:Well, I did a little deer hunting, but I didn't get me anything.

SB:Good! Leave the woodland creatures alone!

CP:You sure have a shine about you this morning...more so than last week!

SB:Thanks! I'm looking for it to be a good week! Plus, it's countdown until my trip to the Rockies, so I'm excited!

CP:Damn! You better tone it down, Blondie...it's Monday!

SB: Thanks! Have a good one! (he exits office)

**********************************************************************************************

What the fuck? Is it a crime to be a positive person? I was a bit tired last week, but it was a busy fucking week! Why do people feel the need to shit on my good humor? It's not like I'm some raging bitch all the time anyway. It just seemed today that I was "extra annoying" with my sunny disposition. Whatever! Since when did it become a crime to wish people a good morning? Luckily, the day picked up! No less than 8 people said these exact words to me:

"Girl! You are getting so skinny! What are doing?"

That trumped all the stupid shitbags that had some negative opinion of my "perkiness". Fuck all y'all! I've lost 30lbs since May (and none of it from my boobs!)!

See what a positive attitude can get you?

**I'm not really what you would call skinny and will most likely never be what is considered skinny, but hey, I can dream, right? I'll settle for "built like a brick shithouse" if I can get it. It beats the alternative of, "Girl! Your ass is getting HUGE! What the hell are you eating?"
See? I look for the positives in life.

I'm With The Band

2007-10-30T20:51:00.000-05:00

UPDATE***Got a call this afternoon from the bride and groom. Seems they are home now and watching the wedding video and looking at the pictures. I asked them quite earnestly (Okay, I begged!) if they might consider "editing" the reception portion of the wedding. All I got on the line was hysterical laughter. They did report, however, that it was apparent that my performance was a high point of the reception even before my "almost flash". I assured them this was a once in a blue moon kind of deal.***

So I mentioned in my last post that I had quite the time at a recent wedding on the East Coast. I was quite the lush most of the time, so of course, all that alcohol kept me straight-laced and well-behaved. Sure. However, it seems I made quite a splash (this was before the skinny-dipping incident) at the reception. But now for a little background:

The couple that got married are old friends who were together for nearly a decade before deciding to put the government's seal of approval on their union. I actually introduced them eons ago. The lingerie shower, bachelorette party, and rehearsal dinner were mostly my responsibility as the maid of honor. Without trying to explain my greatness at planning these superfabulous events, none of them matched the wedding and reception (And that's saying A LOT considering my bachelorette party extravaganza in NYC). The wedding was lit only by a gazillion candles, and I must say, if I ever do find a man that thinks he might love me enough to marry me, I think I'm going to steal the candlelight ceremony idea. Partly because it was really cool, but mostly because I look pretty damn hot by candlelight.

However, after careful review, all parties involved decided that the reception was probably the most fun of the week. There was a light buffet, an ocean of champagne, and a live band. Now, I'm not a fan of the wedding band (ha..that's not really a pun), but the band in question was made up of some friends and fueled by alcohol. Perhaps I should mention at this juncture that I have not been classically trained as a singer. I can carry a tune, I'm just thinking it's not any tune most people want to hear. It's one thing to sing and point in my car, but a professional singer that does not make. Evidently, after about 42 glasses of champagne, I'm quite the songstress. So anyway, I decided about halfway through the reception that I needed to join the band for a few numbers. Okay, so maybe it was a whole set. Yes, I turned the wedding reception into Sassy's Karaoke Night. WTF was I thinking? Anywho, the guy who was the lead actually called me up to the stage (old friend, briefly old boyfriend) to sing a little back up. I'd done it before. What could possibly be wrong with that? He obviously didn't remember that I'm more of a front and center kind of gal. So the last half of the night, I sang with the band. The sad part is that I was about 30 sheets to the wind, wearing a rather clingy and plunging halter-type bridesmaid dress, and on a crash course with unending embarrassment. Right now I'm thinking you are envisioning an American Idol reject (that pissant Simon, what does he know??), and you wouldn't be too far off the mark. However, these people kept asking for more, and so I felt it was only right to oblige my fans, inserting random shit into songs where I drew a blank and couldn't remember the words (just like Jessica Simpson! Wow! I'm better than I thought!). We all laughed, some cried, and I even played some bass. Did I mention I don't really know how to play the bass? And of course, there was the champagne. But I digress. At the end of the evening, the guys and I were finishing up "Something to Talk About", and I casually (or drunkenly... you decide) realized that I was showing an excess of boob. Yes, folks, nipple was very nearly in the building! I was obviously rating my performance a D...cup. That's the problem with those halter dresses...no bra required. Unfortunately, I'm certain part or all of my stage show was caught on video. The best I can recall, people were throwing dollar bills at us all evening (I counted the next morning and it seems I made $50!). I just thought it was for my singing, but I'm now thinking they must have thought I was going for skin to win. It didn't stop me though. I finished out with a more recent song, "Bubbly" to close us out...we felt it was the best way to thank our friend that brought us together for one night only (did I mention I love champagne?). Here's hoping all the music moguls out there will give me a moment's rest after this. I mean, the telephoto lens of fame is not for everyone.

Long story short, a fun time was had by all. I followed up my performance that night by making out with the groom's 25 yr old brother (XOXO lil Mike) and the now infamous skinny-dipping incident. Go big or go home, right?

*Believe it or not, the biggest hit at the reception was the bride's 62 yr old mother who not only was drunker than me (and everyone else in the room) and sang with us, but she "pantsed" the lead guitar guy. It was a full frontal reception, courtesy of Momma Ruth. This is why I should never drink again.

**With this trip, I also remembered that I'm one hell of a good time! It's nice to recall how much fun you really are, and that you aren't the only one who thinks so.

I'm Outta Control!

2007-10-27T19:16:00.000-05:00

Yes, I think I've lost my mind! My behavior is clearly that of a disturbed woman. Okay, so maybe I'm analyzing my own actions a little too much lately, I've been doing some rather uncharacteristic things of late. Here's the rundown:

1. I completely blew off my boss and my boss's boss. (Listen pervs, not one part of that is sexual, got it?!) For a gal who always does the right thing, this was VERY uncharacteristic of me.

2. I made out in the movie theater with a man nearly 10 years younger than me. (So okay, there's really nothing wrong with that, but I am stymied by the age difference at this point. I rarely date men younger than I am...particularly that much younger.)

3. I flirted shamelessly with the married best man at my friend's wedding. (I'd like to blame the champagne, but the fact of the matter is that I have never liked his bitch of a wife and find him infinitely charming...plus I've known him forever, and he certainly didn't seem to mind too much. BUT it's despicable nonetheless. AND I apologized to her (hating every minute of it) for having drank too much and taken liberties with her husband. I don't know if she was mad mostly at me or more at him.)

4. I danced on the table at an uptown NYC bar like nobody's business, which means I only paid for one of my many drinks. (Bachelorette parties put the music in me)

5. I went to a strip club and actually put money in some chick's thong, and the girls and I took a turn on the pole...fully clothed of course. (This was a first because I have strong opinions about women showing up at a man's playground and vice versa)

6. I totally grabbed a strange man's ass on the subway because, dammit, he had a nice ass! (Unfortunately, I think he was unsure as whether to be scared or flattered...I like to think he was both. The odd part of it is that if he'd done it to me, I would have punched him, very hard, in the softer areas because I detest strangers touching me in any intimate fashion.)

7. I went skinny-dipping at the hotel (and a fancy one at that) pool with friends and strangers alike...and got caught by hotel security. Took damn near an hour before things were straightened out. (Sorry Julie!) I hit my knees this morning to pray that there were no cell phone cameras snapping. My humiliation would know no bounds...

Now, many of you might think this could be normal for lil ole me, but I can tell you that I stopped engaging in these types of behaviors in my twenties. I grew up pretty responsible and proper. These kinds of things may seem funny and expected in a girl of 20-something, but I am thinking it might be more than pathetic in a woman that is 30-something.

Frankly, I'm in a panic about my fucking birthday in November. I'm getting OLD, my friends...OLD! Yes, I know...I can pass for about 10 yrs younger. It's true, not a brag, and just the luck of the gene pool. All my people look younger than they are. But that does not erase the number that I am or will be on November 16th. Why is it that we fixate on numbers? I'm not changing decades again just yet. It's silly, I know, and really more self-indulgent than anything on my part. The thing is, I know more about the world, about myself, than I did at 20-something, and I'm so grateful for it.

I just wish we didn't measure things in years sometimes. I wish people didn't die unexpectedly on me. And I also wish I already had a kid by now because then I wouldn't be so worried I'm reaching the point where the window for having one is getting smaller and smaller. Most of all, I wish I weren't freaking out so much right now about a stupid number. It's silly, I know.

Well, if wishes were horses...(whatever that fuck that means. My granny used to say that all the time...I wish I would have asked her what the hell she meant!)

**The wedding shit I've been attending in the great Ridgewood, NJ area has kept me a bit tipsy since I landed on Wednesday. Sometimes being the maid of honor does have its perks. At least we spent a wild night in NYC (of which I have a tasty story to blog about later). Thank God I'm heading back to Big D in an hour. Home sweet home...

Wave of Destruction Part One

2007-10-24T12:24:00.000-05:00

Having lived in California prior to my return to Texas almost 3 years ago, I still have a lot of affinity for the crazy place. I got my masters degree at Pepperdine University (Go Waves!), drove the Pacific Coast Highway as far south and almost as far north as it goes, and was given the opportunity to rub elbows with Hollywood stars. I worked in West LA, but I lived in the San Fernando Valley just one block from the famed Ventura Blvd because dammit, I could afford more there. I've been on the phone pretty much daily with friends and college cohorts getting the best in person updates on the areas I know best. Anywho, I'm both horrified yet strangely not surprised by these devastating fires along the Southland, as it's called. But I'm equally horrified by what is yet to come once the rains make it back there. It's annual that there are large fires in Southern California each year. Normally, these fires tend to hit their worst in late summer. Then the rains come, and all hell breaks loose because the fires destroyed anything that might deter the mudslides. That's what's next, folks. Mountains of mud coming down as fast and hard as a tidal wave leaving nothing standing or uninjured in its wake. As if it wasn't bad enough for the people who lost their homes and/or lives in the fires, those who were spared now have the added worry of when the rains come. Of course, God may take some pity on these poor folks, and it may not rain for months. However, that just lulls them into a false sense of security. Plus it's difficult to get any kind of fire or other type of insurance if you live in the canyons because the likelihood of such events is a constant risk. When you see people on television speaking to the fact that they have lost everything, believe it. FEMA won't be able to give them what they need to rebuild because they have no insurance to supplement that at all.

I'm very concerned about friends I have that live in Vista, California (not far from San Diego). They have a toddler and several animals that could make it difficult for them to get out of their house if they haven't already. I can't reach them, so I'm hoping they decided to pack up to visit her mother here in the Lone Star State, and I will be hearing from them shortly.

In speaking with a friend last night, there is some optimism and humor through all of the anxiety and chaos. When I asked her how she was doing, she said, "Well SB, we now have 4 more people in the house because my family in San Diego had to evacuate. While I'm glad they are safe, I want to beat their unruly children. To say they are a spoiled lot is an understatement! Ugh! But on a brighter note, I think the smoke from those fires has improved the air quality in Los Angeles. "

*In case you live under a rock and don't know, Los Angeles has the WORST air quality in the country (with Houston coming in closely behind, I think!). I didn't meet one person there in 4 years that didn't have some kind of allergy or sinus problem, and 90% of the kids I taught had asthma.

**That picture is the "Wave" mascot. I know...don't get me started!

Drug Resistant Shit

2007-10-18T19:28:00.000-05:00

I'm sure all of you have heard about this drug resistant strain of staph, right? It's been all over the news and even showed up in my ASCD (education organization) Smartbrief. First, I just have to say: NASTY! However, I do wonder just how come these kids are getting it. I played sports my whole life, showered in the locker room, snapped towels at my teammates, etc. Yet not once did I contract anything, particularly staph. I also coached a great deal of my adult life, yet none of my players ever contracted staph. So my question is this: Who the hell is in charge of keeping these areas sterilized and sanitized? But still, now that shit has mutated and can't be treated with "traditional antibiotics"? Come on, drug companies, give me a break! Surely you have been working on some overpriced new drug that will cause mild to moderate nausea, dry eyes, and in rare cases, anal leakage? You have fucking meds for made up illnesses/conditions (RLS anyone?), but you don't have any needed new antibiotics in the works? Shame. Just shame on you.

I mean, there have been dirty kids since the beginning of time. Kids were warned not to share hairbrushes for fear of head lice, but they always have. I remember having to lecture my girls about sharing deodorant. I even washed our boys coaches' football stuff when I washed my girls' stuff simply to avoid what those guys referred to as "the boils". I didn't know who was messing around with whom under the bleachers, so I didn't want my girls to catch "the boils" from one of their nasty ass lil punks. Gross, gentleman, really gross. And parents, if your kid is taking towels and gym clothes to school, please insist they bring it home every day. Show them how to use the freakin' Whirlpool for the love of Mike! Obviously, their gym teacher is Coach Rottencrotch. Who do you think needs to be responsible for your child's health?

Seriously, I'm not making fun of this issue. It's frightening to think teens are dying from what used to be just a simple skin rash. And I work in a school, and I don't want some kid with shady hygiene giving me the death rash. Sorry, but I believe in looking out for numero uno too!

Wash up everyone! AND...I'd think twice about shaking hands or playing footsie anymore...

I'm Tasteless and Obscene (How Embarrassing)

2007-10-10T19:21:00.000-05:00

So I tried to access my blog address from work to test our new filter system. What I got was the following message:

Access Denied: Tasteless and Obscene Material

Well, I never! I actually had our network administrator hanging over my shoulder, and he asked me whose blog it was. Now I know I should have just gone balls out and told him it was mine, but WTF, I don't want to lose my job. This guy is new, and I haven't had enough time to figure out it he's at all cool.

So I told him it was my sister's! LOLOLOL She's going to be so fucking pissed! If you're reading this, Sister, don't worry. They think I'm an angel, and they think you are a foul-mouthed truck stop whore with a Harry Potter fetish. I won't lie, I love that they think that! :)

Speaking of foul-mouthed truck stop whores, you should check out Dyckerson. No one is a bigger shit than him (Or should I say no one takes a bigger shit than him?)

I'll have a real post at some point. I've been so busy that I'm fucking exhausted. Maybe I'll get a nice MM massage after my hockey game...

Fear and Loathing at the Barnes & Noble

2007-10-06T17:00:00.000-05:00

So I had another hectic week this last week, full of bastards, shitbag problems, and raging bitches...but enough about work. My most interesting story this past week isn't really all about me, but more about a situation that I walked into.

It was Tuesday, and I took a half-day absence because I had to complete a training that I had started a few weeks ago. The training completion lasted only about an hour, and so I found myself free at 1:00 in the afternoon, midweek, and totally fanfuckingtastically FREE. No work, no bus duty, no useless meetings....NOTHING but FREE. So,I thought I might hit the ole Barnes and Noble bookstore since I love to read and seem to pretty well an expert at it. I'm pretty smart that way, for a blonde. So I stopped at new mall-type center on my way home from the center where I completed my training exercise and walked through the doors of a relatively new B&N. First, I LOVE bookstores. I love the smell of them (even before Starbitches put themselves in them), and that day was no different. I noticed the new releases, the current bestsellers, and of course I browsed the clearance racks. When I go to the bookstore, I walk through every section, stop and look through at least one piece of crap (usually this is located in the Science Fiction/Fantasy and Self-Help aisles), and move on to my favorite section: Children's Books. Now I know what you are thinking, so just STOP it! I am not some kind of weirdo perv lying in wait for innocents to ask me to get a book off the top shelf so that I can jump on them. I'll leave that to Dyckerson. What I am is a huge fan of children's books. Mostly because I would love to write one that was even close to being tolerable, and partly because they are so happy and colorful. How come adult books have lost the idea that illustrations are important (and by adult I don't mean the kind of books that Alan keeps lying around his place)?

Anywho, as I walked into the section, I heard what I thought was a couple of kids fighting near the bean bags. So, being the responsible person and long-time educator that I am, I started to walk to the back of the section where the bean bags were to diffuse the situation. Unruly children are completely unacceptable in public, in my opinion. I don't mean little ones that say hello and such...I love kids. I'm talking about the bad seeds out there that have developed due to permissive parenting.

And all of you fucking hippie parents better shut your pieholes about their right to self-expression. Me and all the other patrons in public places have a right to some peace and a chance to enjoy ourselves without your ill-behaved devil spawn spilling, spitting, hitting, screaming, or otherwise molesting us because you don't want to "crush their spirit". Fuck you, tie dye! Go smoke out and hug a tree, you idiot sack.

But I digress... Where was I? Oh yes, I was making my way to the back of the section ready to use my best teacher voice as I rounded the shelves when what I saw stopped me in my tracks. There behind the bean bags were two young men, probably about 19-20 yrs old, GETTING IT ON! WTF???? My eyes! My eyes!! One was actually sitting on the lap of the other...moaning and writhing...again:MY EYES! MY EYES! Now listen, I'm really not someone who cares about the sexuality issue. I lived in NYC and LA, have some wonderful friends in CT who are civil partners, and truly, one of my dearest friends is a raging lesbian (she used to call herself that! LOL). But I would take great issue with ANYONE who thought the children's book section in the Barnes & Noble was the right place to get some quality time. Frankly, it's vile and disgusting. Go to the damn Philosophy section...or better yet the Economics section. There's hardly anyone ever in those sections in my experience. Spice those sections up, pervs!

Anywho, I think I said, "OH. MY. GOD. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod..." as they jumped up rather hastily and said (yes, you guessed it), "Wait! It's not what you think, lady!" Then I must have been saying it rather loudly because they started with the "Shhh!!" Excuse me fuckwad? You are shushing me when you and the Boy Wonder were having a go behind the bean bags and next to the giant stuffed Clifford the Big Red Dog? I know you are thinking, "Sassy, you are totally making this up! I mean, COME ON! That did not happen, and you did not catch them in the act!" Sadly, I'm not making this up. So I finally got my shock under control and found my outrage. I think I channeled some 50s sitcom mom because the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves! What the hell were you thinking? Of all the sections in the store, you had to pick the children's section? Why not take it to the bathroom, George Michael style? Oh my GOD!" They

both opened their mouths to say something, stopped, and then hauled ass out of there. I asked to see a manager and told him the story. He shut down the children's section and hopefully called Stanley Steemer to clean and sterilize. And I certainly pray that he threw the bean bags in the dumpster behind the store. Oh, and I had to give descriptions of the happy humpers to the police. Nice. Thanks for that, boys.

Listen, I'm really not a prude, but this kind of crap is just getting out of hand. I don't give a rat's ass what people do on their own time in their own domain, but I draw the line and get all bent out of shape when they think it is "exciting" or " funny" to engage in such behavior where young children might happen upon them or bear the risk of what is left behind in such encounters. Bad form, guys. Bad form. Blegh.

I guess next time I have a free afternoon I'll go get a pedicure or something. No risk of running into dirty bookstore sex there. Alas, the bookstore will never be the same for me again. Thanks for that, shitbags. I hope you got crabs and festering blisters on your weenies.

*When I related this story to Magic Man, he didn't believe me. This is not a good sign. I think I may have scared him a little.

**Sorry about the sailor mouth. It was a really hectic week, and I won't see Magic Man with his magic hands until later today.

I'm Back, LoveStoned, and the Magic Man

2007-09-28T19:09:00.000-05:00

Yes, I am now reconnected to my DSL...no thanks to AT&T, however. Did I mention they SUCK ASS? I did? Okay then, I won't elaborate any more on that topic. So people, I'm back! You were gone, you ask? Well, it certainly felt like it. Plus, I am living in fear that at some point I'm going to get called in for violating my work's "Acceptable Use of Network" policy since I've blogged here and there from work as well as commented on others' websites of wisdom. I'm glad to be back though. Really. I missed everyone (okay, so there probably isn't enough of you out there to make it sound so large volume, but I'm spinning positive bitches!).

Have you heard my new favorite song, "LoveStoned" by my fave former boy bander J. Timberlake? Now this song has had me driving way too fast and pointing and singing my heart out on the road. I have a Nissan Altima, and while it's not my favorite car ever, the stereo sound system rocks out pretty well. Anywho, if you see some blonde chick next to you with her windows rattling to JT, be nice and wave when I turn to you, point, and sing it out. I'm looking for the positives in life, people. Kiss my ass and eat shit if you don't like it!

So, as I've mentioned in passing in my comments, I injured my hip a while back. My recovery required physical therapy. And my physical therapist, whom we'll call Magic Man (cause he's got magic hands, mama), was/is H. O. T. And much to my dismay, MM asked me out a few weeks back. Now I know what you're thinking: "What? Isn't there some kind of ethical violation there?" or "How the hell would he be interested in you, particularly since he saw you all gross and sweaty with no makeup and crazy hair?" Yes, I know it defies all logic, but he seems to dig me . And not to sound pitiful, but I do believe he is, by far, the most beautiful man I've ever dated (that's saying something because one boy I dated in college was voted most handsome...by the WHOLE college...but back then I was built like a brick shithouse and homecoming queen, so it didn't seem so shocking to people I guess). Which also makes me a little nervous because, in my experience, beautiful men are not to be trusted. But so far, he makes me laugh, and he is a certifiable hockey fanatic like me, so if nothing else comes out of this, I have a hockey partner to see the Stars with, right? Plus there's that whole magic hands thing. Oh..and he really seems to be a nice guy....my dogs seem to think he can hang out, and I trust them.

*I haven't brought up the whole singing and pointing in the car yet though. I've contained myself when we are together thus far, but it's getting more and more difficult when my tunes come on. Other than that, he gets the real me.

*I'm a bit concerned that while I was away Cruiser got ripped off by some little shitbag, I seem to be agreeing with Dyck more and more, the Hor has a new hole (albeit a Chat Hole, but a hole nonetheless), Redline found a house, lost it, and then found a better one, Ryan's dog died (XOXOX), I've been unable to take my 15 Minute Lunch, and Alan the Amazing Techno Geek still hasn't gotten laid with all his Whorecrafting. Thank GOD for Sarah's TV updates. Seriously.

Ambushed!

2007-09-21T16:22:00.000-05:00

Well folks, it's been quite a week here in Mayberry. Whew! I'm tired! BUT...I'm required to work the high school Homecoming football game...for free. Yes, that's right. Even though secondary principals and assistant principals get paid more because these extra-curricular activities are part of their regular duties. I did mention I'm elementary, didn't I? Anywho, it's a really L-O-N-G day, where I'm in Mayberry from 7am to 11pm and get home around midnight. All without receiving any extra compensation. Did I mention it's not a choice? Too bad, Sassy. Get with the program and quit your bitchin'. Oh, and your duty is to stand under the bleachers just in case some kids might have fun under there. Yes people, I'm UNDER the bleachers. Got water thrown on me last game....which I know you can tell I think is just the shit! But I do admit to longing to have another mum...those were some fun times...back in the stone age when I was in high school. Damn, now I made myself feel shitty and old. Fuck! Moving on...

So, today during my lunch duties, the new sheriff rolled onto campus...and cornered me. He was nice, as always, but I got asked some pointed questions, particularly about my colleagues. Now, even if I don't like you, you can pretty much bet that I won't throw you under the bus. Nuh-uh. I believe in Karma...and professionalism. Anywho, he basically walked around campus visiting classrooms. Then one of the deputies showed up in the afternoon...asking all kinds of questions. I swear, if I were a paranoid person, the visitors I received today could have pushed me over the edge. As it is, I'm convinced this week that I have created multiple personalities to deal with all the bullshit: "Sybil, can we talk to Sassy now? No! I'M IN CONTROL NOW!!!"

Not really...perhaps I'm being a bit dramatic...or maybe it's PMS. I'm not sure at this point.

Hope you all have a fabulous weekend. It's hit or miss whether my internet will deign to actually work. Right now I'm still at work violating some kind of acceptable use policy, I'm sure.

*A BIG XOXO to Sgt Redline who posted me some flowers. You're a peach!

**AT&T still sucks ass and can kiss mine.

***Still not fired yet.

AT&T Can Blow Me

2007-09-17T13:40:00.000-05:00

First, thank you to those of you who have worried that I was in jail or otherwise indisposed. I feel the love...really. Secondly, I'm still having trouble with all of my computers, even though I have taken great pains to fix all this trouble. Here's what I've done thus far:

1. Had my laptop hard drive completely erased and everything added back to it in terms of programs. Only now I can't connect to the internet because AT&T sucks ass!

2. Replaced my ethernet port on my desktop (yes, all by myself, so suck it!). I can do some things right when it comes to the computer (at least the computer guts.).

3. Updated my AT&T high-speed software..only to have it not work now. Yes, I know. I shouldn't be shocked. Fucking AT&T!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU!

So, I've been d0ing flybys at all my regulars trying to comment where I can. I leave you with this one question: How come everything works just fine and dandy until AT&T buys it up and slaps their brand on it? They SUCK ASS big time, people!

*On a more positive note, I haven't been fired yet.

It's Got To Be Me

2007-09-03T19:38:00.000-05:00

So okay, I've been absent a while. Work has started again, and my days of being lazy and playing on the computer are long gone. Plus, as I mentioned before, I've had some serious home computing issues. Needless to say, they still aren't resolved, but I'm on my way.

I wanted to relay an interesting experience while shopping a couple of weeks ago. I was actually in line at a retail store waiting to return some items. While in line, I felt a tug on my pant leg and looked down at the cutest pair of big brown eyes and curly brown hair attached to a little girl of about 3 yrs old. She was very obviously Hispanic, and so I knelt down and said, "Well hello there!" She then started to babble something in Spanish. I may or may not have mentioned before that I barely speak any Spanish. I had my 2.5 yrs over the course of my education, and so while I can understand quite a bit, speaking it tends to make others look at me as if I have Tourette's or something. Anywho, I said to her, "Hola chica. Como estas?" She brightened immediately, and so I tried looking around for her mother or other relative. As I looked around, she started to cry and reached out her arms to me. Not knowing what else to do, I picked her up and started trying to soothe her, talking quietly in the minimal broken Spanish I know. As the line continued to move, I just moved with it, carrying this child. Right as I was about to step up to the counter, a woman came running up with two policemen, rapidly and hysterically speaking Spanish and pointing at me and the little girl. Naturally, I assumed it was her little girl and so I turned to hand her over. Before I could do so, the woman jerked the child from me, nearly knocking me down and then the two policemen grabbed me by both arms. WTF? So the woman is continuing to speak in machine-gun fire Spanish, and a crowd is starting to form. The security people ask me to step out of line and follow them. I ask them why. They say they need to take this matter to a more private place. A bit dazed and mightily confused, I followed them. When I arrived at the back of the store, we took a left through some double doors and into an office room...where two more police officers were waiting. Then, I start to get a clue. These people must think I was taking off with the lady's kid!! So, I started to laugh, and I said, "Um, you can check my bag. I haven't stuffed any merchandise in there. " (Note to self: Do not joke to police officers about a crime. They do not think it is funny.) One of the officers told me to please sit down rather seriously. I complied. I'm nothing if not a law-abiding citizen. They ask for my ID, which I gave them, and one of the other cops leaves the office with it. Finally, I find my voice again and ask what the hell is going on. One of the remaining police officers tells me to stay calm. I tell him, "Listen, I'm pretty calm, but I have no idea what this is about. Why don't you tell me or arrest me. Either way, I get the information and can make an informed decision on what to do next." He then proceeds to ask me what I was doing with the little girl. I told him my story, let him know he could ask the people behind me if they were still there, and then I could get going. He told me to wait so that he and his partners could check it out. Excuse me? Do I look like a creepy perv or a kidnapper? I came to return some stinking pants for the love of Mike! Of course, I started to babble about working at a school and this and that. The officers just told me to just quiet down. So...45 minutes later, they start apologizing and explaining. Seems the little girl had actually disappeared from her mother's car at a convenience store next door to the department store. They had issued an Amber Alert, and the mother was riding with them when they got a call that a woman at said department store was seen with the missing child. So they rushed over. As they tell me I'm free to go, I stop them. I said, "Wait a minute! How the hell did that baby get over to the Kohl's by herself? I didn't pick her up at the convenience store! She started pulling on my pant leg. Where the hell was her mother?" They look at each other kind of confused. So, I continue,"Shouldn't you be looking at the mother as possibly being neglectful? Did she leave the baby in the car? It's 100 degrees out! What the hell kind of concerned mother does that and then LOSES her 3 yr old 300 yards away? If that child left her car at the convenience store, she walked across a very busy road to get to this store. " One of the now forever known as Keystone Cops answered, "Well ma'am, our first concern was recovering the child. " No shit Sherlock! I reply, "Well, she's recovered, so instead of detaining me, shouldn't you be speaking to the mother now? Are you waiting on an interpreter or something?" One of the officers, a kind of burly guy, more pudgy than muscled, started to turn a bit red in the neck and face. The other said to me, " Ms. SB, I apologize for this inconvenience, but now that we have cleared you, it's really none of your concern." Excuse me, fucker? A small child is left unattended in a car in sweltering heat, gets out of the car and wanders across a dangerous road, and then ends up in a department store where anyone could have grabbed her? And that's not my concern? By now, I had steam coming out of my ears! I replied, "You're right. It's not. I'll give a call to CPS. Maybe they'll care about what is or is not my concern." I then stood up and walked out. It would have been a grand exit if I hadn't forgotten my stupid fucking pants! GRR! So I had to go back in, jerk them off the table, and go back to the customer service desk....with EVERYONE looking at me as if I were some kind of criminal! I quickly returned the pants and left the store. As I was walking out, I saw the mother, holding the little girl, talking to the officers. The little girl turned to look at me as I was leaving. I waved goodbye. She blew me a kiss.

Yes, it's got to be me. I just thank God I didn't have my gun on me, or that could have all gone very differently.

Uncertain Times

2007-08-28T12:28:00.000-05:00

Just a quick check-in folks! It's been hectic with the start of school and some uncertainty in terms of personnel. I do have a great story that I will relate in blog form as soon as I get my computer issues at home worked out. Suffice it to say, I'm on dial-up right now (collective gasp expected!).

There's some shaky stuff going on around Mayberry, so I'm keeping my head down and a watchful eye. Who knows what is in store?

Redneck Romance on I-30

2007-08-14T18:37:00.000-05:00

So I was called to meet a friend after work yesterday, which entailed sitting through ridiculous traffic on Interstate 30 to get there. Now, the total mileage is only about 12 miles, but it took me a whopping 52 minutes to arrive alive. Most of the time, traffic doesn't bother me. I lived in Los Angeles, and so traffic is just a way of life. You don't measure your destination in miles, but time in the car. Anyway, the traffic was stop and go, and Texas drivers, while friendly for the most part, are also very aggressive. Plus, you add the big rigs into the equation, and you've got some major clusterfuck going on. So I was alternately hitting the gas and riding the brake when we came to a complete stop in my lane (middle of 3 total), and so I'm singing my heart out to my Culture Club Greatest Hits CD (I think we've established I'm a fan from waaayy back). Now I have been known to point and sing to other motorists simply because it feels like you should do that. I know when it happens to me, it makes me feel special, and so I like to return the favor as often as possible (read: every time I'm in the car). I'm really getting into "Church of the Poison Mind" when the motorist on my left drives even with me. Although it's not uncommon to see 1988 Ford Broncos with huge tires and a lift kit full of rednecks and confederate flag decals, I was all into my serenade and made the mistake of turning to my left. And that's when it happened. *The lovely young man in the passenger seat with his mullet, t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, "I love my Momma" tattoo, gun rack, and two teeth waved at me. Not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to encourage actual interaction with the Redneckmobile, I just turned, pointed in recognition of the friendly wave, and kept singing, turning my head back to the road ahead. Then I hear a honk. I decide my best course of action is to ignore it and keep on with my singing with the Boy. Then the honking becomes more persistent. So I make the mistake of looking left again. I'm greeted with another wave and the "V with tongue". You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Anywho, I again decided that the best course of action was to ignore, ignore, ignore. Rednecks are much like children, and so if you ignore their attention-seeking behavior, it will most often cease. Not so in this situation. There was more honking, some yelling of obscene acts he wanted to perform upon me, and revving of the engine. At this point, I must acknowledge that I hear him/them, and I swallow the little bit of vomit that has backed up in my throat and roll up my windows...all four of them. (Thank the Lord in heaven that they are dark tinted windows!) However, these were persistent rednecks, and so I tried in vain to change into another lane, but my desperate signal was ignored by my fellow motorists. Alas, for a whopping 25 minutes of my 50 minute trip, I was sexually harrassed by my redneck admirers. I had to eject the Boy and try some other kind of music because they had ruined it for me. I finally decided on the heaviest music I had in the car: Metallica. Loud, brash, and able to drown out redneck advances in any situation...that's my Metallica (plus, I'm strangely attracted to James Hetfield because he seems a little dangerous). Alas, rocking out to the "...And Justice for All" CD, I was mostly able to tune out Jethro and his Uncle Daddy. When the traffic opened up, I risked yet another speeding ticket and laid tread to the speed of about 85mph. When I finally arrived at my destination, I had an overwhelming urge to shower, but since the bar didn't have a shower, I was forced to delay that action for a few more hours. I seriously wanted to snap a picture, but I was afraid they would follow me and abduct me to parts unknown.

So that is the story of my Redneck Romance. If you are a Redneck reading this, please take offense you disgusting shitbag bastard! This is why you have to marry your "uppity" cousin with her 5 teeth and 4th grade education. Blegh.

*You might realize that I have an eye for detail. I am not making any of this shit up because even now, 24 hrs after the fact, I threw up a little in my mouth.

This Ain't Your Same Ole Mayberry

2007-08-09T18:43:00.000-05:00

So we got a new head honcho in sweet lil Mayberry. I think I'm gonna like him, even if he doesn't give me a raise this year. I've been my first week back at work with a lot of anxiety. We had a large layoff, were told we are in financial crisis, and from the sound of things, they are starting (or already have) a shit list down in central office. So, I've been rather quiet in meetings, at our retreat, and in general not my usual self. Now don't get me wrong, I'm generally secure in my job. I am good at what I do, and I can navigate the highly political nature of education like a pro. But today my boss intimated that he might be a bit insecure...which in turn gave me a little case of the shakes. Then I start to question myself: "Self, are you SURE you aren't on the list? I mean, you just never know. The new Supe did mention at the retreat that he had heard you were looking elsewhere. WTF?" Luckily, I recover quickly, and so I'm very optimistic regarding the coming year. I just hope morale holds and people get over the shock and awe of the downsizing quickly. I can't say much more, but the title is quite an understatement. Here's hoping I can last the year by keeping my mouth shut. That is the monumental task at hand. I do keep having a recurring dream of being fired by Donald Trump though. Any thoughts on this, folks?

Anyway, blogging will still be hit and miss until my laptop gets fixed. Or at least until I feel like sitting for any extended time at my desktop here. I'm on the mend, however.

Musical Theater

2007-08-03T08:03:00.000-05:00

So, I had to give myself over to PT, and so this morning when I was replicating all that I was taught in the session with a physical therapist, I was relieved to be able to listen to my iPod...I think. In the 45 min that I tortured myself, my iPod turned on me! These are the shuffled songs that I had as the backdrop to my workout (in order):

"Come and Get Your Love" (old version)

"No Sugar Tonight"

"U and Ur Hand"

"Give It To Me"

"Get Off"

"Buttons"

"Pour Some Sugar on Me"

"Summer Love"

"Maneater" (Nelly Furtado not Hall & Oates)

"Mr. Brownstone"

"Under Pressure"

"I Told You So"

"Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy"

"Bust a Move"

"Darling Nikki"

"It Takes Two"

"Disco Inferno" (50 Cent)

"Overprotected"

"California Love"

"Call Me When You're Sober"

Now, I'm not one that really believes that there are "signs" that are visited upon us, but does anyone else think that is a sex heavy play list? However, I'm a lil disturbed at the forwardness of my iPod. He (it's obviously a "he") seemed to be mocking my current state of disability and restrictions. And to add insult to injury, he quit right in the middle of the last song, which was "Seven", one of my favorite Prince songs. Typical man: going and quitting just as you are about to finish yourself. Plus, I think he's judging me. Stupid iPod...his name is officially Mud.

Post Reduction

2007-07-30T10:17:00.000-05:00

Not that anyone will really care, but I'm going to have to take a post reduction for a while. I'm unable to sit at my desktop for protracted periods, and well, my laptop hates me right now. Now there's no need for tears....I'll be back. My injury will heal, and I'll be back in the saddle again in no time.

Now get the hell outta here and get back to work, you slackers! ;o)

I Hate Microsoft

2007-07-28T04:24:00.001-05:00

Well, something has happened to my beloved HP laptop. All of the sudden, I got the following black screen message:

"Windows could not start because the following file is missing or corrupt:

\WINDOWS\SYSTEM32\CONFIG\SYSTEM"

WHAT THE FUCK? It's now 4:27am CST, and I've been trying everything to fix this fucker for 4.5 solid hours! I'm EXHAUSTED! What the hell went wrong? I can't even get it to repair with the CDRom disk thingy. I've scoured the Microsoft website for some help, tried everything I could find, but if I want their personal help, I'll have to pony up $225. Again, WTF? This laptop is only 3 yrs old, and I've never had a problem with it. Hewlett-Packard sure wasn't any help either. I'm thinking I'm going to have to take it in for something serious, lose all of my stuff, and then get bent over for the service. Last time I looked, I wasn't raking in the big bucks with a tremendous surplus just waiting to be spent on computer repair.

Why does Windows hate me? I swear I didn't do anything to wrong Windows like remove the file or even corrupt it. I'm an upstanding person of ethics and morals..I don't corrupt anything.I have up to date virus software. I don't download willy nilly from the net. I feel so betrayed. I hate being a computer tard. Windows has reduced me to tears. I'm going to call Bill Fucking Gates myself and tell him how he has violated me. And NO people, I did not back up my stuff because I DON'T KNOW HOW. I turn things on and expect them to work. That's how I roll.

Go ahead. Lecture me. I'll cry some more.

Let's Get It On

2007-07-22T16:55:00.000-05:00

RECENT UPDATE: To whomever emailed me somehow anonymously-You picked two of the most awesome songs! Bush cornered two of the Top 5 with "Mouth" and "Swallowed". Damn! Those songs do seem to have some kind of effect. Now next time, just comment on the stupid post, will ya? XOXO

I was sent an interesting article today by a friend that seemed so ridiculous at first...until I really started thinking about it. The gist of the article was about how music affects different centers of the brain, and that the music that we listen to is really our soundtrack to sex. I know. It sounds totally crazy. Then as I read on, I started to think about the kinds of songs that make a person feel sexy and amorous. Okay, what I mean is that I started to think of the songs or music that puts me "in the mood." Being that I appreciate order, I decided I would make a list of the top 5 songs that made me want to get down and dirty. Now, I'm going to put them here, of course, but you can't judge because then I want you to tell me yours and why. Call it an experiment of sorts. Of course, I also think these things change, but I'm willing to post my "right now sex songs". Here's my current Top 5, in no particular order:

Possession-Sarah McLachlan (This song is so sexy. It's probably been on my list all along...even before I knew I had a list.)

Want To-Sugarland (I love this song. I love this band. This song does make me want to.)

Anything ever done by Dave Matthews (I mostly want to have sex with him, but damn his songs are all pretty sexy in my opinion.)

Your Body is a Wonderland-John Mayer (OMG...that's about all I can say, and I think it's enough.)

Anything by Maroon 5 (I find their music incredibly sexy, and so I couldn't pick just one.)

So I put it out there people, and I hope you'll share with me your thoughts on this idea...and your songs.

*Important note: Please adhere to the TMI rule. I don't want to get linked in with porn sites. Thank you. :o)

I'm Open To Suggestion

2007-07-17T23:00:00.001-05:00

So, I've decided to take a trip in November, kind of a combination birthday and Thanksgiving. I was thinking maybe New York City, as I haven't been back in quite a while. But I think there's got to be more out there. I want to stay within the country, as I don't want to hassle with a passport. So I'm open to hear some suggestions on what's fun to do around the great U. S. of A. I love a road trip, but I am good to fly as well.

I'd love to hear of some great things to see and do from all of you. I have to book pretty soon too. So....Whatcha got?