A Quick List...

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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.