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October 31, 2004
Make sure and vote
The New Yorker sums it up nicely, and apparently they've never endorsed a candidate before. I just froth in frustration.
Posted by G at 03:06 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
ICE, ICE, baby
That stands for the Institute for Culinary Education, a most wonderful way to explore cooking with experts. My wildly fun uncle and aunt got me two cooking classes for my birthday, and my first class was last Wednesday. My aunt decided that a class on beer and barbeque would be appropriate for me, as one can’t take the Texan out of the boy. One can stick a can of beer up the ass of the chicken for a delightful barbecue, but I recommend doing it after the chicken is dead.
They’ve always given awesome gifts, things that could expand my horizons. My first Swatch watch in the early 80’s to last year’s Chocolate Show. They also assisted in my first jellyfish attack, but it was better than that poor guy who got swiped across his crotch.
I enjoyed the class so much. The leader was the brewmaster of Brooklyn Brewery, and the beers were top notch. We simply explored ways to mix beer in with traditional meals, with the added benefit of getting buzzed. I’m going to enroll in some more of them, as the school seems really good, and I’ve always wanted to become more skilled at cooking. They even have knife classes, and who hasn’t been panicky when seeing me with a knife in my hands?
Posted by G at 02:56 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 30, 2004
Battle of the bulge
Boyfriends are really nice. They keep you warm on a cold night, they know when you're sad, and they can totally destroy your body image without even being in the room.
D stayed over on Friday night, knew I was a bit down, and was so sweet and cuddly that night. He even made yummy guacamole after school. Saturday morning he is in the bathroom, I'm getting dressed. I put my pants on, then grab my belt.
Everybody knows I have weird body issues. This morning they were confirmed. My belt is not fitting around my waist. I do the Dad thing and suck in my gut. No dice. I feel the worn spot on the belt to verify that the belt hole is the right one, then contemplate a no-food diet for a week. I refuse to go to a looser belt hole, then I realize that there is NO looser belt hole. Have I just been gaining weight without noticing? Is he going to dump me when he realizes he's dating a fat bastard? Am I going to be the dreaded recipient of my dad's family male body?
I refuse to lose the war against the freakishly weird family body. Strange gut overlapping the giant belt buckle, twiggy legs and arms waving feebly about in an effort to maintain counterbalance with the strange gut. If there wasn't a dick, there'd be nothing to hang the belt over. It's Kafka's Metamorphosis, but without the hard carapace.
I look down, and I see the OTHER black belt. My belt. The one I'm trying to wear is my boyfriend's belt. It looks like mine, but it is built to fit around his slimmer waist.
Silly, silly me. Now where's that cookie?
Posted by G at 02:25 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
October 26, 2004
Bad Mix
Two things common in my life at school.
1) Chalk dust is an omnipresent irritant in the classroom. No modern whiteboards at my school, thank you! My hands are constantly covered, my skin itches, my eyes get cranky, it clogs the pores of my head.
2) Marker stains all over my hands. Much of my work involves using markers and rulers. One transfers to the other, it all transfers to my hands.
I'm not going to say that my eyes and nose were disastrously itchy today, but every kid was staring at my face during class and snickering.
Ink on hands, itchy face. You do the math. I'm done for the day.
Posted by G at 09:48 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
October 24, 2004
blogging
Nothing beats drunken blogging. Head spinning, ears ringing as my semicircular canals fight the alcohol, laughter erupting randomly. He sits next to me, his leg pressed against mine, kinetic energy bound into muscle. His conversation drifts in and out of my silliness, my affection shows itself in juvenile assault. "I like you" translates to a punch in the shoulder, a random singing in the subway. I know I'm goofy, I know I'm ridiculous, I know I'm in love. I know I'm happy, and I know that every moment is good, every moment is merely a moment, every moment is something special.
I'm a goofy bastard.
I'm happy. Please don't let anything jinx this. Knock on wood, throw salt over my shoulder, promise to be good. Just let me wake up spooned next to him.
Posted by G at 02:36 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
October 23, 2004
Blowing candles
Pictures from the surprise bday party, courtesy of Kieran.
Posted by G at 01:31 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Keep your fingers crossed
The Swanktuary hasn't been so swank for for some time. I've tolerated the living conditions because it is so cheap, but the point has arrived where cheap vs. unhealthy, dank, negative, and dangerous becomes a daily war.
I personally think someone should modernize Conrad's Heart of Darkness as a parable of the search for housing in NYC. My friends that have a nice two bedroom apartment close to my loft didn't realize that I was seriously contemplating killing them. A vacancy is a vacancy is a vacancy, and I could afford their place.
I've had to deal with seriously scary people that I swear I've seen on the FBI's wanted list. I've walked through places filled with bird crap, with the owner telling me that the prior owner had over a hundred birds flying free, and I might want to clean up before moving in.
I should just sell my place in Texas, buy a place here, and become a slumlord myself. I'm not going to do anything until the next teaching year, as I don't want to get locked into an area and teach in another borough. I relish the ten minute jaunt to my school in the morning.
Charlie and I finally found a place a block over that is at the top limit of our price range, but it really is a wonderful place. Fourteen foot ceilings, wood floors, HUGE windows that take up an entire wall, basement laundry, and a massive grass space fenced in behind the building that would be perfect for the dogs to run. Bear would get better, I would get better, Charlie would have a room that actually has light. I would build some amazing new bedrooms over the next few weeks, and then we would move in.
I submitted the application and the deposit two days ago. I am the only person on the app, because I'm the only one with good credit (rating is 768). The bad side is that the total amount of rent is almost 80% of my income. Landlord guy told me that he would have a response the next day.
That was two days ago. I fear that we've been rejected, and I have to keep searching. Murder is still a valid way to find a place, at least in NYC.
Mistah Kurtz, he dead.
Posted by G at 12:52 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
October 20, 2004
Tribulation
I was raised in churches. I can list the books of the bible, and probably all of the sins. I was raised to believe in the Rapture (capitalized), and could even classify myself as post-tribulationist. I'm just pessimistic that way. Because of my switch to the liberal side of the world, I figured that I wasn't going to be sucked up into the sky.
My friend Scott has a wonderful idea. Maybe God will have the rapture the day before the election. Huge chunks of the Bible Belt won't vote, plus maybe they'll take out some old people too.
NYC will probably be okay. Subways won't be affected, and only a few will be killed by SUV's.
Posted by G at 09:52 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack
Third year
I'm definitely developing my own style during teaching this year. It's not perfect, but it works for me.
The kids have been particularly restless this week. This morning half the class was bitching about it being too cold in the room, the other half was saying it was too warm.
I told the class-
If you're too cold, grow hair on your arms like me.
If you're too warm, shave your head. Either way, this is not a democracy, i feel fine, and you will all focus on math. RESPECT THE MATH!
They all laughed, and we went to work.
Posted by G at 12:00 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
October 17, 2004
Post BD
As Kieran pointed out, being mopey is unattractive. Whingeing about too many people calling over each other to wish me happy birthday is unattractive. Being cranky on your birthday is unattractive.
I was definitely unattractive. Part of me wanted to do something, part of me just wanted to stay home. All of the parts were mopey. Part of me really missed not having my mom call. I really miss her.
Still had a good time with Kieran, Luis, Derrick, David, Jeremy, and Charlie. Friends are the people that look beyond the unattractive moments, drag you past them, and then celebrate.
Posted by G at 10:00 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
October 16, 2004
Shredded. Yay!
Just bought myself a paper shredder. Five sheets, crosscut. Mmmmm, shredding using a modified cutter blade system. Fun.
Paper? Whirrrr, pieces. Fun.
Credit card? Whirrr, grunch, grunch, grunch, pieces. Fun.
I’m shredding the newspaper, just because I like the noise. How could identify theft prevention be so fun? I don’t care if the unshielded motor is emitting more EM radiation than a microwave. This thing is cool. The dog is scared of it. Smart dog.
Me to day birth happy.
Posted by G at 03:54 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
October 15, 2004
Drinks with the boyfriend
Derrick and I had talked about going to see the Civilians, but I forgot to buy tickets. He told me he was fried and just wanted to have some drinks. It was a school night, I was exhausted, and I didn’t really feel like going out.
Boyfriends can be quite persuasive. Sexy, even. Damn them all.
I fell asleep on the couch, but awoke in time to realize I was going to be late. Bollocks. I shove some cold pizza down my throat, throw my fave sweatshirt on over a tshirt, and tap my foot while my dog pees. I’m going to a gay bar, but I’m meeting the boyf. He likes me scruffy, stubbly, and musky. For some reason he’s impressed with me whatever I look like, and I just go with it. The rest of the gay bar can just deal with the grungy me.
I arrive early (for me) and as I enter, I bump into Luis and Frank having an affair. They’re together at the bar, not a trace of guilt. The whores!
Oh, wait. They’re grinning. No guilt. Hmmm.
Another birthday party? Cake twice in one day? Thank you Ron, thank you Patrick, thank you Derrick. I was still exhausted, but I was surrounded by friends. They are sweeter and richer than any cake.
The SUV can run me down tomorrow. As I tumble under the wheels, between searing moments of pain, I’ll think what a great life I have. Great friends, great life, great cake.
Posted by G at 07:48 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
October 14, 2004
Teenage Humpathon
Teaching has been okay this week. I had a formal observation by the PDYEAP (Pathetically Dumb Yet Egotistical Assistant Principal) which I wasn't really wanting to do. He's the cat's meow of stupid, I swear. I'm doing really well this year, so I wasn't terribly worried. However, he was one of the people that tried to get me fired last year. I wasn't doing anything wrong, he just didn't like the fact that I don't tolerate well-paid idiots.
He was so ecstatic about the lesson that he left the room during the lesson in order to bring in another teacher. He then interrupts my lesson to tell this to the whole class. 'Children, I can tell that you do great work for Mr. Glenn, and I know that all of you are not behaving in Mr. B's classes. I brought in Mr. B to prove to him that he just doesn't have control over you but that other teachers can.'
The man really is an idiot, and EVERY teacher hates him. Mr. B is probably going to kill him.
Today was also really busy, as I also had to do the post-observation with the idiot, two meetings with parents, a round of phone calls to parents, and a coverage lesson with a seventh grade class. Sixth period I had the coverage class, and I had to leave my classroom in a hurry. Two of my trustworthy students were lingering, so I left them with the order to close the door behind them. I wreak havoc on the 7th graders during the coverage, and the next teacher was about four minutes late. This means my eighth graders are milling about upstairs, and I hate not having them calm in the afternoon. I race up the stairs, only to see my other assistant principal pounding on the front of my locked door. She's screaming and pounding, ordering them to let her into the classroom.
Not a good moment for any teacher. Visions of worst case scenarios flashed across my brain, most involving horny or murderous teenagers. The windows are covered up, noises are coming out, I unlock the door.
Forty kids all screamed happy birthday to me in unison. They even had cake. Not very good cake, but it still tasted quite good. The party descended into an adolescent humpathon, but that is to be expected at a junior high.
Every day is more like a Jesus life. Crucifixion at 33, resurrection at 34. News at 11.
Posted by G at 07:27 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
October 13, 2004
TV! TV!
I know that our next four years hang in the balance, but if the presidential debates bump into my taping of Lost, I swear I'm going to make Bush stagger rather than swagger. Tonight Dominic Monaghan should be showing some skin.
In Texas, we don't say swaggering is walking, by the way. We call that a stupid guy from Connecticut who has more boots than brains. I can't watch the debates, as they make my blood boil.
Posted by G at 09:47 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
October 11, 2004
Three Days
Three day weekends are the boon of every teacher. Today is Columbus Day, therefore school is closed.
Columbus? The guy that introduced European plagues to the American continents, dooming millions to horrifying deaths? A man who failed in his attempt to find a route to India, because he didn’t realize the size of the globe?
Oh yeah. PERFECT reason for a holiday.
Yet I raise a glass to the man. Schools are closed on a Monday. Huzzah!
Posted by G at 05:06 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
October 10, 2004
S and Sh
I'm allergic to shellfish. It will kill me.
When it comes to frosting, I'm selfish. All of the frosting is mine. MINE!
My high school principal told me I'm shiftless. He was a gutless turd.
My boyfriend told me I have a shelf-ass. Supposedly he likes that, as he needs somewhere to put his coffee.
Posted by G at 11:57 AM | Comments (10) | TrackBack
October 08, 2004
It's gratifying
I returned to my school on Thursday after two days of training. Every dean, every other teacher, even a few administrators told me they were SO glad I was back. Apparently I'm getting the rep of being a good teacher.
Not to toot my own horn (or possibly jinx the situation), but I'm quite proud of my teaching this year. I still have quite a ways to go before I'm really good, but this year seems to be my reward for the last two.
Watch. This morning one of the kids is gonna bitch-slap me and then kick me in the nards while I'm patting myself on the back.
Posted by G at 07:42 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
October 06, 2004
Teacher Union Stomach Cramps
Tuesday and Wednesday were both spent at the UFT offices in downtown Manhattan. I was the lucky recipient of some highly overdue training on the math program. I learned some new strategies, talked useful shop talk with other math teachers, and realized that many other schools have administrators who are on the ball. I was able to crib a scope and sequence from another teacher. For those of you who aren't teachers, this is a coup.
I also ate the free lunch.
TANSTAFL. My digestive system is making noises usually only reserved for cheap cars on potholed streets.
Posted by G at 10:06 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
October 05, 2004
Neither a road nor an island
There’s only 50 of them. My family started me on the journey, and the road is almost done. I’ve seen the mountains of Alaska, the emptiness of the Dakotas, the swelter of the South. I’ve descended into the Grand Canyon in Arizona and biked down Haleakala Crater in Hawaii. I’ve bought puzzles in New Hampshire, wanted to cut down trees in Maine, and been alarmed by 12 fingered hitchhikers in West Virginia.
I’ve visited 49, completing the last 4 on the trip to Canada- ME, NH, VT, and MA. Just one teeny tiny state left. Rhode Island. So tiny, so NOT on my normal list of destinations. We have counties in Texas that dwarf this little place with two senators.
Now I have to go. What will I do? I have no idea. I just know that I have to do it. I’ll probably celebrate by getting a tattoo on my ass of their state outline, just to revel in the moment. Then I’ll also be able to tell everyone that my ass is neither Rhode, nor Island.
Posted by G at 10:37 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
October 04, 2004
Weekend Warrior
Nothing more fun than being a teacher that lives a secret life. Monday through Friday, I do the boring thing with oatmeal in the morning, teach at a junior high, walk the dog in the evening. Other things intrude on the schedule, but that’s about it.
The secret life starts on the weekends.
Boyfriend suddenly appears, so I get a sex life (with something besides my hand). Woof!
My cool uncle and aunt’s car suddenly appears, so I have wheels. Not just normal wheels, either. 5.0 liters of screaming power, dual plug, self adjusting intake runners for fuel, over 300 hp of wheels. Smooth, sexy, and stable. Yummy!
The cabin in Vermont belonging to certain friends suddenly appears through the windscreen of the car. What’s that? A Jacuzzi on the patio overlooking the mountains of Vermont? An unobstructed view of autumn’s majestic descent into reds, golds, and browns? Great food in a well designed kitchen? Sparkling conversations with wine, especially regarding the sounds koalas make? Intrigue due to foreigners aggressively taking over the economy in a game of Monopoly? Woohoo!
It shouldn’t be my life. I make the salary of a teacher, yet I have one of the richest lives.
At least on the weekends.
Posted by G at 07:04 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
October 01, 2004
Elegant
So the boyfriend wanted me to attend a shindig tonight. It's a school night, but now that I'm out of university classes, it's fine.
The only problem- the invite said to dress elegant.
What the hell is elegant? Do I wear a flapper dress?
I have NEVER been accused of being elegant. Some of my mathematical solutions are elegant, but you can't dress up an equation for a dinner party. I ended up wearing my suit coat over my DKNY shirt with jeans and dress Doc Martens, per Charlie's recommendations. He even helped me work on the stain from the Mark Kay friend at my mom's funeral. Not exactly perfect, but it was the best I can tolerate. I am really just a blue jeans guy.
I became transfixed by the lesson planning and missed my switch. Instead of taking the 1/9 from 96th to 125th, I mistakenly took the 2 to 110 and Central Park. I called boyfriend to tell him I was going to take a cab. He told me to just walk, as it was only six blocks. My brain told me it was further, but he knows the northern territories.
He thought I was on the west side of the city. I was on the east side. What he thought was six blocks was actually 2 miles. By the time my sweaty self stumbled to the rendezvous point, I was in dire need of some support.
Praise the gods for cheap wine and enormous cupcakes with frosting. Columbia is a strange world, chock full of super wealthy party girls and literary giants. I'm just glad his friends and their husbands/partners/wives are all so fascinating. There was also a pre-gay boy with his poor unsuspecting girlfriend. For some reason, he really brought out my inner thug. Maybe it was the super-pretentious 70's britboy suit, maybe it was his dancing. All I know, I really wanted to punch his glasses and make them break across the bridge of his nose.
Maybe I was just horny and it was displaced agression.
It was a great night, my knee is KILLING me, I'm dosed up on Advil.
Posted by G at 12:53 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack