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December 31, 2005
Leaving 2005
We're going to crack open the New Year somewhere enroute to Montreal tonight. Since I'm driving, I'll just break open the champagne for everybody.
Khoroshi Novie Gode!
Posted by G at 12:33 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
December 30, 2005
Gay bald math teachers
I don't exactly have a representative sampling, but I'm finding an alarming trend. I went to Jeff's birthday party a few days ago. Nice party, although the space prevented easy mingling of the attendants. Jeff introduced me to a guy named Mike. Mike is a math teacher in a middle school. He also shaves his head and likes men.
Charles introduced me to Mohammed. Mohammed is also a bit giddy for men, shaves his head, and teaches math.
I know lots of other math teachers, all straight. They all have hair on their heads. There was this one guy in my masters program who was occasionally shaved, and I think he was gay during those times.
Does shaving one's head make someone gay, but only if they also like math? Do gay math teachers just like shaving their heads? Does the additional heat generated from all that complex math combined with really rough and dirty thoughts about men just sizzle the hair off?
It's time to do some research.
Posted by G at 09:21 AM | Comments (13) | TrackBack
December 28, 2005
Brokeback Mountain
I saw Brokeback Mountain with Derrick yesterday. Since the movie is going to be released to the general world over the next few weeks, I am certain that many heterosexual men will become homosexuals because of this spectacular film. However, I should give all straight men who will be 'turning' some caveats:
1) Becoming gay will not allow you to have regular weekend vacations in the spectacular mountains of Wyoming (Alberta), surrounded by odorless sheep. You will get to have regular sex with some version of Gyllenhaal, though. You will even be able to stipulate with/without mustache.
2) Becoming gay does not necessarily allow you to look really hot in Wranglers and boots, but you will be lusted after by both men AND women. Be careful when bathing nekkid in a stream. Shrinkage occurs.
3) Becoming gay will require you to have ugly parents but beautiful children.
4) Even though it appears that fun anal sex can be facilitated with just a wee bit o' spit and a heave-ho, becoming gay requires a little more time and finesse. If you are one of those heteros who would also like to be the bottom to Ledger's non-lubing top, I also don't recommend trying to ride a horse the next day.
Posted by G at 02:44 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
December 25, 2005
The gift of the Magoo
My holiday could have been disastrous, so I'm grateful my doctor prescribed this miraculous drug.
Posted by G at 09:56 AM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
December 21, 2005
Apology to the rest of NYC
I feel terrible, really. I've read the horror stories of people screwed over by the subway strike. So many of my teachers have had to sleep on couches here in Manhattan, leave 3 hours earlier to arrive on time, or carpool with chigger-infested drivers.
I hate to say that my life improved. My commute to work before the strike? 20 minutes. My commute after the strike? 20 minutes (I walk, by the way). School opened an hour later for teachers, two hours for students, so I could sleep in for an extra hour. A fraction of the kids attended, so I was able to devote more time to organization. I joined in the carpooling, so I didn't have to walk home, plus I left earlier than I normally ever leave.
All of my Christmas shopping was done weeks ago, we did our groceries on Monday, and Netlflix has kept us stocked with movies.
Keep fighting, union brothers!
Posted by G at 07:17 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
December 17, 2005
The right of privacy
I like my privacy, which could be an issue when you have roommates. I've never had a problem, however, even though I've had roommates for over 15 years. The last time that I had a problem was back when I lived with family, as family doesn't pay attention to boundaries like closed doors. My sister walked into the bathroom while I was 'ecstatically in the moment.' Very traumatic. Of course, I also accidentally walked in on my sister boinking her future husband, so this kind of thing is just an unpleasant family situation, akin to Thanksgiving or Christmas.
Boyfriends don't pay attention to closed doors, either. As Derrick is my first boyfriend I lived with, I had no idea my constitutional rights could be encroached upon like a morning Patriot Act. A few mornings ago, I was just sitting there in the bathroom, doing what I like to do. Not that, just reading the latest Apple magazine. I had already turned on the hot water in the shower and sink, as it takes about six hours for the hot water to travel the byzantine path from the basement boiler to our apartment. I also brush my teeth during this time. This morning had a particularly engrossing article about hidden tricks in OS X, so the toothbrush was already rinsed and I continued reading.
The door suddenly bursts open, and I see my boyfriend. What he sees is much more frightening- a man on the pot foaming at the mouth, holding a computer magazine. I made a gurgling noise, he made apoplectic apologetic noises, the door shut.
You get casual when you live with/love someone. I'm essentially a fount of flatulence, so I've had to let go of lots of things. I think I'm going to hold on to that last vestige of privacy.
Posted by G at 07:51 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack
December 14, 2005
Wishes and supervisors
If you're looking for happiness and cheer, it's best to skip this post. This is a bitching post.
Here's the funny:
I was offered a math job at a high school. It is closer to my home, the principal was actively recruiting me, and my life would be so much easier. I would be in charge of the math department, and there are only 200 students. I would get to teach advanced math.
Here's the catch:
I would have to leave my school. Now. Bridges would be burned, many passengers of the bus would be wondering where the hell the driver was, etc.
I consulted with a few friends, family, and teachers. Most said go, some said stay. I chose to stay. I don't like leaving a job in the middle of a crisis. It feels too much like giving up, plus most of my friends are more likely to buy a beer for noble martyrs. If I moved to the high school, people might still buy me a beer, but only during happy hour.
Since turning down the position, it has been really tough at school.
Friday: I confirmed with my administration that I wasn't doing the training on Monday. On Friday, I also sat down with two teachers to help them write lesson plans, delivered 680 books from the ground floor to 2nd, 3rd, and 4th floor classrooms (the ELA coach has a bad hip and we don't have an elevator), designed the map/contact info for the City College program I'm starting in the afternoons for my regional boss (plus distributed it to the 40 eligible students), tracked down and delivered the schedule for a teacher training program for my principal, met with the book salesman to order math libraries (I've been researching resource books for math teachers), finished the Chess in the Schools grant application, fixed the Risograph copy machine, scheduled classes for our first school trips, and even bought donuts for my teachers. I never stopped running, except for 15 minutes for lunch.
Oh, and I was also bitched out by my direct supervisor who said that I need to try harder. I also got in trouble with my regional boss because I made him look bad, as another regional person was present when I discovered that my principal had fucked up our calculator order two months ago and was too incompetent to understand his own mistake. My regional boss didn't remember the multiple conversations and memos about this major problem, he just told me that my job was to make sure he and my principal don't look bad. He then bitched out my boss on the phone, who then called me onto the carpet for making him look bad too. It was a bit silly, as I had already corrected the mistake. I just hadn't communicated it to them, as pointing out their own asses is a bit wasteful.
Monday:
First thing, I confirmed I wasn't doing the training in the afternoon. I have things basically ready, but I like to maximize the teachers' time. Since I knew I was free, I focused on all the other things. I did the blah, blah, blah. Just believe me that I'm working like a hooker with a mortgage bill due yesterday. That afternoon, teachers start arriving in my room, looking for training. Apparently the woman at the region who commandeered the training only wanted English teachers, so she sent the rest to me. Again, I had been clearly told I WASN'T DOING TRAINING. It went fine, but only because I had prepared some things last week.
Tuesday:
Blah, blah, blah. Lots more work, an actual fire evacuation of our building. The entire afternoon is lost because of the fire evacuation. My afternoon is spent with new program setting up the big start on Wednesday.
Wednesday: Get shouted at by direct supervisor in the main office. She is livid that I forgot to put notices in the teachers' mailboxes the prior night regarding the planned training during their lunches (they apparently forgot the 2 notices I had sent them last week, plus the mention in the training on Monday). She keeps shouting at me, "What were you thinking!?!?!" over and over. At first, I reminded her of the fire issue, then I just tell her I fucked up, I'm sorry, and that I would correct the problem. She honestly just kept repeating herself. This was all very public in the main office.
I wish I could tell her that I am stretched too thin because of picking up all of her slack. I wish I could tell her that she should appreciate me, because I could have left to another school. I wish I could tell her that I'm doing a better job than her at a fraction of the salary. I wish I could have told her that I'm staying later at school than her, because I'm trying to do the best job possible. I wish she could hear the teachers tell me how much they appreciate what I'm doing. I wish she understood that I know she is in over her head, and that she is just attacking me for not saving her. I wish I could tell all of the administration to take a flying leap.
I wish, I wish, I wish. If wishes were horses....
Posted by G at 06:26 PM | Comments (16) | TrackBack
December 11, 2005
What type are you?
I still remember some of my first blood test. I was in 7th grade and our science teacher gave all of us blood tests. She'd take the lancet, stab our fingers, and have us put our blood on the litmus paper.
Or so I've heard. I remember the blood pumping in my skull and her strong cool hand immobilizing my arm. She stabbed my finger, I looked at my own blood, and I basically passed out. I'm fine with everyone else gouting blood, just not my own. I recall sitting in one of the chairs, bandaid on my finger. While I was woozy, she still had checked my blood. Seriously experienced science teachers are accustomed to unconscious students, I guess.
Fortunately for everyone else, I'm O positive. I'm one of those lucky universal donors. A, B, AB can all take my blood, and I'm sure they'll enjoy its zesty richness. However, I think I can only receive from another O. In the world of blood baseball, essentially I'm a pitcher, and everyone else is a catcher. I'm not even going into the gay analogies.
Posted by G at 10:57 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBack
December 09, 2005
What did I do on Friday night?
You are Fozzie Bear.
You are caring and love your friends as if they
were family. For only they will put up with
your stupid jokes.
FAVORITE EXPRESSION:
"Wocka! Wocka!"
FAVORITE AUTHOR:
Gags Beasley, comedy writer
HOBBIES:
Telling jokes, dodging tomatoes
QUOTE:
"Why did the chicken cross the road?"
NEVER LEAVES HOME WITHOUT:
His joybuzzer, his whoopee cushion and Clyde, the
rubber chicken.
What Muppet are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Posted by G at 10:32 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
December 07, 2005
English Language Arts
My school locked down today to administer the practice English exam. Considering our last practice test was rife with rioting children, today was decent. Only two classrooms disintegrated.
I just enjoyed the English test error so typical of our school. Someone made a sheet for every door that said "Do Not Distrub."
Posted by G at 10:49 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
December 05, 2005
Triggered memory
One of the comments on the last entry just brought back on old memory for me.
When I was about ten, we lived in Nebraska. Don't blame me, blame my dad's construction jobs, as I would have preferred coastal cities. My oldest sister Debbie was just learning to drive. It was fun to watch my dad teach her, especially when she locked up the brakes and slammed the dog into the back of the driver's seat. My dad felt so bad about that, and my sister hated hurting animals. Being a teenager, her selfish need to drive outweighed cruelty to animals.
One day, we were all strapped into the Buick Electra that my mom used. Driving with my mother in control of the vehicle was always stressful, but having my mother training my sister was like scream therapy. Lots of screaming, lots of future therapy. Debbie is clutching the steering wheel, the car is only semi-erratic, and mother is only occasionally shrieking, gasping, or tensing. Bonnie and I are just in the back seat, probably reading, but I don't really remember.
Here's the thing- our town had these giant squirrels. I'm sure they weren't that big, but they seemed about cat-sized when I was only ten. Maybe it was my mother shrieking, maybe it was a sense of bold optimism that convinced the giant squirrel to dodge in front of the much more giant Buick Electra.
It was a partially successful dodge. Unfortunately, the unsuccessful part was the head. My sister crushed only the head of the giant squirrel, mushing its little rodent brain into the asphalt. The rest of the squirrel wasn't in on the joke, as it was trying to detach itself from the merged asphalt/head. The legs and tail are still twitching and jumping around, almost like a precursor to the Riverdance phenomena.
Both my younger sister and I are screaming in the back, looking through the rear window at the frantic corpse. My older sister is screaming in the front, in tears, not paying attention to the car, driving, or her mother hitting her from the side. I still remember my mom screaming at her to not stop, just keep driving. I can only imagine what it looked like to pedestrians. I know what it looked like from the inside of the car. I'm chuckling, right now, as I remember it. I guarantee both my sisters will also chuckle. We're pretty sick that way.
We were a fun bunch, my family. I probably should tell the story of when I ran through the cow, now that I'm in the mood.
Posted by G at 10:32 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
December 04, 2005
Friends who know me
Many friends pointed out that my fear of squirrels has a firm foundation in reality. Remember, squirrels and children are always dangerous in groups. Only kill them when they're alone.
After my exclamatory posting about work last month, my friend Deanna sent me to this funny, funny site to develop new techniques of keeping sane at work. Thank you, Deanna, as I have to respond to that annoying woman today.
Posted by G at 10:07 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack