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10:48 a.m. - Sunday, Jul. 09, 2006
Well now... ain't that a kick in the pants? As of 1pm MY time (which is EST), my parents infiltrated Arizona. Enjoy them, but send them home on Friday (my friends are getting married and I need a babysitter). Well, I learned something interesting about my new neighbors. I think they have a voodoo shrine in their garage. Actually, I can pretty much BET that they have a voodoo shrine in their garage because there's NOTHING ELSE in their house except for a sofa and an entertainment center. I also had the MOST awkward conversation with one of the new neighbors who informed us that she had cramps. We didn't think cramps-cramps, we were thinking... pooper cramps because EVERYONE around here had some sort of intestinal virus last week. "I'm sorry guys that I'm not more... you know... I have cramps..." as she pointed to her lower extremities. ER... ok... I guess. "S'ok," said E, "We ALL had that last week." She made this weird face and went back into the house. Later, she invited me into the gazebo. We hung out and chatted for a few, but kept coming on back to the "cramps" thing. "Stomach cramps? We all had a viral thing last week..." I said to her. That's when it hit me. My husband told this woman that HE had cramps last week. She must think I'm married to a transgendered something or other. *hehe* "OH... we thought you meant like stomach flu." Cramps... God's way to punishing us for being able to birth men's children. Just before I went home she said something interesting, "We have the babies, WE take care of them, WE get menopause... what do men get?" Feeling snarky, I said, "Diahrea" *grins* Anyway, I have one week until my friends' wedding. I have decided that wearing a light turquoise flouncy girly top may make me look pregnant (I tend to not like flouncy, even while thin, because there will ALWAYS be ONE person who says, "When are you expecting??")... and opt to wear my sleeveless red top with black pants. But, I want FUN stylish shoes. Problem is: I live in a part of NJ that has neither fun NOR stylish girly shoes. This means, I must hunt one down like an elusive animal... stalking... watching... peeking around. SO, I decided to bring back the top... find pants (preferrably dress capris... because, let's face it, anyone who marries in July is looking to be mean) that are NOT dryclean only (hence, my suit pants are out of the question)... and find strappy something or others that will be cute to wear. Then, come home and work on that damned "Thesis-that-will-never-end." Though, if it is in fact true that I was hired (I'm hoping that I get to sign a contract tomorrow or Tuesday), I have to boogie like its 1989 to get it done before September because then I'll have to write LESSONS again. Remind me why I went back into teaching, will ya? Because if it is indeed true that I am hired by this school to teach juniors (I think) history, then I have to get #2 son a cell phone so that in case of emergency (b/c he'll be bussing it and home alone for an hour before I get back), he can reach me... from school OR on the way home... then #1 son will start to make his "what I want my mother to buy me now that she has a job" list and E's "we should buy a new couch and burn this sombitch sectional beast in the yard" idea... when I can think about is storing the money away in case I'm unemployed by December b/c I didn't FINISH MY GODDAMN THESIS... There's a lot of things going on in my mind. So much so that I had this weird dream... I was in a school that looked like a dorm-hotel room-airport thing. I was on a tour with about 8 or 10 other people, who I believe were new teachers, too... and, well... at the end of this tour thing, I walked with a woman who was shorter than myself (with red hair) to the "terminal" to retrieve her bags b/c they didn't come in when she arrived. While walking, I asked her what she was hired for. "Social Studies," she said. My heart sunk and I asked, "which course?" She said something about teaching seniors about (can't remember the topic, so I'll make one up) "Renaissance Art." I felt a surge of relief when I said, "Oh, I'll be teaching juniors the college course." (Which, technically if I'm hired, I will be doing.) (My friend S keeps telling me to STOP saying "if," but, she doesn't understand... I've heard a LOT of "ifs," which turned into "Sorry, we offered it to someone else"'s. So, excuse me if I'm cynical until I sign something. Though, I am a bit premature with the whole... "TELL THE WORLD" thing. I didn't tell a lot of my friends, but posted it here. Slap me if this doesn't go through, will ya?) Anyway, we get to the terminal, and I tell her that I'm going back to my "room" to get my "bags." But, I get lost... and end up walking down an alley of a bad neighborhood... and into a weird little drug buy. I had the house phone in one pocket and my cell in other pocket and I was carrying a plastic bag with new pants and shorts (2 pairs total) while reading a cartoonish map that said the school was right up the hill. (I didn't leave the building before this, so I knew I was somewhere else that was a bit freaky.) I turned around, was followed back the dorm-hotel-airport building, which, was no longer there. In its place was a diner and a jug handle (turn around thing we have in Jersey) on a major road with traffic. Don't ask me how I got there... So, I called E on my cell phone and was nearly crying out of frustration, "I have NO idea where I am.. help me!" Then, the next second, I was in a car, preparing to pull out onto the highway... and didn't know where I was going. After that, I woke up. It's Sunday... it's HOT and sunny outside... I'm dealing with my "little friend"... I'm nervous and anxious about this job. And, today will be the day that I get my MONEY BACK from the pool. The head lifeguard called me and told me that my check was not cashed and I would be allowed to get it back, but when I called him back, I had to leave a message with a girlie lifeguard who obviously didn't give it to him. Now, I have to call him AGAIN and hope to reach him on a Sunday. Lucky freaking me... So, at least I have mostly won the "my town pool sucks ass" argument. Apparently, his phone message AGREED with me, "We do have problems with the lifeguards and the pool and I'd be more than willing to discuss them with you." If you KNOW that you have a problem, Mr. Local History Teacher Summer Head Lifeguard, then DO something about it. YOU are the boss of 8-10 teenage kids who either WERE or ARE your students. CRACK THAT WHIP... BREAK DA MAMA'S BACK... (Seek Devo for inspiration, pal.) � 
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