This guy actually sounds pretty good, although the real Neil Diamond would never be able to hit that low note in “Sweet Caroline” so smoothly.
Speaking of which, they forgot to play that at the Drillers game tonight. No wonder we lost. (Yeeeeeeeah … that’s why we lost. Pay no attention to our four errors — two by mah-boy Arenado — or the Springfield Cardinals’ second baseman, whose defensive talents remind me of a certain Hall of Fame shortstop who used to turn backflips at Busch Stadium when I was a kid.)
I’m introducing a new reward system for good behavior and class participation. I printed up about a kajillion little slips that say “REWARD TICKET — for doing a great job in Ms. Priddy’s class,” and I hand them out randomly to students who are on-task, participating well, going out of their way to be helpful, etc. The kids write their names on the back, and the tickets go in a plastic bowl I picked up at the dollar store. At the end of the month, I’ll draw one name, and that student will receive a fabulous prize.
I explained to the kids that by “fabulous,” I meant “completely ridiculous” and assured them that the prize in question would be some one-of-a-kind, handmade monstrosity I’d come up with on a whim.
Sixth and eighth hours insisted that I post a picture this month’s fabulous prize online once I finished making it. Here it is:
Because, really, what sophomore doesn’t need a tie-dyed sock monkey?
This one looked sort of unfinished when I got done sewing him together, so I added a bowtie made from some bright blue ribbon with green peace signs and the word “LOVE” printed on it.
Ridiculous, yes, but look: I’ve seen sophomores fight over glow-in-the-dark plastic ants, so a tie-dyed sock monkey ought to provide plenty of motivation.
If this goes over well, I might do a drawing every two weeks. I’ve already got a ridiculous idea for the next prize….
Last night, a guy on Facebook announced that he no longer feels safe in my hometown — population 12,000 — because the Gangster Disciples are taking over. He knows, because they marked their territory by throwing a pair of tennis shoes over a power line near the high school.
Actual conversation, complete with atrocious spelling and incoherent grammar:
ME: Are you talking about that same pair of shoes that’s been hanging from the power line at 11th and __________ since the Carter administration?
GUY: no this are newer.
ME: Ah, well. Nothing lasts forever. I suppose even the most durable items wear out and have to be upgraded now and then.
GUY: and they are not on 11th street are even close to it. they are in be twine 10th and 9th.
Oh. Between 10th and 9th. Well, that’s different. If they were at 11th, they would simply be a continuation of something that’s been going on since 1979. But a block and a half east? Oh noes! Lock up your women and children, because what we have here is clearly no ordinary bully decorating the power lines with shoes he stole from the dork he beat up in gym class. We are obviously dealing with a well-organized band of professional criminals WHO HAVE COME TO KILL US ALL!!!!1!!!!!ONE!!!!!!!!!
Ah, but fear not, good citizens: Our oh-so-articulate friend has proposed a solution to the problem: “i thank we need to put up the old sighs that said don’t let the sun set hit you in the ass as you live.” (sic)
I can’t decide which is more embarrassing: The fact that signs like that actually existed at one time, or the fact that in 2011, there are still people in my hometown who approve of them.
Normally, you’d look at something like this and think, “OK … somebody has way too much free time.”
In reality, I have absolutely no free time. This is what I was doing while I was supposed to be doing my calculus homework. I will almost certainly regret that decision tomorrow morning, when I am crawling out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn to try to finish all my assignments before we leave for Tucumcari … but for now, let’s just enjoy the moment and contemplate what sort of mind would produce something like this. 🙂
I guess we know where my priorities are. I forgot that today was Pi Day until I saw something about it on Facebook. I celebrated by signing up for the intermediate math certification exam and dashing out for pie at the Waffle House.
I did not, however, forget that tomorrow is the Ides of March.
Thanks to a winter storm, Ron and I had today off. Thanks to the same winter storm, we couldn’t leave the house, as my car (which was blocking our other vehicles in) was so thoroughly glazed with ice that I couldn’t open the door. The scraper was inside the car, so I couldn’t chisel it out, either.
Not to worry — I found plenty of ways to amuse myself.
Here is some of my handiwork:
The bedroom desperately needed to be decluttered, as you can see from the “before” pictures, but I just hadn’t been able to find the time to do it. Being trapped in the house all day, I had plenty of time on my hands for such pursuits. It sort of looks like a boutique with all that stuff hanging on the walls, but at least I can see what I have now, and I won’t have to go searching all over the house every time I need a scrunchie or a hairclip.
While the bedroom cleanup was probably the most useful and satisfying part of my day, it wasn’t the most entertaining. That honor goes to my KISS Army Gnomes:
I painted the Paul Stanley one last summer, but then I got so busy with school projects that I didn’t have time to finish the others.
In addition to decluttering the bedroom and painting lawn gnomes, I made lunch (omelets) and dinner (broccoli casserole with part of a leftover veggie tray from Braum’s on the side); cleaned the kitchen; cleaned the bathroom; and started a project that involves taking a picture of the backyard every hour, on the hour, for 24 hours. (I will be finished with this project at 9 a.m. and will post the results sometime thereafter.)
I have one more gnome left to paint. I’m thinking he might end up being Jerry Garcia’s doppelganger….