AAARRRRGGGHHH!!

Oh, little blog, I SO BADLY want to tell you things. Very funny, ridiculous things! All about the mess I find myself in - a mess that would make for phenomenal television...possibly a whole season of it!!!

But alas...I can't. Because unfortunately you are on the Internet, and thereby accessible by all the wrong people.

A moment of stupidity

So, have you ever read those articles or seen those news reports where there was a tragic fire that started accidentally? And did you ever think "What kind of idiot goes to sleep with candles burning?" or "How in the world do you forget that you are cooking something?"

I myself will never again ask those questions when I hear reports of fires. Because I now completely understand that I am equally as capable of such moments of stupidity. Like yesterday, when I decided to cook a quesadilla and turned the stove on to heat the pan...and then answered my phone. And then walked away from the kitchen. And then headed downstairs to look something up online while on the phone.

And then headed upstairs only to find my house full of smoke.

Oh, I feel like a big stupid idiot.

But at least I was lucky...no damage, no harm done.
Except to my ego.

Choice Phrase

I have problems with my everyday speech. i'm becoming that girl with a catch phrase. Oh...that girl irritates the heck out of me. Like Paris Hilton and "That's hot." I hate girls with catch phrases.

And now I'm one of them. And my catch phrase is really lame, to boot.

"Stellar."

As in, "That was NOT so stellar."
or, "Thats pretty stellar."
or, "Not a stellar moment."

I would have to say that I use the word 'stellar' in some form at least several times daily.

Its a problem. I need to quit. I'll take any suggestions for its replacement.

More fantastic Men Moments

Wow...my Saturday turned out to be a stellar night when it comes to the world of men. And I mean that with a great deal of sarcasm.

So, it started off good - I was enjoying good company out at a local house of brew, watching some good college football (specifically, watching OSU get hammered - which is very much to my liking), and having a drink or 2. It was a laid back, casual place where my friend and I could get out of the rain, be unbothered and just have a laid back evening without too much excitement besides watching the game.

It got even better for awhile, as I apparently impressed a couple of studly tennis pros with my breadth of knowledge on the topics of football and beer. Apparently men enjoy these two topics. So, they turn out to be very nice, respectable young men, and my friend and I enjoy their conversation and the conversations of a few others there that night. It turns out to be a nice, casual, fun evening.

And then it gets weird. As it always does when men are around, because someone always manages to make a fool of themselves on behalf of their gender.

One of the men sitting down the bar from us staggers over. Puts his hands on my back (and the back of my friend) and manages to semi-coherently deliver this line:

"You have beautiful teeth."
Followed by some continued ramblings about the specifics of my beautiful teeth.

Really? And what exactly am I supposed to do with that? I mean - how would YOU respond?

And then it got better for the guys. And this time it was the bartender's fault. Because he decided to walk over and tell me:

"We're having a wet t-shirt contest and you are up first."

Ummm....check please!
So much for my nice, laid back evening!

Quote of the Day

So, three and four year-olds provide endless entertainment as soon as they open their mouths. And when you factor in a delay in language development...even more entertaining.

Today, like everyday, was full of great moments. But this one had to be the highlight. And don't ask me to explain it. I'm as confused as you.

Student: "And when I go potty or poopy I can have a bubble. Yup."

And no...we weren't talking about using the bathroom. Or bubbles. All I did was ask what the weather was today. Silly me for trying to do calendar time.

Yummy...

So, I have food issues. No, not any food allergies, or digestive troubles or anything like that. I just have weird issues with food that you might call being picky. Very picky.

You wouldn't know it upon first meeting me. In fact, I can successfully avoid revealing my weird food issues for a long time. Even when I go out to eat with people. See...there are plenty of food that I like. In fact, I LOVE food. A lot. I love food so much that over the past few years I've had to work out pretty hard to burn off all of that food that i love so much.

But anyways...back to my weird picky-ness. Here is a sampling of my issues with food:

I don't like meat and cheese together. Only exceptions: pizza (although i prefer just plain cheese...or cheese and pineapple...no ham) and tacos or quesadillas or similar 'Mexican' fare. Sure, I'll sprinkle a little cheese on a salad along with some chicken, but in general, meat and cheese together makes me gag. Literally. When I was little, my mom found that out the hard way when she made me eat a ham and cheese-melt. I promptly threw it all up right there on the table. I never had cheese on sandwiches for school. I would either have lunch meat on bread (no mayo or anything else) or a cheese bun. Yup, just slices of cheese on a bun. I'm weird like that. I guess its a texture thing. In fact, I'm pretty sure the first time I actually had a cheeseburger was after I was out of college. Unless you count the fast food cheeseburgers I got as a kid and made my mom scrape off all of the cheese and other toppings.

So another texture issue: Apple Pie. I LOVE pie crusts. I like apples. I like warm apple sauce, I like baked apples. But I hate apple pie. My whole family thinks I'm weird. In fact, apple pie is pretty much an all-around family favorite. But me - i hate it. When my mom made apple pie or apple crisp, I'd take my piece a la mode...minus the pie. Yup, just plain vanilla ice cream for me!

Ready for another weird one? I like Wendy's hamburgers the best out of any fastfood burger. Why? Because they are square. Yup. That really is the reason. For some reason, I think a square hamburger tastes better.

I could go on for ages with my odd food preferences. But by now, you may be wondering why in the world this even came up. Well, my friends, this weekend I had a food breakthrough. At the age of 26, I finally tasted a pickle for the first time in my life. Yes, you read that right.

And yes, people seem to find that very amusing. And odd.

But its true. In the first 26 years of my life, I had never had a pickle. In fact, I had myself convinced that I would HATE pickles. So much so that as a kid, when i got a hamburger Happy Meal, I made my mom take off the pickles. I wouldn't even do it myself because I didn't want to touch them.

So, what was the verdict on pickles? Umm...they're kinda good. I think I've been missing out all these years.


I guess maybe one of these days I'll have to give apple pie another shot...

The One where...oh, who came UP with this stupid idea ANYWAYS!?

I'm BACK, baby!

That's right!! After what I shall call my 'summer vacation' (I am a teacher, after all) I am making my triumphal return. Sound the trumpets...drum roll please...!!!

And...I am starting with some changes. Somewhere along the way I decided that I would title every post beginning with the phrase "The one where..." It was kind of my tribute to the sitcom "Friends," which as you can read here, sort of prompted this blog. But NO MORE. I am spent. I'm done trying to come up with clever ways to title my posts. Sorry if this disappoints you.

But too bad. Just call me a jerk.

So, just what story is worthy of my grand re-entrance into the blogging world? Is it the cup-full of crayon mush that I had to dig out of my students mouth today? Or the hairdryer that exploded for no apparent reason? No...these are good, but not quite worthy.

How about my love life? Oh...that is CERTAINLY worthy of a post as a reality sitcom if ever I heard of one. There are dates that I didn't realize were dates, secret crushes on friends of guys who take me on dates (that I don't realize are dates), ridiculous scenarios in which I invite 2 guys that I am going on dates with to the same social gathering (awkward...to say the least), random tattooed man at a bar licking my ear (its a long, rather disgusting story), and quiet evenings wondering how it is that with all of the men-drama that has gone on over the last year, here I am on the computer with 2 irritating cats for company. Oh, my love life certainly has all the fixings for a long blog post...but not today my friends. Quite frankly, there is enough material there for an entire season of television. But those stories shall have to wait for another time.

No, the story for today is much shorter. Much sweeter. And quite frankly, folks...its dowright sentimental. Its time you find out - I may be a sarcastic smart-ass most of the time, but I sure can be a big 'ol softy too. So here it is, without further ado...a glimpse into what completely melts my heart:

School started yesterday. And at 1:15 pm, when my afternoon class (which is mostly made up of returning students from last year) arrived on their busses, I quickly found myself on my back in the grass in front of school. Because they mauled me. With hugs. And a kiss or two. And lots of screaming and talking over one another to tell me everything that happened over the summer. And lots of love.

Melts my heart.

Dangit. I'm such a big softy.

Oh, well. Welcome back anyways.

The One Where Amy Gets Engaged

My apologies! I have been absent for SO long!

But - I have fantastic news! I have been proposed to! And, oddly enough, more than once in one day.

Now...if only these individuals who told me that they wanted to marry me were not 3 years old, we'd be getting somewhere :)

The one with clean teeth

So, I haven't chosen a local dentist yet, after 3 years. I keep going to the one in my old town.

But that soon may change.


Is it wrong to choose a dentist based on him being highly attractive?
(I hope not...)

The one withe more student quotes

Ok, here are the latest and greatest from my students:

1)"Miss Amy...you have feet!" (first time I wore sandals this spring)

2)"I think it smells white." (No idea where this came from)

3)Me: "Its time to sit at the snack table."
student: "But our flowers aren't growing. We don't have flowers!" (still trying to figure this out)

4)student: "...Like...Cat soup."
me: "what?"
student: "You know, like the nickname for ketchup." (ohh...'Catsup'...i get it now...)

5) student 1 - "I have striped socks"
student 2 - "I have white socks"
student 3 - "I have stinky socks."

The One with the Mom

I would just like to dish out some advice.

To be perfectly honest...I often like to dish out advice - though I think I do pretty well most of the time in knowing when to keep my mouth shut. But this time, something needs to be said.

A conversation I had a couple of days ago reminded me of something that happened earlier this year, that needs to be addressed. So here is my advice:

If you are a guy, and you have some interest in a girl, it is not advisable to give her your phone number through your mom. I don't care if she and your mom might work in the same organization. It doesn't matter if that seems like a convenient, no-risk solution on how to pass along a phone number. Don't do it. Especially if you already have access to her email and phone number. Just call her or email her your number. Just don't pass it along through your mom.

And here's why: so you may be exactly her type. You may be a responsible, successful young businessman. You may have just a hint of your edgy-ness at the office, just enough to show that you know how to have some spontaneous fun. Your hair may hint that there's a rock-on side hidden under the professional exterior. And you may have a fantastic sense of humor with a side dish of sarcasm. And there's a good chance that you are VERY easy on the eyes...
But when you pass messages through your mom - I hate to say it - you lose a little appeal. And it doesn't mean you've got no chance. But it certainly doesn't win any points in your favor.

The One with Old Jeans

I am thankful I wore my old jeans to work rather than my new ones.

Although, I must say the child-sized handprint that now adorns the butt of them is a lovely shade of red paint.

Am-I-Dumb.com

Am-I-Dumb.com - Dumb?

So there, sis...thats what you get for teasing me! :-P
Hehehe.

The One with Family

I love my family...most days. So here, in the words of the MTV generation, is a 'shout-out' to my readers who also happen to be family:

Thank you for teasing me about my April 5 post. Thank you for sharing this story with the rest of my family at my niece's birthday party. Thank you for not stopping the conversation when I was clearly ready to be done discussing the topic. Thank you for again reminding me why I generally do not talk about men around my family. You make me feel so loved. :)

And, yes...I know. What else is family for if not to endlessly tease and humiliate you?

Don't worry...you'll get your turns soon.
:)

The One Where Amy Gets Advice from a Three-Year-Old.

Happy Birthday to my niece.

And because it is your birthday (and because you are only 3) I can forgive you for your harsh criticism. I won't take it personally.

So I went to my sister's house today to spend time with my niece because it is her birthday. We had a blast. We played games - most of which she won, we played with Lily, she made me wear a princess crown, she told me everything that was going on in her life, she gave me specific instructions on EXACTLY how to roll the ball to her so she could kick it, and so on.

Later in the afternoon, my sister returned some clothes to me that I had lent her a few months ago. One of the items was an old favorite zip-up hoodie of mine, so I decided to put it on.

The second - I mean the VERY SECOND - that I zip it up, my niece starts walking around with her bottom lip hanging out practically to her knees. (She's quite good at a pouty face). So my sister askes her whats wrong. Her response:

"Amy changed and that other shirt was her cutest."

Yes, I am now taking fashion advice from a three-year-old. Ouch.

So, naturally, I had to change back. And now I need a What Not To Wear Marathon so that I can regain my apparently lost fashion sense.

The One When Amy Meets Someone

Naturally, it is just my luck.

In past posts, there have been documented various incidents of unwanted male attention. Whether it be ridiculous pick-up lines or crazy-intense relationship behavior after one dinner, most of the romantic humor in recent months has focused primarily on the excessive interest from others when there is a lack of interest on my part.

But as it seemed the tides had turned, I have naturally fallen upon my face and mucked it all up. And its all because of my phone. Or more specifically, my failure to know how to use my phone.

So, I was recently out and about with 2 friends when a young man approached and asked to join us. Despite making him feel most unwelcome by the 'What are you, some kind of weirdo?' look on my face, he joined our table. It soon became clear (even to the completely oblivious me) that he had come over and joined us due to some level of interest in me. And while in a bar or other night spot this might be normal, the restaurant we happended to be in was not a place where I would typically imagine this type of scenario. This, in my mind, confirmed the fact that he was indeed, some kind of weirdo.

Despite feeling for the first ten minutes as if I was grasping at straws to avoid the inevitable awkward pause in conversation - all the while in the back of my mind wondering 'what in the world is going on here?' - I soon began to realize I was enjoying this newcomer's company. Could it be that a non-clingy, respectable, employed, polite, charming (and might I add, in the words of my dear friend, 'steamy hot') young man had actually found his way over to sit beside me? It appeared to be true.

And so, on the off chance that this man was not going to use a ridiculous pick-up line or start emailing me every five minutes like some others I have known, arrangements were made for another evening out. And might I say, the second evening out was even more delightful than the first - in part, I'm sure, because there were no stifled giggles and knowing looks from friends on this second outing.

But before you begin to think that this may be the end to hilarity and the beginning of a sappy blog, pathetically documenting a cheesy romance, I assure you that I have completely screwed up all hope for that.

I admit to being slightly over-protective of myself. So I am of the variety that does not initially give out my phone number. However, I will gladly accept the phone numbers of others, most of which will be deleted immediately after walking away. But in this case, I fully intended to use this number I was given to make more fun plans in the coming days.

Oh, if only I knew how to use my phone.

A word of advice to you: If you by chance meet someone whom you would like to stay in contact with, and you get a phone number from them and add it to your contact list in your cell phone...BE SURE YOU PRESS 'SAVE' BEFORE YOU PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY.

I would now like to apologize to the very nice young man who is now thinking that I am a cold-hearted bitch who said she would call but never did. I really would have, but I am an idiot, and I lost your phone number. Really.

The One Where Amy wants Silliness to Return

Sadly, the silliness has been away for a long time now. No time for silliness lately. But if I don't get a break soon, I assure you...I might just go a little extra silly!

The One with the Stalker

I think my cat is stalking me.

It is starting to freak me out a little.

I have this one cat - Castor - who is very sweet and very affectionate. He's not at all standoffish like many cats are. But lately, I have been noticing some things that freak me out.

For example...he follows me around the house. That's no big deal - except for the fact that he seems to be skulking around, hiding around corners and watching from behind furniture. But I could write that off as just his cat instincts.

But what puts it over the edge into the freaky-zone is that he'll shut himself in a room with me.

Yes. I mean that literally.

For example, tonight, I headed downstairs to check my email. A few seconds after I sit down, he comes slinking downstairs as well. And then, he paws at the door to the basement until it shuts. And then he gives it one last nudge to make it latch.

And now he is sitting on the desk staring at me.

And its freaking me out.

The One with the Bruised Ego

I got a haircut today. So naturally, I was doing a lot of playing around with my hair, since that's what you do after getting a haircut. I was casually brushing my newly-trimmed sideswept bangs out of my eyes when I suddenly found myself in a little pain. I felt over my forehead and noticed there was a little bump. And it hurt.

Where did that come from?

Oh.
Yeah.

It was probably from when I walked into a door earlier this morning.

The One with a Furball

I wish my cat didn't think my computer keyboard was a good place to lay while I am on the computer. And while I am on the subject, I also wish that he wouldn't lick the monitor whenever I move the mouse.

I guess that is just proof of the intellectual superiority of humans...you don't see me licking my computer, do you?

The one with Environmental Responsibility

I love the new reusable bags that they have at Meijer.

I love them for their environmental friendliness.

But even more, I love them for the way they've changed my shopping experience.

Prior to the dawn of the reusable bag, my shopping experience went something like this: I would grab a cart, wander around aimlessly for a little while until I remembered what I had planned on getting (since I almost never make a list, and when I do I inevitably leave it in the car) and then I would start my shopping. I would head here and there, gathering what I needed, until my collection of groceries seemed complete. And then - on to the checkout!

Now, whenever I go to checkout, there seem to be about 4 lanes open in the entire store and so I would head to the self-checkout with the assumption it would be much quicker and more efficient. And every time, I was proven wrong.

I would grab my first item - perhaps a package of strawberries - and slide it, oh, 3 or 4 times over the scanner until it finally scanned. And then it was time to bag it. That's when the real trouble would begin.

The little plastic bags in the self-checkout are never open. And if you've EVER gone through the self-checkout, you know that those little, innocent looking plastic bags are impossible to open. So there I would stand: Strawberries in one hand, frantically trying to get the bag open with the other hand, the checkout machine droning "Please place the item in the bagging area. Please place the item in the bagging area. Please place the item in the bagging area" every 3 seconds, and inevitably someone behind me tapping their toes, rolling their eyes and sighing impatiently as if they were the master of the plastic grocery bag and found my struggles completely imbecile.

But now, my beautiful little blue reusable bags have rescued me. The showdown is over: the little white plastic bags may have gotten the best of me in the past, but now I stroll confidently into the self-checkout knowing that they can humiliate me no more.

Thank you, my environmentally friendly shopping bag. I am sincerely grateful.

The One with the Shovel

"Shovel, I am so sorry I broke you. I had no idea that you were such a soft and sensitive soul. I didn't realize you would bend and break in nature's icy blast. I thought you were tougher than that. I really did.

And I'm also sorry for the things that I said to you - rather, yelled at you - when you succumbed to the pressure of the ice and slush. But really, what did you expect after you left me there, on my ass in the slush holding only your handle?

Please accept my apology.
Yours forever (or until Friday garbage day),
Amy"

The One at School, again.

A discussion with my students after reading a book about winter went as follows, so please enjoy:

Me: So what is winter like? What does it feel like?
"Cold"
"Windy"
"Bite-y"

Me: What does winter look like?
"White"

Me: What is that white stuff called?
"Snow."

(pause)

"Sometimes the white stuff is Ranch. And the red can be ketchup."

Me: Laughing much to hard to say anything more. Besides...what do you say after that!?

The One Where Amy is Taken Down a Notch

Its true. Pride is a deadly sin.

My thumb would swear to that.

I was very proud of my achievement today - I installed a new light fixture entirely on my own. Yes, I handled screw drivers, wrenches, screws, nuts (of the tool variety) and - most impressively - electrical wires. On my own. Without injury. Or electical shock. Or house fire.

I was so pleased with my work that I called one of my family members to brag about my accomplishment. And during that conversation, I was punished for my pride.

Just so you know: light bulbs are hot when they are on. They can burn you. Especially if you touch them. Like when I touched one with my thumb.

And...back to humble land.

The One With a Winter Storm

Ok, I admit that I have only myself to blame. Afterall, they cancelled Parent-Teacher Conferences because the weather and roads were so bad. I think they intended that we all go home and stay off the roads. That would have been the smart thing to do.

I, however, thought - "What better time to go to Target?"

Well, to answer my own question, I would suggest that a better time to go to Target is on a day in which it doesn't take 45 minutes to drive there when it's normally only 15 minutes. Or maybe on a day on which you can actually tell where the off ramp that you think you are driving on is. Or perhaps on a day during which you don't get your car stuck in the Target parking lot because there are huge snowdrifts everywhere. Or maybe on a day when you can get your car up your nearly flat driveway the first time, rather than on the sixth or seventh attempt.

But, despite the fact that I spent nearly as much time outside of my car getting it unstuck as inside of my car driving it, I consider the trip completely essential: If I'm going to be snowed in, now at least I have nice new picture frames to look at.

Now if only my pictures would be delivered...

The One With the Inbox

Ok, so remember this guy?

I checked my email today, expecting one from a friend of mine, and probably some junk mail and advertisements. Instead - to my complete horror - when I open my inbox, I find the only new email staring back at me is from him. Its been more than a month since I thought I made it clear I had no interest. Zip. Zilch. None. Nada. Zero.

But apparently I underestimate his persistence. And his apparent inability to read even the most obvious signals...such as the words "I don't think this is going anywhere." I'm not sure how to make things clearer.

So, I guess you should plan on updating your address book with my new email address soon...

The One With Sis

Hey sis- I know you read too, so I hope you don't mind. And if you do mind, too bad. Thats life. And sisterhood.

My sister has a blog too. And the other day, I checked out what was new for her and ran across something that can only be described as worthy of a 'sitcom' moment. And so, what better tribute than to include it here, as a guest spot on my own sitcom called life.

Regarding what you are about to read, I can only say better her than me. It takes a stronger soul (and stomach) than I have to handle this. So sis, many props to you for dealing with things like this on a daily basis, and still managing to have and love the cutest kids on the planet. Here's to you!

Without further ado, here is what she wrote:

"I was playing with [my son] tonight, trying to keep him happy. One of his favorite games is to fly over my head while I’m laying on the floor. So I was playing that with him.

And he spit up.

All over my face and neck. And in my hair.

Oh, and in my mouth.

Gross."

Yup, sis...you said it.
Gross.

The One Where Amy Eats Her Veggies

Today I had class. I love having weekend classes because it means only 3 weekends of sessions as opposed to having to attend class every week. However, having to sit in a graduate class all day Saturday can get a little, well, torturous.

Want proof?

Well, today, I was so bored that I was nearly asleep in the back of the room. However, I was awake enough to catch the words "water buffalo" come from my professor's mouth. And what did my tortured mind do?

"Everybody has a water buffalo. Mine is fast and yours is slow..."

And if you have no idea to what i am referring...you have been deeply deprived.

Gotta love the Veggietales for saving a bored soul.

The One With Amy-Clones

Many people have said that teachers have a major influence on America's youth.

And if you know me...that could be a scary thing.

I like to think that at least 97% of the influence I have on my students is positive, but this week i got a glimpse of the other 3%.

If you know me AT ALL, you probably are aware that I have some - well - obsessive/compulsive tendencies. Perhaps they are even more than just tendencies. I guess I just really like things to be in their place. I like pictures to be straight. I like furniture to be at right angles. I like the little chairs in my classroom to be evenly spaced. I even prefer that my clutter be - at the very least - in a nice, straight pile. And I like things to be just so.

This is not normally an issue. When the students are there, I can live with the fact that chairs get moved and aren't always straight. I can handle that the pile of paperwork is messy for a day until I get a chance to straighten it out. I don't mind that the sofa gets moved a little during the day and is no longer perpendicular to the wall. (It just means that I'll straighten that out too when the school day is over).

But this week, when I noticed my class organizing the stacks of chairs by color, I started to get concerned. And then when another student noticed that a different set of lights was on than usual and told me it was "all wrong," I got a little more concerned. And it was a little disconcerting to have a student straightening out all the cards in our game after every turn. But what really put it over the edge was when one of my students spent an extra couple of minutes during clean-up time spacing out the chairs at the snack table.

Apparently, amidst the color games, counting activities, speech development and everything else I think I am teaching, I have found time to create tiny OCD clones of myself.

I kinda like it.

The One When Amy Bakes

It all started so well. But it all ended so very, very bad.

I stopped by Meijer today and picked up a chocolate cake mix and some frosting. I was going to bake a chocolate cake for my classes at school. We are learning about the 'ch' sound this week, so for our "Special Snack" on Friday, I thought CHocolate cake would be great.

Now, despite the fact that I don't do it often, i am good enough at baking to manage creating a good chocolate cake from a box. Now my cake may not have been Martha Stewart-worthy, but it turned out well and it was bound to be delicious.

Since just looking at cake seems to cause some calorie absorption (not to mention licking off the beaters after mixing) I figured I would work out tonight. i headed downstairs and put in a good 6 miles.

But those 6 miles didn't do nearly as much for my heart rate as what i found when I came upstairs.

Apparently, i sometimes forget that I have cats. But they always manage to find ways of reminding me of their presence. This time, they decided to make their existence known by leaving little chocolaty paw prints all over my kitchen counter and floor.

Gee, thanks kitties. i love you too.

So, I guess you know what I'll be doing tomorrow - Baking a cake: Take 2.

The One With Wildlife

I am a champion mouse catcher.

Today, for the second time in my life, I came face to face with the ferocious rodent and prevailed.

Its a good thing too. The mouse was residing in the home of a 97 year old woman...and lets just say she and her walker don't move very fast.

But don't tell the mouse that I was later bested by another four-legged creature: a deer.

Yes, while stopped at a rural stop sign this evening, I had a frightening - albeit brief - encounter with a poorly coordinated deer. No...I did not hit the deer. The deer hit me. In my car. Which wasn't moving.

The sad thing is, the first thing that came to my mind when it happened was, "This happened to Rory once on 'Gilmore Girls!'" Wow. Life really does imitate TV.

The One With Injuries

The Surgeon General does NOT recommend working out on an elliptical machine immediately after waking up from impromptu naps.

Doing so may result in bruising due to grogginess and impaired balance.

The One With Reruns

If I were serious about my life being a TV show, then I would have to call the last few days reruns. And I hate reruns.

It almost feels like the movie "Groundhog Day." Everyday is almost exactly the same. Talk about a routine...I think I've take routine to a whole new level this week. And I'm not the kind of person who normally likes routines - I like a little variation in my days, i like to be spontaneous. But this week has been FAR from spontaneous.
So here's how my days have gone:

1. Alarm goes off...hit snooze at least 4 times until i absolutely HAVE TO get up.
2. Eat cereal...always the same kind.
3. Stay in the hot shower far too long and rush to get ready and get to work on time.
4. Work - very routine by definition as a preschool teacher.
5. Go home and put my pajamas back on.
6. Put some laundry in/load dishwasher or some other household chore.
7. Fall asleep on couch.
8. Wake up and debate for an hour about whether or not to work out.
9. Work out.
10. Feed the cats.
11. Go to bed.

Wow.

It looks even more pathetic when written down.

It seems I've gone from a comedy to the most dull reality show EVER.

The One When Amy Counts her Munchkins Before they Hatched

First day back from Christmas vacation.
As a teacher, I was totally prepared for a little chaos. Afterall, the kids have been home for 16 days. Playing with all their new presents. And eating Christmas cookies.

My morning class is my tougher group. They are younger, and developmentally much further behind than my afternoon group. I know if I can get through the morning, it'll be like cruise-control in the afternoon.

And I was pleasantly surprised. The morning class went right back into the routine of things. We went to circle time and - without me even saying anything - several kiddos raised their hands knowing they wanted a turn to pick a song. Oh, they've learned how things run so well! We had motor group, and oral motor group (in which we got to eat whipped cream - YUM), and snack, etc. It was like they had never been away. I was on a teacher high. I get the last one on the bus, and think "if the morning went that smoothly...the afternoon will be a piece of cake."

Talk about jinxing things.

In my afternoon class - my precious, independent, bright, lovable boys - things take a turn for the worse. In a class of all potty-trained preschoolers, i manage to have 2 pee in their pants. And that's not even the worst of it.

Somehow, a third student manages to not only crap his pants...but he apparently had his shirt tucked INTO his underwear when he did it, so he managed to crap his shirt too.

I know, I know. Someday, when I've had kids of my own, things like this will not phase me in the least.

But for now, I am perfectly content letting shit-smeared shirts continue to make me gag. Thank goodness for kind-hearted assistants.

The One When Amy is All Wet

I know things like this don't just happen to me.
But it sure seems that way.

Today I decided to have a nice lazy Sunday. Tomorrow I have to go back to work, I've been feeling a little under the weather the last few days - time to take one last day of laziness before the busy-ness sets back in.
So, I turned off my alarm and slept late, spent the whole morning in my pajamas and read a little Narnia and watched some Food Network curled up under a blanket on the couch. in my mind...the perfect way to spend a rainy morning.

Well, round-about one or two in the afternoon, I decide that I should really take down the Christmas decorations in my classroom so i don't have to go in early tomorrow to do it. So I hop in the shower.
Since its a lazy day for me, I decide to make it a nice long, hot shower - I'm in no rush. I get some shampoo in my hair.

And then it all goes dark.

Oh, shit. The power has gone out.

Did I see this as a possibility before hopping in the shower? Not really. Afterall, there was no storm going through. Its not all that windy. And despite living in a new construction area, its Sunday, so there is no crew out working that could have dug a power line. Why would I predict the power would go out.

What makes it worse is that, like many people, I have no window in my bathroom. So it is really pitch black. There I am, trying to find the conditioner bottle by feel, hoping and praying that my hot water will last, and silently swearing at whoever might be to blame for this. there was NO way I was going in to school now.

Wet, frizzy hair. Wrapped in a blanket, trying to read by the tiny bit of daylight on this dreary day. Bowl of cereal in hand, since there was virtually no food in the cupboard that didn't require some form of electricity in order to be made edible.

Not how I pictured my lazy Sunday.

The One When Amy Does Some Self-Evaluation

I like to pretend that my life is ridiculous because of the people around me: afterall...its pretty easy to blame family when you have a brother who gets in cupcake wars with you and a nearly 60 yr.old father who just bought himself a playstation 3 (yup...you read right). Not to mention the other strange birds I'm related to.

And besides that, i'm surrounded by students and nieces/nephews that are at a crazy age full of ridiculous behavior.

And my friends are pretty ridiculous.

And the men I've met can be ridiculous.

And i could blame so many groups and organizations for my comedic experiences.


Or, I could suck it up and admit that 90% of the blame for the crazy situations I find myself in belongs to me.


Frankly, I'm weird.
I know it. My family knows it. My friends know it.

And in case for some reason you doubt this, here is the evidence:

-I like Wendy's hamburgers the best...purely because they are square.

-I fantasize about traveling the world with Anthony Bourdain.

-I like cheese. i like meat. Nine times out of ten, putting them together will make me want to gag. I was 22 when I first dared to try a bacon-cheeseburger.

-I frequently laugh out loud when reading, much to the irritation of those around me.

-I think the ketchup that comes in little packets from fast-food restaurants taste better, so I collect them and take them home.

-I don't like apple pie...but I will order it just to eat the crust.

-I have an odd crush on Cesar Millan...and I'm not sure why. (Yes...he's the Dog Whisperer).

-My favorite snack is dry bran flakes. Seriously.

Oh...this is SO just the tip of the iceberg...

The One with Style

Yes, that was me.

It was me that you saw at Meijer at 11pm tonight, buying - of all thing - catfood and contact solution.

With my hair in a haphazard ponytail.
Wearing oversize pajama pants that have Christmas lights on them.

...and a sweatshirt that didn't match.
...and pink/white running shoes.
...and no make-up.
...and, um...maybe no bra :-O
...and old glasses...that my cats have used as a chewing toy in the past.


This would make great "What Not to Wear" secret footage.