You're Welcome

So, my mom is frantically and rapidly treating everyone on Facebook to ancient photos.

No, seriously, she has pictures up online from when SHE was a baby, and lord knows that was a LOOOOOOOOONG time ago. (Just kidding, Mom.)

Mercifully, she has not tagged me in some of the most offensive ones, and so, in the spirit of internet humiliation, I have decided to post them here.

I'm taking some inspiration from Una at Sassy, who has such a phenomenal sense of humor about her past physical incarnations. I'd post straight to her most embarrassing photo ever, but it just doesn't seem right. Check out her blog though.

So. Let's begin at the beginning.


Everyone together now, "Awwwwwwwww!"

This is a very famous photo of me, taken on my 2nd birthday, as the crowd was singing. I obviously loved the attention.

A year later, we come to this photo.


The beginning of an illustrious and decades-long academic career

Fast forward a bit...to a less fortunate photo.


Click to enlarge and let's count the photographic offenses, shall we?

1. The crooked bangs, thanks to a mother's loving hand.
2. The garish pink bow that matches
3. The garish and floofy and SPARKLY pink dress. Oh yes, I wore that. Proudly.
4. The neon green friendship bracelet. (OK, in my defense, it was 1989, so this was a fashion staple.)
5. The plastic pearls.
6. That mouth.

I actually remember insisting on dressing this way that day, for my first grade school photo. I also vaguely remember getting seriously strange looks. I bet they were just jealous of my fierce outfit.

I hope you understand, dear readers, how significant it is that I'm sharing this embarrassing photo with you. Remember, I am a single girl. This could be used against me one day when my potential future husband is all, "Ooh, I should check out Annie's blog. She seems like a cool girl...Wait, what?! That was her at 6? Maybe I should stop considering having kids with her; they'll have such mortifying awkward phases. With the stringy hair and crooked teeth...On second thought, she does have a nice rack..."

...and SCENE.

Let's end on a high note, shall we?


I love this photo, but I'm also slightly confused by my bedroom eyes. I was, like, 10.

Another old family favorite, thanks to my photographer uncle, who snapped this at a large family gathering in upstate New York one summer. And, for the record, I am dressed completely in my cousin's clothes. I'd also like to point out the presence of yet another friendship bracelet. Oh, the 90s.

If you're lucky, I'll chronicle the awkward pre-teen to teen years, otherwise known as The Fat Years someday soon, but I figured this was enough self-inflicted humiliation for one night.

It Is Hibernation Weather Up in this Mother

I think the weather is getting to people. It's certainly getting to me.

For those who are not in the Northeast, you should kiss the dry, probably warm ground under your feet and send some sunshiney vibes this way.

We've been suffering through the wettest March in history or some shit. Three days straight of rain less than 2 weeks ago. Followed by three straight days of rain due to end tomorrow.

It's the kind of weather that makes it really hard to leave your bed, let alone travel to a train station, walk to a high school and teach three classes.

The kids are crazy. I'm crazy. My landlord pumping inches of water out of our basement is crazy.

Everyone is crazy.

Including the woman I passed on the corner, walking home from the train station just now, who was visibly upset and squawking into her cellphone something about how she paid to get on a train.

I caught her eye as I passed, and she paused to yell at me, totally unassuming with my earphones in.

"What are you looking at?!"

Yeah.

Sunshine needs to arrive soon before people really turn on each other.

Word of the Day, XVIII

Word of the Day: LOSS

I’ve never been very good at losing. Or doing things poorly. Or even doing things less well than anyone else.

This is why I do not know how to ride a bike. This is also why I don’t really cook. Or drive. Or play sports. Or games I cannot win.

When I was in 5th grade, there was a school-wide spelling bee. Maybe there was one every year—that I don’t remember, but I do remember lining up against the classroom walls and waiting until it was my turn to spell a word.

I don’t even remember winning within my class, although, I slightly remember that nobody there put up a very good fight.

And, suddenly, I was up in front of the whole school. Asking for the words to be used in a sentence, even though I had never used them in sentences myself, so how would that have helped?

Words like “navigable,” which I had never heard before but will never forget how to spell because the correct spelling spontaneously came to me on that stage.

“Navigable. N.A.V.I.G.A.B.L.E. Navigable.”

And, then, it was down to just two of us. Me and a 6th grade boy, Andrew Schwartz. His sister, Vanessa, was in my class. They were redheaded. And snobby. I think I hated Andrew even before this fateful day. He probably knew I was just as smart as he was and despised me for it.

We spelled word after word in rapid succession.

You could cut the tension in the auditorium with a knife.

“Nourishment,” one of the teachers boomed at me.

I started, “Nourishment. N.U.—“

I heard a gasp of relief behind me and a sigh from the crowd and realized something had gone terribly wrong.

My stressed, overeager (and probably overconfident) mind had switched the words “nourishment” and “nutrient” in my brain.

I’d lost.

In front of my whole school.

At 10 years old.

To a boy.

Andrew swept in front of me, spelled the word correctly, and the competition was over.

I remember stumbling off the stage into the arms of my favorite teacher, Ms. Tonick, and bursting into tears. She tsktsked me for being so upset and hard on myself.

The certificate I won for getting that far hung on my wall all through middle school, even though I secretly thought second place was just another term for first loser.

I still think that. Mostly.

My future kids better grow up to be winners. Or they’ll be totally screwed with me as a mother.

Overheard in the Classroom (or Kids These Days), vol. VIII

"You're much funnier than my other teachers."--one of my special ed kids, giving me news that made my day. (And, yes, I'm taking it as a compliment.)

"Wait! I have a sorution."--no, that is not a typo. One of my 8th graders (I believe he's Vietnamese) does the fool-proof joke of totally offensively pronouncing l's as r's. It's honestly one of my favorite gimmicks in real life, so I laugh every time. Inappropriately.

I had my 8th graders come up with production team names. They decided they were going to be called "Oreos on the CEILING" and "I Don't Respect Your Wontons Covered in White Chocolate." I decided not to ask for their reasoning.

"Geez, I'm getting old."--one of my special ed kids, after laboriously pulling herself off the floor. I laughed forever.

"I'm black again."--my favorite student, reentering the room and stating the obvious, with a twist.

"You know, you can turn around and be like 'Bitch!'"--this was me, slipping up in my intro class, as I explained how they could improvise dialogue during their stage combat scenes. Then I turned purple and we all cracked up for like minutes. OOPS!

UPDATE: "I smell like a ball!"--an intro student, after I told her her lotion smelled musky and then, when I looked up the word to define it for her, we realized the origin of it is testicle.

The Minutes Do Add Up

There is one thing of which I am certain.

OK, maybe two.

One is that I'm pretty much always tired these days, but we won't write about that today.

What I'm certain of is that student teaching is FORCING me to take one day at a time.

I wake up, I shuffle into school, I take the hour prep period to wrap my head around the next three hours, and then I plug through.

I have no idea what's going to walk into the room each day; if I'm going to tear my hair out, want to give up, laugh my ass off, want to cry, feel like a failure, make a small connection that will push me to the next day, or one of the other millions of things that can happen in a typical day.

But I do know that I can control my preparation for each class. In 50-minute increments.

And those 50 minutes add up and then the day is over.

And I wake up, shuffle into school, and prepare again.

And in a little over six weeks, I'll be done.

I guess that makes three things of which I'm certain.

Coming Up for Air

Just a short note to let you know that I'm alive but overwhelmed.

S was in town for the weekend, which was amazing and lovely. I cried in public twice, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Now, I'm feeling overwhelmed at the start of yet another week.

But please don't feel abandoned.

Trust that I will post when I can!

Drugs are Bad; Spring Cleaning is Good

I watch a lot of TV on my computer, but Hulu is often unsatisfactory. Either I'm all caught up on my weekly viewing or I don't have the energy or time to start watching and, subsequently, obsessively committing to a new show...

So when Catt was here a couple weeks ago, we happened upon aetv.com, where there are full episodes of both Hoarders and Intervention.

These are two of the craziest, most infuriating, intense shows on TV.

While watching, I experience very satisfying Schadenfreude as well as sadness and sympathy and serious pity for the people and families struggling with either crippling compulsive hoarding (seriously, the most horrible episode I've seen involved an older woman who had over a hundred cats in her house, some of whom had died and whose bodies were rotting, unbeknownst to her) or horrific addiction/self-destructive behavior (again, the most intense episode I've seen involved a cutter and was very graphic and very gratifying...when she got healthy and stayed away from her unsupportive parents).

The families that are depicted are fractured and struggling and hoping to save their mentally ill and/or addicted relatives.

I cry every episode. Or scream at the television. Or thank my lucky stars I only have so much stuff and space to put it in.

It's a pretty--pardon the pun--addictive show.

But mostly, it's helping me be able to identify junkies on the train.

This morning, this guy was in the subway car with me. Suddenly standing up, nearly toppling over, sitting down again, barely keeping his eyes open, falling over in his seat and jerking awake, strangely sipping Gatorade from one bottle and spitting it into another Gatorade bottle.

And, I thought...he's high on heroin.

Thanks, A&E.

Overheard in the Classroom (or Kids These Days), vol. VII

"I'm Beyonce."--a special ed student, while preparing tableaux of his favorite film, aptly titled Obsessed. Indeed.

"Life makes no sense sometimes."--my favorite student, the philosopher and poet, and playboy. I told him I wanted to talk to him about this someday, but that it wasn't relevant to the stage combat unit we're working on.

"Is that God?"--a special ed student's legitimate question, while I introduced them to the origins of Greek theatre, including the god, Dionysus.

"Remember. Anything you need I'll be there for you."--my most affable special ed student who insisted today that she is a good storyteller. Which is true.

This was both a short week and a strange week. I was a little under the weather on Monday, struggled through Tuesday without my mentor teacher, had Wednesday off, had something flicked at me in class yesterday, and got through today pretty unscathed...

Glad it's the weekend and S is here!

I am Totally Team Jacob

I'm a bit of a snob.

Theatre snob (I even spell it theatre now, thanks to Emerson), book snob (Jodi Picoult blows, people--she DOES!), grammar snob ("its" is the possessive of it; "it's" is a contraction of it is--yes, really), food snob (except for that occasional McDonald's meal), pop culture information snob (I only read classy things like People.com and EW.com, no Jezebel or TMZ or Perez Hilton for me!).

I am in no way, shape, or form, a wine snob. Give me your swilliest, sweetest, most grape-juicy tasting red wine. In fact, give me two glasses of it.

And sometimes three.

And I'll take any chocolate you might have on hand too.

I'm usually somewhat of a movie snob. Most of that, I think, is because of my training and outright judgement of acting and writing, etc.

However, I've also always called myself a pretty naive spectator. I can be swept away by even the silliest or schlockiest of movies.

Which brings me to my next point.

The Twilight Saga.

I was working with teenagers when the books came out and felt very old because I had no idea what they were about or why they were such a phenomenon. Then, I read some of one of the books over someone's shoulder on the subway once and was appalled. THE WRITING IS TERRIBLE!

"Bella said, 'You're beautiful.' Edward said, 'No. You're beautiful.'"

Monosyllabic sentences. No descriptive words.

I am not a fan.

Then...the movies came out.

And the world exploded with RPattz obsession and questions like "Will Kristen Stewart ever smile in public?"

It took me about a year, but I decided I had to see what all the fuss was about. This happened partly after talking to a good friend about how it's really about obsession and longing and unattainable love. She made it sound mildly interesting.

So, I watched the first film, which was terrible. Poorly acted. Poorly written. Poorly produced.

THEN, all that stuff about TAYLOR LAUTNER'S BODY started popping up. And I took notice, even though (vom!) he's only 18.

So...I watched the second movie.

And...I might be hooked.

Granted, I watched the 2 hour, 10 minute-long movie in about three hours because I could barely get through it. I needed frequent breaks because it was so boring in parts.

But also,
a) Taylor Lautner's body is pretty amazing, and I kind of loved how every time Bella saw it she couldn't help but do a double-take;
b) I also loved how every time Bella saw Edward, she couldn't keep the smile off her face--this seemed the most genuine of the acting between Kristen Stewart and Pasty Pattinson;
c) the chemistry between Kristen Stewart and Taylor Lautner is exponentially more powerful than her chemistry with Pasty Pattinson;
d) this film was far better produced than the first one.

I totally spoiled the next two movies for myself by reading the book synopses and I still don't plan on actually reading the books...but I might actually plan on seeing the movies.

Judge me, if you must.

An Unforeseen Peril of Online Dating

I've admitted on here that I'm sort of...dabbling in internet dating.

I've been on two moderately successful dates since December, which, honestly, for me,
a) is totally a record and
b) means they were not disasters: the conversation wasn't deathly boring, I didn't have an anxiety attack, and I didn't feel ugly.

I have profiles on a few sites but do not pay for any membership, which limits my picks considerably.

Both dudes I met seemed fine on paper and even emailed well. Their messages made me laugh and were interesting enough for me to write back to them and then meet them. And then, in both cases, there seemed to be a mutual and amicable disinterest, so I haven't heard from either of them since meeting.

Sigh.

I check out the one free site I'm on once in a while, and I get messages from them every now and then, letting me know if someone has messaged me or if I've been rated highly on what they call Quick Match.

Quick Match is sort of anonymous judgey rating of profiles, where they flash profiles in front of you and you give them one to five stars. If the person you rated highly matches your rating, OKCupid sends you a message that you've both rated the other highly and you are left to contact that person if you choose to.

So, I got a message that someone had Quick Matched me and I signed on, reading through the profiles.

The first one I read was highly encouraging: the guy was cute, he obviously read books, he had a job, was going back to school, liked word games, etc.

All systems go!

Then, I read this under the section of the profile where we're supposed to list the six things we couldn't live without:

"There's my wife, of course, but we've talked about it and we both feel we could live without each other."

...

The site even had my preferences listed, as I read through his profile: guys who like girls; 25-31; Boston; at least one photo; SINGLE.

I'm so confused.

Getting Better with Age

I've been meaning to do a monster picture post about the men in celebrity land that just keep getting better with age. There are a whole slew of them, and this is, by no means, an exhaustive list.

Let's begin, in order of importance from least to most.

First, there's Patrick Dempsey. He, of Can't Buy Me Love and Grey's Anatomy fame. I am not, strictly, a McDreamy fan, but you cannot deny that he looks better these days than ever before. Of course, this picture may be proving that he's gotten some work done, but still...


Next, Sting. Again, not someone I'm a huge fan of, but Kama Sutra, or whatever he's famously into is doing wonders...
Exhibit A, Sting, some years ago:


And Exhibit B, Sting today:


OK, now, Johnny Depp has always been a beautiful, beautiful man. Let's just pause to appreciate him for a moment, shall we?
During his 21 Jump Street years:


And today:


And, finally, Iron Man, himself.
In less healthy days:


And, these days:

Staying clean looks good on him, doesn't it?

Admittedly, this is a test of my photo posting skills. Bear with as I continue to learn...

Enjoy the Sunday eye candy! Oh, and if I've happened to forget anyone you think is important to this pantheon, let me know!

UPDATE: Shout-outs must be made to cj, who wants Sean Connery on this list. See him then and now. And S, who says Matt LeBlanc is an up-and-comer. See him here.

P.S. S called this the Silver Fox post. Well put.

P.P.S. One more addition, thanks to Catt. Bruce Wills, then and now.

Overheard in the Classroom (or Kids These Days), vol. VI

"You slay me like a dragon."--a senior to his friend, both of whom are in the play that started rehearsals this week.

"How can you NOT know who Babar is?!"--the only white kid in the play, to the rest of the cast.

"I watch a lot of Fresh Prince and asking for a book is always the first step [to getting a date]."--our resident Playboy.


"Remember, Cancer, cartwheels, and crackers!"--one of my intro students, remarking on what we share: our astrological signs, our ability to do cartwheels and a love of carbohydrates...

"Why are you so black?"--one of my 8th graders, to his classmate, during an improvisation exercise. I assumed he was being totally offensive and then he pointed out that the scenario was that they were in a black hole.

"Don't actually be bad. Just act bad."--me to one of my special ed students. He was playing a "bad boy" in a status exercise. I'm not positive he got my joke.

This exchange happened while my intro students worked on their scenario for their final stage combat scenes, in which a plane crashes on an island and the survivors fight over the last morsels of food:
A: "I'm making it so our plane is flying to Italy."
me: "From where?"
A: "LA."
B: "No, no, LA to Boston!"
A: "There are no islands between LA and Boston!"
B: "Rhode Island! Rhode Island!"

In the special ed class today, we played "What Are You Doing?" in which a student enters the space, miming an activity. Then, another student enters and asks the first student, "What are you doing?" at which point the first student gives the second student another activity to mime. I played with the kids today, to model good examples of all parts of the game, and one of the students gave me the activity of "going pee," so I hammed it up, took my time with it, and another student entered, asked me "What are you doing?" and I made her wait...so she walked away, saying,
"I'll come back later."

conversations with my teacher, vol. VI

As part of the program to get a teaching license, I will be observed in the classroom three times this semester. And it is incredibly lucky that I love and adore my program supervisor, who is one of the most gifted teachers I've ever met, observed, or been the student of.

She visited my special ed class yesterday afternoon, after a VERY intense week of teaching (and it was only Thursday). And by the end of the period, which was a bit like pulling teeth yesterday, as I struggled through trying to explain status to them, my supervisor had learned all the students names and diagnosed them all for me and my mentor teacher. It was astounding. Even my mentor teacher was like, I've learned more about these kids in three minutes with you than the eight years I've been here.

It's never really occurred to me how low-functioning they are. Because I just teach them the lesson, we get through the period, they do their best, and we all go home. It was incredibly eye-opening and moving to have the extent of their challenges pointed out and explained to me. We talked through ways I can amend my speaking style and reinforcement of information to help them understand and engage with the lessons better; she told me the many things I did well, including using touch and humor appropriately and well.

At one point, she mentioned how I'd admitted to them that I never give them enough time to get their behavior tickets in order at the beginning of each class and how I "really need to learn that."

Then she said, "The whole world is smarter than these kids. But you are A LOT smarter than them. You admitting that you still need to learn something is incredibly important to them."

And I almost burst into tears.

It's amazing how much we can learn we're taking for granted when we work with kids like this.

Word of the Day, XVII

Word of the Day: FEAR, or “My Brother, the Superhero”

I think I’ve figured out that I was an insomniac as a kid.

Or maybe it’s not that I just figured it out but that I only recently started saying it out loud, as a reality of my childhood.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget staring at the bright blue radio/clock numbers as time passed, when I couldn’t sleep. I would get so frustrated sometimes I would cry until I’d finally nod off.

There was a full week or two when I barely slept, after watching a made-for-TV movie about the plague coming back, starring the teacher from Head of the Class. I was sure everyone I knew would catch the plague and die. I stayed up late night after night, reading Little Women, but I kept myself from finishing the book because I was sure Beth’s death would haunt me and keep me from sleeping.

And sometimes, when I did finally sleep, I’d have terrible nightmares. About being attacked by oversized bees or intruders or people not being who they seemed.

I remember talking to my older brother about this one day.

He suggested that we make up a superhero power for me, so that, if I started to get scared at night, I’d remember I had this superpower and I’d be able to defeat whatever was frightening me.

Maybe he remembers what we ultimately decided my power would be because I don’t. What I do remember is not having a hard time falling asleep after that, for years.

He still has dreams in which he has superpowers.

Maybe, in them, he’s saving me from all the bad guys that haunted me when I was little.

I Can't Believe I Watched the Whole Thing

I was pretty excited as I sat down to watch this year’s show, having recently tried to catch up on my lack of info on this year’s nominees.

I got comfortable on my busted futon couch at 7 PM to catch Barbara Walters’ final Oscar special and, I am not ashamed to admit it, totally wept the whole time.

And now, with something a little different from all the live-blogs going on (which I both can’t figure out how and am too lazy to do), I’ve decided to give out my own awards, for the awards show.

How meta.

First, some general notes:
They started saying “The winner is…” instead of “And the Oscar goes to…” to announce the winners again.
Did anyone else notice the horrendous sound feedback whenever the audience applauded?
I started getting fatigued and distracted by my full bladder at about 10:30. Don’t ask me why I didn’t just go to the bathroom. I can’t answer that.
Truth be told, I included two of the categories below because I expected James Cameron to be obnoxious, but (SPOILER!), then, he didn’t win.
But, overall, what a great, classy, old-fashioned show! Great work, Adam Shankman.

There were lots of wonderful moments; it was hard for me to narrow it down, as you can see.

Craziest Pre-Show Commercial:
Whoopi Goldberg for Poise liners, for incontinence

Most Entertaining Mid-Show Commercial:
The Modern Family celebrating the Oscars by doing movie-themed charades

Best Dressed:
Demi Moore, in a peach-colored Atelier Versace gown

Worst Dressed:
Molly Ringwald in something baggy, purple, and ill-gathered. Apparently, Fab Sugar liked it.

Best Host(s) Moment(s): a three-way tie between:
“Two of your favorite interests: rugby and tension between blacks and whites,” Alec Baldwin explaining why Steve Martin would like Invictus
“In our first movies, we were both born a poor, black child!” Steve Martin exclaiming what he and Gabby Sidibe, who played Precious, have in common, and
“OK, but I don’t think the plural of whores is horses!” Steve Martin introducing Sarah Jessica Parker and Tom Ford as “clotheswhores.”

Best Presenter(s) Moment(s): a tie between:
The ENTIRE interaction between Tina Fey and Robert Downey Jr., presenting Best Original Screenplay and
Tim Robbins’ dedication to Morgan Freeman: “Being a friend is getting the other a cup of coffee. Can you do that for me, Ted?”

Worst Presenter Moment:
Kristen Stewart hacking up a hairball into the mic while introducing the horror film tribute

Most Moving Speech(es):
Jeff Bridges, honoring his parents, during his Best Actor win for Crazy Heart and
Sandra Bullock’s incredibly warm and good-humored speech, accepting her Best Actress award for The Blind Side and honoring her mom

Worst Speech:
Sally Powell, winning Best Costume Design: “I already have two of these…”

Best Musical Moment(s):
The great surprise of Neil Patrick Harris’s BIG opening song, “Nobody Wants to Do It Alone,” eclipsed only by the incredible dancing to the Best Score nominees

Most Annoying Moment:
Kathy Ireland’s totally saccharine interviews on the pre-show red carpet

Most Shocking Moment(s): a tie between:
Chris Pine introducing District 9--I went to college with him and it freaks me out how famous he is now and
That abrasive woman intercepting her colleague’s speech during the short film awards

Most Satisfying Surprise(s):
Geoffrey Fletcher’s Best Adapted Screenplay win for Precious--totally deserved, I say. (I think Jason Reitman was the expected winner.)
But, really, Bigelow winning Best Director and Tom Hanks ripping that envelope before even announcing the nominees for Best Picture. Hell. Yes.

# of times my eyes welled up with tears, and yes, I am a weeper:
12 (the opening tableau with the acting nominees, the clips from The Blind Side, “The Weary Kind” winning Best Song, seeing how excited Prudence from Music by Prudence was, the reaction to Geoffrey Fletcher’s win by Sapphire, the author of Push, which Precious is based on, Maggie Gyllenhaal being overwhelmed by her own acting clip, the Precious clip, the In Memoriam segment, the mesmerizing and gravity-defying dance segment, the Best Actor dedications, the Best Actress dedications, and Sandra Bullock’s truly lovely dedication to her mother—this one actually got tears streaming)

I'm Blogging

In anticipation of my Oscars post, the format of which I have yet to figure out, here is a silly video.

Check in late tonight for my impressions of this year's Oscars.

Here's a sneak peek:
Steve Martin is starting to look like the Six Flags old man.

Overheard in the Classroom (or Kids These Days), vol. V

What a strange, long week it's been. I began solo teaching my 8th graders and my special ed group. It's been a mad rollercoaster but has gone mostly smoothly, which I'm excited about.

"Martini on the rocks, no ice."--a very committed intro student's request in a short scene. He said it with such conviction.

"Because I'm a Cancer, I have to ask this. Because it's theatre...what will the girls be like?"--the same intro student, inquiring about the pool of ladies that would be present at a high school theatre festival.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You're too kind."--a special ed student's remarks as she bowed after her presentation.

"I don't even remember how to use this."--an intro student's comment as he attempted to use a manual pencil sharpener.

"I don't have girlfriends. I have affiliations."--the same intro student who asked about the girl situation at the high school fest. He is swiftly becoming my favorite student...

Sex and the City Changes Lives, or the Many Plights of the Single Girl

Every time I eat at a restaurant by myself, I think of that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie asserts that taking yourself out to a nice meal alone, with no book to defend yourself against the great scrutiny around you is an important, liberating part of being single.

Today, nursing a bit of a cold and being grateful for a few minutes to myself, I took myself out to a pho restaurant near campus. This place is not at all famous for its good service, and there are great banks of tables, where they throw you down, shove a menu in your face and promptly ignore you.

I sat there thinking, it's just because I'm alone that the servers keep walking by. If I was in a big group, they'd look at us like potential for a big tip. Or, if I was in a couple, the boy would get the server's attention.

They didn't even offer me a glass of water.

So I had to stop someone and order. And then they forgot my glass of water.

So I had to ask someone else.

And then a large group of students I recognized from student-teaching walked in.

So I hunkered down with my soup and inhaled it, glancing over my lesson plans as defense, eating as quickly and discreetly as I could.

As I sat there, the patrons around me left and suddenly, I was surrounded by other, sadder singles, all men.

And as soon as one of the creepier ones started talking to me, which I figured was inevitable when they all caught my eye as they were seated, I finished my soup, gathered my things, and shot out of the restaurant before any of the kids could recognize me.

Sometimes being a liberated single girl is harder than it looks on TV.

Duuuuuude!

This is ridiculous!!!

My Beef with Tuesdays

It is pretty widely known that I hate Tuesdays. And always have.

My feeling is that, on Tuesday, you still have MORE THAN HALF of the week to get through.

Mondays are bad, but everyone knows that. Wednesdays are hump day; Thursdays are great because you have the ENTIRE weekend ahead of you, including Friday night, and OBVIOUSLY, Fridays rule.

Tuesdays. Suck.

All last year, I had the shittiest Tuesday schedule: starting classes at 9 AM and finishing them at 10 PM.

Sometimes I wake up and think, gosh, I'm in a bad mood...OH, it's Tuesday! That's why!

And, today, I woke up feeling like ass, fighting an almost-nasty cold, on my official first day of solo teaching. And, of course, it's Tuesday.

Stupid Tuesday, ruining everything.

I am a Pop Culture Genius, vol. XII: the Broadway edition

This weekend, I watched four films.

I also did a huge list of other things, including, but not limited to: two loads of laundry, writing and rewriting lesson plans, updating my resume, and applying to four jobs. Things I did not do this weekend include showering, eating a proper meal, and leaving my bed on Saturday.

Ahem...

However, in the films I watched, I recognized some vaguely familiar faces.

Abuela Claudia played the mother of a young student of Meryl Streep's Roberta Guaspari in Music of the Heart.

And this guy, whom I recognized from Half Nelson, where he played the dad but who also played Doolittle on Broadway in Pygmalion and Bottom in the Shakespeare in the Park version of Midsummer Night's Dream, played her love interest.

Exciting, no?

Well...I thought it was.