My ABC's

I was browsing random blogs, ran across this little activity, and thought I'd give it a whirl. I'm bored, babysitting (but all the kids are asleep), and I've watched about 5 hours worth of prison shows on tv. Time for something new...

A is for age: I turned 26 on May 17th. The way I look at it, I'm one year closer to being 30, and I'm still single. Not a happy thought!

B is for burger of choice: I typically don't enjoy eating large portions of animal carcass. A little bit here, and a little bit there is fine, but too much makes me sick. So, I prefer my burgers to be thin. Cheese is an absolute requirement, and it must be completely melted. I like a sesame seed bun, with a large dose of ketchup next to the burger for dipping. Sometimes I like a nice thick tomato slice, but what I love most is my burger served with a crunchy slice of onion. Maybe it's a bit tacky, but honestly, my favorite burger ever is the regular old cheeseburger from McDonald's. You know, the one with cheese, teeny tiny little onion pieces, ketchup, mustard, and pickle slices. Yummy......

C is for the car I drive: As of January of this year, I am the proud owner of a decked-out Cadillac Catera. Sure, it's ten years old, but it is by far the nicest car I have ever owned. Bose stereo system, heated leather seats, power sun and moon roof, all power, that shiny fake-wood looking stuff on the console. It's a nice ass car, I have to admit. It was pretty much an early graduation gift from my mom. Prior to the Caddy, I had Celia, my fifth generation Toyota Celica. I must admit that even though I love and adore the Caddy, I miss driving a stick!!!

D is for your dog's name: Ted, one of the most loyal dogs in the history of the world. He's 1/2 Black Lab, 1/2 Great Dane or German Shepard (the vet couldn't tell). He is the cuddliest, most loving dog I have ever met. He loves to give hugs (yes, actual hugs) in the morning. His full name is Ted Theodore Logan, after Keanu Reeves' character in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure". Don't ask me why.

E is for essential item you use every day: Mascara. I'd rather leave the house with greasy hair, stained clothes, and no deodorant than leave without my mascara. It's an absolute necessity for me.

F is for favorite TV show at the moment: Ooh....that's a tough one, considering I'm completely obsessed with television. At the moment, I'd have to say my favorite tv show is "Lockup" on MSNBC. I'm completely engrossed by the behind the scenes aspect of prison life. I want to start teaching in a prison soon, if possible, so I have a genuine interest in what goes on behind the barbed wire and prison walls. In general, however, my favorite tv shows are "Dexter", "Dawson's Creek", "Judge Judy", and "Good Times".

G is for favorite game: If we're talking board games, I'd say Scattergories or Clue. My favorite drinking game is Circle of Death, and my favorite sport is football. This is a multi-faceted question. I'm not much into video games, unless it's the good ol' Super Mario Brothers. I'm old school like that.

H is for home state: Technically, I'd have to say Florida because I was born in Orlando and lived there for the first year of my life, but when it comes down to it, I'd have to say Missouri. I was raised in Webster Groves, a beautiful, affluent suburb of St. Louis.

I is for instruments you play: I have played the piano since the age of 12. My favorite things to play are Beatles songs. Um...I'm trying to teach myself the guitar, but I think my fingers are too short and chubby to accomplish much of anything. When I was younger, I played the french horn (a beautiful instrument), and I taught myself how to play my stepdad's flute. Ew...that sounds kind of perverted, but you know what I mean.

J is for favorite juice: I love grapefruit juice. It served as my breakfast every single morning my sophomore, junior, and senior years of high school. I drank so much of it I think it burned a hole in my intestines or something. And ever since then, I have the most god-awful acid reflux it's not even funny.

K is for whose bum you'd like to kick: Richard. The man I gave 3 1/2 years of my life to. With nothing to show for it except for a broken (but healing) heart.

L is for last restaurant at which you ate: I never eat out, but I got a Red Lobster gift card for my birthday. I took Alex there in May and we shared a lovely meal.

M is for your favorite Muppet: The Count. He always kinda creeped me out. I like that.

N is for number of piercings: Just my ears. I did have my left eyebrow pierced at one time, but it was just soooo not me. And unfortunately, I still have the holes to show for it.

O is for overnight hospital stays: Just when I gave birth. The most wonderful, yet most god-awful experience of my life. Ironic, huh?

P is for people you were with today: Well, Alex of course. Then I saw my mom when I dropped him off before I headed off to work. At work, I saw Gina, Chrissy, Courtney, and several customers. Then I came over to Brian and Janet's house, talked to them for a minute, and spent the rest of the evening with Alex and my adorable little cousins- Michael, Jack, and Benjamin.

Q is for what you do with your quiet time: I watch TV a LOT. It entertains me, but relaxes me at the same time. Also, I find tanning to be incredibly relaxing. Sure, I might be developing a massive case of melanoma in the process, but what the hell? Um...I love reading, writing poetry, blogging (occasionally), listening to music, and just laying on my bed, contemplating my life. Although, with a seven year old son, quiet time is pretty damn hard to come by!

R is for biggest regret: Probably not going to work in Captiva Island, Florida the summer after I graduated from high school. I applied for, and got, a job on a resort, working as a waitress. My room and board for the entire summer would have been paid for, I would have been on my own for the first time in my life, and I would have had the time of my life, meeting new people, going out every night, lounging on the beach...basically, I think I would've had the best summer of my life. BUT...my ex (Alex's dad) gave me hell about leaving town for the entire summer, so I turned down the job offer. Even though I don't regret Alex in any way, shape, or form, I got pregnant that very same summer, and my life found itself on a completely different course, one that I never wished for or expected.

S is for status: Very, very, very single. Still mending a broken heart, I guess.

T is for time you woke up today: This is totally out of character for me, but I woke up at 10:30 this morning. I'm usually up and out of bed by 6 or 7, but lately I've been tired! Starting tomorrow, I'm setting my alarm for 4:45am. Gotta get used to it!

U is for what you consider unique about yourself: What makes me unique physically would have to be my blue freckle. I have a pronounced bright blue freckle on the outside of my right knee- about an inch to the right of my knee cap. I think I'm a pretty unique person intrinsically. I think that my ability to empathize, sympathize, and understand other people is almost unmatched. My compassion for people less fortunate with me is pretty unique in a world where most people, deep down, whether they admit it or not, don't really give a fuck about other people. I honestly want to do everything in my power to help others, and I know that God has placed me on this Earth precisely for this reason. This quality makes me proud of who I am. One more thing I just thought of. I have a fucking IMPECCABLE memory. I can remember the most random, insignificant, minute details about all kinds of shit.

V is for vegetable you love: It's a three way tie between broccoli, asparagus, and mushrooms. Are mushrooms really a vegetable though, since they're actually a fungus? I don't know...whatever.

W is for worst habit: Probably my love of Diet Coke. I also have a tendency to interrupt people at times when they are talking. I should work on that.

X is for x-rays you've had: When I thought I broke my foot (not my ankle, but my actual foot). I was drunk, dancing at Maggie O'Brien's downtown when my decision to wear my too-tall (but very cute) shoes backfired. My foot twisted in a really fucked up way, I feel to the ground, and besides being completely mortified, I was in the worst pain (besides childbirth) that I have ever felt. The next day (and week, for that matter) was even worse, considering that the insane amount of alcohol in my system had helped numb the pain. After I sobered up, the real pain kicked in. My mom took me to the hospital the next morning; I had to crawl on my hands and knees to the car, and even that hurt. It was horrible. They x-rayed me, gave me a bunch of Vicodin, and I had to walk with a boot and crutches for the next month. I couldn't walk barefoot for the next two years without being in horrible pain. Wow...long story.

Y is for yummy food you ate today: I made a delicious concoction of fresh strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries. I'm letting all the juices congeal together for an even more delicious meal tomorrow. Mmmm.....

Z is for zodiac: I'm a Taurus. And I completely fit the stereotypical "bull".

So there you have it. A little more than you probably wanted to know about me, but it was fun to think about all those things.

Two Weeks Notice

Well, it's official. I am an employee of Hollywood Tan for only two more weeks. I gave Gina my written notice this afternoon. In response to the blog I posted a couple of weeks ago, I don't hate my job as much as that blog might lead someone to believe. Yes, I was underpaid, and yes, it was a bit monotonous, but I was just feeling frustrated that particular day. There are actually quite a few things I will miss about working there. 1) the free tanning. I have to admit that I will miss indulging in one of my favorite pasttimes (and only source of relaxation) free of charge. 2) the free lotion. Granted, I have enough high-end tanning lotion to last me (and probably all of my immediate family) a lifetime, but getting all these expensive, high-quality, luxurious lotions for free becomes a bit of an addiction. 3) the customers. I've had my fair share of stick-up-their-ass bitch customers, but the majority of them I really got to know and will miss. It will be strange to never see the regulars again- Stephen McClelland, the 50-something year old man who would always arrive on his old-fashioned bicycle, smoking a cigarette, his Hawaiian style shirt blowing in the wind. And Nancy, Debbie, Chris, and all of the other middle aged women who sincerely took an interest in me, my life, my goals, and who made a true effort to treat me not as "the girl at the tanning place", but as a friend. 4) (some) of my co-workers. I know I'll remain friends with some of them (Chrissy, Sandra, etc), but it will definitely feel different not being part of the Hollywood Tan clan. 5) I'll miss the fact that I had a job that I was legitimately good at. I could sell tanning lotion to a black guy if I really tried. I became known by several customers as "the one to talk to" about the best lotion to use, package to buy, or bed to tan in. I'm a pretty damn good sales person (when I'm in the mood to be). I'm completely confident that I'll be an excellent teacher after a bit more experience and some more time in the trenches, but leaving a job I know I'm good at for a job that I'm a bit uneasy about is sort of scary for me. I know it has to be done, and I'm excited about moving on with my life and my career, but still...it's different and will take a little bit of time to adjust to.

Well, all in all, like I said, I'm excited. I will definitely NOT miss the almost 40 mile drive each day to and from my store. I will definitely NOT miss being completely polite, a big smile on my face, saying "hi, how are you?" to a customer walking in, and getting absolutely no response. Not even a simple "hi" back. I HATED that! If someone says hi to you, you say hi back! It's not a difficult concept to comprehend. Nor will I miss wiping up the massive sweat puddles of complete strangers. Ugh... And thank God I will never again have to discover another shit-smeared pair of panties stuffed behind the tanning bed or a trash can filled with urine.(People are fucking nasty). I will not miss the hours upon hours of cleaning either.

Well, I'm content with my decision and I guess that's all that matters. Of course, leaving any job has its pros and cons, but God is telling me that it's my time to move on and time to do what is right for me and my son.

All in all, it was a good (slightly more than) two years working for Hollywood Tan. It's just time to move on to the next step in my life....
Wish me luck!

This is pissing me off for some reason.

I usually fall asleep during The Tonight Show on NBC, so sometimes I awake to The Today Show. If I had to guess, The Today Show is on my tv approximately 80% of the time. So, 8 out of 10 mornings, the first thing I see and hear is Meredith Viera, Matt Lauer, Ann Curry, or Al Roker. I've slowly come to realize that I have NEVER seen an episode with all four of them working on the same day. Every damn day, either Matt Lauer or Meredith Viera has the day off, or someone is filling in for Al Roker. It's starting to piss me off. The Today Show sucks as it is, but it's unbearable for me to watch when every fucking day, one of the people that's supposed to be there has the freaking day off. Seriously. If you don't believe me. Watch The Today Show just one time, and I guarantee that one of these four has the day off. It's fucking bullshit, and for some reason, really pisses me off. I do hate this show though, so why do I care?

If I could be...

an inanimate object, I would totally want to be John Popper's harmonica. Scroll in to 2:42 to see what I'm talkin' 'bout.

Legend

"Is This Love", "Three Little Birds", "Jammin'", "Buffalo Soldier", "I Shot the Sheriff", "Could You Be Loved"....Bob Marley's Legend album is not only one of my favorite albums of all time, but every single song holds a distict memory for me. The summer of '98 was quite possibly the best of my life. I was in between my sophomore and junior years of high school, and that summer epitomized what summers should be. Every single day was spent at the pool, or laying out on my deck covered in baby oil. I had absolutely nothing to do except work on my tan. No job, no school, no worries. And every single night was spent partying, having the time of my life. It was perfect. I listened to Legend every day as I laid beneath the scorching sun, and every time I hear Bob Marley, it takes me back to a time in my life when everything was absolutely, completely, and totally perfect.

Moment of Truth, or Moment of Shame?

For some reason, I'm watching this "game" show, "The Moment of Truth", in which Mark Wahlberg asks contestants extremely personal and revealing questions. If the contestant answers truthfully, they win money, and if not, they lose. This episode I'm watching now has me baffled. Why would anyone in their right mind go on this show. This particular episode isn't even embarrassing the contestant, but rather, her boyfriend. In the first 30 minutes of the show, she revealed that 1) she's embarrassed by the clothes her boyfriend wears, 2) she wishes her boyfriend was more well-endowed, 3) she thinks she deserves someone more attractive than her boyfriend....what the fuck? Isn't this show supposed to make the contestant feel like shit, not her damn boyfriend? The poor sap is sitting there, on national television, being completely humiliated. This show...I don't even know what to say. Alas, yet another example of how our society is completely going to shit.

I HATE MY FUCKING JOB

I really, honest-to-goodness do. I fucking hate it. They treat us all like we're fucking infants. IT'S A FUCKING TANNING SALON, not the CIA for cryin' out loud. They act as if every little thing is so fucking serious. I just got my first official "written warning" because I didn't come to the supposedly "mandatory" store meeting on Sunday. Uh, sorry! But my Grandma (step-grandma, actually- she married my mom's dad like 40 years ago), is moving back to Mexico (she's Mexican), and Sunday night was her going away dinner with my family. I'm not going to skip such an important event, saying goodbye to my grandma who I'll likely never see again, just to come sit here in this god forsaken place and listen to COMPLETE BULLSHIT! I've been to dozens of these fucking meetings, and that's exactly what they are: bullshit. We sit around, while two or three girls blab on and on about something retarded, while the rest of us sit there waiting for the damn thing to be over so we can get the fuck out of there and go home. And these meetings consist of ZERO new or important information. EVERY SINGLE THING discussed in these meetings could VERY easily be typed up into a half-page memo for everyone to read when they come in to work their shift. They are such a fucking joke, such a fucking waste of time. They are out of their fucking minds if they think I'm going to skip something legitimately important for one of their precious meetings. Give me a fucking break. This job is seriously PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF!!!!! I hate it. I absolutely fucking hate it. And with the exception of one manager in this whole company, all of the managers act as if they're fucking goddesses. Ooooohhhh!!! Let me bow down to you! You're a manager of a fucking tanning salon. Excuse me if I'm not insanely jealous of your extremely high career aspirations. SHUT THE FUCK UP! Go fuck yourselves. You treat me like a worthless piece of shit now, but at least I'm doing something a bit more ambitious with my fucking life. And I'm so fucking sick and tired of reading notes to us girls that are so derogatory and disrespectful. I don't come here to make this little bit of money to be talked to like a fucking dog. I keep telling myself that I can do it. Just a few more months. Every single second, however, is a struggle. I want to put in my two weeks notice and say goodbye to this place forever! I'm a fucking 26 year old WOMAN, about to be a fucking teacher, and I'm putting up with high school drama and fucking infantile bullshit. GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!

My New Schedule

In preparation of my new schedule, beginning August 18th, I have decided to start waking up early so that it won't be so torturous when I have to do it for real in about a month. I was figuring out what times I'll have to do everything in order to get them all accomplished, and I am a bit saddened by what I have discovered. For starters, I have to wake up at 4:15 in the morning. Every morning. Monday-Friday. That is going to be really difficult for me. I'm a natural early riser, but damn! That's ridiculous. For me, anything before 5, 5:30 is early. It's going to be a pain in the fucking ass, I'll tell you that much. So here's my plan:
4:15am Wake my ass up
4:30-5am Jog on treadmill
5-6am Shower, get dressed, etc.
6am Get Alex ready
6:25am Leave the house
6:45-4pm Teach
4:30pm Pick up Alex
5pm Make dinner, get ready for next day, etc.
6pm Lesson planning/preparation
7pm Alex time (quality time, homework, etc.)
Jog on treadmill
8pm Chill
9pm Be asleep

I'm going to feel like a chicken with its head cut off. It is really hard for me to wake up and instantly start working out, but I'm just gonna have to get over it. First of all, it gets my blood pumping, boosts my energy, and gets me pumped for the day so I'm not walking around like a zombie, feeling all sluggish all day long. Plus, it's a lot easier to get in a cold ass shower when I'm all hot and sweaty. It makes it bearable, and sometimes even enjoyable.
Anyway, I really am going to have to buckle down, get serious, get organized, and stay focused. I won't have time to run around in the mornings, making sure Alex's backpack is ready to go and packing our lunches. I have to start doing that the night before. I'm going to have virtually no life, especially if I continue working at Hollywood Tan on Saturdays, which I REALLY REALLY REALLY don't want to do, but financially, I may not have a choice. So basically, I'll be able to go out and have fun Saturday nights, and that's about it. I'll be in bed by 9 every other night of the week. I am setting my alarm- not for 4:15 tomorrow, but rather 4:45. I thought I'd ease into this slowly. Also, I don't want to be up for 4 hours before I have to be at work tomorrow morning. I guess I better get ready for bed....already. :(

WHAT THE FUCK?

I am so sick and tired of asshole men talking to me like I'm a piece of fucking meat. I'm tired of people approaching me (either in person or on MySpace), and spitting out these ridiculous "lines" at me, as if I'm expected to just jump at the chance to talk to these idiots. I'm sick of getting messages like, "Hey sexy. Hit me up, let's party." or "Hey cutie. What's up?!?!?!" If you really gave a fuck about getting to know me, your first contact with me should sound NOTHING like this. And last weekend at the bar, I sat down, and this guy on the next stool looked at me and said, "hey, what are you up to tonight? We should hang out together, blah blah blah." After listening to his BULLSHIT for like 5 minutes, I tried to explain to this douchebag that if he really wanted a shot at talking to me or any other decent woman of class, he should at least find out their damn name before basically offering to sleep with them. I do NOT understand these guys. The sad part is that there are women out there who fall for this shit, and who are the ones letting them get away with this disrespectful, immature, dispicable behavior, and it's the rest of us who have to pay the price. I would love to sit down at the bar, and be talked to like a lady. Don't get me wrong: I don't go bar-hopping in search of a mate, or true love, or anything of the sort, but I also don't go to be subjected to this bullshit all the damn time. That's one major reason I don't go out a whole lot; I'm so sick of being surrounded by degenerates. But the whole MySpace thing is a completely different story, and in many ways, much worse! I am by no means trying to find dates via MySpace or any other online venue, but any normal, semi-intelligent person can look at my profile, read about me and my interests, and should know that I'm not the kind of girl who would be stupid enough or easy enough to fall for such shit. When did (the majority of) guys completely give up and stop putting forth a single ounce of effort? No wonder I'm fucking single.

Ok, so....

I keep thinking about and blabbing about how after I land a for real teaching job, I want to work summers at a prison or juvenile detention center. Well, I'm bored and completely hyped up on sinus medication, so what better time to do a little research? So the St. Louis courts place kids in Griscom School at the St. Louis juvenile detention center for anywhere between 3 and 90 days. The school is staffed by St. Louis City school teachers (a.k.a. me), and they provide these kids (middle school and high school aged kids) with an education while they are locked up. I want to see this place in person. The website described the living conditions for these kids. They live, sleep, and eat in cells. This surprised me a little just because the documentary I saw that inspired me to do this, "Rikers High", had the kids sleeping in big dorm-type rooms. Anyway, I found this article written by a teacher there, primarily about her creative writing class. She included actual student examples with her article, and...wow. I mean, everyone has pretty much written these kids off...their parents, their teachers, their friends. Yes, they committed crimes. (The website stated that inmates are incarcerated for a variety of offenses, ranging from truancy to rape and murder.) Most of these kids aren't even old enough to drive a car, but their lives are, in many ways, over before they've even started. Kids like these have been given absolutely no chance; their parents didn't give a fuck, the school system let them slip through the cracks, and now they're behind bars, pretty much annihilating any chance for a life of success, or even normalcy. They are doomed. It's no wonder they've ended up the way they have. The kids' narratives and poetry were absolutely incredible. They spoke with such honesty, such passion, such heart. They are in such desperate need for one, just ONE person to believe in them and in the fact that they can be more than just some worthless, hopeless, gang-banging criminal. They are kids. Kids who just happened to be born into a world that would rather throw them away than help them become more than what they believe they can be.

The teacher who wrote the article said something that really touched me. She said, "This measly little writing class, in this one juvenile detention center, in this one city isn't going to change the world. But if I can help just one child find their own voice, believe in it, and use it to communicate, then maybe they can do the same for someone else. And THAT could change the world."

I feel so freaking inspired right now!!!

?

What the fuck is wrong with me? Seriously. What the fuck?

I've been a bad, bad girl.

This song epitomizes my rebellious teenage years. This song came out during my sophomore year, and every time I hear it, I return to some of the best (although most irresponsible) times of my life. I was young, beautiful, carefree, outgoing, and naive; I honestly have never been as happy as I was when I was 16. It reminds me of skipping school and drinking, sneaking out of the house and drinking, going to parties and drinking, etc. etc. In particular, I remember being at Julia's apartment (which she had when she was just 17, so obviously, that was the place to be). Anyway, surrounded by a dozen or so cohorts, we were feeling good, downing beers and sipping from a whiskey bottle, after smoking a fat, juicy blunt. We laid backwards, our heads dangling from the sofa, the two of us belting out this entire song at the top of our lungs. We didn't give a shit who was looking, how bad we probably sounded, or the fact that we should have been home studying (yeah right!). This song reminds me of how beautiful that moment was. Young, irresponsible, without a care in the world except having a good damn time.

UB40: "Please Don't Make Me Cry"

I am a huge lover of music. Music has the power to make me laugh, cry, smile, think about the future, as well as bring back memories of my past. Every so often, I'm going to be posting the videos of songs that have significant meaning for me and my life.
The first one is UB40, "Please Don't Make Me Cry". I love UB40's smooth jazz/reggae sound, but perhaps the reason I'm so fond of their music is because it's one of the only things I have to remind me of my dad. I remember very few things about him; I remember watching "The Wizard of Oz" in his lap on Halloween in 1988. I remember how great he was with dogs; he could train them to do just about anything. Our doberman, Rudy, was his pride and joy. I remember he loved listening to the Cardinals games in the backyard, while barbecuing and drinking cold cans of Budweiser. I remember he would sit outside reading the paper, soaking up the hot summer sun, every single morning. I remember exploring Churchill Downs with him, and I remember UB40. That's the extent of it. His UB40 tape, "Labour of Love", I believe, is the only tangible thing I have to remind me of him. I've cherished it for the past 20 or so years, and it will continue to be one of my prized possessions for the rest of my life. Anyway, this is why UB40 remains so dear to my heart. This song in particular always reminds me of the times, almost a lifetime ago, when I had a dad.