Again, it's Monday. Again, it finds me ranty. But admit it, this is how you like me. Today I'm seething about:
Post-St. Patrick's Day Wreckage
It's two days later yet my head still sort of hurts, my voice is still firmly in the "Kathleen Turner" range, and my tongue remains faintly green. Man, that was some rockin' baby shower I was at on Saturday. (Seriously, I really was at a baby shower. It was soaked in Guinness and champagne punch, but it was baby shower nonetheless.)
My Telekinetic Failures
All day I've been trying to move and/or destroy things using the power of my mind, yet each and every attempt has been met with failure. I focused really, really hard, but I when I tried to get that velcro-kid* to stop talking about Neitchke and leave my room, I failed. Tried to light the five-inch think pile of ungraded research papers on fire. Failed. Tried to get the vending machine to give me free soda since I was desperate, yet broke. Failed. Apparently there's more to it than furrowing your brow, closing your eyes and hoping really hard. Damn my frustrating lack of paranormal ability.
Recent Pet Food Recalls
I swear to God, if anything happens to my sweet little pillow humping, red hair-shedding baby girl heads will roll.
Aw screw it, I'm calling in tomorrow. I got papers to grade, videos to show and sick days to burn. If you need me I'll be the pajama-clad lady sitting in the back corner of the closest Panera, alternately grading my five-inch stack of papers and attempting to light them on fire using the power of my mind. I'm guessing I'll be there awhile.
*A velcro-kid, for those of you who don't teach lonely teenagers, is a kid who is either really really bored or who doesn't have much of a social life (usually both), so he or she hangs around your classroom after school and tries to engage you in hour-long conversations about German philosophers or The Great Depression or Eliot's use of stream-of-consciousness or really anything else that might be interesting if it weren't the end of the day and you didn't have hours worth of work to do and you really, really, really just want to go home, eat potato chips and watch Dr. Phil. (Go ahead and think it. I'm a horrible human being.)
Post-St. Patrick's Day Wreckage
It's two days later yet my head still sort of hurts, my voice is still firmly in the "Kathleen Turner" range, and my tongue remains faintly green. Man, that was some rockin' baby shower I was at on Saturday. (Seriously, I really was at a baby shower. It was soaked in Guinness and champagne punch, but it was baby shower nonetheless.)
My Telekinetic Failures
All day I've been trying to move and/or destroy things using the power of my mind, yet each and every attempt has been met with failure. I focused really, really hard, but I when I tried to get that velcro-kid* to stop talking about Neitchke and leave my room, I failed. Tried to light the five-inch think pile of ungraded research papers on fire. Failed. Tried to get the vending machine to give me free soda since I was desperate, yet broke. Failed. Apparently there's more to it than furrowing your brow, closing your eyes and hoping really hard. Damn my frustrating lack of paranormal ability.
Recent Pet Food Recalls
I swear to God, if anything happens to my sweet little pillow humping, red hair-shedding baby girl heads will roll.
Aw screw it, I'm calling in tomorrow. I got papers to grade, videos to show and sick days to burn. If you need me I'll be the pajama-clad lady sitting in the back corner of the closest Panera, alternately grading my five-inch stack of papers and attempting to light them on fire using the power of my mind. I'm guessing I'll be there awhile.
*A velcro-kid, for those of you who don't teach lonely teenagers, is a kid who is either really really bored or who doesn't have much of a social life (usually both), so he or she hangs around your classroom after school and tries to engage you in hour-long conversations about German philosophers or The Great Depression or Eliot's use of stream-of-consciousness or really anything else that might be interesting if it weren't the end of the day and you didn't have hours worth of work to do and you really, really, really just want to go home, eat potato chips and watch Dr. Phil. (Go ahead and think it. I'm a horrible human being.)
Labels: dr phil, rants, setting stuff on fire with my mind, velcro
1 Comments:
You are not a horrible human being. We just want them to leave us alone so we can get things done, dammit.
Oh, and I love the Kathleen Turner comment. Perfectly descriptive.
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