School Daze

Ugh. I had this whole post done Wednesday and then my computer froze and ate it. And then I cried and cried. Because it was brilliant. And would've had the Pulitzer committee knocking on my door. And possibly Orlando Bloom.

Not really. But still. Don't you hate when that happens? I think the fate of the free world will one day come down to one important moment…and then a computer will freeze.

Besides, Orlando and his lady are preggo. Because who in Hollywood DOESN'T get pregnant BEFORE they get married? It's a sad statement that I'm just impressed they went all old school and even got married at all. And I can also put Orlando on my “Probably Definitely Not Gay in L.A.” list which exists somewhere in my mind. Right next to the “Perfectly Annoying Places to Hum” list and “Why I Studied Rocks in College.”

The picture above is from 100 years ago when I taught drama. And those are my awesome kids in the second musical I forced on them. The first one was called Pom-Pom Zombies, and why it's not storming Broadway is still a mystery to me.I thought of those kids this week as I began yet another school year. It's always interesting (and by that I mean good twisted fun) to see the ninth graders on their first day in our gigantic high school. On this day, most kids bring their parents–they're required to.  I usually stand in the halls and smile a lot. Unless I see a kid struggling with a locker. Then I break eye contact. Because I always get asked for help with a locker combo, and in all these years, I've yet to open one. Why can't they ask me questions I know? Like where the best vending machines are. Or how much skin burn you get from sliding down the railing on the stairs. And when they ask you about their lockers, their parents are always standing there looking at you like they're judging your teaching proficiency by your inability to spin numbers on a dial. That look haunts me. And I never remember if it's right-left-right or left-right-left. I went to a school where we didn't lock our lockers. If Bubba Parsons wanted to steal my math binder and my contraband 40 oz glass of iced tea, then these were the high costs I paid for living on the MasterLock-less edge.

I remember I posted some fun videos on my blog post that got eaten. I can't remember any of them but this one.

That is seriously clever and beautiful on a lot of levels (poetry, art, word rhythm), but the high point for me was one single word. Chowdowners.

So (she says, stalling for lack of anything to talk about since her post evaporated) I've been working out this week. My friend Snow Loving Holly has finally convinced me to join her  in another town at 5 am three times a week so we can be up in the gym justa workin on our fidness.  From this experience, these are the things I know:

1. My body was not made to be up at 4:30.
2. It is creepy to drive back roads to neighboring town at 4:45.
3. Not much hygiene transpires between 4:30 and 4:45.
4. My bed head is stronger than our trainer's muscles.
5. We do boxing.
6. There is a woman in the class who throws punches like her last name is de la Hoya.
7. I never want to come upon this woman in a dark alley.
8. All I can think about the last 30 minutes of class are McDonalds Breakfast Burritos.
9. I pass just enough deer in the dark morning to make me and Blackie the Sedan check our seat belt.
10. I hit a deer once and then he disappeared as if Hermione Granger had waved her wand and said pretty Hogwarty words.
11. I have absolutely no brain power at 5 in the morning.
12. Our instructor told me to lift my left hand and I couldn't figure out which one he could possibly mean.
13. After that I seriously considered lying on the floor and giving up. What is this Advanced Placement Taebo?
14. Every morning when that alarm goes off, I just want to barf. And my whole body hurts. Why am I paying someone for torture? I could get it free by watching our town's public access channel.

I hope you have a great weekend. My cross-punches and I will be rested up and back on Monday.