How much can one person write in five minutes while she's really wanting to delay going to work and having to give assessments and talk about MCAS and be all orderly on a sunny day when children could be outside smelling the daisies or actually I believe that narcissus have the truly best spiciest smell and this sorta reminds me of the time I sent a slightly drunken email to chrystal as a sociological study to see which was more interesting - the sober email or the drunken one. Results are confidential. Sent out 3 job applications today but have not had time to work on my current story. Just remembered i dreamed tht Glimmer Train rejected another story and that it's such crap when I say a rejection is a sign that I'm a real writer. As far as I can tell I'm a real mother a real friend a real teacher and something of an on and off writer until some legitimate person publishes something more recent because I am victim to mainstream culture which says publish and 2001 is too long ago. can ya tell I'm wound up? Why don't they allow dogs in school, and why why do we have so many clocks and I need more shirts. Edited for spelling only.
P.S. To the hoardes: comments now moderated due to one less-than-friendly person on bizarre vendetta that has nothing to do with me.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Monday, May 22, 2006
Morning Chat
Monday mornings suck. I didn't do my homework. I'm giving an MCAS test. And I have to look decent. Who came up with this system? It's time to go but I'm writing here instead. Both of you readers, and the dog, I hope you appreciate this, because of course it's for you. I found the perfect job but it pays half of my current salary. That is because the children are too small to matter. Any dumbass could teach those kids, and their development is like, wow, I learned how to count. Big effen deal, right?
There's a school around here that was giving electric shocks to autistic children. Some of the parents said it helped, so the courts never prosecuted the place, and now people are angry again. I don't want to name names, but it's The Rothenberg Center. I have a policy of not judging parents or hard-working teachers. Oh well. That is cruel and unusual. I wouldn't shock my dog. Who convinced these people that this was humane? Sure, I'll bet it worked. I'd stop any strange behavior whatsoever, I'd be docile as a lamb if the alternative was to plug me in. I'm betting those parents were desperate because that's another area - helping disabled kids - that gets neglected. People raise money at Jerry Lewis events and wheel out the cutest cripple, then they pay an idealistic young woman who wants to work with that kid enough to eat a pickle and a vegan burger once a week.
Well I gotta go to my suburban teaching job now. If I sound like a morning talk show host, that's because I am considering that as my new profession. Yes! Exciting, isn't it? I could take calls from those beer-belly cigar smoke people who have gads of time to yack and swear at the host, or hostess, and every time they say shit like "the market determines the rate of pay," or "you're one of those crazed peacenik-feminist types," I'll be like "yeah, I'm the one that castrated George W. Bush back in '2000."
I'm sorta glad we skipped the anesthetic. The kids like looking at the remnants in a jar in the basement. Don't worry! They're really, really small, and the jar's sealed tight.
There's a school around here that was giving electric shocks to autistic children. Some of the parents said it helped, so the courts never prosecuted the place, and now people are angry again. I don't want to name names, but it's The Rothenberg Center. I have a policy of not judging parents or hard-working teachers. Oh well. That is cruel and unusual. I wouldn't shock my dog. Who convinced these people that this was humane? Sure, I'll bet it worked. I'd stop any strange behavior whatsoever, I'd be docile as a lamb if the alternative was to plug me in. I'm betting those parents were desperate because that's another area - helping disabled kids - that gets neglected. People raise money at Jerry Lewis events and wheel out the cutest cripple, then they pay an idealistic young woman who wants to work with that kid enough to eat a pickle and a vegan burger once a week.
Well I gotta go to my suburban teaching job now. If I sound like a morning talk show host, that's because I am considering that as my new profession. Yes! Exciting, isn't it? I could take calls from those beer-belly cigar smoke people who have gads of time to yack and swear at the host, or hostess, and every time they say shit like "the market determines the rate of pay," or "you're one of those crazed peacenik-feminist types," I'll be like "yeah, I'm the one that castrated George W. Bush back in '2000."
I'm sorta glad we skipped the anesthetic. The kids like looking at the remnants in a jar in the basement. Don't worry! They're really, really small, and the jar's sealed tight.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Health Insurers You Are Going To Hell
And when you get there, I will be the demon that won't pay for your meds because the pharmacy shorted you and I don't listen about that atall. I will not wear red - so passe - I will wear whaddevvah the hell - haha - I please and you will have a helpless 'I wonder how much sicker I might get' feeling. My pockets will be rather large on either side of my garment, and yes, you will have taken it with you, and then you will proceed to give it to me. I'll hurl it upstairs for my offspring who had to live with me while you said I didn't need any more treatment.
It would be too cruel to subject you to the sudden death of a sibling so instead you will just experience all of the symptoms of, I dunno, leprosy?, And then just as you are getting better, one arm gone maybe, but the other still hanging in, I will send you an oversized letter, pages and pages, describing your diagnosis, and confirming that after 8 visits, you will be recovered, completely. Never mind the court dates for the person who willingly gave you the leprosy, or the actual hospital visits at which you will be injected with more of the disease - 8 visits.
More later. Next time I write on here, I'll be down to 7 visits, and much much better.
It would be too cruel to subject you to the sudden death of a sibling so instead you will just experience all of the symptoms of, I dunno, leprosy?, And then just as you are getting better, one arm gone maybe, but the other still hanging in, I will send you an oversized letter, pages and pages, describing your diagnosis, and confirming that after 8 visits, you will be recovered, completely. Never mind the court dates for the person who willingly gave you the leprosy, or the actual hospital visits at which you will be injected with more of the disease - 8 visits.
More later. Next time I write on here, I'll be down to 7 visits, and much much better.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Guide to Mediocre Mothering
Here's how one gets into The Crappy Mother Book. I have referred in the past to the Good Mother Book, particularly when insisting that my children eat two spears of broccoli even when they're not in the mood. But I'm changing course, moving into my realistic phase. Here's how to get into The Crappy Mother Book:
Wait long enough to make dinner so that your teenager volunteers to make it.
Spend a lotta time communicating with guidance counselors and teachers while completely ignoring the children.
Take on all emotional concerns of your children because you know you can do it better than your partner, even though your are exhausted. Be smug about it.
Complain about work so that your kids get a complete picture of the experience of adulthood. Then lamely tell them that you really do enjoy your job, proving that parents truly are hypocrites.
Go on a trip and forget your asthmatic child's new medicine, despite the fact that he just had a problem a few days before. When your pathetic health insurance won't pay for a dose at a different pharmacy, leave him no choice but to take the old stuff that makes him queasy and dizzy. Say you are going to call the health insurer later and give them what-for, or what-have-you. Take a nap instead.
Let your children watch cable t.v. for hours when they visit the grandparents, then feign surprise when they mention something wildly inappropriate in front of a neighbor.
Say "that's right, shithead" to stupid drivers while your little one is in the back seat.
Skip her bedtime ritual when 24 is on.
Make them clean their rooms when yours is an absolute sty.
And finally: take a third cookie when they're each having two, and tell them it's because you "feel like it."
Is there a martini and cigarettes category or would that be gauche?
Wait long enough to make dinner so that your teenager volunteers to make it.
Spend a lotta time communicating with guidance counselors and teachers while completely ignoring the children.
Take on all emotional concerns of your children because you know you can do it better than your partner, even though your are exhausted. Be smug about it.
Complain about work so that your kids get a complete picture of the experience of adulthood. Then lamely tell them that you really do enjoy your job, proving that parents truly are hypocrites.
Go on a trip and forget your asthmatic child's new medicine, despite the fact that he just had a problem a few days before. When your pathetic health insurance won't pay for a dose at a different pharmacy, leave him no choice but to take the old stuff that makes him queasy and dizzy. Say you are going to call the health insurer later and give them what-for, or what-have-you. Take a nap instead.
Let your children watch cable t.v. for hours when they visit the grandparents, then feign surprise when they mention something wildly inappropriate in front of a neighbor.
Say "that's right, shithead" to stupid drivers while your little one is in the back seat.
Skip her bedtime ritual when 24 is on.
Make them clean their rooms when yours is an absolute sty.
And finally: take a third cookie when they're each having two, and tell them it's because you "feel like it."
Is there a martini and cigarettes category or would that be gauche?
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