Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Tonight should have been a laid back and relax after a run kind of night. I should have been a good one, considering I just signed up for my favorite race (the Monument Ave 10K in March). But, the fates had to tinker with my relative state of calm . . . And some people can't leave well enough alone. Does anyone remember the last paragraph of this posing. Here is where I should tell you that no one is allowed to say just be done with it. Yea, you sit in my shoes and not have a single emotion. That is crap. You can be over someone, and then a moment like this will not bring back emotions of love. It will bring out emotions of outright contempt, hatred, and disgust. Not just for him--in this case--but also for me. I should note, that he gifted me a Tiger Army album a few years ago that I still haven't listened too. I got it two days after I encountered him and his now wife in a Starbucks parking lot. It was hours after conversing with me. Why I didn't hit him tha...

As I lay in bed, I blog from the Crackberry as I still can't sleep! Tonight, well in all fairness this morning, I attempted to run. I won't lie and say I've been gliding along...Posh! I haven't slepted my fat ass along the asphalt in months. But, today I decided I'd been stationary long enough (two months is too long). So, I plugged in my iPod--which I will not share with you because you'll know what kind of crappy music I listen too--tied on my trainers, donned a hoodie and entered the night air. It wasn't bitterly cold, so all was good. Then...about a mile in two red necks in pickups decided to turn on their brights. Yup, they blinded me so that I couldn't see, and in their wake my line of sight was speckled with little yellow dots. My zone was disturbed, and I ended up walking. As so many times before.. What is it with folks around here and going outta their way to screw up a run? I'm not making them run, so why they gotta bother me? Posh, indeed.

About a month and a half or so ago I had to go to an in-service type thing. Yea . . . yea . . . it connected to the Literacy Council I am running programs for so it was necessary. Aside from the strange looks and odd remarks about my being a PhD and all, things were okay. In terms of in-services it could have been a lot worse. I've had training meetings that were not remotely enjoyable. So this one wasn't painful at all. None the less, in the course of the day one of the GED instructors from a relatively close area (not the sticks like I live, but I won't tell you the city . . . confidentiality reasons) popped up and said "Yes, yes. I like to let the students help with the areas they are good in . . . or with math since it's harder for me. You know, like my Chinese students I always ask them to do the math on the board, since all Chinese are good with math." Yup, you got it. Excuse me, did anyone catch that racial stereotype/slur? ****** As of lat...

Yup, I should be sleeping, but I blog from my Crackberry in bed instead ... And this should have been up a few days ago. These are the greatest of the greatest hits. In 2000 I was completing a master's degree at New Mexico State, while awaiting an acceptance to that fancy public Ivy I got my PhD from. In February maj babcia died after a long life. That spring a few us endured the nightmare of death threats from a soon-to-be flunkie MA student, and I got accepted into the aforementioned fancy northern school. I also presented at my first conference that year, and in May I got my MA. During the summer, my last at "home," I worked as a girl Friday for a local brick company. My brother and I frightened the county with sibling antics at the Pork Fest--good times--and my sister still lived in VA Beach. I then moved up to Strong Island, and for the first five years it wasn't so bad. There were things that drove me nuts about the island, but I did enjoy the north and the p...

Today I desperately needed to see something other than harvested tobacco, peanut, soy, and cotton fields. And, if you've been reading any of the recent posts you know that I REALLY needed to breathe some dirty air. Well, I am in Dixie and the air just doesn't get that dirty down here. I know . . . I know . . . someone out there is sayin' sure it does, just come on over to this here manure pile. While that smell is nasty, it is not dirty. What I am talking about is the dirty of traffic. The dirty of congestion. The dirty of jerk offs who drive one person to a car, when car pooling, bike riding, or subway hoping would be so much cheaper, efficient, and eco-friendly. I know, that was my green moment of the day. So, I drove up to Richmond to pic up some shot blocks for when I run. Really, they do help prevent cramping. I jumped in my trusty little Ford and cruised I-95 to Whole Foods. The thing you have to remember is that Richmond is a city on the bridge of modernit...

For lack of something better at the moment . . . "Ya'll." I'm back in Dixie, go figure. "Well bless your heart." In the south this is the female equivalent of saying piss off. "He's about as useful as a bucket of chicken." This one has been said on numerous occasions, I am sure you can get the drift. " . . . when monkey's fly outta my ass." As in when someone asks me to do about twelve things at once, or when someone asks about me about getting back to together with the ex . . . "Well butter my butt and call me cornbread." This shouldn't need an explanation. "It's a lick my tailpipe kind of day." I miss traffic and the city. Sometimes I contemplate licking my car's tailpipe to simulate the nausea of smog. "Dirty Jersey." Just about everyone from Strong Island says that about New Jersey. "Strong Island." Just about everyone from Long Island will call it that from time to time...

I realize I should have done this on 9 November, but I didn't feel like it. Instead . . . I'm a few days late. Kiss it, I amused you in the meantime. We all know by now, and if you don't you should be ASHAMED, that 9 November marked the twenty year anniversary of the Berlin Wall falling. Now, I bet you want to know where this historian was? I bet you think I have some kind of magical story about staring at the face of Communism and tyranny crumbling down, that I stood united with others, chanting and crying, rejoicing about the destruction of evils gone by? Yea well . . . this historian was in Fort Wayne, IN at Holy Cross Lutheran, in the seventh grade, and most likely getting into some kind of trouble with Steve, Jill, and Andy. Mostly, that concerned Steve and me spending a lot of time in the hallway. The day the wall fell I do remember sitting in the hall cutting jokes with Steve because . . . drum roll please . . . we got kicked out of religion class. Good times...