Why O WHY can't my life be drama free? I suppose if it was, then my life would cease to be my life. I am just ready for some new drama free chapters of life. Anyone out there have some really boring hobbies that I could pick up so that I could A) never leave my house B) not have time to sit around and think about the men in my life who have completely destroyed me and C) not be deemed a pathetic, crazy cat-like lady? If so, suggestions PLEASE! Let the zero drama life begin...maybe tomorrow, if I'm done crying my eyes out!
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Christening Big Richard Style
As we all know, I'm in the process of an eternal divorce, and since I have a new place, it was time to christen it. What do people christen their house with? Some people holy water, some people use sage, but not Fancy. In true Fancy style, I prefer to use a sex toy, a giant dildo, the one and only Big Richard...elongated for Big Dick.
One night I was climbing into bed when Big Richard peaked out at me from the closet and gave me a sad eye, like he hadn't be used in a while. At first I thought I was hallucinating because I had just taken a sleeping pill, but then I realized Big Richard had missed me. I grabbed him by his scrawny little shaft, and placed him gently under my pillow for a late night, self-induced loving.
To quote Seinfeld, yada, yada, yada.....
Several days passed with Big Richard in various places throughout my bed. Each morning I would just make my bed and say goodbye to Big Richard for the day as I headed off to work. One morning, I had just made my bed, when Fancy Jr. climbed on top. He said, "mom, there's something in your bed! I feel it, right here!" At this point, I could see that Big Richard was trying to wiggle his way out of the bed, to avoid contact with the child. Fancy Jr. wouldn't give up. He kept going for Big Richard, watching him like a snake in the grass. Finally I was able to scoot Fancy J outta the room.
When he was gone, I reached under the covers, and I pulled out Big Richard. I told him it was time for him to go back to his home in the nightstand beside my bed, where Fancy Jr wouldn't find out his identity, and I told him not to worry because we would be reunited again very soon....
One night I was climbing into bed when Big Richard peaked out at me from the closet and gave me a sad eye, like he hadn't be used in a while. At first I thought I was hallucinating because I had just taken a sleeping pill, but then I realized Big Richard had missed me. I grabbed him by his scrawny little shaft, and placed him gently under my pillow for a late night, self-induced loving.
To quote Seinfeld, yada, yada, yada.....
Several days passed with Big Richard in various places throughout my bed. Each morning I would just make my bed and say goodbye to Big Richard for the day as I headed off to work. One morning, I had just made my bed, when Fancy Jr. climbed on top. He said, "mom, there's something in your bed! I feel it, right here!" At this point, I could see that Big Richard was trying to wiggle his way out of the bed, to avoid contact with the child. Fancy Jr. wouldn't give up. He kept going for Big Richard, watching him like a snake in the grass. Finally I was able to scoot Fancy J outta the room.
When he was gone, I reached under the covers, and I pulled out Big Richard. I told him it was time for him to go back to his home in the nightstand beside my bed, where Fancy Jr wouldn't find out his identity, and I told him not to worry because we would be reunited again very soon....
 |
| **Side Note--This is for YOU, Tassels! |
Friday, September 21, 2012
My New Fanciful Life
Yes, I have finally returned to the blogging scene, but it's only because so many crazy and exciting new changes have occurred in my life, and I feel some of them noteworthy.
I feel like Bridget Jones, when she said, "It all began in my 32nd year of being single..." However, mine is beginning on my 33rd year, and I am now ALMOST (yes, finally, it's about to be final!) single...but I am a grown up now. I live in my OWN place. I feel like the Jefferson's...I was movin' on up and all. It's just me and good old Fancy Jr. and so far, we are keeping it together. So yes, I've got my own digs, and it's quite nice to not be under the thumb of the dictator, err, I mean my mother! I know she means well, but what 32 (well I was 32 when I lived with her) wants to be under the rule of their mother.
Speaking of changes, I also hit a milestone birthday, the big 3-3. I'm beginning to realize that the 30s is where it's at, and I am enjoying this new life that I'm leading.
I started my job in August, and to say I'm busy feels like an understatement. I am LOVING my new job, educating the brilliant young minds...ok, let's be real. I don't mean to be rude here, but some of my students have young minds, but maybe they aren't so brilliant. Nevertheless, I enjoy them, and I am excited to see their progress, albeit maybe slow in coming, this upcoming year.
There is one aspect of my job, though, that I just do not seem to enjoy. It's like a boil under my skin, that I want to come to a head so I can pop it. What might you ask is the root of all frustration in my job? A little person that I will call the chihuahua...I call her this because she reminds me SO MUCH of my former and now deceased mother in law, who resembled a chihuahua to me. It is only September, and I am afraid that it will be her or me by the end of the year. It is that severe. I have so many instances already of the things that she has done, so I will make a brief, simple list.
When team-teaching (btw, I am the teacher, she is my assistant/aide/paraprofessional/whatever you want to call her, I think pain in my ass!) I instruct, she is supposed to be assisting or trying to keep students on task. She will pipe in, during instruction mind you, and correct students quite loudly. She yells at them to sit up straight, put their pencils down, put both legs under their desks, etc, etc, etc. I don't know how those kids haven't learned in five years (yes she has worked w/ them for 5 years) to just automatically tow the line or they have to listen to her nails on a chalkboard-esque voice bitch at them over and over and over for stupid, silly things.
Also, upon finishing explaining things in more than one way, I will pause to circulate the room and allow time for work, and she will pick up where I left off, reiterating everything I just said in her own words. Um, I am the freaking teacher!!!
She has also been quite rude to several students, and it's so bad that it literally makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable. She keeps telling me that I'm too soft and too nice. Finally, I'd had enough, and I told her that I may have several flaws as a teacher, but managing a classroom isn't one of them, and she needed to let me do it my way. Just because I don't yell and scream at students or bully them, as I think she does, doesn't mean that I don't demand their attention and respect. In fact, I GIVE respect, so that I can EARN theirs. It is SO FREAKING ANNOYING!
A few days ago, the thing that she did that has annoyed me the absolute most occurred when the instruction in a lesson told the students to write their name at a particular spot in the lesson. I told the students to do so, and one raised his hand and asked if he could write his name in cursive. Let me interject here, this was a group of 5th and 6th grade students. I said, you can as long as it is legible enough for me to read it, so make sure I can read it. Otherwise you will need to print. No sooner had my voice stopped being heard, and the good old annoying chihuahua interjected by say, NO. You absolutely cannot write in cursive. You have to print. Um, again, did you just undermine my authority? Are we really having a power struggle? Just because you're 64 and I'm 33 doesn't mean that you can pull rank. Last time I checked, I'm the one who went to college. Last time I looked, MY name is the name on the door. Oh, and I do recall the fact that I am THE TEACHER and SHE IS THE ASSISTANT!
Have you ever noticed that chihuahuas are the most annoying of all dogs? They're weird looking. They're yappy. They are all up in everyone's business. Um, she is adequately named. It's going to be a LONG year....upon the end, I hope that someone will retire or MOVE ON because she can't handle working with me.
Other than this, I am enjoying my job. My students, for the most part, are great. I have to share a few final, quick stories. On the first day working with my group of Kindergarten students, I had them do this thing about their favorites where they had to draw a picture of some different things that were their favorite things. One of the boxes on the page had their favorite person. This little boy drew his mom, and he turns to me and says, "Here are her boobs, but I don't know what color to color them. What color do I color my mom's boobs?" I nearly fell out of my chair. I seriously had to fight back the laughter.
Also, yesterday, a 5th grade boy wrote a wrong sentence. The sentence he should have written was, "The man uses tools." The sentence he wrote and read aloud was, "The man is a tool." I actually had to take a few seconds to pull myself together. Sometimes it's too much, and the kids don't even know why I'm laughing! Oh the joys of the workplace.
This is Fancy--Over and out...I'll check back in soon enough! Now, where are the other Nipples, hmmmm?
I feel like Bridget Jones, when she said, "It all began in my 32nd year of being single..." However, mine is beginning on my 33rd year, and I am now ALMOST (yes, finally, it's about to be final!) single...but I am a grown up now. I live in my OWN place. I feel like the Jefferson's...I was movin' on up and all. It's just me and good old Fancy Jr. and so far, we are keeping it together. So yes, I've got my own digs, and it's quite nice to not be under the thumb of the dictator, err, I mean my mother! I know she means well, but what 32 (well I was 32 when I lived with her) wants to be under the rule of their mother.
Speaking of changes, I also hit a milestone birthday, the big 3-3. I'm beginning to realize that the 30s is where it's at, and I am enjoying this new life that I'm leading.
I started my job in August, and to say I'm busy feels like an understatement. I am LOVING my new job, educating the brilliant young minds...ok, let's be real. I don't mean to be rude here, but some of my students have young minds, but maybe they aren't so brilliant. Nevertheless, I enjoy them, and I am excited to see their progress, albeit maybe slow in coming, this upcoming year.
There is one aspect of my job, though, that I just do not seem to enjoy. It's like a boil under my skin, that I want to come to a head so I can pop it. What might you ask is the root of all frustration in my job? A little person that I will call the chihuahua...I call her this because she reminds me SO MUCH of my former and now deceased mother in law, who resembled a chihuahua to me. It is only September, and I am afraid that it will be her or me by the end of the year. It is that severe. I have so many instances already of the things that she has done, so I will make a brief, simple list.
When team-teaching (btw, I am the teacher, she is my assistant/aide/paraprofessional/whatever you want to call her, I think pain in my ass!) I instruct, she is supposed to be assisting or trying to keep students on task. She will pipe in, during instruction mind you, and correct students quite loudly. She yells at them to sit up straight, put their pencils down, put both legs under their desks, etc, etc, etc. I don't know how those kids haven't learned in five years (yes she has worked w/ them for 5 years) to just automatically tow the line or they have to listen to her nails on a chalkboard-esque voice bitch at them over and over and over for stupid, silly things.
Also, upon finishing explaining things in more than one way, I will pause to circulate the room and allow time for work, and she will pick up where I left off, reiterating everything I just said in her own words. Um, I am the freaking teacher!!!
She has also been quite rude to several students, and it's so bad that it literally makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable. She keeps telling me that I'm too soft and too nice. Finally, I'd had enough, and I told her that I may have several flaws as a teacher, but managing a classroom isn't one of them, and she needed to let me do it my way. Just because I don't yell and scream at students or bully them, as I think she does, doesn't mean that I don't demand their attention and respect. In fact, I GIVE respect, so that I can EARN theirs. It is SO FREAKING ANNOYING!
A few days ago, the thing that she did that has annoyed me the absolute most occurred when the instruction in a lesson told the students to write their name at a particular spot in the lesson. I told the students to do so, and one raised his hand and asked if he could write his name in cursive. Let me interject here, this was a group of 5th and 6th grade students. I said, you can as long as it is legible enough for me to read it, so make sure I can read it. Otherwise you will need to print. No sooner had my voice stopped being heard, and the good old annoying chihuahua interjected by say, NO. You absolutely cannot write in cursive. You have to print. Um, again, did you just undermine my authority? Are we really having a power struggle? Just because you're 64 and I'm 33 doesn't mean that you can pull rank. Last time I checked, I'm the one who went to college. Last time I looked, MY name is the name on the door. Oh, and I do recall the fact that I am THE TEACHER and SHE IS THE ASSISTANT!
Have you ever noticed that chihuahuas are the most annoying of all dogs? They're weird looking. They're yappy. They are all up in everyone's business. Um, she is adequately named. It's going to be a LONG year....upon the end, I hope that someone will retire or MOVE ON because she can't handle working with me.
Other than this, I am enjoying my job. My students, for the most part, are great. I have to share a few final, quick stories. On the first day working with my group of Kindergarten students, I had them do this thing about their favorites where they had to draw a picture of some different things that were their favorite things. One of the boxes on the page had their favorite person. This little boy drew his mom, and he turns to me and says, "Here are her boobs, but I don't know what color to color them. What color do I color my mom's boobs?" I nearly fell out of my chair. I seriously had to fight back the laughter.
Also, yesterday, a 5th grade boy wrote a wrong sentence. The sentence he should have written was, "The man uses tools." The sentence he wrote and read aloud was, "The man is a tool." I actually had to take a few seconds to pull myself together. Sometimes it's too much, and the kids don't even know why I'm laughing! Oh the joys of the workplace.
This is Fancy--Over and out...I'll check back in soon enough! Now, where are the other Nipples, hmmmm?
 |
| Here is the Chihuahua in all her sexy glory! |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)