Deep Thoughts, not even remotely handy

*I’ve been keeping this list on my phone. Why? Why not? It amuses me.

I put my seatbelt on, lock the door, and get everything situated before opening the garage door. You never know when you might have to back over a zombie hoard of your neighbors.

I have multiple colors of Fiestaware. Colors that are the same cannot touch in the cabinet and it is ill advised to eat from dishes of the same color. I don’t know why. I don’t even let the cats use the same colors.


I think fitness apps should have an option for when everything you ate comes flying out your butt an hour later for no apparent reason. That’s got to cut the carbs in half, right?

I don’t understand WHY my body doesn’t digest certain foods. Mushrooms for example. How hard can they be to digest? “Mush” is in the name.

I use the cats as an excuse not to vacuum. If everyone is adorably sleeping, I don’t want to disturb them.

Watching Deadpool makes me happy. Could be the musical selections. Could be all the sass and swearing.

Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale is probably one of my favorite books. (No, I haven’t watched the t.v. show. I read books, bitches!) It was shockingly easy in that book to turn women into class-less members of society who basically get raped by old white men in leadership positions. I watch our current government and presume that they are just a chapter away from reading this as a how-to manual.

Life Lesson: if you put Icy Hot on your knees because they are suddenly old as fuck, and THEN pull on your pj bottoms, there is great potential to get Icy Hot on your crotchular area. Icy Hot does not belong there. You’re welcome.

I miss my garden spider.


Crockpots are terrifying to me. Why would I leave a hot cooking thing on while I wander off for 7-8 hours? What would the cats do? Only recently have I started to use a crockpot (all recipes from Damn Delicious) but we are strictly on a 3-4 hour while I’m at home relationship. Unfortunately I suspect my 19.99 Target bargain is on its way out. The tiny light won’t turn on and my potatoes didn’t really cook. People are like”Meh, buy an instapot!” Me: “Those fuckers explode.”

Yea, I’m just a grocery trip away from buying ONE of these masks.


Trending This Week: Imaginary Conversations

On trend this week are imaginary conversations that students have had with me.

I have a lot of imaginary conversations in my head, usually in stressful situations. Often in anticipation of angry; awkward; uncomfortable; or hard, but necessary conversations. My family, students, colleagues, and friends all tear shit up in my head on a regular basis. This crap keeps me up at night.

That and recently this Britney Spears song because of the Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse.

I field my fair share of student created lies, but this week just got a little weird.

Disclaimer: The following imaginary conversations are based  on real imaginary conversations that “really” happened on some plain of existence. The contents of these real imaginary conversations have been altered to protect someone, most likely imaginary. Probably not me. “Reasonable deniability.”

Imaginary Conversation 1: (Remember these are altered…mostly.)

Student 1:”OH-MUH-GAWD, Throgdor texted me last period like yelling at me, and she said that she told you she was quitting bunny petting duty and that I had to give her my acorns!”

Me: “Throgdor and I did NOT have  a conversation about her quitting bunny petting duty. I had the same acorn supply conversation with her as I had with you.”

Student 1:”Well, that’s what she said, and the text was really screamy.”

Me: “Please text Throgdor and tell her that the bunny petting/acorn supply schedule has been posted, and that she should see me for further issues. ”

Later that day when she came to see me, Throgdor denied all screamy texting, could not account for the alleged bunny petting conversation she supposedly had with me, was told she would have to deal with her own acorn supply, and said “Ok” a lot while giving me crazy side-eye and edging away.

**Just in case you think I’m Throgdor biased, I’ve known Student 1 longer and Throgdor has been really sketchy as of late. 

***If you are considering reproducing, please keep in mind that it takes  a cold day in Hell for most teens to fully fess up to any bullshit they have pulled.They are psychotically committed to the lie.

Imaginary Conversation 2: 

Student 2: yelling at me during my lunch which should be quiet grown up time, but never is except for Zombie Tuesdays (A colleague and I discuss The Walking Dead on Tuesdays.)


Me: “Yes, I did.”

Student 2: “I specifically told you not to throw that away!”

Me: “We did NOT have a conversation about your flask of warm urine.”

Student 2: grumbling “Well, I told Throgdor not to throw it away!”

Me: “I am not Throgdor.”

Student 2: “Well, I was going to drink that!”

Me: “Well, I’m going to remind you…again…that when I found half drunk flasks of warm urine sitting around the mortuary, I’m going to throw them away. You don’t live here.”

***My work space is often mistaken for students’ homes where yelling at grown ups, walking on furniture, and leaving all manner of partially consumed sustenance laying about is apparently okay. 

Imaginary Conversation 3: 

This one came in the form of an email to all of the student’s teachers- that’s me!- from…let’s say…the student’s “life coach”/keeper.

Dear colleagues,

You are getting this email because Throgdor showed me a work log today that allegedly all of you signed. Oddly enough, all of your signatures are identical and none of you made note of any homework assignments or missing assignments.

Throgdor swears by the Great Sword of Melmack that this is legit, and, really, isn’t the point that Throgdor take care of this record on Throgdor’s own?

I pressed Throgdor to email all of you individually and at that point Throgdor broke, admitting that this was an “old” work log.

Throgdor sorry now.

***Note that Throgdor never copped to badly forging all the signatures. It was just an old log. Damn it, Throgdor.

The Real Conversation:

I know that all the conversations I have with my cats are real. I’m pretty sure I can trust that. Sure they don’t make a ton on sense, but no one is lying about anything so that’s nice.

Cats:”We’re starving!!!”

Me: “I love you bunches.”

Cats:”Mousie? Where’s mousie?

Me: “I want to give you hugs.”

Cats:”OMG! Over there! No over there!”

Me: “You guys are silly.”







I just ate two Nutty Bars. Not like the two in the pack but two packs! 

I just ate four Nutty Bars!I don’t know how it happened. They are so awful, but so delicious. Even if their “chocolate” coating has a slightly wax-like consistency. 

I caved. 

Nutty Bars are usually a gas station treat (which is a disturbing phrase to write). When I’m on the road and have to stop for gas and pee, Nutty Bars are a natural snack choice! Natural because gas stations sell them one pack at a time. They’re rarely fresh, but that’s a chance you take with the Nutty. 

However the grocery store is too fucking classy to sell single pack Nutty Bars. You have to buy an entire box which leads to temptation. Temptation exacerbated by exhaustion from an after school event with teenage girls. It’s just the sound of screaming. Exhaustion exacerbated by my grocery store choosing this moment in space and time to remodel. 
They reversed EVERYTHING. It was like an episode of the The Walking Dead. Everyone was shuffling around the aisles with an intense look of concentration that was just a mask for being lost, confused, and hungry for brains. The store even had someone stationed at the front with a handout that allegedly served as a directory to all the new food locations: “Locations will be changing daily for the next two weeks.”
The problem with the directory was that the store and I disagreed on how to categorize Nutty Bars. I file them under “snack cakes” which appeared nowhere on the list. Eventually, after trolling the check out aisles in search of the elusive single pack, I stumbled in to an aisle labeled “sweet things.” Really? 
Zombie-like in my single minded quest, I put the yellow box in my cart with minimal self judgement. It’s a leftover from Gma and Gpa’s house which was always well stocked with Nutty Bars. Much like the gas station single pack, the level of freshness was a gamble. But that never stopped me from following the appropriate Nutty etiquette. One to two bites from the end of the bar then patiently dismantle each of the five fake peanut butter and waxy chocolate covered layers. 

Spring Break Extravaganza: Ricktator vs. Porch Dick

Rarely do I stay up on a Sunday night to watch The Walking Dead. I typically DVR it then watch it Monday night followed by The Talking Dead. Staying up beyond 9 on a school night- especially Sunday night- is just hard the next day. My lunch bunch runs into the same problems so our zombie analysis is typically reserved for Tuesdays.

However, in the girls gone wild spirit of Spring Break, I stayed up at my sister’s house to watch the latest episode “Try” with her. (She did have school the next day, but she’s way more energetic than me and doesn’t feel the need to watch Talking Dead immediately after.)

I TRIED to like “Try.” It is the second to last episode of the season so it has to be setting us up for something interesting. Right? RIGHT? But until the last 5 minutes of the episode, a good part of my mind was wondering what to spell for my next move in Words With Friends.

****Really Boring Spoilers

“Who’s Deanna” is sad because her dead son liked Nine Inch Nails. Whatever… her and all the other moms of the  world. (I was just happy to be able to identify the band when the song started. I miss Beth’s penchant for Tom Waits, but I don’t miss Beth.) Would it help if Deanna knew that her douchy kid lasted longer in the comics, but was still gutted in the end?

Minus the hat and the all-revealing clothes, Rosita is barely recognizable. For a second I thought Michonne had hired Carol’s stylist and was wearing a cardigan. Michonne does not look like herself either especially minus her sword. Sasha is losing her shit and doesn’t need anyone’s help. Thank you, surly one dimensional character.

Carol is busy stirring the pot literally- apocalyptic tuna casserole- and figuratively- “Hey, Rick, you know how I suggested that you kill Porch Dick Pete? Get on that.” I love the fucked up Suzy Home Maker angle she’s working. It keeps reminding me of Kathleen Turner in Serial Mom.

Carl follows the only remaining age-appropriate female into the zombie infested woods so he can touch her hand while they stand inside a tree. My sister occasionally gets a text message from a co-worker that just says, “Death to Carl.” She said the guy will be disappointed to learn that so far one-eyed Carl is still surviving in the comics and is still a pompous “Dad, you don’t understand” ass.

Essentially all of these characters have different mumbled conversations about their feelings. All of their feelings, including Rick’s, seem to boil down to how damned sad and confused they are about living in a relatively safe, civilized community populated by at least one hot soccer mom.

Bored. Bored. Bored.

Their mopey commiserating does nothing to move the plot along and only drives home the super obvious idea that Rick’s group does not fit in with the weak and pampered unless they are playing the game with intent like Carol.

On the flip side though, to suddenly have the Ricktator and Porch Dick Pete flying through windows Old West style and gouging at each other’s eyes, was a sudden shift in content and mood. The message remains the same- Rick and friends don’t fit in- but the animalistic nature of the fight  followed by Rick pulling his gun on the weaklings was an extreme contrast to the rest of the episode.

Pete gets props for lasting longer in the fight than expected and for clocking his wife in front of the crowd. Now we ALL know that he’s bad news for Jessie. I assumed his fight with Rick would be a one hit wonder with Pete on the floor in seconds. Also, is he always drunk? I’m having an issue distinguishing clearly drunk Pete who offers medical advice and friendships  from “I just might be upset to find you here with my wife and that’s why I seem a bit off” Pete.

Predictions for the extended finale:

1. Rick didn’t drop the “if they can’t make it, we’ll take over ” line in an earlier episode for nothing. The Ricktator eventually rules Alexandria in the comics.

2. “Who’s Deanna” will attempt to be civilized about what to do with Rick and friends. Exile, anyone? This will cue:

a.) An outside danger to arrive that only Rick and friends can deal with therefore proving their worth and right to take over. Perhaps the answer to all the zombies sporting W’s.

b.) Rick’s group to be torn over who is willing to follow an exiled Rick/watch him be punished, versus who wants to try to fit in and add to their sweater set collection. Which reminds me, where the Hell is Maggie? Shouldn’t              she and Glen be having giddy married couple conversations about establishing a home and breeding?

c.) Undercover Carol to emerge from deep cover and make good on all her simmering bad ass-ness.

3. The next bad guy will appear. The show’s version of Neegan carrying Lucille?

4. Darryl will take a shower. A really long hot shower.

What Teachers Do At Lunch

As a self-involved teen, I don’t remember ever wondering what my teachers did at lunch. I’m not even sure where they ate. Maybe they just survived off of sarcasm and body fat like I do. Even if I never saw her eat, I know that my favorite English teacher went to the bathroom because she was a stall to stall talker. Uncomfortable. I am thankful daily that my classroom is right beside the staff restroom.

My students seem as unimpressed with the concept that teachers eat as I was at their age. They are also unfazed by a closed door and a room full of only teachers eating lunches. They don’t have the good sense to act awkward when they open the door, walk in because they’re done with lunch so we must be as well, and all conversation stops cold as we direct teacher stink eye at them.

I call lunch “grown up” time because by that point in the day I need that less-than-20-minutes to inhale my food and interact with adults. Important things happen at lunch.

For example, we might view the latest episode of Key & Peele where Phil from Modern Family makes another appearance as a Nazi. A Nazi with an “awesome Hitler story” that uses the words “insubordinate and churlish” at the end.  We loved it when they were the only words that the substitute teacher ( “A- A- ron”) could pronounce properly. “Insubordinate and churlish” is like the English teacher motto. Words are fun! We need t-shirts!

Today the force of our nerdliness kept the student invaders at bay. The boys (two questionably adult male teachers) and I were on our own. With the return of The Walking Dead this weekend, our  conversation turned to zombies. Collectively, we have watched all four seasons of the show, read the comics, and read the Governor based trilogy. I may have carried a bit more of the weight in these efforts.

I speculated that it would be interesting to have some sort of map of Rick and friends’ travels. Given road blocks, the lack of supplies, and the necessity of foot travel, I don’t feel like they could have traveled very far in four seasons. In fact, I have this mental image of everyone involved trapped inside a very small plot of land around Atlanta.

The Google and the larger nerd population was way ahead of that thought process. Within seconds, we had one blogger’s theories on the geographic structure of the show AND we could project it because we’re that cool.

When we’re not bitching about kids or the latest trend that the powers that be want us to bend over and try, this is what happens when teachers eat lunch.

***Two Things About the Zombie Apocalypse

1.) I never open my garage door until I’m in my car with the doors locked because you never know when there might be a zombie horde or neighbors that you have to back over in order to get to work in the morning.

2.) Every time I have to use a motion sensitive sink or toilet, I wonder where that little red eye is going to get us when the zombies bring the power grid down. I bet Rick is glad that he only seems to come across regular faucets.


Literary Zombie: Day 17

I’m a day late. The Walking Dead and The Talking Dead are just on too late on Sunday night so I am forever hushing the lunchtime conversation until Tuesday after a Monday evening viewing.

So I’m listening to The Talking Dead yammering on about the deep symbolic significance of items like the puzzle on the table in the episode “The Grove” and two things are killing me…figuratively. Carol is not ramming a knife in my head.

First, are we done even talking about the comics that the show originates from? I realize that the cast and plot line have strayed from the comics which is fine, but it is nice to nerd out and recognize the references. Mika and Lizzie totally replace the twin boys in the comics. One brother follows the animal torturing route and ultimately kills his more kind, innocent, “normal” brother. Carl puts the future serial killer brother down because he felt that was what had to be done. It becomes one of the early moments of questioning just how messed up Carl will be.

Secondly, The Talking Dead just referenced Of Mice and Men for about five seconds. Come on! Does no one read? We could totally show this episode along with the reading of Steinbeck. In fact, I think our 21st century students would love it! FYI:Lizzie is Lennie. A fondness for mice ( I like soft things), various dead animals. She likes to “pet rabbits” with a knife, but that’s just knit picking. Remember that episode where Tyrese leaves Mika and Lizzie in the woods with Judith while he scampers off to help some random people? Judith starts crying and to make her stop, Lizzie comes pretty close to suffocating her. Hello! Curly’s wife wouldn’t shut up either!

Much like Lennie and George, the whole gang of Carol, Tyrese, Mika, and Lizzie are just looking for a home and a piece of land to call their own. The homestead with well water and pecan trees seems like the dream, but like Lennie and George they are fated to watch the dream crumble again and again until something changes. Lizzie like Lennie has a warped understanding of the world, its rules and morality. Like George, Carol realizes that Lizzie will continue to be a danger to herself and others, and to the dream.

Certainly the final scene with Carol directing Lizzie to look at the flowers before she shoots her is a nod to George asking Lennie to look out across the river and envision the farm before George shoots Lennie. Are George and Carol saving themselves? Are they saving Lizzie and Lennie from a world that they can’t adapt to and don’t understand?