Memememememe!!!

So what do we all do when we have no inspiration to blog? We do a meme, that's what!

50 ODD Things about you!

1) Do you like blue cheese? Ick, gack, NO! Hold the mold!!

2) Have you ever smoked heroin? No way, no how.

3) Do you own guns? Me, personally? No. There is, however, a gun owner in my home...

4) What flavor do you add to your drink at sonic? We don’t have Sonic - wah!!

5) Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Yes.

6) Last commercial jingle you heard? Some car commercial...

7) Favorite Christmas song? Oh Holy Night

8 ) What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee, caffienated.

9) Can you do push ups? Yes. Not many, though.

10) Can you do a chin up? I haven’t tried in DECADES.

11) What’s your favorite piece of jewelry? My great-grandmother's engagement ring

12) Favorite hobby? Scrapbooking

13) Ever been in a car wreck? a few fender-benders, but never a wreck.

14) Do you have ADD? Sometimes I think so, but then I get distrac - is that a butterfly?

15) What’s one trait that you hate about yourself? I procrastinate

16) Middle name? Hope

17) Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment?
1. Jason Castro is so cute! I want to put him in my pocket and carry him around with me!
2. God, I'm HUNGRY! What's for dinner?
3. When do I have to pick up Miss Peanut?

18 Name 3 things you bought yesterday:
1. Breakfast (coffee & a muffin)
2. Carnival Tickets
3. Reese's pieces (I was being "naughty" food-wise)

19) Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Coffee, tea, milk.

20) Current worry? Low potassium!

21) Current hate right now? Clutter in my house!!!

22) Did you get flowers for Valentine’s Day? No. Well, yes - I bought myself flowers.

23) How did you bring in the New Year? Sleeping.

24) Where would you like to go? France - desperately!!!

25) Name three people who will complete this? I'm not tagging anyone.

26) Do you own slippers? Yes. Several pairs.

27) What shirt are you wearing? long-sleeved dressy tee with some kind of script on it.

28 ) Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? I can't say as I ever have...

29) Can you whistle? Very well, with lips and teeth.

30) Favorite color? Green

31) Would you be a pirate? No, but I'd like to sleep with Johnny Depp - does that count?

32) What songs do you sing in the shower? I don’t sing in the shower

33) Favorite girl’s name? Other than my daughter's name? Arianna

34) Favorite boy’s name? Graham

35) What’s in your pocket? $15

36) Last thing or person who made you laugh? My acting Principal

37) Best bed sheets as a child? Cream cotton trimmed with eyelet lace.

38 ) Worst injury you’ve ever had? Pulled groin muscle. Ow!

39) Do you love where you live? It's not bad.

40) How many TVs do you have in your house? 3, only 2 are used.

41) Who is your loudest friend? the WCM

42) How many dogs do you have? 2

43) Does someone have a crush on you? How would I know? Probably not.

44) What is your favorite song of all time? "I Can Dream About You" by Dan Hartmann (from the Streets of Fire soundtrack - you remember, with Michael Pare & Diane Lane?)

45) What is your favorite book? Pride & Prejudice - Jane Austen

46) What is your favorite candy? Reeses cups

47) Favorite Sports Team? Don't really have one...

48 ) What song do you want played at your funeral? "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" from The Life of Brian by Monty Python. I don't actually want a funeral, though.

49) What were you doing at 12 AM last night? Sleeping

50) What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? “Gotta pee! gotta pee! gotta pee!"

Thanks to MaryBeth at Attraversiamo for this one.

Dreamriding

Disclaimer: ok, it's been a while, but most of you know the drill. This is a bit of creative writing - feel free to skip it if mild erotica is not your thing. Lord knows, it's my thing...

Curled warm in my bed, I ride my dreams, flying through improbably erotic scenes until it settles into a plump feather mattress in a rough tester bed. A squat wax candle scented with juniper and bay burns low on a battered table, just out of arm's reach. Quilts lay heavy on my body, keeping me comfortably still. A pleasant torpor fills my senses until I hear the heavy bootsteps echoing up the stone stairs.

The heavy door scrapes open, and the mattress shifts as my bien aime sits next to me and rests his hand on my hip. Even through the sturdy blankets, I feel the warmth of it, feverishly so. My lips curve as his mouth descends. As always, I am lost at the touch of his lips on mine. Unable to parse a coherent thought, I moan wordlessly, the sensation overloading my mind. My hands claw at the blankets separating us, my legs thrash to be free. His hands stroke me softly, his legs capture mine. His touch gentles me and calms my frenzied state.

Freeing me deftly from the bedclothes, he pulls me quickly onto his lap, so I sit facing him. My prim flannel nightgown rides up high, and I feel the rough homespun cloth of his breeches against my bare legs and bottom. Murmuring softly to me, my bien aime slides his hands under my nightgown, pausing to fondle and knead my posterior. My head falls back and I offer him my throat. Sliding one arm around my waist, he holds me in place with his other hand on my throat as his lips roam, finding the sensitive juncture of my neck and shoulder. My whimpers and moans spur him on as he descends, his lips blazing a trail through my decolletage. Swiftly unbuttoning my nightgown and spreading it wide, he lowers his head to my breasts. Motion suspended, almost unable to breathe as the tingling evoked by his tongue suffuses my consciousness, I am only able to expel a hissing breath. All sensation is centered there, as I arch back to offer him better access...

The dream slips away as my slumber claims me, yearning and unfulfilled, leaving me with the scent of bay and juniper washing over me.

Hand over the chocolate and nobody gets hurt!

I wish I'd prefaced my arrival at Peevish Place this evening with the above statement, as the WCM nearly had his head quite messily torn off his shoulders and hurled across the room in a PMS-induced rage. I was rather inclined, at the time, to jump up and down upon it in a frenzied dance of incandescent fury, but put that off until after dinner.

What had the man done to pique my ire so? Tried to hand me tickets to the circus while my hands were holding a bag of green beans and a pair of scissors. Yes. The vile creature. How dare he? The nerve.

(*le sigh*)

After hurling the bag of green beans into the microwave and slamming the door with rather unnecessary force, I stormed wrathfully out of the house for a calming walk around the block, during which I endeavored to remember that I love the WCM and don't really want him to die a screaming bloody death. Possibly.

I came to the rapid realization that Aunt Flo has not foisted her unwanted presence upon me in over 20 days, thus making this officially The Week From Hell! I should have cottoned to this earlier in the day when I was writing up class cuts with unusual relish. Or perhaps when I came home early and decided I needed a catnap, only to wake up nearly 3 hours later. What might've clued me in a smidge earlier would have been the snack I had of Thin Mints and Doritos. Sweet and Salty, anyone?

You'll have to excuse me now. I must go calm my inner homicidal maniac. And possibly apologize to the WCM. Maybe.

Dullsville...

That's where I seem to be living - Central Dullsville, just around the corner from West Yawnmouth, on Blah Boulevard.

I can't wait for school to be done. I'm so over it right now.

My creative juices have run drier than, well, see, drier than a desert. That's just how low they've gotten - I can't even conjure up a comparison that's not hackneyed. My poor imaginary Bien Aime has got to be feeling neglected.

My husband's diet has me reverting to some old behaviors - eating cookies when he's not home, for example. I shouldn't feel guilty for having 2 cookies (because I really only have room for 2 - sometimes, if they're smallish, I'll have 3) when he's not at home, because technically, I'm not dieting. I'm done with the weight loss thing. Done. However, I don't like this behavior returning - it's too easy for that to become a habit.

I am now living on a budget, thanks to that monthly car payment and exorbitant gas prices. I hate living on a budget. I suck at it. Usually, I know roughly what I've got in my account and roughly how much is coming out in bills every month. Now, since that car payment factored in, I've got to be a lot more careful about the casual trip to Target that I was wont to make.

And, unfortunately, I am now about 2 sizes smaller than I was this time last year, so a lot of my shorts are falling down on me. Tops are allowed to be somewhat roomy. Shorts? Not so much. I hate wearing belts on shorts/pants that are too big, because the bunchy fabric around my waist/hips creates that ever so flattering Mom Pooch. Er, no thanks. I'll pass. Just call me Droopy Drawers.

My house is a hideous pigsty of filth and clutter. And I always turn into a bitch when I have to ask people to clean up their own crap.

I need a vacation. From my life.

In which the WCM scores big points

So, the WCM and I were having this conversation tonight about "Sarah Jane Adventures" on Sci-Fi. We're both Whovians, of different degrees - I'm a scoche geekier about Dr. Who than he is. Of course, it helps that I find the current Dr. Who absolutely mouthwatering (tall, dark, and handsome anyone? Scottish, too? droooooooooool...) but I've been a fan since Tom Baker and, of course, Sarah Jane.

So, the WCM passes the remark that Sarah Jane was an old woman now. Of course, since the WCM's 6 years my senior, I had to call him out and say "Yeah, just a couple of years older than you!"

He snorted (yes, he actually snorted!) and said "You're catching up, old biddy!"

I snorted back (yes, I snorted, too) "I'll always be younger than you!"

His witty response "And bonier, too - you're an itty bitty bony biddy."

He called me "itty bitty." Itty bitty.

You know, it just doesn't get old, this being small stuff. It really doesn't. Big points to the WCM.

Schadenfreude, sweet Schadenfreude...

The WCM has us both on a diet and it is quickly sapping my will to live.

He wants to lose about 10-15 pounds, and has chosen to try the South Beach diet. Since I am the one in charge of working the stove, I went out and bought the book, perused the recipes, and made up the week's meal plan. He's gamely trying it on, but I have to tell you, I don't like it.

It's only the third day of South Beach so far - which I am not even following that strictly - and I don't like it. Fucking vegetables! They are everywhere, contaminating my kitchen with their shocking greenness. Not content with taking over the two produce drawers in my already gargantuan refrigerator, they've now annexed a whole shelf for their own. I hate vegetables, did you know that? I avoid them with an almost religious zeal. I had to go so far as to make a New Year's Resolution to eat more of the damn things, and they are at the very core of this @$^*% diet. I am not a goddamn rabbit! I care naught for the green leafies, yet what made up one-third of my lunch yesterday? A Greek Salad. What did I have for dinner yesterday? A Cobb Salad with Chicken. What is in my lunch today? DING DING DING, we have a winner!! Fucking goddamn salad, that's what!!! There are other vegetables, to be sure, and we have tried some. We had sauteed cabbage, too. It was marginally palatable. We tried the "Fauxtatoes," which to me, were only rendered edible after the generous addition of Boursin cheese. Otherwise, fauxtatoes are nothing more than a colorless acrid gruel.

We're doing fine on the protein portions of South Beach - we like meat in our house. Cheese, to me, is one of the finest foods on the face of the earth. However, it's the lean part about all of that that is making me crazy - low fat? I can't do low fat. I don't absorb 82% of the fat that I eat now - everything that passes through me is instantly rendered low-fat by my reconfigured intestines. Low fat can suck my ass!

One of the rewards of doing this whole South Beach initiative is that the WCM has learned how to work the stove, and has been cooking us both breakfast in the morning. Imagine this - after nearly 18 years of marriage, I come downstairs to a teensy cheese omelette and 2 slices of canadian bacon. My heart melted like the low-fat cheese on that omelette. It was pretty tasty, too.

By far and away the best part of this trip to "The Beach" has been to watch the WCM suffering on this diet. Sure, it's schadenfreude, but it's almost sweet and delicious enough in and of itself to make up for the lack of sugar during Phase One. After all, during every single diet I've ever been on, he's been unsupportive and a general jackass. It does my heart good to watch him bang his head against the wall on this one.

To paraphrase Louis XIV, "Vindictive bitch, c'est moi."

Habits

That new car? Still fabulous.

What's not so fabulous? I can't afford Starbucks anymore.

Goddamnit.

So now, since I've had to give up my habit (since last Tuesday, that is), I've lost 4 pounds.

I'm ambivalent over the weight loss: I didn't really want to lose it, even though I have it to lose. I'm trying to keep a cushion here. The WCM already calls me such endearing names as "scrawny ass" and "bony bitch." (I know, he's soooo romantic, and such a way with words!)

Another habit being adopted here at Peevish Place is the South Beach Diet. Not for me, but for the WCM, as he's not used to being the heaviest person in the house. He's feeling a tad chubby lately - not that he's heard a peep out of me! I like a little chub on him - so he's decided he wants to lose about 10-15 pounds. Since I am still the only one in the house that knows how to work the stove, I have had the pleasure of preparing our first South Beach repasts. It's very healthy, and if followed, would instill some healthier habits in the WCM.

New habits? I wish I could make things like exercise and housework habits.

Nah. I'll stick to vacuuming my couch before company comes over.

Automotive (mis)Adventures

So, you know my car? It died.

I was going to pick up Miss Peanut to go visit my niece and her new baby (my fourth great-nephew!) when my car suddenly got all schizophrenic and the engine decided that it would rev quite nicely, while the transmission said, no, I don't feel like moving forward today, thank you ever so much. And so, the car sat still when it should have been going. I was not thrilled, let me tell you. Luckily, it did decide to inch forward at a snail's pace if I revved the engine mightily, and it made its final collapse in front of a gas station, where I slid it into a parking space and turned it off.

A few frantic phone calls later, I had arranged for a tow, a rental car, and care for Miss Peanut until the WCM could come pick her up. I also apprised the WCM of the situation, who, with his odd sense of humor, told me "Whoo, boy, are you fucked!" Thank you ever so much, WCM. You twat.

An hour or so later, I was towed to a service location, where I'm told that they will need almost $300 to figure out just how bad the transmission is. Apparently, they have to take it all apart to know that. Ok, so, fine. Whatever. About 10 minutes later, the rental car company picked me up. I highly recommend them - that pick-up/drop-off service of theirs is a boon. I got home and...

just a tangent here - if your wife had had all of this trouble and had taken the time to keep you apprised of it, wouldn't you think a nice gesture would be to feed your child and perhaps prepare something simple so that she wouldn't have to come home and figure it all out, too?

...found that the WCM hadn't fed Miss Peanut and was waiting for me to cook something for dinner. We had words. I won't say what they were, but I will tell you that he went out and bought us a cheesesteak for dinner, while I fixed Miss Peanut something. After nearly 18 years of marriage, we've learned a bit of compromise. Props to us.

Well, two days pass, and the transmission guy tells me that my transmission's fucked. I need a new one for, oh, say, $2400, rounding up. Oh, and they're going to want another $300 to put the car back together if I don't get the transmission done and just want to get rid of it. Which, at this point, I do. Stunned, flummoxed, and quite peevish at this point, I told them I'd call them back in an hour with my decision. After a quick consult with the WCM, who was just as pissed off as I was about the extra $300, we decided that I would just get a new car.

I contacted these people, who were actually happy to get my car - even without a transmission in the vehicle! - and donated it. I figure the tax write-off will help us next year. I'll let you know how it works out, because they haven't towed it away yet, nor have I had any prior experience with them. But, hey, if they tow it for free, as they said they would, then at least I don't have to worry about getting rid of it.

So, the wrangling at home began. I wanted a Toyota Prius - hello, gas mileage! The WCM was not feeling the hybrid, as "they're too new." He's a scientist - he needs years of empirical data to support any decision. So today, the test drives began.

We visited a Ford dealership, where we had just about the most gorgeous car salesman in the world wait on us. A veritable Adonis, he stood 6'2" with curly dark hair and shocking aqua eyes. Personable, flirtatious, mouth-watering, he very nearly sold me a car. I quite liked the Ford Focus, but it was just a scoche small on the interior for me, even being on the shrimpy side (5'4").

After thanking our lovely salesman profusely, we went next door to the Toyota dealership, only to find that they had no Prius in the model I wanted - they only had the deluxe models on sale. I wanted one with a few nice bells and whistles, but not all of them. Affording it would be a bit of a stretch anyway - tacking on the sweet options like GPS and moonroofs would just jack the price waaaaay out of my price range. So instead, I tried the Corolla, which I didn't like. It was a lot like the Focus, but more expensive, and without the benefit of the dreamy salesguy. So I passed.

At the Honda Dealership, where I went alone while the WCM let Miss Peanut run off her extra energy at the McDonald's playland, I fell for the Honda Civic. What a lovely vehicle. So I bought one. It's a lovely deep gray, with light gray interior, and her name is Cécile. She has moderate bells and whistles, plus a few I didn't need but come standard with her. She's by far the nicest car I've ever owned. The saleslady was wonderful, the process painless, and the overall experience wondrously pleasant - the nicest time I've ever had spending that much money.

Of course, I'll be in debt up to my eyeballs for the next 4 years, but...

I've got a new car!!!!

Next in the Best. Ever. Series.

Presenting the Best. Student. Comment. Ever.

So today, my students were all working on a vocabulary project in class. They were all productive and chatting quietly among themselves while they completed their projects. I was so pleased with them, as I circulated around the classroom, that I wasn't entirely paying attention to their conversations.

I was hovering near two of my young men when one of them, a Senior, à propos of nothing, turns to the other, a Junior, and said "You know what would really suck? If someone kidnapped you, glued your dick to your ballsack, and made you watch porn!"

Inappropriate? Definitely.
Offensive? Possibly.
Freakin' Hilarious? Abso-fucking-lutely.

The Best. Name. Ever.

Ok, so one of my students told me that he and his brother would both be missing school tomorrow and the next day because they were going to a Jewish Retreat sponsored by their Temple. Apparently, it's a huge deal, as a whole LOT of temples in the North East will be participating, sending forth their youth to enjoy this weekend retreat.

This young man and his brother have dubbed it...

Wait for it...

JEWZAPALOOZA.

I'm telling you - the Best. Name. Ever. for a religious retreat.