60 Days until Halloween

82 Days until Thanksgiving

115 Days Until Christmas.

You know, in case anyone was counting.

:evil:

Remember our friend, Seal? Ok, Ethan’s friend?

Seal is now happily ensconced in a dorm room on a university campus that practically sits on the damn beach. Lucky little bastard.

T and Ethan were hanging out and they decided to check in on Seal. Had they waited another hour, Seal might not have remembered them at all. This would be thanks to “Drew.”

“Drew” is Seal’s roommate. Drew is a zen dude. They’ve only been in school a little over a week and already Drew is providing contact highs to most of the dorm. :evil: You gotta love a guy who shares.

In his zen state Drew had a vision, a calling, if you will. He created Drudaism, a religion that expects its’ followers to spend several hours a day in a state of “zen.”

The conversation between Ethan, T, and Seal went a little like this:

Seal: HEY! Man, how are you guys? Oh my God! College freakin’ ROCKS!!!!

Ethan: You having a good time, man?

Seal: Yeah, just got back from the beach and I’m going back to my room. *sound of door opening* DUDE! Drew! Man!!! That REEEEEEKS!!!!!

Fast forward 20 minutes…

Ethan: Seal, you there? Are you there?

*pause*

Seal: Yeah, man, I’m here… where are you?

The other morning Mike was snoring on the couch. It was still early and he was trying to catch a little nap before the clients started calling around 9am. The thought of the phone ringing and startling him into falling off the couch tickled me to no end.

Which reminds me of the time that Mr. Avitable (I recently found out he hates being called that :evil: ) and I were chatting via IM and we had our webcam windows up. We are workaholics for the most part and it’s not unusual to have those windows open and go off, work, and then come back to the windows. On this particular occasion, Mr. Avitable had fallen asleep in his oh-so-fabulous-and-expensive-kick-ass executive chair (this would be the same one that I am going to bribe Britt’s children to steal and ship out to me). I noticed he was asleep and minimized the window to keep working on whatever I was doing.

A few minutes later I decided to to close the window and when I pulled it up there he was in the chair and then the screen sort of blipped and he was gone. I thought he had fallen out of his chair while he was sleeping. Being the concerned friend that I am, I started to laugh my ass off and nearly fell out of my own chair.

Later I found out that the screen had locked up and then reset itself. He had probably been snoring on the couch for several minutes when I “witnessed” his disappearance.

*sigh* If only he really had fallen out of the chair… that would have been so funny.

Almost as funny as a good nut shot. Notice, I said, almost, because nothing is as funny as a good nut shot.

I’m fuming and considering all sorts of illegal things that I am too paranoid to actually put on a blog because apparently, “Yes, I’m crazy, but I was just venting” is not a 100% solid defense.

Ok, Ethan got sent home from Cross Country practice because the coach is a stupid, ignorant, arrogant, talking-twat aside from being a complete moron, compared Cross Country running to Volleyball (her chosen high school sport) and Ethan politely disagreed. I am really glossing over this and not giving all the details, but I really don’t have the patience and am not in the mood to go through it blow-by-blow. You’ll just have to take my word for it.

Let’s forget the part where he doesn’t have the bouncy boobs to fully understand her high school experience, instead let’s focus on the fact that Cross Country running does not include spiking a ball or backing up a player when he/she is spiking the ball. Judging from her explanation, she doesn’t know that, because I can’t imagine her using that as an example if she did.

Now, some may say this is what I get for encouraging my kids to form their own opinions and not conform or follow for the sake of doing so. and to those people, I say, shove a large, round, object right up your ass.

But, the fact is, this woman is better equipped to join the circus and walk the tightrope in a little pink tutu than she is to coach a cross country running team. She oooooozes negativity. Seriously, this woman makes Cruella DeVille look like a peace loving Buddhist. Last year Ethan had shin splints that were so bad he couldn’t walk. She told him to “run them off.” Ethan blacked-out in the middle of a run and she didn’t even bother to check up on him!! This year she is saying that stretching is of no benefit to runners!!! I spoke with someone in the sports department of a local college and he was appalled.

She pushes and pushes and has them doing more drills than the Cross Country coach at the local college. Then she wonders why the team doesn’t win. Well, perhaps that is because Cross Country runners shouldn’t be doing 20 - 400 repeats (that’s sprinting 400 yards over and over again) in a row when the local college coach only has his runners do 7 and says that after 7 there is NO benefit. Let’s see… one of his runners is top in the state… and the High School coach can’t win a race to save her little, pink tutu. Who do you think is doing the better job?

Ethan mentioned the local college coach’s position on the repeats and the assistant coach had the nerve to say, “well, I guess it’ll make it easier for you when you run there.” Well, I can assure this moron that my son is NOT going to a community college and who the hell is this idiot to even begin to think that he would?!?!?!?

Mike took my car keys preventing me from showing the Coach the best use of a Suburban. I was left with no other alternative than to write an email. He also read over my email numerous times to make sure that I didn’t include any foul language or threats. In other words, he took all the damn fun right out of it.

But don’t worry… I’ll come up with something. :evil:

Updated - stayed up very late last night chatting with the former Varsity Team Captain, who graduated last year. He ran all 4 years in Cross Country and his brother (who is 2 years older) ran all 4 years in Cross Country as well, both under the same coach.

Numerous, well documented and valid complaints have been made about this coach to the Principal all the way up to the District Office. To date, nothing has been done. Nothing. And, when I say numerous, I mean MANY, MANY complaints from more than a dozen parents over the past several years. This coach is a cocky little bitch because she obviously thinks she is untouchable and through the magic and miracle of tenure, she may very well be right.

“This award is for those bloggers who are nice people, good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence in our blogging world. Once you’ve been awarded, please pass it on to 7 people who you feel are deserving.”

I’ve been awarded the Nice Matters by the awesome, wonderful, and always sweet, Angel.

I’m supposed to choose seven people… and the bummer is, this has gone around a bit and a lot of great people have been tagged already. I don’t want to be a duplicate tagger, ya know.

So, if I didn’t choose you, it isn’t because I don’t think you’re nice; it’s because you have either already been tagged, probably… or something like that.

Marti
Bug
TJ
Joe (he hates being tagged which makes this double the fun! I feel guilty, almost like I should say something about boobs or something to make up for it!)
ADW
Chickie
RW

I am bad this morning, if you have a penis, you might want to look away.

“Degredation, humiliation, torture, and slow death to all men!!!!”

Ladies get your torches and pitchforks… today they go DOWN.

Have you ever seen those movies or shows where there is the really sweet newlywed couple and they get into an argument and eventually they find each other and start apologizing?

“I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, I’M sorry, it was my fault!”

“I’m so sorry!!”

Arguing over who is more sorry? Pfft.

Yeah, let’s fast forward ten years…

“I’m sorry. I apologize.”

“Really? For what?”

“For saying that.”

“Really? Why do you feel bad about that exactly?”

“It just caused a lot more trouble than I thought it would.”

“Huh, yeah, it did, didn’t it? Enjoy the couch.”

Eventually thoughts of, “Oh my God, I could NEVER live without you!!!” are shadowed by thoughts of, “What I wouldn’t give for a few days away from your ass.”

And, he’s pissed and is sleeping on the couch?

“Great!!! I get the bed all to myself!!”

Thoughts of, “I hope that didn’t hurt his feelings” become, “Hope that stung like a motherfucker!”

And forget any thoughts of make-up sex. That is just SOOO marriage years 1-3.

I’m just sayin’.

Gotta go, my torch is soaking in kerosene, I’m prepping for tonight.

By Miss Kathryne Doran

I knew where my first class was. Getting there was half the battle as the idiots in charge have decided that students cannot use the hallway that leads directly to classrooms 1 - 3. Bastards. I glanced at my schedule and then at the school map. Then I realized something, I didn’t know where the next three classes really were, this gave me a phenomenal idea.

My Auntie B-Money has always told me to never, never, miss a good shoe sale. In fact, missing a good shoe sale might actually cause her to fly out here and force me to inhale second-hand smoke until I came to my senses. Therefore, since there was an excellent shoe sale down the street and I was having a difficult time locating the next three classes… I bailed. To the sale. Which is not the same as ditching because I had my priorities straight. Sale = $ Saved. And, we all know that $ saved is $ earned. Off to the sale I went.

:crazy:

Ok, this is all wrong. Just wrong. I would never ditch class and I would never miss a sale. I also love shopping online like my mom. So you can guess which one of us wrote that whole section up there. Hint - it wasn’t me.

The first day was a little hectic but I got through it. Going to first period was the easiest part, honestly. Getting to my second class was the hard part, I couldn’t find it, nor could i find any one around that I knew.

I was quite lucky that my third period was the same teacher as my first so that was easy. Fourth period I met up with my close friend, J (we both have the same teacher for 4th and 6th period) and we walked right past it and finally found someone and asked, we were really frustrated!

Then came lunch, now all 7th and 8th graders have lunch at the same time so it was crazy. My friend, K, ran right up to me! I was glad she was there, but she made me stay in the lunch line with her, even though I wasn’t buying my lunch!

So then on to 6th period and here is where trouble came into play, we were looking for where to go and next thing I know I’m all alone in a crowd of students. I was forced to ask an 8th grader for help!! Then I found out that the class I was looking for was RIGHT THERE. Although, I was happy to learn it was close!

Over all it was a good/hectic/fun/scary day! And, the second day? Was much, much better!!

Private post today. Feel free to log in. Although I remind you kindly that not everyone gets in to see the wizard. Register and update your profile with your blog or something so I know who you are. If I know you, your status will be upgraded and you’ll be able to read the private post.

Ok, so I am posting late… very late. Unfortunately, I was tapped out after all the warm fuzziness that is the first day of school. At least you are getting a post… it’s not like the half-assed excuse that SOME PEOPLE are using for a post today.

The way junior high works around here, you wait until the first day of school to buy school supplies. Kate has roughly nine million teachers in one day and each of them want something entirely different in terms of “materials” and “equipment.”

Binder paper, red pen, #2 pencils, erasers, spiral notebooks, 3 subject spiral notebooks, 1″ binders, and 3-ring binders divided into sections for each subject, high lighters, compasses, protractors, rulers, calculators… tequila and sedatives (oh, whoops, that was on MY list).

Blah blah blah.

So, after school armed with a TWO PAGE list that combined both junior high and high school necessities Mike and I began our trek into the Back To School jungle that I like to call, Target.

This trip consisted of Mike circling the Back To School department with the cart while I darted in and out of the fray bringing back arm loads of crap that is destined to be broken, lost, and doodled on within the next month.

Oh yeah, they were OUT of color pencils. Fortunately, using my guerrilla shopping tactics I was able to reach into the crevice between bins and retrieve a box that had slipped down there during the feeding frenzy that is Back To School shopping.

Then playing it smart, or so I thought, we ditched the BTS area and attempted to scout out the Home Office supplies area instead. Apparently, there are a few other skilled shoppers in existence because they were there too. Only, there were no 1″ binders, no binder paper, and (checking list) no jumbo 5″ binder that some idiot teacher requires. (Excuse me, Tense, I don’t count you in the idiot teacher category, honest!!)

The really funny thing about Target is that 99.9% of shoppers were either in the Home Office section or the Back to School section. Which left the pajama section un-plundered, plunder-less? Whatever.

So, as a treat for finding 95% of the crap on my list, I began perusing the oh-so-cool pajama section.

Unfortunately, there was nothing there that wouldn’t make me feel and look like a jumbo jet with hands.

I love back to school.

I just freakin’ love it.

Of hell week has officially begun.

Hell week = the first week of school where kids are tired, grumpy and suffering from end of summer pissiness blues.

I feel for them. I do. In a way, I’m going through the very same thing. Without Ethan or Kate here, it means there are two less people to act as Maggie buffers.

In a world where Hillary proclaims that it “takes a village” - I don’t think it requires a village, but it certainly requires EVERY, DAMN member of this household to keep that child from killing herself or the rest of us in some sort of mass explosion.

So, yeah, when they come in all tired today, I’m going to remind them that compared to Maggie duty - school is a damn vacation and they can shut the hell up.

Ok, no, I won’t actually say that because, truth be told, I’m one of those moms who is excited to hear every blessed detail of their every barely waking moment of school.

But deep down, make no mistake, I’m wishing I could go back to school, even high school, and let them manage Hurricane Margaret for a while.

Let’s bear in mind what I’ve had to deal with in the last, oh, 18 months alone:

- Maggie flooding the kitchen days after we had moved in.

- Maggie falling down and slicing her eye open costing me hundreds in medical expenses and hours of guilt after witnessing her acquiring numerous (NUMEROUS) sutures.

- Potty training

- Coming into the kitchen to find Maggie scaling the counter in search of chocolate.

- Maggie being attacked by the cat.

- Maggie torturing the chinchilla.

- Maggie narrowly avoiding maiming the dog.

- Maggie attempting to snorkel at the beach sans equipment and proper attire.

It might not take a village, Hillary, but it damn sure takes all 4 of the other Dorans to keep Maggie and the rest of the house in one piece.