Thursday, December 29, 2011

Cow Eyeballs

That's a cow eyeball. It's not one of the ones I actually had, because I am too negligent to get pictures that look this great. Plus the kids skewered them before I had my wits about me and pulled out a camera.

Cow eyeballs are one of the many perks of being in private school. It is also one of the perks of having poweful connections in the meat butchering industry.

Our little private school for the gifted and talented allowed me free reign (didn't care what I did as long as it wasn't them) to teach some really fun anatomy classes. As with previous classes that I have taught, some of the children hid crying and some of them worshipped at my cow eyeball goo covered feet. The sweet little ones that I locked in the closet fled to the closet were lucky to be in a non conventional school where you can leave your seat to vomit without having your citizenship docked. The ones that grabbed knives and other sharp objects and stabbed the eyeballs were very fortunate to be in an open minded setting where you can have knives at school and scream bloody murder without the local detective arriving to escort them to kid jail. Although we enjoy local law enforcement in the classroom, we use them mostly as eye candy, not as a threat.

As a teacher, I like to use tactics that cause an emotional reaction, therefore cementing the lesson in the brain. My goal, you would assume, is to bring the children to learning for themselves, causing them to seek further enlightenment. You are wrong. I look for the entertainment side more often than not. I go for shock value, terror, and in the end I hope to endear them to me through this. I look for their acceptance and love and my tools are gratuitous gore, dance routines, comedic video, threats, hugs, explosions, and speaking frankly about perscrition abuse.

My next themed unit will be on government. Do I just stream Rush live or take them to the booking room at the jail? Which one gives me the viceral reaction I'm looking for?

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Red Ribbon Week

A few weeks ago The School of Awesomeness (Farm Boy's homeschool co-op) had Red Ribbon Week. Of course Officer Handsome was our guest speaker. We tried the old....scare em straight strategy. Only one child confessed to nightmares after, and one refused to participate completely. The children were whisked off to the land of drug abuse by their fearless leader, where they learned the dangers of meth abuse through pictorial proof provided by a series of mug shots. Meth makes you look old, dirty and you get lots of red sores! The treachery of huffing, shown here....

They also had a long discussion about perscription abuse because it's on the rise.  The class watched a video about cancers caused by smoking and heard a woman with throat cancer talk (in a horrible voice!) about what smoking did to her.  Then they saw pictures of men who chewed smokeless tobacco, with their lower jaws removed.  The nightmares only came from the Faces of Meth mug shots, which really surprised me.
And to really drive it home, the kids wore 'beer goggles', which skew your vision and trick your mind. It illustrated how your reaction time and balance are changed with alcohol use.  They seemed to like the beer goggles. 

They also came up with their own funny outfits and anti-drug sayings......Sock it to drugs! (silly socks), Throw away drugs! (football uniform), Tackle Drugs (football uniform), Be normal! Say not to drugs! (dressed normally), Black out drugs! (black clothes), Turn your back on drugs! (wore clothes backwards).

The kiddos got a lot of loot from the local police; bicycle flashers, pencils, rulers, badges, finger print and ID kits, and workbooks.  They also had the glory of being handcuffed, which they didn't like as much as I thought they would.  Maybe that will offset the joy of the beer goggles.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011


     As you well know this is the place I like to flaunt my weakness.  It feels good to let people know not to expect much when you deal with this hot mess.  My newest form of addiction is Pinterest .   It's kind of like crack in the way that it just won't let you let go. 
     Pinterest is a lovely site.........hey I should be getting paid for this advertisement!  Pinterest is a site where you can catalog, or pin, pictures of your other obsessions that aren't Pinterest.  I've been pinning crafts I woud love to do, but who am I kidding, never will.  I have been pinning food that I might make a fraction of.  I have been pinning interior design for the mansions that I will never own, nor will they have enough bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, kitchens.....or doors (how I love a good door! MMM) for that matter, to ever fit every dream I have.  I've pinned a zillion funny things or awesome quotes to live by that I savor for that second and then go back to that comfy place in my little dark heart where I don't really live by a higher standard of sweet sentiment.  I've pinned fashion out the wazoo.  I love pinning.  Oh the high I get. 
     Somewhere in my stone cold soul I believe there has been a glimmer of insight.  I think this pinning thing is making me a bit covetous.  Well super covetous.  Is that bad? I want to be crafty and chic.  I want to look glamourous.  I want to eat wicked yummy food.  I want a mansion.  Is this another satanic ploy to waste my time and dull my senses?  Probably.  Sometimes I tell myself I am only allowed a certain number of pins...but I never keep to it. 
     I'm not saying I'm stopping.  I'm not saying you shouldn't start....well because I could really use some company here.  I'm just saying I might have recgonized my control is slipping in another area.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Dear Stress, Let's Break Up

Dear Stress,

     We started out together at such a young age.  We were together so often.  You were there when everyone hollered at Grandma during lunch and made me cry.  You were there when I spent 19 years in school and I wanted to be home.  You've been with me on dates, with every church calling I have ever had, through all of the pregnancies, with each job.......from the one with cold calls to the ones where people could die at my hand.  You stuck it out through renovations and house building.  We have paired up for delights such as homeschool and living with a police officer.
     I'm afraid this may come as a shock, or that you will be upset and feel that my actions and feelings up to this point have not been authentic.  I feel that it is time to break up.  There.......I said it.  We are no good for each other.  I want to have some space and find out who I am.  You put so much pressure on me.  I feel like I am smothering.  Who are we without each other? 
     I hope you read this soon.  It would hate for you to find out on Facebook, when I change my status to <3 single.
     I will put your things in a box on the front step.......Tylenol, chocolate (what's left anyway), Coke, the bitten nails, 2 white hairs plucked this morning, Tylenol PM, the journals full of swear words, and the acne ointment.  I am keeping the shelves of books that you caused me to buy and the soaking tub as I cannot remove it. 

Thursday, June 9, 2011

B.S.M.K.H.S. In No Particular Order

      So there I was in the dentist's chair yesterday.  It's not one of my favorite places, dating back since my youth when my dentist tried to smother me as I hyperventilated......and proceeded to pull 8 teeth without any tooth numby. As I lay there with the laughing gas cranked up, I realized that I felt pretty good.  I don't think I have felt that calm in at least a year, at my last illicit drug use.  It came to me quite clearly then why people use drugs.
     My brain works overtime all of the time.  It's kind of like a roller derby in there.  Frustration, anger, noise, movement from one place to another at flashy speeds, and I really take a pounding.  The only thing I have found to make it stop......besides nitrous oxide, is reading.  It gives my brain a place to focus.  So instead of doping up I read.

     I've noticed I am pretty infantile in my life progression thus far.
Except I am clearly not that adorable.  I don't think I have  ever properly learned to self regulate.  I am driven by pleasure and desire.  Sounds kind of naughty.  It has more to do with not being able to push myself out of my comfort zone.  It's a very small zone.  Kind of like a dot on a paper.  Officer Handsome can run a 5K after not having run for months.  I stoke myself up thinking I can become a runner and within the first moments of feeling my own heart beat above resting speed.....I just wanna throw in the towel.  I'm not really in pain, I am bored and a little anxious to get away from myself.  Running leaves you not much to do besides think, unless you happen to see a cow birthing a calf while you huff by.  Unfortunately odds are that won't happen often.  Also, once I saw a fallic symbol spray painted on a road sign and that gave me half a second of laughter.
     I find myself a little depressed that I don't make many strides during the day.  My brain flits from one place to the next and I never spend enough time on one thing.  Also I get really bored with one thing.  And I basically hate to do most things because I don't get payoff fast enough.  I think about crafting something awesome, but then I dwell while  I do it and end up not being able to face the thought of attempting some painting, or glueing or refinishing. I want to deep clean the kitchen cabinets and the kids dressers but the thought of having to focus on such dullness while still dwelling on every other thing that needs my attention, leaves me breathless with the desire to run. Eating and reading you can get a buzz from pretty quickly but besides that ........meh, too much work.
     I have concluded that it's about time to tame Maimy.  My natural man.  I conclude that a lot.  She is like living under a brown blanket.  She adds more weight, makes it hard to navigate, and makes everything dark. 
     While I was showering after my laborous run,  (I came up with a snappy idea that I could train myself to run with this website.... ) I had nothing to do but think some more.  That's when I came up with a plan.  I have to have guidelines.  Even though I like to wing everything, mostly because planning takes effort, I function better with strict rules and expectations.  Instead of having a to-do list, because I make terribly long ones once I start one, I am making some broader goals to accomplish during a day.
     B.S.M.K.H.S. in no particular order.  I am going to do something for my Body, Spirit, Marriage, Kids, Home, and Self, everyday.    Example.....I already went running, I will read an article from the Ensign and journal with it, I rented a movie for Officer Handsome and I, I will take the kids to the pool or on a walk and they need individual attention everyday so we will read, snuggle, play games and maybe bake, home......ugh put the laundry away, do dishes, start more laundry, and for's hard not to get carried away here...for sure I will read, probably while eating lunch, and then hide from everyone and read some more.  Once I can see, feel really, that I have accomplished something I am hoping it will give me enough 'good' feeling to move on to the next task.
     For real, people out there.......are you cool being in your own head?  Do you have a lot of self control?  Where did it come from?

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Cruella de Vil

I was doing dishes this morning when Piglet decided to have one of her bizarre conversations. 
Piglet: Mom we got to choose our moms in Heaven.
Me: Why did you choose me?  You could have gotten a rich mom, or a nice mom, or a cute and funny mom.
Piglet: You are nice......sometimes. And you are cute and funny.  And I don't know any rich moms. 
Me: You could have had another dad too.
Piglet: Other dads creep me out.
Me: So why do you think you chose me?  What were you thinking when you saw me? 
Piglet: You looked like you needed a lesson and I thought, "I can teach her a lesson."
Me: Oh ya, what are you going to teach me?
Piglet: To be nice......or Spanish.  Wait what does cruel mean?
Me: To be mean.
Piglet: Ya, I'm gonna teach you not to be cruel.

I guess she feels like not getting her way 100% of the time is cruel on my part.  Even I haven't learned that lesson yet.  Lesson # 12: You Don't Always Get What You Want......And How To Move On Gracefully.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

My Espistle To Gomorrah....Or So You Don't Know When To Call 911

There are a lot of heathens out there.  Myself included.  So most of the time I what you will.  But this time I am going to say something.  I am going to generalize.  In general this is a bad idea.  If you can tell I am not talking about you.....then you are right.  I am not talking about you. I don't really want a response about how YOU would never act that way.  If I am talking about you.....consider yourself warned.
I have a big, BIG,BIG,BIG problem with any citizen that does not have the decency to make a 911 call....or with those of you that can't figure out when would be a good time.   Here's a tip....if there is a crime being committed or it looks like someone is in danger a call for help would be appreciated.  To help those of you out there with your heads stuck in a dank hole I will make a short list.....
1.  Breaking and entering.
2.  A screaming lunatic.
3.  A person that you can actually SEE entering a vehicle......OBVIOUSLY not belonging to him and then taking property.
4. Someone damaging property.
5.  Someone assaulting someone else....yes, even fists are illegal.  You don't have to wait for a weapon to come out.
6.  People screaming in a public setting...and not because it is BYU basketball.
7.  Someone that looks or sounds like they might be committing a carjacking.   Big heads up here.....when the keys to the vehicle are thrown so as to distract the criminal.......please do not pick them up and return them to the man with the wild look in his eyes.  He is infact, the criminal.  DO however feel free to call 911!!

My dissappointment in society runs pretty deep right now.  It's kind of like hemorrhaging, pulling up to the hospital with a light heart....finally hoping that someone will save you now, and then finding out that the doctors all have an IQ of 50.  Now I know that I can't count on anyone else out there.  Every man for himself.