Saturday, February 21, 2009

At least LOL cats aren't teachers, right?

I was helping my daughter format a biology term paper. I googled 'sample term paper format', so I could remember proper formatting. No, I was not trying to buy a paper for her online. But, I did find many, many sites willing to sell me one!!!

I finally found a website purporting to assist high schoolers in the term paper writing process.

Here is a passage from that website

When time for writing a high school term paper comes, you think that not everything is so good anymore, and you should do a lot of work. Writing a good high school term paper requires some time and your efforts. So, be ready to this.


In homeschooling my kids, I have come across this issue more often than you would believe.

How can you put yourself out there as an educator or a 'helper', when your grammar sucks? I really don't get it.

I have had two homeschool curriculum companies send me emails with attrocious grammar. I'm not talking about a simple apostrophe ommission or typo - I'm talking serious issues with grammar - like LOL cats bad grammar. Really - that bad.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Creepy and beyond . . .

There is a disturbing incident that I couldn't keep down and continues to bubble up in my memory coffers.

It all started in high school as most of these things do. There was a boy who had a crush on me, Mick. I considered him a good friend, but that was the extent of my interest.

He wanted us to be an 'item'.

The biggest problem with this issue was that all his friends were the only ones I was interested in dating. He had somehow forbidden his friends to date me (you know the ol' bros before hos' thing - not that I am or ever was a, you know, ho).

It was our senior year and all I wanted to do was date. I wanted to date every one of Mick's friend's. Somehow, I did manage to date quite a few of the forbidden friends, you know, on the downlow. (That whole 'bros before hos' thing can easily be gotten around.)

Anyway, I stayed in touch with Mick loosely through college and then we sort of drifted and lost touch.

Fast forward to our 20 year high school reunion. Yeah, I could have fudged and claimed it was my 10 year reunion, but I'm owning it. Anyway, my really good friend from high school called and asked me to come, so I did.

Once at the reunion, I was standing in the midst of all these strangers trying to remember who each of them is, and Mick walks up.

*note: I'm taking the high road here by not commenting on his appearance.

He came up to me and asked me if I still all had the poetry he had written to me in high school!!!??!! I know, creepy, but it gets worse.

I sort of stuttered that I could look in some boxes, but really didn't know what to say and found a way to wander off.

A little while later, Mick's wife approached me and introduced herself. She was sweet and soft spoken. She reminded me of a kindergarten teacher. She told me how highly Mick had spoken of me. This is a bit creepy in itself, as my husband has no idea who Mick is.

Then she dropped the bomb: "He keeps a picture of you in his bedside table!"


I haven't spoken to Mick in over 15 years. This is so wrong in so many ways:

1. Creeeeeeeeeeepppyyy!!!!!!!!

2. His wife knew this piece of information and actually told me.

3. Creeeeeeeeeeepppyyy!!!!!!!!

4. Creeeeeeeeeeepppyyy!!!!!!!!

Did I mention I'm having nightmares?

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Note: If you didn't read the previous post, this is part 2

I know you've been anxiously waiting on the edge of your seat. Sorry you weren't able to sleep in anxious anticipation of what exactly was my daughter doing in the ladies' room at the ice skating rink.

So, without further ado, I bring you the conclusion to my last post.

Yes, folks. My daughter was running a tattoo parlor out of the restroom.

Okay, no needles were involved, but sharpies are permanent, right?

Her friend was leaving for Florida, so my daughter gave her a multi-colored custom design on her belly.

I can't wait to hear from the mothers of the tattooed victims.

Teen shenanigans . . . caught in the act!

I dropped my daughter off at the ice rink, an almost daily activity. As she was leaving the car, I received a phone call that changed my afternoon plans. I immediately called my daughter's cell to let her know of the change in time to pick her up.

No answer.

So, I park the car and actually have to get out and walk . . . on my two legs . . . all the way from the parking lot into the building to catch her.

I look in the main lobby area where she usually gets her skates on, etc.

She's nowhere to be found.

I walk down to the roller rink where she likes to warm up and find only five guys doing some crazy roller racing. No girls that I can see.

I walk to the next rink, which is the hockey rink. There I see slamming, pads, blood spattering, teeth flying . . . hard to tell behind all those pads but no obvious estrogen to be found.

I start to think about what sort of trouble she could have discovered - some unknown hockey boyfriend? some secret room of debauchery? pirate kidnapping?'

I continue to the second ice rink where I see figure skaters, but they're all little ones - she's obviously not there. I see her bag where she dropped it when she came in. Is that all that's left of her?

Last chance - the bathroom. It's most likely perfectly innocent. She probably had to use the restroom before getting her skates on. Why am I acting so crazy and jumping to conclusions?

So, I walk into the ladies room and first see my daughter's friend jumping around, nervously giggling and tugging at her shirt. Behind her I see my daughter with a guilty cheshire cat grin.

What did I catch them in the act of you ask?

Dirty pervs, go ahead and get your mind out of the gutter. This is not some cheap scene from Porky's. There was no girl on girl action happening here.

It was either:
a) my daughter was running an unlicensed tattoo parlor
b) my daughter and friend were engaged in underaged drinking
c) my daughter and friend were sneaking their first cigarette

Oh yeah, I'm gonna leave you hangin' stay tuned to find out the shocking conclusion, so you can judge me, my entire life and my parenting skills as well as the probable success of my offspring from one mere incident.

I know you will loose sleep wondering about this - sorry!

Monday, February 2, 2009

I'm ashamed

Cloud of selfishness last seen drifting above the clouds

My family was here visiting just last weekend. This weekend my brother-in-law arrived from Germany.

I guess all this family time made me a little edgy.

As I released some lovely pomegranate jewels from their skin to add to the salad for dinner, my brother-in-law was standing and chatting with me. I'm preparing and he is chatting and . . .

he ventures over to the bar stool.

Not just any stool.

There are four empty bar stools, but he is sitting at the bar stool facing my laptop!

Okay, breathe, it's fine. I'm fine.

He reaches toward the keys, and . . .

he actually touches the keys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My kids are here. Be a good example. Sharing is good. Sharing is good. I have to be a good example for my kids. Sharing is the right thing to do. Breathe. Share.

I can't help it. I try to keep it in, but this huge dark stinky cloud of selfishness extends from me and surrounds my laptop. I'm trying desperately to pull it back. I'm hoping nobody notices.

I'm trying to continue chatting, but my voice has mysteriously gone up a few octaves.

Later in the evening he asks my husband if we have an old laptop he could possibly use.

Damn! He saw it - the greed induced cloud - or smelled it?

My selfishness is on display for all to gaze upon.