Flea Market=Prize Mecca

For years, my parents have tried to get me to go to the monthly flea market at the fairgrounds. I have always excused myself from this ritual due to the fact that it was just an opportunity to buy more uneccessary junk for me to have to clean at my apartment.
However, now the flea market has taken on a new meaning for me. The flea market is a mecca for cheap prizes for my first grade classroom. You see, a prize box in the first grade is unlike other prize boxes. It is a compilation of useless things that become gold if found in the deemed "prize" box. I never really knew the significance of this until I arbitrarily put old, free, trail size bars of soap from a hotel, only to find that in a first grader's eyes, this prize was the equivalent of a thousand dollars. They say that "one man's junk becomes another man's treasure" and nothing could be more true for Miss Hock's prize box.

I run into another teacher at the flea market. She tells me that there are Sponge Bob pencils two aisles over and she has a great lesson plan in her hands that requires that I buy 22 dice. We thank each other and go our merry way.

It's interesting how the human mind works. When at the flea market I become a baracuda of sorts, where quantity is more imnportant than quality. For instance, within minutes, I found my first bargain of choice: candy. Candy can be bought at the flea market for mere cents. Additionally, I am not too proud to haggle with these people at the flea market with their drugstore buyout goods. Somewhere in the sentence I make sure that they know that I am a teacher. I am a predator that knows where the good candy and prizes can be found. After finding what I need, I simply go up to the cashier and chit chat. Seven bags of candy for $2.00 later, none are the wiser........

Gimps-Old mass e mail

As yet another V-day comes & goes--- I am quickly
reminded why this holiday resonates in my bones as a
drunk day of reflection every year: Relationship after
relationship, Valentines day is the only holiday of
the year where I am never dating anyone.

Let me re-track---for we cannot forget about Josh
Emery in the 4th grade or the Valentine I had a couple
of years ago. However, Josh Emery also gave a
valentine to amy schindler. Additionally, my funny
valentine a couple of years ago gave me the gift of an
epiphany when he told me that flowers were
impractical. (see ya later, pal)

Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. The fact of the
matter is that amongst this day of pink, red, hearts &
candy----I am always forced to reinvent this day.
It what my girls & I like to call
“V-day: a day to celebrate friendship instead of some
stupid boy.”
Mind you, none of us really falls for this crock of
shit----but it beats sitting & feeling sorry for
ourselves. After all, feeling sorry for ourselves
never really alleviates anything...for there are
family members all over the place to do that for us.
For instance, whether it takes the form of token
flowers that dad sends (year after year)
or that biological-time bomb-you're-too-picky-
lecture that others are so eloquent at, there is
always someone to remind you to "hang in there because
love is just around the corner"

Alright, I'll go with the no Mr. RIGHT---only Mr
RIGHTER theory. However, "love is just around the
corner”? You gotta be kidding me.......
Um, I'd be interested to know where this supposed
corner is. After all, I'm not above hanging out on
some street corner to get it. I might even be talked
into following some ominous yellow brick road as well.
After all, anything would beat the last 3 dates that
I have had within the month (see mass e mail I sent
titled: “I’m not a praying mantis, I swear: the story
of monotone voice man, rude to waitress boy, & secret
crush dude”)


Which brings me to a story.........

So I might not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but
sometimes an idea comes along thats so brilliant, so
ingenious, & so extravagant that it dumbfounds me.
It all started after listening into a conversation
between 2 girls that were drinking over some
cosmopolitans one night (the ultimate, pink valentine
beverage)
Travel with me if you will to a land where these 2
girls (we'll call them stacy & tracy b/c those are
good valentine names as well) come up with a plan
thats just dumb enough to work. Its a plan that
embodies the handicapable; a plan that not even Dr
Phil can compete against. While it requires time,
patience, & understanding---its bona fide & sure to
work.

The madness all started when Stacy got a rescue dog.
Stacy learned a lot about herself & the world from her
new pet. After all, she & Tracy were kind of rescue
dogs themselves---nuerotic, require attention, & need
a special person ready for the challenge of accepting
the occasional baggage & issue. Anyway, with the help
of a new rescue dog a plan was formalized.

Stacy & Tracy were sick of the same "Its not you, its
me" explanation & the "But you're the coolest girl I
ever met" contradictory sayings that inevitably came
right before the gauntlet of love came down upon them.

But how does a woman of the new millenium quit
surrendering to mediocre & twisted rationalizations &
take the bull by the horns you might ask?
So I guess after all this hype you're wondering what
this is all about. Stick around friends & I will share
with you the newest epiphany for capturing NOT mr
right.......but mr righter. After all, sometimes one
has to think outsde the box. Therefore, its wth this
frame of mind thats the foundation for Stacy & Tracys
plan: finding a gimp.

Finding a gimp? What exactly is a gimp? Whether it
takes a man in the form of a mute, dork, virgin, hairy
back, or a hottie with 1 leg----its a proven fact that
gimps need love too. The plan involves rearranging
reality, involves looking past the norm, & t embodies
looking at dating from a different angle.

They say if you need a friend get a dog.
Stacy & Tracy say if you need a friend get a rescue
dog.........& a gimp..........

Top 10 things to do besides clean

Its' Labor Day weekend. For the most part, I have planned a low key holiday weekend due to the fact that I have other committments this month and need to get some domestic responsibilities done this weekend. However, instead of cleaning I have come up with every excuse in the book to NOT do this. For instance, I have currently come over to my mom's house to blog instead of clean. This morning, I stayed in bed to read my book. It's already Monday & I have yet to do dishes, clean my bathroom, or mop the floors. Instead, I have formulated a top ten list of what to do on Labor Day weekend besides cleaning house:
1) Watch unwatched movies recieved in the mail from Netflix (Fri)

2) Go to local Flea Market and buy uselss items that add to the junk in house that need to be put away (Sat)

3) Go drink at local watering hole (Sat evening)

4) Go to moms house for UL/UK football game even though have no interest in football whatsoever (Sunday)

5) Go to Target to buy a much needed necklace spotted last week (Sun evening)

6) Play with dog and cat in bed for an usually long amount of time (Mon)

7) Head to mom's house for leftover chili from boring football game yesterday (Mon)

8) Play monster with niece and nephew (Mon)

9) Formulate random seat assignments for the next 6 weeks for classroom

10) Try to figure out how it is humanly possible to have formed so many piles of things to be put away in a 2 week period within apartment.