Dawson on the Run

drat, foiled again.

you know when you have this really good idea, which you think is original, but realize is not that hard to come up with? so you kinda want to keep it secret because someone else will take it and run with it and probably do a better job than you because they are not also teaching high school and coaching poms and know how to work a videocamera and use editing software. but you also feel like maybe you want to say it outloud, first to lay claim to the idea (and that is most important), and second to maybe get some help with it.

but then you read about it on someone's blog. someone who not only has the video skills, but also is a great actor with access to other actors, and who has the complete inside knowledge of the topic necessary to make it successful. rory, i wanted to do the documentary!

fine. mockumentary it will have to be. you've left me no choice.

the last blog was very ryan conner-esque, no? ryan's are better, but the theme- new york, jew bus, finding the funny, oh, and LONG...yeah well, you don't have to agree with me.

so who out there LOVES physics? big ups for vectors and kinetic energy! big ups because the last time i thought of physics, i was in high school, which is the last time anyone said "big ups." so i absolutely hated physics then, and took retard physics to dull the pain a bit. i don't remember a thing.

and now, 10 years later, i enjoy the challenge of a physics problem. mind you, i'd rather blog, but at 4:00, i really am going to sit down and tackle this stuff. it is the first time i have consciously done homework in my life. (i have a great teacher.)

i skipped the first 3 classes, and got my well-deserved 66 on the first test. i didn't try to hide it, and everyone thought i was stupid. no one wanted to be my lab partner, and everyone readily dismissed my questions in class as dumb. whatever, nerds.

so i get back test #2, and i got 100. who gets 100? people behind me were shocked. now when i walk into class everyday, people ask me questions. they want to know what i think about transfer of heat energy and bernoulli's principle. HA! you suckers. i have no fucking clue, but everyone wants to be my friend. go to the science learning tutors like all butt-kissers do. i'll just sit in class and doodle, pass in my half-completed homework, and get a 74 on the next test. i hope.

ew, i knew that guy didn't like me. i don't get to be his bitch, except for two wednesdays in august when his hottie mchottalot goes on vacation. time on my hands...what to do...what to do? dangerous!

went to nyc this past weekend. FABULOUS! saw the drowsy chaperone at the mariott marquis (the ONE building on the west side that i know) and thought i was too cool for it during the whole first half. "i'm not going to laugh at this- how hokey, how predictable. i am a fucking snob." but then after the narrator ate his powerbar onstage during the non-intermission, i loosened up a little and let myself be entertained. jeez, what a prude. i love theater! and new york was so UNpretentious. i was overdressed. (this happens NEVER.) and i was the only one that matched- totally out of place without my thrift store seconds, slightly stained and stylishly torn.

night two we went back to times square to watch a comedy show. i wanted to introduce stef to my new love. (the one that broke up with me last week was there too COINCIDENTALLY but i am talking about low key comedy shows in general. i love them.) stef loved it too. then we went to a freaky diner because "you can't fuck up grilled cheese" (but they did and quotes because i think everyone says that), and the starbucks people hated on us by not having whipped cream. steffy says this is the new york shaft. i say the new york shaft is waiting 30 minutes for a train. why does everyone l-o-v-e the subway? i have newfound respect for the metro. go dc public transport!

stef basically lives in cuernavaca, new york, but the bunuelos y rosquitas didn't quite make up for my lack of spanish summer vacation. they did overfill my tummy and make me feel sick the entire ride home though, so i guess they were good for something.

the hasidic jew bus is a great deal, and lots of jews take advantage of it. (yes, i am deliberate with my wording. ha, weak.) today, a nice 40-something jewish lady sat across the aisle from me with her 3-year-old adopted cambodian son, eli. right, eli. of course. we watched meet the fockers and listened to some music. eli's dancing contentedly on his mother's lap. all of a sudden, i pay attention to the lyrics of the upbeat dancy tune- "put my condom on your tongue and lick me till i come baby...i'll do the same for you." my eyes opened wide and i tried so so hard not to let my lips quiver in the beginnings of a psycho laughing fit. i had to listen again, just to make sure i hadn't fallen asleep and dreamed it. the low full black man's voice brightly sang "put my condom on your tongue and lick me till i come baby. i'll do the same for you." holy shit! don't laugh, joy, don't laugh. NO ONE ELSE IS NOTICING! (lots of old people up front with me, but the young guy next to me didn't seem the least bit affected either.) "put my condom on your tongue and lick me till i come baby...i'll do the same for you." okay, this time, eli's mom abruptly stops him from dancing, looking shocked. she then laughs and says "well!" with a big sigh. i lean forward and look down- halfway because i'm going to start heaving rosquitas any second, but mainly to hide the huge grin that i know is coming.

the song finishes after several repititions of the chorus, none of which are acknowledged by the passengers. i breathe a sigh of relief and sit back up. the next cheery bright beat starts and the black man sings again. "i ate you for breakfast, and you tasted good. girl! i ate you for breakfast, and you tasted good." oh my god, this is not happening. i am 5 and i can't contain myself for another 3 minutes of this song! luckily eli's mom freaks out and tells the driver that this song is not appropriate because there are children on the bus and could he turn it down. he obliges and turns it off.

but, for our listening pleasure, he does stick in a new tape- some caribbean themed music and some accented english singers. they are kind of hard to make out at first, but then i distinctly hear "wishing you a merry christmas and a happy new year. wishing you a merry christmas and a happy new year." this is the jew bus! and my maturity level is surpassed- i totally lose it! i think everyone is going to just think i'm insane, but the boy next to me is like, "this is crazy isn't it? is this really happening?" the elderly rosenbergs and schoensteins in front now feel liberated as well. "what is this?!" "can you shut this off!" "nothing would be better than this nonsense!" i secretly wonder if this was the bus driver's attempt at a "fuck you" to the lady who told him to turn down his inappropriate music. so the driver flips the tape over, and the tropical caribbean rhythms start up again- "maria, mother of our savior- maria maria mariiiiaaaaa." oh my god!! bent forward, head between my knees, i assume the position to best hide my convulsive laughter and best lessen my chances of spewing half-digest mexican dough por el suelo del bus judio.

obviously i made it home safe and sound and only slightly less sane.

i am desperate.

i NEED something to do so i don't get more insane! not poms. please, i have poms to do, and i don't care to think about that. so far this summer, my plans are failing me: i can't go away on vacation because i can't walk. i can't teach more aero classes because i can't walk. i can't hang out with my doesn't-have-a-real-job boyfriend because i don't have one. and i can't volunteer at the pt clinic because the receptionist at the volunteer office is too old and senile for words. so whatever will i do with myself?

desperation has made me reckless and foolhardy. my new devil-may-care attitude has allowed me to sink to a new low. see, there's this jerk that i think doesn't like me (as a person). he's a jerk, so why should i care? but for some reason i do. and i have applied to be his bitch for the summer in an effort to make him like me. on the "unpaid internship" description it even says "i will refer to my summer intern as miss hottie mchottalot." and i applied for this. what?! i sort of want to cry. but i also sort of hope i get it. SICK. (speaking of sick, this intern is needed to replace his last one, who has "mental issues that are getting out of control." YIKES! wonder where those developed? double sick.)

it might make for some good blogs though.

i need to subtract 3 years from my life so that i can do all sorts of odd jobs without getting "looks" and "comments." how else am i going to accomplish all my dreams? i need to: give tours of wineries in argentina, waitress, be a personal trainer, an esthetician, a bartender, a writer's assistant, and of course an IT person because nothing makes me hotter than USB ports and multiple GBs of RAM. what does that even fucking mean? but you guys have to go along with this- 1981! woohoo! or maybe all the lookers and commenters can just go back to their freaking desks and boring husbands and bratty kids and SUCK IT.

i was just flipping through the channels, when i passed by the discovery channel and for once stopped to take a second look. they were doing surgery on a dog and actually blurring out his anal region. hmm... this is weird. if it's so scandalous for us to see a dog's butt, why don't they have to wear doggie pants? i mean, sometimes you see those pretentious pooches in sweaters or booties or something, but i've never seen pants! ridiculous! i mean, would you ever think twice about looking at a dog's ass? no! but when it's fuzzy, it's like you gotta know what's under there! it's not dogs gone wild, it's an operation on a learning channel! not to mention you can actually watch them mating just a few channels up on animal planet- that's like real doggie porn, not just the teasing dgw. i wonder what the dogs have to say about it. do they feel exploited? i can't think about this anymore. i have more important channels to flip through.

it's 6:30 a.m. let me walk you through my day so far.

5:22- wake up, bright-eyed and ready to go because, OF COURSE, there are no students today and it doesn't MATTER what time i peel myself out from under the covers.

5:23- oh my god! lucy has the key to the dance studio! and she's leaving for camp in maine this morning. i wonder if this morning means before 6. i better go to her house and leave her a note. now i'm REALLY bright-eyed.

5:24- i find a leftover student project (yeah, they never really end up anywhere- best to forget about them after you do them for your grade) done on neon orange posterboard, and write a sign- LUCY! YOU HAVE THE KEY! CALL ME!

5:25- after trying to find the key to put in the door to LEAVE my apartment (oops) i'm in my car driving to somerset. i put the sign on her mamacita's windshield.

5:55- i'm hungry. giant's open. wait 20 minutes for the freaking cashier to figure out how to work the machine and the retard in front of me (really retarded retard- you know they like to hire those people. and get over it, you know i'm kidding.) to count his pennies, and buy my STALE 3 day old muffin.

6:20- i almost hit the rollerblader who thinks he's a car and won't move out of the center of the street. there is a sidewalk! this isn't allowed! i have to rush home and eat my dry tasteless bran muffin before it's 3 1/2 days old! worse than the cyclists i tell you. and i dread them.

i think it's time for a freaking nap.

ah, roommate troubles.

we've all been there, and i must say, i'm relatively blessed in my current situation. and only someone as immature as me can take a relatively constructive request and turn it into a silent passive-aggressive vengeance. "oh, i wondered who was cooking. i can smell it all the way out in the hallway. [scrunching up nose in disgust] when you cook, could you turn on the fan?" simple enough. but it was her tone. and all is ever "cook" is chicken and once in awhile veggie burgers. my research shows that 9.5/10 people prefer this to her nasty fishy seafoody strange vegetabley microwave concoctions, of which i have said NOTHING to her, because it's her food and i think it's rude and uncalled for to imply that someone's food is nasty just because you have different tastes. so i hope she doesn't mind that i only respond to her monosyllabically from now on. i'm sure she won't. i think she has a life and doesn't waste time pondering the scale of bad smelliness of roommate's foods. she's mature.

oh well, her loss.

after being asked out by both a nice dork, the supermarket check-out guy, and having the verizon guy flirt with me and offer to "hook me up," i really had to step back and evaluate the situation.

the facts-

before: hard-working, generous, sorta nice, not horrible to look at, modest, had friends and no one was interested

now: lazy, not as generous, sorta nice, greasy, ugly, fat, self-important, and friendless and my luck has changed?

conclusion: no, i am not lucky. rather, i have slipped down a few rungs from perfectly intimidating to a hopeless wreck of approachable. ???

well that is potentially depressing, but at least i didn't fall off the ladder.

yeah, i know these past couple haven't been that entertaining, but it's what i gotta do right now. check out these other blogs if you are looking for something more worthwhile:

http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendID=40591212&MyToken=ac287639-2d00-4971-9ce5-75f04a32327fML


http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendID=9339894&MyToken=3cc9ff16-02a2-4dab-9684-0b86522fc322ML

i'll be back shortly i hope.

yikes. what a fantastically salacious comment that i had to read while peaking through my fingers because i am a nun. and you know that. hardly ever leave the convent. i couldn't even tell if i was supposed to be insulted or flattered, but since i'll cry if it's the former, let's stick to flattery. it's nice to invent your own reality.

i do this a lot with my students. except not in regard to sexual innuendo. i mean i tell them that i choose to believe that they have integrity and would not copy directly off the internet, or text messages to each other during exams while holding the phone up their sleeve, or throw skittles wrappers on the floor and then tell me to pick it up. suspension of disbelief- only thing that gets me through. and maybe this is why i've turned into such a space cadet.

i lost an entire class set of projects. i forgot to mail in my credit card fraud paper. i missed a pilates class that i teach. i sometimes try to pour milk in my coffeemaker or pump face soap onto my toothbrush. am i wearing mismatched socks? oh. did i remember to brush my hair today? i'm not kidding. adam told me he thinks it's great that i'm able to get up every morning. ... thanks? or is that, your life sucks so much that if i were you i'd be laid up in the hospital getting my stomach pumped and it's a wonder you can bring yourself to face each day? or is it, you're so stupid that i find it incredible that you can roll over, sit up, and put your feet on the floor by yourself? guess what adam? i can tie my own shoes and wipe my own ass too. and i'm learning to do buttons, but they're tricky.

i am getting fat and old and crippled, and apparently more attractive.

27 years pass with 3 people (aight, maybe 4, but you can't believe anything shep says) being interested in me. i was cute and little and nice (at least i thought i was nice) and smart and motivated and a gymnast, and that averages out to be 1 every 7 years. but let's start with 13 because boys in elementary school should be banned and younger than that is gross and figure 3 1/2 boys have approached me in my lifetime. that's 1 every 4 years.

now? i'm lazy and unmotivated and blubbery and dumb, but still nice (i think), and people want to get to know me. are college kids even allowed to ask me out? the other day i wore contacts for once, and i swear everyone on the metro was looking at me. i mean in a good way. i'm normally invisible, so for anyone to even say "excuse me" as they knock me and all my papers over on the escalator is a big deal. (i did trade in the leg brace for hot pink high heels on that day though. actually, come to think of it, no one is really hot for the leg brace.) my current tally is a 4 for 4 month roll! that's cool.

but don't get me wrong- there's no reason to celebrate. i'd take quality over quantity anyday.

oooh, harsh. maybe i'm not as nice as i claim to be, but it IS a nice compliment for my old sweeties at least!

i love the 80's!

karma karma karma karma karma chameleon...

since i'm up at this vampiric time of night, there are the best infomercials on right now. 80's Gold is making me wax nostalgic about our 2nd grade talent show when colleen smith sang "how will i know?" flashdance is Annie's Salsich's first optional floor routine. we marched into Eye of the Tiger at each Kingstown Tiger Invitational Meet. i got my first tape- Cocktail- with the Kokomo song on it in my Christmas stocking one year. oh my god! we totally built this city on rock n roll in the 1988 SCMC jazz recital.

we really missed out that we were too young to have a prom or go clubbing or be making out to 80's classics. REO Speedwagon...take it off, baby. yeah, too bad i was like 3.

heaven is a place on earth? 20 years ago maybe. or maybe they'll make a comeback.

very good point, linz. exactly why i can't do comedy- it's not so funny when the audience IS the subject. i couldn't take another tomato in the face.

turns out one of the boys IS reading and is not my biggest fan right now though he really can't tell me why because that would sound ridiculous. cuz i'm right- there are no rules that say you can't see other people when all you've got is 3 bars and malfunctioning vonage connecting you, but it's kinda sad all the same. 5 hours, my friend, 5 hours for a nice porch chat and good old-fashioned spying on the neighboring terrorist boot camp.

speaking of porch chats, the season of bugs has begun. y'all know how the strange bugs love me- i attract them wherever i go, especially the in the beds of chile (and you must have read this since the beginning to understand because this is not a reference to me being a whore and having spanish crabs. i'm still keeping that scandalous detail a secret.) so far i am sporting 2 mysterious rhode island very itchy and dark red bites, as well as the more subdued and less fear-inducing maryland mosquito bites. what the hell am i writing about?

see nina, you put me in a sad mood and now i can't allow my faN the pleasure of a good blog read. i'm going to go cry into my bowl of ice cream. wait- screw that- i have pain killers left still. peace.