Category: Datin’
*whimper*
Oops, Late-Night Retrobruxist Friday 5/31/13
Ran across a blog post today titled Worst End of School Year Mom Ever. I can relate. I think most teachers feel like bad teachers at the end of the year.
Main reason: standardized testing. It’s The Worrrrrrrrrrst. Bad for kids, sure, but as I tell the kids: “At least you get to DO something. I just have to SIT THERE.” In fact, read I Got Middle Schooled for a little taste of what teachers and proctors go through. It’s horrifying and hilarious.
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Three years ago, I shared my experiences with anti-depressants. The magic bullet I mentioned was amino acids—a monster truck load of them per day—which I took for several years, and they definitely helped. But they were super-duper-expensive and not-at-all covered by my super-duper-crappy health insurance. I weaned myself off them within the last six months, and I think I’m doing OK. I have my moments, but between CrossFit, food choices, and workin on mah shit, I’m maintaining a pretty healthy level of sanity.
Two years ago, I found the All-Time Worst Prospect on OKCupid. Seriously though.
A year ago, a shocking news story broke.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Protected: I Should; I Shouldn’t
Retrobruxist Friday 5/24/13, or I Am Rad
June 5. That’s when I cancel my Match subscription. Twelve more days.
The only reason I’m keeping my nose above water is my friends. My friends are pretty great.
He added, “We are all rooting SO HARD for you.” And I know they are.
Dan NJ wrote: Since it’s been at least a month since I said so- can I remind you of the Avogadro’s number of awesome particles that make up, and emanate from, you? These particular elements represent a periodic table of Amy’s awesomeness, and are subdivided into categories such as brilliance, loveliness, kick-assedness, nice-assedness, and noble gases. (The last one is pure speculation on my part…)
And a little faerie (possibly named Megalu) writes pro-me statements on the sticky notes on my desk every time she comes over, which I find later and stick to my computer monitor.
And all these words of encouragement serve to remind me that, no matter what happens in my love life, I most definitely have love in my life. Thank you, friends, and I love you all.
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Three years ago, I cheered you up with some stellar knock-knock jokes.
Some people love my teaching stories; others enjoy the tragically delicious dating stuff. But there are those who just really revel in the fact that I’m, to quote a friend, “bad at lawnmowers”, e.g. this post from two years ago.
You know how Google’s informal motto is “Don’t be evil”. I wish that sentiment could be codified into all companies’ bylaws. Alas, as I mentioned a year ago, insurance companies are nothing but dens of thieves.
What you may have missed on Fat CrossFitter: Who gets to define my fatness, and my two cents on the problem with progress.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Protected: Second Shot
Athletic Yet Kinda Smushy in Most Places
Here’s the thing: I’ve seen a few guys on Match that I thought were… I don’t know, interesting? reasonably attractive? legit prospects? And then I scroll down to their preferences:
And I’m not slender. I’m not about average. One could argue that I’m athletic, but fuck if I’m toned. I have a lot of jiggly bits.
And I just give up.
Fuck everything.
Retrobruxist Friday 5/17/13, or Him’s a Her
Three years ago, I divulged that I’m a major weenie when it comes to medical procedures.
My public inner monologue about sperm donation started two years ago. If you attended the Monti GrandSLAM last month, you got an update. Stay tuned for more on that topic.
A year ago, I went on a date with “Mike“. It was terrible. (I feel like I should make a “major weenie” joke here… something about what could’ve salvaged the date, but… nope. I got nothin.)
It’s not going much better now. The prospects on Match are 0% higher quality than on OKCupid (“PS NO LIBERALS” read a recent profile), and the algorithm—that I’m paying actual US dollars for—notified me that it had matched me with jls1969 because we had the same birth month.
The same. Birth. Month.
They tried to make it sound better by saying he didn’t smoke either. OH GOOD GOLLY GOSH, a Virgo or maybe a Libra who is also a non-smoker?! Thank you, match.com—it’s everything I ever dreamed! When I was a tiny girl, I used to say, “One day I want to marry a non-smoker who is a Virgo. Or maybe a Libra.”
I mustn’t lose faith. There’s always this guy:
What do I think about him, match.com?
I think him’s a her.
Looks like she thinks him’s a her too.
Of course, the pic looks like a stock photo plucked from a Google Image search for “straight white teeth”, and the profile is almost too perfectly generic. My guess is it’s a new angle on the old Nigerian bank scam.
But! Him/her is not a smoker!
There’s that!!
!!!!
I can’t for the life of me understand why people think I’m jaded.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Retrobruxist Friday 5/10/13: Veins, Mowers, & Feelings
I’m genetically a whole lot like my mama. Growing up, everyone always said, “You look just like her!” (which was nice because she’s a good-lookin’ lady). I’d pick up the phone, and they’d start asking about Lamaze classes or some Boone UU function, assuming they had my mother’s ear on the other end of the line. Or they’d hear my laugh from another room and come in looking for her. Three years ago, I realized the one thing I didn’t inherit from my mom was her fire hoses.
(That’s not true. I got my sense of humor and ability to generate ear wax from my dad.)
Two years ago, I put on my big girl panties and bought a gas-powered mower. I learned so many lessons that day.
One year later and I’m still not in feelings. Pout. Stomp stomp stomp. Wah. Boo-hoo.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Protected: I Don’t Want to Say It’s Not Going Well, But It’s Not Going Well
This Post Is Not Really About Teaching; It’s About My Usual Shit
In my professional life, I’m graded on a rubric. Did you know that? There are six standards upon which teachers are evaluated, and for each we are deemed Developing, Proficient, Accomplished, or Distinguished.
A couple weeks ago, I was out with some friends, one of whom is also a teacher, and we got to talking about the rubric. For shits and giggles, I suggested we use it to rate ourselves in other aspects of our lives.
Honestly, I can’t remember much—we were a couple cocktails in—except that Meg rated herself Distinguished in both Being Alone and Handling Her Shit (a super-accurate self-assessment), but I’ve been thinking about it lately, and here’s my self-evaluation.
Developing
1. Dressing myself. I still don’t know what looks good, what to buy, or how to put it together. It takes a ton of emotional effort for me to dress up. All I want to wear is jeans, my Obama hoodie, and
But I’m getting better. I wore skinny jeans, for Christ’s sake.
2. Dating/being in a relationship. You know how everybody’s always like, “Gahd, another Taylor Swift break-up song?! When is she gonna realize that the only constant in all these situations is her?”?
Yeah, I realize it’s me. I do. I’ve done a lot of work and put myself out there, but clearly I need more practice/support/guidance.
To that end, two things:
(1) In a maneuver I’m calling Amy’s Last-Ditch Campaign to Get Inseminated by a Dude She’d Like to Chill with for Awhile/Maybe Forever (ALDCGIDSLCAMF, for short), I joined Match Fucking Dot Com. For one month. ONE MONTH, and end scene—I shall forever abandon my Sisyphean online dating endeavors.
And (2) to quote Homeland Security: If You See Something, Say Something™. Friends, you have to tell me when you see the metaphorical spinach in my teeth, OK? If there’s some invisible-to-myself road block I’m throwing up, let your girl know. For real.
Proficient
1. You know, as recently as a few months ago, I would’ve put cooking in the Developing category, but I’ve had some pretty consistent victories lately. ‘Member those carnitas? <licks chops>
Also, I marinated chicken. (Me, out on the town with friends: “You guys, I’m marinating chicken right now.” Friend: (pause) “Is it… is it in the fridge?” Hahaha. I couldn’t blame her for checking—I’ve made some questionable judgment calls in the past.)
I made Chinese chicken salad with it.
That sludgy business in the jelly jar? Homemade sesame-ginger motherfucking salad dressing. Booyah.
I mean, every once in a while, mistakes are made.
In hindsight, there were a number of points at which a different decision could have rendered a more desirable outcome.
But for the most part, I’m feeding myself yummy, healthy things, so I’m gonna go ahead and declare myself Proficient in the cooking department.
Hubris? Probably.
2. CrossFit. Listen, I’m never going to be competitive. That’s OK. But I’ve been lifting heavy objects for nearly three years, and I’ve got pretty skrong, y’all (265-lb deadlift last night—what what!). And my form on most things is solid. Coach Rich watched me doing snatches the other day, and he said, “God, you’re so good at that.” :)
3. Storytelling/hosting storytelling events. If you’ve seen me at the Monti, I think you’d agree I’m getting better and better.
Accomplished
1. Teaching. I’m a good teacher. I’m not an exceptional teacher. I don’t take work home with me, and I don’t blaze any pedagogical trails, but I try to do cool things with my students, and I work hard to improve my practice every year.
2. Fostering dogs/getting them adopted. Git yer dogs here at Amy’s House o’ Pit Bulls!
3. Blogging. I have a readership. It’s small but, based on a pie chart I only sort of understand, I believe very loyal. (Thanks, guys!)
Distinguished
1. Jackshit.
Except one thing that I won’t share here because this is a family show. ;)
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Now you go. Don’t be shy. This is not about judgment. It’s about personal growth.