Naive, Table for One

Dude.  I am so freaking naive.  Like, all the time.  I was reminded of that last night.

I went to my first laboratory class for a college course I'm taking.  Here are bits of a conversation I had with the instructor.  Things I thought, but, thankfully, didn't say, are in italics.

Me:  (walking in the door) Is this biology?
Him: Yes.  I'm Edward.  You can call me Edward.
Me:   (sultry voice and pose) You can call me Bella. (normal voice) Oh, okay.
Him:  So what are you majoring in?
Me:   (panicking) What the crap is my major????  Uh...um...(awkward pause).  Oh, yeah! (snaps)     
         Natural Resources.  Integrative Science, Natural Resources.
(Time passes)
Him:  Everyone introduce yourself and tell why you're taking this class.
(Others go)
Me:   I'm Alicia, and I have no choice.
(Time passes)
(Instructor gives out tasks to two groups.  One group has two students, one has three.  I'm in the group of three.  I'm sitting watching, and the instructor jumps in)
Him:  Here. (hands me a set of atomic bead thingies) You can do it by yourself.  I feel bad.  You're just
         sitting there watching.
Me:   It's okay.  I don't mind.
Him:  Here, I'll be your partner.  (circles behind me and stands disturbingly close; continues to do so
         throughout the lesson, not offering any real help)
(End of class)
Him:  For your practical exam tonight, I'll draw lots and invite each of you in, one by one, to form a
         molecule and draw a diagram.
(I end up being last)
Me:   (walking into room)
Him:  (overly excited) Hi, partner!
Me:   You know, this partner thing kind of sucks.  You don't really do anything.  How about you take the
         test for me?
Him:  (laughs, gives instructions, making sure to invite me to call him "Edward" again)
Me:   (takes the practical exam)
Him:  The first half of your exam was to build a model.  You did it perfectly, so you get a score of 20.  That's
         perfect.
Me:   Yeah, no duh.  You gave me the short bus molecule.
Him:  The second half of your exam was to draw a diagram.  You did it perfectly, so you get another
         perfect score of 20. 
Me:   I feel like I'm in Iron Chef.  Where's the dramatic music?
(Everyone comes back in the room; while disassembling my molecule, a bead flies across the room.  I chase after it, while Edward screams, "Save the bead!  Save the bead!"
Him:  Would everyone like to hear the scores?
(Everyone agrees; Edward announces perfect scores for everyone, stating the types of molecules that everyone made, except for me; the molecules everyone else constructed are way more complicated than mine was.  I finally start to get suspicious)
(Edward tells everyone what will be covered next week and dismisses the class.  Everyone gathers their things)
Me:   (moving toward the door)
Him:  (moving with vampire-like speed to block my path)  Wait, I'll copy the study manual for you. (He only
         had three manuals at the beginning of class)
Me:   Oh, okay, thanks!  I would have gotten home and been like, "Dang it!" (it does not occur to me until
         later that there was another student that went home without a manual)
Him:  (moving slowly around the room, shutting down each computer, picking up scraps of paper from the
         floor)
Me:   (growing increasingly suspicious/nervous)
(All other students leave the laboratory; Edward continues to futz around)
Me:   (moving to look at some poster on the wall that I still have no idea what was on it)  Did he mean he 
         would make a copy for me later and give it to me next week?  Should I leave?
Him:  So, do you work?
Me:   No, I'm a stay at home mom.
Him:  Oh, that's cool.
(Awkward pause; more futzing)
Him:  So, what do you want to do with your major?
Me:   Oh, suck.  Uh, it's really lame and weird, but, if I ever have to work, I want to work at Sea World.
         (remembering more than one person bursting into stunned laughter at this very declaration)
Him:  (overly reassuring)  Oh, no, that's a really cool ambition!  (making severe eye contact)  Do it.  Go for
         it.  Do it.
Me:   Forget Iron Chef.  I'm on a soap opera.  (stands there awkwardly, silent)
Him:  I've always had a dream to be a pathologist.
Me:   If I knew what the crap that was, I'd be impressed, I'm sure.  Oh, that's cool!  Please let this end, 
         please let this end.
Him:  (picking up coat)  Oh, sorry.   (scrabbling study guide together)  Why don't you take this down and
         get a copy made?  I'll follow you down.
Me:   (desperately snatching paperwork)  Okay!  (dashing out the door)
Him:  (following almost immediately)
Me:   (wondering just how thunky my pair of pink rainboots can possibly be)
(I reach the office)
Me:   Dude, quit ignoring me!  Over here, woman!  Don't you know I'm in a dire rush????
(Lady finally turns around)
Me:   (talking too fast)  Hi, can I get a copy of this?  (thrusts papers toward her) Oh, crap, they're 
         probably not supposed to make copies for students, especially not 20 pages.  Please take the  
         papers.  Please take the papers.  He's almost here!
(Lady finally stops talking to other lady and disappears with papers to copy them; Edward arrives)
Him:  (standing far too close to me, starts making small talk with other office lady)
Me:   (sweating and slightly nauseous)
(Lady brings back papers, hands them to me)
Me:   Which one's the original?  Which one's the original?!?! (jams a set of papers into Edwards hands;
         not making eye contact)  Here, thanks.  (scurries for the door)
Him:  (following close enough that I know I should hold the door for him, but I don't)
Me:   (walking faster, trying not to totally eat it in the icy parking lot because my rainboots have no traction)
Him:  (beeping his little fancy security system on his little fancy car)
Me:   (fumbling with my keys in the dark, next to the Turtle)

the Turtle--although mine doesn't look anywhere near this awesome

Him:  (yelling across the parking lot)  Have a good weekend, Alicia!  I'll see you next week!
Me:   (panicking, seriously afraid he's going to follow me home)  Yeah, thanks, Edward!  Quit talking to 
         me!  Quit talking to me!
(I drive home, nauseous, sweaty, and with an insane desire to cackle uncontrollably)

Just for a little more background information:  there was a woman in the class that's over 50 and is an obvious smoker/drinker that tanned way too much in her youth.  Last week, the professor for the course (that's in Elko) announced that lab was cancelled, so she was the only one that showed up for lab (she wasn't in class).  Throughout the entire lab, she was hitting on Edward like crazy, doing that whole nasty writhing-in-your-seat thing that the director does on the extras for the original Twilight DVD.  She kept purring about having his number (which he gave to everyone at the end of class) and how she kept trying to get him to go out last week (I'm assuming to a bar) instead of instructing.

She's not a cougar.  She's a saber-toothed tiger.

Also, Edward is relatively attractive.  I've been married for so long, I didn't even pay attention.  Honestly.  I didn't ring check him or anything.  I also had no idea he was hitting on me until we'd been together for an hour-and-a-half.

I came home feeling dirty and confessed all to Steve, feeling like I'd had an affair

He laughed at me.

Now I'm afraid to go to lab.

"Excuse me, matire d'?  I have a reservation.  Naive, table for one.

"I prefer to eat alone."

Proof I'm Not Perfect

Now, as hard as it may be to believe it, I'm not perfect.  I can understand why you would think I am (heck, just look at this blog), but I'm not.  I'm selfish, I exaggerate, I make small children cry.  But one of my favorite foibles is my ability to judge people incorrectly.  Let me elaborate.

I just got back from my first music class of the year.  Last year, I taught music in my local elementary school, for free, from October to May for the 3rd, 4th, and 5th grades and prepared the kids to perform twice.  All in all, the experience left something to be desired.  After all, dissolving into tears and blubbering in front of the principal wasn't on my to-do list that day.  Hence, I haven't exactly been waiting with baited breath for music to start up again.

I went to the elementary, and the first two classes didn't show (I'm only teaching 4th grade this year, in protest of the junkiness of life).  I got all ticked and erased the board and put everything away, ready to go home.  Just as I went to get my coat, the third class showed up.  The teacher apologized, then said that things were crazy with the standardized testing going on.

Oh.

That.

Yes, someone should have told me that MAP testing was going on, so I could have stayed home with Fay (who was completely heartbroken that I went bye-bye without her), but of all the excuses in the world as to why the teachers and their classes didn't show up, that's the one that I would accept, no question.

Stupid judgy me.

Chronicle of a Doormat

12-16-12
     I wanted boiled eggs for lunch, but it is too selfish to boil enough eggs (6) to fill myself up, so I made Top Ramen instead.  The Ramen didn't cut it, so I ended up boiling eggs, too.  Just not 6 of them.

1-13-13
      Steve got up with the baby this morning so I could sleep in, but, even though I was way tired, I just lay in there and felt guilty for sleeping in.

1-14-13
      I sat at the elementary for an hour, doing nothing, because I'm too much of a doormat to go to the office and ask the very nice receptionist to page the teachers.

Vicarious Blogging

My best friend (you know who you are) has a hilarious life and has decided that blogging is not for her, so I'm doing it for her.

She's originally from Argentina and has a very heavy accent.  Money's tight, so she registered to be a substitute teacher.  She finally gets called to teach, and it's 12th grade Honor's English.

Yes, English is her second language.

No, she's not comfortable teaching it.

Nor is she comfortable with teenagers.

Who want to physically fight each other over whether or not they're gay.

The highlight of the day, however, was when a student asked a technical question, and she responded, "I don't know.  Google it."  Especially since she found out later that students aren't allowed to Google anything.

Or was it when the students had to quote Macbeth to her, and when asked if they did it correctly, she said, "I don't know."

Ah, Cecilia.  The joy you bring to my life.

Hair Dying Adventures

My mom and I have been going to this beauty school that's near our house to have our hair done because it's about half the price of a regular salon.  Well, with Christmas coming up, I didn't want to spend even that much on myself, so we ended up buying hair dye at Wal*Mart and dying each other's hair.  We discovered some very important things:

1)Hair dye comes off of all surfaces, including skin, with frightening ease if you use a baby wipe.

2)If your local grocery store doesn't have the hair dye brushes that salons use, cheap-o house painting brushes work just as well.

3)Medium Brown hair dye looks like very dirty pudding.

4)Bright Auburn hair dye looks exactly like grape jelly.

5)It's really quite easy to dye someone else's hair, and worth it when the dye kit is $2.25 on sale.

On another note, my parents bought us a new couch for Christmas (whoot-whoot!), and my dad drove it to our remote location.  As we were driving, we passed a car that had a live chicken in the back window.  The chicken was white with black spots.  And it was pecking the back of a girl's head.

The car was also quite nice, which didn't fit in well with the whole situation.

And as I couldn't sleep last night, the probing question that wouldn't leave me alone is:  How a bat goes from flying to hanging upside down in a cave?  Do they scrabble around for a hold?  Do they quit flying?  Sadly, I can find no videos to assuage my grief-stricken curiosity.

Dog Drama

So, we all know how special Kellin is, right?  Special in every meaning of the word (including short-bus special).  His back end doesn't work so well anymore, but it's not such a big deal at home because we have main-level living.  He does collapse now if he bumps into you, which is sad, but unavoidable.

Well, at my parents' house he has an entire flight of stairs to deal with every morning and night.  He can go down, no problem, but going up is a frightening experience.  If he loses it on his back end, he slides all the way to the bottom.  On vacation, he accidentally stepped into the stairwell and totally freaked.  This morning, at my parents', he made it 2/3 of the way up, then collapsed and couldn't go any further.  I was standing behind him, knowing this happens, so he didn't slide all the way down, but he absolutely could not get back on his feet.  I ended up having to carry his full weight, all 70+ pounds of him, up the rest of the stairs (and around a curve).  It was not a good experience.

What makes these kinds of things so much worse is the fact that Kellin's 12.  For a lab, that's pretty dang old.

I hate drawing nearer to putting him to sleep.  There's a reason I'm not God.

Pirate Mummy

I'm totally addicted to the blog cakewrecks.squarespace.com

And I totally want this cake.

Seriously.

Which frightens me.