**I am in a hurry to get this post done. Please forgive any errors or nonsensical words. ha**
GLEE IS ON TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I, like most of America, am in love with FOX for developing this gem of a show. However, the sing alongs and jam sessions have brought about an unexpected emotion with in me. Please note, I am listening to the Glee soundtrack as I type...deal with that!
In high school I was very active in Theater--pause for you all to roll your eyes and say, "that wasn't hard to figure out." I was never extremely talented in the vocal arena, but I wasn't too bad either. Most roles I got were either the dorky side kick, the older mom/maid, or chorus girl #9, but I still kick ball changed with the best of them.
I remember the feeling I got right before the curtain opened...it was a mix of "I'm about to pee my pants" and "I hope I don't fall on my ass." Being on stage really was a thrill, but since I was a mediocre high school Thespian, I was certain I would be relegated to stage hand #5 in college and beyond. So I gave up the dream of singing along side of Brian Stokes Mitchell in Ragtime....I would have also had to be skinny and black to do that, but I will blame it on my lack of vocals and rhythmical talent.
PAUSE--Lean On Me just came on my iPod...this girl can belt it! She might be my new idol. (Sorry Danny Gokey)
As you can imagine, when Glee first premiered I was AMPED!!! Here was a show that allowed me to relive the good old days of GHS. As this season progresses, I find myself downloading songs daily. I must admit, there are nights I turn up the volume and pretend I am in the Glee club. (Wednesday nights are big interesting in my apartment)
Recently, I have been wishing myself back to High School so I could be apart of this group...yes, I said it. I imagine myself belting out Broadway tunes and Britney Spears' hits with my old high school pals. Of course, I am the lead in every song. I can feel the judgments from all of you! Before you log into Facebook and de-friend me, you should know I don't think this is healthy. Here are just a few of the many reasons I think I need to stop watching Glee:
1. I am 25 and my life is pretty cool...wishing I were still in High School would be like Lady GaGa wishing she were Hannah Montanna--fun but your poker face at 15 is not as great as your poker face at 25. Getting hopped up and making bad decisions mean something totally different now then in high school.
2. These students are like Mutant singers. They get a sheet of music and then all of the sudden have a choreographed dance and harmonized song. This would not happen if I had been apart of GHS Glee. If my memory serves me right, most of our choreography centered on box steps and jazz hands. Note--this is part of the reason I love Glee. It goes back to my hope that one day life will be a musical.
3.The cheerleaders are called the Cheerios and their coach reminds me of my 8th grade gym teacher (she was about 5ft tall and very much into women). They are all very mean and way too popular. I was a Cheerleader in high school, so maybe I am sensitive that we are still depicted as mean high school girls who feed off the unpopular. Wait--did that last sentence read as if I still thought I was a cheerleader. Dear God, I need help.
4. Defying Gravity just came on my iPod--this was one of my favorite episodes. I am now crying. BTW I am in a coffee shop and people are staring at me. I feel this is a valid reason to stop watching.
5. I have started to think of Glee songs I can have my students sing at upcoming assemblies. There are so many good songs with positive messages. WTF?!?!?!?!!?!?! What kind of teacher am I? My students are five and not on a Hollywood set! They will probably not be able to stand in one place for longer then 10 seconds, let alone do an entire musical number complete with sparkle fingers and harmony.
I have only given you 5 reasons, but there are many more. I think it is good that we are getting a break from Glee. It will give me time to remember why it is cool to be 25, single, and in a major city. Oh who am I kidding, I am SO SAD that I have to wait a month or so to see the next episode! Which reminds me, I have to go prep for tonight's Fall Finale. I am going to warm up with Imagine and then Bootylicious--I always pictured myself as Beyonce in Destiny's Child. :)
Taubel--OUT!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
I'm Too Polite for a Bar Fight
*Note--this is a long post...hope you enjoy
I am not a very violent person, nor do I enjoy watching people kick and hit the shiz out of each other. In fact, in Middle School and High School I tended to run away when a fight was brewing...I was a wuss!
A couple nights I was having some drinks with teacher friends when a seemingly peaceful night turned Springer on me. We happened to choose the table next to the pool table. We had planned to go for a drink, and of course, a drink turned into several drinks. By the time we found round 4, the pool table found some players. As you can imagine, there were a couple, "would you mind moving so I can get this shot?" Being the nice and accommodating educators that we are, we obliged. However, these pool players were aggressive, bad, but aggressive. Apparently, it was an intense game...that lasted forever. I think they missed the memo that you are supposed to put the ball in the pocket.
I guess one was annoyed that he always had to go through our table to make his shot, so on one shot he made a comment, "Maybe you assholes should move tables." Whoa, whoa whoa! Umm hi Middle School called and they want their irrational bully back. We were all so shocked by his comments that we decided that we shouldn't cater to his awful game anymore. It took about 15 more minutes before the horrible, angry pool player was back. Below is the dialogue....if I wasn't there I wouldn't have believed it:
Bad/slightly busted pool player (BSBPP): Hey dude, move.
Teacher Friend: No I think we are good. We have been here a while
BSBPP: How about this then. I make this shot you buy me a shot.
Teacher Friends: (laughes out loud) How about if you make the shot you but me a shot.
BSBPP: How about I break your nose!
Teacher friend: I would like to see you try that
*Note--one of the teacher friends looks like he could do some real damage.
AHHHHHHHHHH we just went there. We went from friendly shot buying banter to nose breaking threats. It was then that I realized this was not going to end well. The guys took his shot and at the same time pushed our table. Some of my beer spilled out, and that was all it took to get me in the game. No, not threatening to break my friends nose, but spilling my beer got me in a rage.
My friends and I made one last attempt to ignore douche bag and his pool challenged friends. BUT then, his little friend, who probably weighed 100lbs wet, came over and tried to get in the action. BTW he was drinking a Smirnoff Ice. This is word for word what he said to us, "It is like he is the pilot and you guys are a gang of bunny rabbits on the tarmac. I mean it is only going to end one way, he has got to land the plane. That's his job. That's what he knows. And you guys just have to move." I mean it took me a while to even think of how the hell this joker came up with this analogy. But really, I mean really? Below are my many issues with this comment:
1. If he is saying that his friend's job is playing pool, then we need to discuss possible new careers.
2. Bunny Rabbits on tarmacs, and furthermore a "gang of bunny rabbits"? Do rabbits get together and start reeking havoc on the bunny rabbit nation? And then hang out on tarmacs to f with landing planes? If so does that make us the Sharks or the Jets?
3. This dude was drinking a Smirnoff Ice. Come talk to me when you stop being a 16 year old girl at the after Prom party
Our response to this "warning" was one of laughter and a bit of confusion. This did not make the sidekick or the bad pool player happy. When he came back to make his final shot of their hour long game, he didn't say anything just bumped into our table. This was enough to get me angry, but then his cronies on the side screamed, "Just move you guys." This made me rage...I stood up and screamed, "We have been here long before you. Just be human beings and get over it. I mean you all suck at pool anyways." Ummm wow Becca. Really glad you stepped up and told them what time it was. I asked them to be human beings--that is almost as bad as the bunny rabbit analogy.
As I was imparting my words of wisdom, I guess the sidekick came back to try yet again to give us reason to move. When I sat back down, one of my friends was on his feet pointing in the guys face saying, "Not once did anyone ask us nicely to move. NOT ONCE!" If nothing else, my friends and I expect you to be polite to us while you shove your ass in our table. This is when I realized that if a brawl broke out we were too nice to be of any damage. Also, can you imagine if a fight broke out, what I would do? I was thinking I might have to jump on some one's back or just kick someone in the shin. It would have been like a bad scene from a cheesy 80s movie.
Things calmed down enough for us to get our bill and decide to leave. We were just too classy to get in a bar fight. But if we had, we would have totally dominated that crew---in a very polite way of course!
Taubel--OUT!
I am not a very violent person, nor do I enjoy watching people kick and hit the shiz out of each other. In fact, in Middle School and High School I tended to run away when a fight was brewing...I was a wuss!
A couple nights I was having some drinks with teacher friends when a seemingly peaceful night turned Springer on me. We happened to choose the table next to the pool table. We had planned to go for a drink, and of course, a drink turned into several drinks. By the time we found round 4, the pool table found some players. As you can imagine, there were a couple, "would you mind moving so I can get this shot?" Being the nice and accommodating educators that we are, we obliged. However, these pool players were aggressive, bad, but aggressive. Apparently, it was an intense game...that lasted forever. I think they missed the memo that you are supposed to put the ball in the pocket.
I guess one was annoyed that he always had to go through our table to make his shot, so on one shot he made a comment, "Maybe you assholes should move tables." Whoa, whoa whoa! Umm hi Middle School called and they want their irrational bully back. We were all so shocked by his comments that we decided that we shouldn't cater to his awful game anymore. It took about 15 more minutes before the horrible, angry pool player was back. Below is the dialogue....if I wasn't there I wouldn't have believed it:
Bad/slightly busted pool player (BSBPP): Hey dude, move.
Teacher Friend: No I think we are good. We have been here a while
BSBPP: How about this then. I make this shot you buy me a shot.
Teacher Friends: (laughes out loud) How about if you make the shot you but me a shot.
BSBPP: How about I break your nose!
Teacher friend: I would like to see you try that
*Note--one of the teacher friends looks like he could do some real damage.
AHHHHHHHHHH we just went there. We went from friendly shot buying banter to nose breaking threats. It was then that I realized this was not going to end well. The guys took his shot and at the same time pushed our table. Some of my beer spilled out, and that was all it took to get me in the game. No, not threatening to break my friends nose, but spilling my beer got me in a rage.
My friends and I made one last attempt to ignore douche bag and his pool challenged friends. BUT then, his little friend, who probably weighed 100lbs wet, came over and tried to get in the action. BTW he was drinking a Smirnoff Ice. This is word for word what he said to us, "It is like he is the pilot and you guys are a gang of bunny rabbits on the tarmac. I mean it is only going to end one way, he has got to land the plane. That's his job. That's what he knows. And you guys just have to move." I mean it took me a while to even think of how the hell this joker came up with this analogy. But really, I mean really? Below are my many issues with this comment:
1. If he is saying that his friend's job is playing pool, then we need to discuss possible new careers.
2. Bunny Rabbits on tarmacs, and furthermore a "gang of bunny rabbits"? Do rabbits get together and start reeking havoc on the bunny rabbit nation? And then hang out on tarmacs to f with landing planes? If so does that make us the Sharks or the Jets?
3. This dude was drinking a Smirnoff Ice. Come talk to me when you stop being a 16 year old girl at the after Prom party
Our response to this "warning" was one of laughter and a bit of confusion. This did not make the sidekick or the bad pool player happy. When he came back to make his final shot of their hour long game, he didn't say anything just bumped into our table. This was enough to get me angry, but then his cronies on the side screamed, "Just move you guys." This made me rage...I stood up and screamed, "We have been here long before you. Just be human beings and get over it. I mean you all suck at pool anyways." Ummm wow Becca. Really glad you stepped up and told them what time it was. I asked them to be human beings--that is almost as bad as the bunny rabbit analogy.
As I was imparting my words of wisdom, I guess the sidekick came back to try yet again to give us reason to move. When I sat back down, one of my friends was on his feet pointing in the guys face saying, "Not once did anyone ask us nicely to move. NOT ONCE!" If nothing else, my friends and I expect you to be polite to us while you shove your ass in our table. This is when I realized that if a brawl broke out we were too nice to be of any damage. Also, can you imagine if a fight broke out, what I would do? I was thinking I might have to jump on some one's back or just kick someone in the shin. It would have been like a bad scene from a cheesy 80s movie.
Things calmed down enough for us to get our bill and decide to leave. We were just too classy to get in a bar fight. But if we had, we would have totally dominated that crew---in a very polite way of course!
Taubel--OUT!
"Your Too Young to Look Like That!"
Let's skip the apologies and just say that I am a monthly updater. GOOD NEWS--Christmas Break is around the corner so I will have some time blog your brains out!
Last weekend, I decided to subject myself to utter hell and go to the Macy's in downtown Chicago. Screaming kids, people with no concept of space and movement, and annoying mother/daughter duos filled the floors of the department store. I thought it would be a good idea to get some new make up. I also thought it would be a good idea to go in the make up I wore the night before--I was too lazy/hungover to wash my face. (Ewww gross). Again, I am really bad at making good life decisions.
I approached a make up counter, that will remain nameless, and put on my best "I have no idea what to do," face. Worked like a charm. Susie* swooped right in and said, "Can I help you find some cosmetics today?" She was very official! I explained that I was just looking for something new and before I knew it, she had me in the chair doing a full make over. I felt like I was a guest on the old Ricki Lake show!
Normally, I would be ecstatic to get a free make over, but this cosmetic professional was sassy. We will call her Sassy Susie! With in one minute of the make over, Susie began a laundry list of all the flaws on my face, including but not limited to, the dark circles under my eyes, my dry skin and the redness in my face. The best was she followed up most of her issues with an, "and that is totally preventable." Translation--"You are horrible at looking good and need more help then a cosmetic worker in Macy's"
One of my favorite moments was when Susie asked how old I was. When I told her 25, she took a giant step back, took a deep breath then said, "Oh honey you are too young to have those dark circles under your eyes." Ummm thank you Susie for not only saying such a brutal comment but for making a big f-ing production out of it. Did they not teach you tact in beauty school or was Frenchy from Grease right to drop out and go back to high school? Could we not of tried a plain shift of weight and a nice "maybe I can show you some ways to look even better than you do"? Is that to hard Susie?
Because of Susie's make over and self esteem deflation, I bought a ridiculous amount of over priced beauty supplies. My nightly routine has now extended to countless minutes of moisturizers, eye creams, and exfoliating. You know those commercials where girls look so happy to be washing, moisturizing and doing other girly things to their faces? They make it seem like doing all of that is next to seeing Jesus. Well, they are WRONG! There is no fun or enjoyment in this new routine of mine--mostly because I have no idea what I am doing and I see Susie's disapproving face every time I open a product. I am tempted to march my ass back into Macy's and tell Susie where she can put her under eye cream. But then I realize that is not how an adult would handle the situation...so instead I will just write an angry blog entry about her and call her funny names. Ahhh I am growing up before your very eyes!
Ok got to stare at myself in the mirror and moisturize.
Taubel--OUT
*Names have been changed because I can't remember her real name.
Last weekend, I decided to subject myself to utter hell and go to the Macy's in downtown Chicago. Screaming kids, people with no concept of space and movement, and annoying mother/daughter duos filled the floors of the department store. I thought it would be a good idea to get some new make up. I also thought it would be a good idea to go in the make up I wore the night before--I was too lazy/hungover to wash my face. (Ewww gross). Again, I am really bad at making good life decisions.
I approached a make up counter, that will remain nameless, and put on my best "I have no idea what to do," face. Worked like a charm. Susie* swooped right in and said, "Can I help you find some cosmetics today?" She was very official! I explained that I was just looking for something new and before I knew it, she had me in the chair doing a full make over. I felt like I was a guest on the old Ricki Lake show!
Normally, I would be ecstatic to get a free make over, but this cosmetic professional was sassy. We will call her Sassy Susie! With in one minute of the make over, Susie began a laundry list of all the flaws on my face, including but not limited to, the dark circles under my eyes, my dry skin and the redness in my face. The best was she followed up most of her issues with an, "and that is totally preventable." Translation--"You are horrible at looking good and need more help then a cosmetic worker in Macy's"
One of my favorite moments was when Susie asked how old I was. When I told her 25, she took a giant step back, took a deep breath then said, "Oh honey you are too young to have those dark circles under your eyes." Ummm thank you Susie for not only saying such a brutal comment but for making a big f-ing production out of it. Did they not teach you tact in beauty school or was Frenchy from Grease right to drop out and go back to high school? Could we not of tried a plain shift of weight and a nice "maybe I can show you some ways to look even better than you do"? Is that to hard Susie?
Because of Susie's make over and self esteem deflation, I bought a ridiculous amount of over priced beauty supplies. My nightly routine has now extended to countless minutes of moisturizers, eye creams, and exfoliating. You know those commercials where girls look so happy to be washing, moisturizing and doing other girly things to their faces? They make it seem like doing all of that is next to seeing Jesus. Well, they are WRONG! There is no fun or enjoyment in this new routine of mine--mostly because I have no idea what I am doing and I see Susie's disapproving face every time I open a product. I am tempted to march my ass back into Macy's and tell Susie where she can put her under eye cream. But then I realize that is not how an adult would handle the situation...so instead I will just write an angry blog entry about her and call her funny names. Ahhh I am growing up before your very eyes!
Ok got to stare at myself in the mirror and moisturize.
Taubel--OUT
*Names have been changed because I can't remember her real name.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Boo!
I have never really enjoyed Halloween. Even as a kid, I had horrible costume ideas and was bad at the overall execution of trick-or-treating. For example, while many girls my age were going as Rainbow Bright or Jem (from Jem and the Holograms), I was wrapping a towel around my neck attempting to be a princess--unfortunately, said towel was my mom's favorite so I had to settle for my brother's old G.I. Joe costume. As for trick-or-treating, most kids bring a a cute jack-o-lantern bucket, a pillow case or a big bag to collect their mounds of candy. Not this girl! One year, mom told me to get a pillow case from the hall closet for all my candy. Not being the brightest 7 year old, I grabbed my favorite pillow case from the closet...unfortunately, this was the throw pillow case. Yes, I grabbed a pillow case that made trick-or-treating virtually impossible. I did get several complements on the lovely pattern of my trick-or-treat bag. I think one woman asked me where I got it. I had to defer to mom.
One Halloween sticks out in particular. Like many kids, I became too cool for Halloween in Middle School. Actually, I wasn't cool at all in Middle School, though I desperately wanted to be. One of my best friends was cool so I just pretended that I had her street cred. On my 7th grade Halloween we decided that we were too old for costumes so we met up with some BOYS in our grade. It is important to note here that I am an extremely awkward person now so imagine the awkward, middle school Becca meeting up with boys--EPIC!!!
I put my hair in my best pony tail and picked out my finest sweat shirt and rolled up jeans for the occasion. I remember being so nervous about meeting up with the boys, but my besty seemed so calm. I assume she was at ease because she had already made out with a boy and was well on her way to getting a boob grab. I, on the other hand, was a late bloomer or boys were not really into the awkward chubby 7th grader. I like to think it was option A.
We had planned to meet the young gents at 8pm by the area golf course. We had to walk there because 1. They lived in the neighborhood and 2. the only set of wheels we had was a banana seat, and of course, we were too cool for that.
By the time we got there and the boys were already there. I remember I had a HUGE crush on one of them because he had a SWEET bowl cut! Being the seductress that I was at 12, I threw my hands in the air and shouted, "HEY GUYS! What's up?" I remember my popular friend looking at me as though I was the lamest thing since Saved By The Bell:The New Class. Just as I put my hands down, we heard it...the sound of a High School supped up truck and the smell of teenage boys cruelty. As I turned around, it met my favorite pair of jeans. Yes, I got egged. We all started running into the golf course. Lucky for us, the ban of hormonal high schoolers didn't follow us. As we all gathered together to talk about what happened, I noticed that I was the only casualty of the night.
I remember wondering how the heck I was the only one who got egged. I mean I was wearing a sweet ass sweat shirt and the nicest pair of jeans that Sears had to offer!! For some reason, I thought that getting egged would give me some sort of clout with this popular crowd--that they would think that I was a tough girl who could handle the high school crowd. Wrong. Instead, they complained that I smelled all night and that I should probably throw out those worn out old jeans.
The next Monday at school, my crush did speak to me--PLUS 1. But he said, "What's up yolk pants!"-Minus 2. Looking back, "yolk pants" is kind of a lame joke, but the 7th grade Becca was not as quick/witty as the 25 year old Becca. So my response was to cry and run to the bathroom. My popular friend came in after me and in a moment of brilliant consolement told me, "Hey, it's ok. He is just saying that to you because he is totally in love with you. I know because I heard from his best friend that he told the whole soccer team about how you got egged and how funny it was." Yup, great job best friend. THere is nothing like knowing that entire group of pre-pubescent boys are laughing at you for getting pegged in the leg with an egg by a bunch of country ass high schoolers.
Ever since that Halloween, I have never been fully into the holiday. I always tell myself I am going to try to think of a creative costume but I never quite do it. Maybe it is because I was so emotionally wounded that night in 1997. Maybe that egg did more damage then just ruining my favorite pair of jeans. Maybe that egg and that night have made me a cold callus woman, incapable of finding the most kick ass costume. Or maybe I am just lazy and lack creativity. Let's be honest here, as an adult, Halloween is just another excuse to get ass backwards hammered and make really poor life choices, and I am pretty good at doing that on a consistent basis. Here-to-for, a creative Halloween costume is not necessary. But that reason doesn't really paint me in the best light, so I will stick to the 7th grade emotionally scarring experience.
Taubel--OUT
One Halloween sticks out in particular. Like many kids, I became too cool for Halloween in Middle School. Actually, I wasn't cool at all in Middle School, though I desperately wanted to be. One of my best friends was cool so I just pretended that I had her street cred. On my 7th grade Halloween we decided that we were too old for costumes so we met up with some BOYS in our grade. It is important to note here that I am an extremely awkward person now so imagine the awkward, middle school Becca meeting up with boys--EPIC!!!
I put my hair in my best pony tail and picked out my finest sweat shirt and rolled up jeans for the occasion. I remember being so nervous about meeting up with the boys, but my besty seemed so calm. I assume she was at ease because she had already made out with a boy and was well on her way to getting a boob grab. I, on the other hand, was a late bloomer or boys were not really into the awkward chubby 7th grader. I like to think it was option A.
We had planned to meet the young gents at 8pm by the area golf course. We had to walk there because 1. They lived in the neighborhood and 2. the only set of wheels we had was a banana seat, and of course, we were too cool for that.
By the time we got there and the boys were already there. I remember I had a HUGE crush on one of them because he had a SWEET bowl cut! Being the seductress that I was at 12, I threw my hands in the air and shouted, "HEY GUYS! What's up?" I remember my popular friend looking at me as though I was the lamest thing since Saved By The Bell:The New Class. Just as I put my hands down, we heard it...the sound of a High School supped up truck and the smell of teenage boys cruelty. As I turned around, it met my favorite pair of jeans. Yes, I got egged. We all started running into the golf course. Lucky for us, the ban of hormonal high schoolers didn't follow us. As we all gathered together to talk about what happened, I noticed that I was the only casualty of the night.
I remember wondering how the heck I was the only one who got egged. I mean I was wearing a sweet ass sweat shirt and the nicest pair of jeans that Sears had to offer!! For some reason, I thought that getting egged would give me some sort of clout with this popular crowd--that they would think that I was a tough girl who could handle the high school crowd. Wrong. Instead, they complained that I smelled all night and that I should probably throw out those worn out old jeans.
The next Monday at school, my crush did speak to me--PLUS 1. But he said, "What's up yolk pants!"-Minus 2. Looking back, "yolk pants" is kind of a lame joke, but the 7th grade Becca was not as quick/witty as the 25 year old Becca. So my response was to cry and run to the bathroom. My popular friend came in after me and in a moment of brilliant consolement told me, "Hey, it's ok. He is just saying that to you because he is totally in love with you. I know because I heard from his best friend that he told the whole soccer team about how you got egged and how funny it was." Yup, great job best friend. THere is nothing like knowing that entire group of pre-pubescent boys are laughing at you for getting pegged in the leg with an egg by a bunch of country ass high schoolers.
Ever since that Halloween, I have never been fully into the holiday. I always tell myself I am going to try to think of a creative costume but I never quite do it. Maybe it is because I was so emotionally wounded that night in 1997. Maybe that egg did more damage then just ruining my favorite pair of jeans. Maybe that egg and that night have made me a cold callus woman, incapable of finding the most kick ass costume. Or maybe I am just lazy and lack creativity. Let's be honest here, as an adult, Halloween is just another excuse to get ass backwards hammered and make really poor life choices, and I am pretty good at doing that on a consistent basis. Here-to-for, a creative Halloween costume is not necessary. But that reason doesn't really paint me in the best light, so I will stick to the 7th grade emotionally scarring experience.
Taubel--OUT
Monday, September 28, 2009
Next Stop Love Connection with Chuck Woolery
*As usual, forgive the lack of editing. It has been a long day. Teaching ain't easy folks, and there is no wine bottle big enough to make it better.
Dearest Readers,
Here I am again apologizing for not updating. There is no excuse for being so slack...well one excuse--I am not that exciting of a person anymore. Now, the previous statement would lead one to imagine that at one point in my life I was exciting. And, I am not going to argue that--not because I believe it but because it makes me feel better.
Recently, my mom came to visit me. It was a good time! So what is the point of the post, you ask? Well, mom decided to channel her youth and hit the bars of Chicago with me. We were out and about at a Chicago pub when a gentleman approached me. Now, I have never really been hit on...except for that guy who told me that he looks like someone famous, and then he said that someone famous was Gollum from Lord of the Rings. Needless to say, I did not go out with him, but I did think about it--Let's be honest readers, I haven't been on a date since Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky got married...and yes that was circa 3rd grade for me. Back to the gent trying to get some B to the ecca action. (yeah I said...deal with it).
So he threw out some really bad line, pardon me if it is a bit hazy, as mom was big on the wine that night. Funny enough, he did not notice mom chillin next to me. He ended up being a rather nice fellow, so I decided to introduce him to my mom. Pause for the cause--WTF Becca? Where you thinking, "hmm this man has potential to buy me some free meals. I know how to win him over/freak him out...ahhh yes, I will introduce him to my slightly inebriated and overly honest mother. BRILLIANT IDEA!!!"
So I turn and say, "This is my mom. Mom, this is (insert guys name)." To which he responds, "Hi mom." Now I am not sure how you all feel about this, but I found this to be a bit patronizing. Mom felt the same way about this comment as she responded with, "Oh hi (insert name here). Nice to meet you, however, your lines aren't that original. As a matter of fact, they are kind of lame." I will pause for a moment to let all of you get out the inevitable "OHHHHH."
I had no response, mostly because my mouth was wide open and I was trying to figure out what the hell just happened. So mom responded for me, "Thank you (insert name here). Becca, get me a drink." To answer your question, yes, the gent turned around and headed straight to the back of the bar. I assume he found some red bull and vodka drinking lady, whose mother was not barside with her.
The point of this post, you ask? No, it is not to warn you against taking your mom to a bar...I actually think you should do that more often--hilarity always ensues. No, it is not to tell you that you should ward against introducing you mom to potential suitors at said bar--again, hilarity always ensues. Actually, it is to ask you to have more experiences like this. Because, let's get real here, mom probably was the reason I did not make poor decisions that night, and furthermore, this post would have been a lot less funny and a lot more shameful without her.
Taubel's final thought--get your mom hopped up on some wine and scotch and let her jump on the truth train. I guarantee there will be a lot more laughs.
More to come, I PROMISE!!
Taubel--OUT!
Dearest Readers,
Here I am again apologizing for not updating. There is no excuse for being so slack...well one excuse--I am not that exciting of a person anymore. Now, the previous statement would lead one to imagine that at one point in my life I was exciting. And, I am not going to argue that--not because I believe it but because it makes me feel better.
Recently, my mom came to visit me. It was a good time! So what is the point of the post, you ask? Well, mom decided to channel her youth and hit the bars of Chicago with me. We were out and about at a Chicago pub when a gentleman approached me. Now, I have never really been hit on...except for that guy who told me that he looks like someone famous, and then he said that someone famous was Gollum from Lord of the Rings. Needless to say, I did not go out with him, but I did think about it--Let's be honest readers, I haven't been on a date since Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky got married...and yes that was circa 3rd grade for me. Back to the gent trying to get some B to the ecca action. (yeah I said...deal with it).
So he threw out some really bad line, pardon me if it is a bit hazy, as mom was big on the wine that night. Funny enough, he did not notice mom chillin next to me. He ended up being a rather nice fellow, so I decided to introduce him to my mom. Pause for the cause--WTF Becca? Where you thinking, "hmm this man has potential to buy me some free meals. I know how to win him over/freak him out...ahhh yes, I will introduce him to my slightly inebriated and overly honest mother. BRILLIANT IDEA!!!"
So I turn and say, "This is my mom. Mom, this is (insert guys name)." To which he responds, "Hi mom." Now I am not sure how you all feel about this, but I found this to be a bit patronizing. Mom felt the same way about this comment as she responded with, "Oh hi (insert name here). Nice to meet you, however, your lines aren't that original. As a matter of fact, they are kind of lame." I will pause for a moment to let all of you get out the inevitable "OHHHHH."
I had no response, mostly because my mouth was wide open and I was trying to figure out what the hell just happened. So mom responded for me, "Thank you (insert name here). Becca, get me a drink." To answer your question, yes, the gent turned around and headed straight to the back of the bar. I assume he found some red bull and vodka drinking lady, whose mother was not barside with her.
The point of this post, you ask? No, it is not to warn you against taking your mom to a bar...I actually think you should do that more often--hilarity always ensues. No, it is not to tell you that you should ward against introducing you mom to potential suitors at said bar--again, hilarity always ensues. Actually, it is to ask you to have more experiences like this. Because, let's get real here, mom probably was the reason I did not make poor decisions that night, and furthermore, this post would have been a lot less funny and a lot more shameful without her.
Taubel's final thought--get your mom hopped up on some wine and scotch and let her jump on the truth train. I guarantee there will be a lot more laughs.
More to come, I PROMISE!!
Taubel--OUT!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Running!!
Again, I am sorry for spelling and grammatical errors...it has been a long week.
I ran my second half marathon today, and it was a pretty solid run. Pause for the cause--I am really proud of myself. I try not toot my own horn, but I think 2 half marathons is a pretty great accomplishment. So take your hands of the keyboard and do a little clap for me....Thank you! Thank you!
During the 13.1 miles of running I encountered a few things that were funny, annoying, and a bit disturbing. It should be noted that I run very slow. Some of you may actually walk faster than I run, and to you I say shut up. Let me have my glory.
What is great about a half marathon is that friends and family can come out to support you. They line the course and cheer you on as you sweat your way to bad ankles and knee problems. It should also be noted that I had no fans cheering for me, therefore, I just pretended that everyone was there for me. So those signs that said "Go Helen," or "Keep Running, Sexy Legs Susan,"(yes that was a sign) were all code for "Go Taubel...Kick ass and take names." Back to the point, these fans are there to cheer for you, and as I mentioned above, some of them have signs so that their runner can find them when they run by. Most posters are your usual, "Run (insert name here) run!" Thank you Forrest Gump for that ridiculous phrase that will echo through races for decades to come. There are some signs that are catchy...my personal fav. today was, "Don't worry, the Kenyans are behind you!" I laughed out loud on that one. LOL if you will.
The spectators also try to cheer for people they don't know. This would seem nice, but it really just annoyed me. Especially because it is kind of hard to cheer for runners. It isn't like football or baseball where you can cheer for them to do something, like 1st and 10 or home run. All we do is run...so asking us to run is like asking us to breathe...we are already doing it. Some of these "fans" tried to get creative, but it really just made me feel awkward. "Go Rebecca. You keep running like it is your job. Like you can't stop or you will be on welfare." He got all of that out by the time I passed him b/c I am that slow. At first I was like, "how does this tool know my name?" Then I was reminded that my race bib shows it loud and proud. I then began to ponder what the hell he was thinking. Welfare? Really? We went to welfare at a Sunday afternoon race. Could we not have stuck to "keep running. You can do it!"? This angered me because I did not feel it was necessary to bring up social issues so early in the morning.
As I mentioned before, I am a slow runner. I am ok with being a slow runner except for when I am stuck with the motivational speaker and his angry wife. For the last 5 miles of my run I was on pace with a man who felt the need to tell his wife that, "You can do it...just____more miles to go." I was inspired for about the first 5 times he said it and then I wanted to round house kick him to the face! I don't think his wife enjoyed his encouragement as well. How do I know this? Well it could be that she kept silent for most of the run. Or that towards the end she turned to him and breathlessly shouted, "I know how many f-ing miles there are by the huge sign in front of me. My feet hurt and I am not having fun. You said this was fun. I am never listening to you again." Then she paused for a second and whispered, "asshole." It was at this point that I busted out laughing. 1.Who thinks that running 13.1 miles is going to be fun? Seriously, if you think that then you should be kicked in the face by someone wearing a soccer cleat. 2.How the hell did your peppy husband talk you into this? What did he say that made you think, "Yes running 13.1 miles together will be great for our marriage. 3. I loved that she whispered asshole...like that would be the worst insult alive and god forbid me or any of the other 20,000 runners would hear her say that. BTW the couple was matching outfits. This really irritated me. Who gets up at 5am and is like, "Hunny I think we should wear the blue sport fit today. We don't want anyone at this half marathon thinking we walk out of this house wearing any old thing to run in!" Since I am against running fast, I was stuck with these two for the rest of the race. Two thumbs up!
All and all it was a great time. Yes, a lot of people beat me to the finish (there were a surprising amount of old men that beat me but that is not important). Yes, there were some people that annoyed me. And yes, my body wants to punch me in the face. But it was a big accomplishment!
Taubel--OUT!
I ran my second half marathon today, and it was a pretty solid run. Pause for the cause--I am really proud of myself. I try not toot my own horn, but I think 2 half marathons is a pretty great accomplishment. So take your hands of the keyboard and do a little clap for me....Thank you! Thank you!
During the 13.1 miles of running I encountered a few things that were funny, annoying, and a bit disturbing. It should be noted that I run very slow. Some of you may actually walk faster than I run, and to you I say shut up. Let me have my glory.
What is great about a half marathon is that friends and family can come out to support you. They line the course and cheer you on as you sweat your way to bad ankles and knee problems. It should also be noted that I had no fans cheering for me, therefore, I just pretended that everyone was there for me. So those signs that said "Go Helen," or "Keep Running, Sexy Legs Susan,"(yes that was a sign) were all code for "Go Taubel...Kick ass and take names." Back to the point, these fans are there to cheer for you, and as I mentioned above, some of them have signs so that their runner can find them when they run by. Most posters are your usual, "Run (insert name here) run!" Thank you Forrest Gump for that ridiculous phrase that will echo through races for decades to come. There are some signs that are catchy...my personal fav. today was, "Don't worry, the Kenyans are behind you!" I laughed out loud on that one. LOL if you will.
The spectators also try to cheer for people they don't know. This would seem nice, but it really just annoyed me. Especially because it is kind of hard to cheer for runners. It isn't like football or baseball where you can cheer for them to do something, like 1st and 10 or home run. All we do is run...so asking us to run is like asking us to breathe...we are already doing it. Some of these "fans" tried to get creative, but it really just made me feel awkward. "Go Rebecca. You keep running like it is your job. Like you can't stop or you will be on welfare." He got all of that out by the time I passed him b/c I am that slow. At first I was like, "how does this tool know my name?" Then I was reminded that my race bib shows it loud and proud. I then began to ponder what the hell he was thinking. Welfare? Really? We went to welfare at a Sunday afternoon race. Could we not have stuck to "keep running. You can do it!"? This angered me because I did not feel it was necessary to bring up social issues so early in the morning.
As I mentioned before, I am a slow runner. I am ok with being a slow runner except for when I am stuck with the motivational speaker and his angry wife. For the last 5 miles of my run I was on pace with a man who felt the need to tell his wife that, "You can do it...just____more miles to go." I was inspired for about the first 5 times he said it and then I wanted to round house kick him to the face! I don't think his wife enjoyed his encouragement as well. How do I know this? Well it could be that she kept silent for most of the run. Or that towards the end she turned to him and breathlessly shouted, "I know how many f-ing miles there are by the huge sign in front of me. My feet hurt and I am not having fun. You said this was fun. I am never listening to you again." Then she paused for a second and whispered, "asshole." It was at this point that I busted out laughing. 1.Who thinks that running 13.1 miles is going to be fun? Seriously, if you think that then you should be kicked in the face by someone wearing a soccer cleat. 2.How the hell did your peppy husband talk you into this? What did he say that made you think, "Yes running 13.1 miles together will be great for our marriage. 3. I loved that she whispered asshole...like that would be the worst insult alive and god forbid me or any of the other 20,000 runners would hear her say that. BTW the couple was matching outfits. This really irritated me. Who gets up at 5am and is like, "Hunny I think we should wear the blue sport fit today. We don't want anyone at this half marathon thinking we walk out of this house wearing any old thing to run in!" Since I am against running fast, I was stuck with these two for the rest of the race. Two thumbs up!
All and all it was a great time. Yes, a lot of people beat me to the finish (there were a surprising amount of old men that beat me but that is not important). Yes, there were some people that annoyed me. And yes, my body wants to punch me in the face. But it was a big accomplishment!
Taubel--OUT!
Monday, September 7, 2009
Labor Day Thriller
**Please forgive grammar and spelling errors. I am too tired to proof read.
All last week I was looking forward to this weekend. 3 days of beer drinking, football watching, and bad decisions. However, the teaching Gods had other plans for me. I got a job on Friday night at 7:30pm--seriously they called me at 7:30 and offered me a job. I shouldn't say job, as it is, technically, a substitute position. I start tomorrow. Therefore, I have spent the last 3 days doing arts and crafts and planning. I have not had one drop of alcohol, nor was I able to watch UGA loose its first football game...oh and bad decisions, well the worst decision I made was using the blue construction paper instead of the red.
I was ok with this until about 1pm this afternoon. I got on the train to go to JoAnn's, aka every scrapbooker and craft person's dream, and ran into 2 very excited girls.
They were headed to the Sox v. Sox game. For those of you who are not baseball fans, the Chicago White Sox were playing the Boston Red Sox. Big to-do apparently. I got yelled at once because I spelled it like "socks" instead of "sox," and apparently, that is ludicrous. Like spelling things correctly in baseball is some kind of sin, but I digress. These young ladies both wore jerseys for the Red Sox and one had a poster that said "Mary Me 'insert famous baseball players name here.'" I apologize for not knowing who it was, but I don't watch baseball nor do I care about it.
They were gabbing about how hot some of the players were because obviously if one of those players, who gets paid an absurd amount of money, saw one of those girls in a bar they would totally go for it. Because chicks that take public transportation are totally in these baseball players league.(I hope you are picking up on my sarcasm and anger). Back to my hell that was a train ride to the craft store. Logically the conversation turned to who they were hooking up with--in real life. This could not have pissed me off more, mostly because the guys they were smooching were named Tad and Rod. REALLY?!?!?! I go back to the topic above...baseball players would totally hook up with girls who have past boyfriends named Tad and Rod! I envision these two having a both ears pierced and tattoos of their favorite sporting team and high school football number.
As they recounted their typical Friday night hook up, I smelled it. I couldn't believe I hadn't picked up on it before. I mean, it was so obvious. What I have failed to mention to you is that these two hookers were carrying coffee mugs, and in said coffee mugs was...you guessed it BEER!
It was then that I realized I have lost my touch. Had this been a year ago, heck even a month ago, I would have smelt them from a mile away. Is it because I am no longer a 22 year old, fresh out of college young professional? It couldn't be...I REFUSE to say I am old! I am NOT old, right? Right! I am still a spring chicken. I can still drink beer...out of a coffee mug...on a train...to a baseball game! Well, I may not do that. It could be dangerous, and I might get caught by the cops.
As I exited off the train my anger turned to jealousy. These two girls were going to spend the rest of their labor day sitting at a baseball game, not watching baseball, drinking beer, and living the young 20-something dream. And I, was heading back to my apartment to continue cutting out name tags for my students.
So to make myself feel better, I bought a 12 pack of diet coke and a huge bag of m&m's and headed back home. After 4 diet cokes, the whole bag of m&m's and watching Coyote Ugly, I feel no better. You may say it is because I downed enough sugar to be a feature in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, or that I am watching a movie that caused me to buy pleather pants and sing bad LeAnn Rimes songs when I was 15; but I say it is because I feel like an adult. (Pause for a audience "ahhhhhhh").
I guess this is what happens. Beer drinking, football watching, bad decision Labor Days are a thing of the past. From now on, it is about enjoying my Saturday and making sure I get my apartment cleaned. No longer will I have a Sunday spent in bed because my head feels like it has a million little elves taking a pic axe to my brain (jager has that effect). Now Sundays are spent running errands for all the adult things I do. (Can you tell I am new to this, as I am not sure exactly what these adult things entail?)
However, I am not ready to make this leap yet. So I will hold out hope that next weekend will bring some fun like the early twenties days. And if not, well I guess lesson planning and watching VH1 Movies that Rock will have to suffice.
Taubel--OUT!
All last week I was looking forward to this weekend. 3 days of beer drinking, football watching, and bad decisions. However, the teaching Gods had other plans for me. I got a job on Friday night at 7:30pm--seriously they called me at 7:30 and offered me a job. I shouldn't say job, as it is, technically, a substitute position. I start tomorrow. Therefore, I have spent the last 3 days doing arts and crafts and planning. I have not had one drop of alcohol, nor was I able to watch UGA loose its first football game...oh and bad decisions, well the worst decision I made was using the blue construction paper instead of the red.
I was ok with this until about 1pm this afternoon. I got on the train to go to JoAnn's, aka every scrapbooker and craft person's dream, and ran into 2 very excited girls.
They were headed to the Sox v. Sox game. For those of you who are not baseball fans, the Chicago White Sox were playing the Boston Red Sox. Big to-do apparently. I got yelled at once because I spelled it like "socks" instead of "sox," and apparently, that is ludicrous. Like spelling things correctly in baseball is some kind of sin, but I digress. These young ladies both wore jerseys for the Red Sox and one had a poster that said "Mary Me 'insert famous baseball players name here.'" I apologize for not knowing who it was, but I don't watch baseball nor do I care about it.
They were gabbing about how hot some of the players were because obviously if one of those players, who gets paid an absurd amount of money, saw one of those girls in a bar they would totally go for it. Because chicks that take public transportation are totally in these baseball players league.(I hope you are picking up on my sarcasm and anger). Back to my hell that was a train ride to the craft store. Logically the conversation turned to who they were hooking up with--in real life. This could not have pissed me off more, mostly because the guys they were smooching were named Tad and Rod. REALLY?!?!?! I go back to the topic above...baseball players would totally hook up with girls who have past boyfriends named Tad and Rod! I envision these two having a both ears pierced and tattoos of their favorite sporting team and high school football number.
As they recounted their typical Friday night hook up, I smelled it. I couldn't believe I hadn't picked up on it before. I mean, it was so obvious. What I have failed to mention to you is that these two hookers were carrying coffee mugs, and in said coffee mugs was...you guessed it BEER!
It was then that I realized I have lost my touch. Had this been a year ago, heck even a month ago, I would have smelt them from a mile away. Is it because I am no longer a 22 year old, fresh out of college young professional? It couldn't be...I REFUSE to say I am old! I am NOT old, right? Right! I am still a spring chicken. I can still drink beer...out of a coffee mug...on a train...to a baseball game! Well, I may not do that. It could be dangerous, and I might get caught by the cops.
As I exited off the train my anger turned to jealousy. These two girls were going to spend the rest of their labor day sitting at a baseball game, not watching baseball, drinking beer, and living the young 20-something dream. And I, was heading back to my apartment to continue cutting out name tags for my students.
So to make myself feel better, I bought a 12 pack of diet coke and a huge bag of m&m's and headed back home. After 4 diet cokes, the whole bag of m&m's and watching Coyote Ugly, I feel no better. You may say it is because I downed enough sugar to be a feature in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, or that I am watching a movie that caused me to buy pleather pants and sing bad LeAnn Rimes songs when I was 15; but I say it is because I feel like an adult. (Pause for a audience "ahhhhhhh").
I guess this is what happens. Beer drinking, football watching, bad decision Labor Days are a thing of the past. From now on, it is about enjoying my Saturday and making sure I get my apartment cleaned. No longer will I have a Sunday spent in bed because my head feels like it has a million little elves taking a pic axe to my brain (jager has that effect). Now Sundays are spent running errands for all the adult things I do. (Can you tell I am new to this, as I am not sure exactly what these adult things entail?)
However, I am not ready to make this leap yet. So I will hold out hope that next weekend will bring some fun like the early twenties days. And if not, well I guess lesson planning and watching VH1 Movies that Rock will have to suffice.
Taubel--OUT!
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