I am back in my neighborhood coffee shop (which apparently is not a fan of heat--I'm freezing my bootay off), and there is a couple next to me recounting how they think the woman contracted Herpes. She is claiming she sat on a public toilet. WTF?!?!?! Seriously people? This is the conversation you choose to have over a hot cup of joe. You are just asking me to stare at you awkwardly. Furthermore, this conversation has lasted the better part of an hour and has really taken away from my plan to listen to the Godspell soundtrack. Now you may be asking yourself, "Becca, I am sure they know you are listening." Ha, that's where you are wrong. I have strategically placed my headphones in so they think I am listening to the Best of Michael Bolton. Booya!
So I have several thoughts about this coffee conversation:
1. Herpes? Really, we are going to talk about Herpes? I know we live in 2010 and nothing should shock me anymore, but couldn't we have at least come up with a code word for the Herp? Maybe call it your little scratchy friend? Or that thing that came to town after you were a 2-bit hooker and did the grown up with that random stranger. Just some ideas.
2. Why have you chosen my local coffee shop to solve this little mystery? I have a feeling that there are plenty of other places to play CSI STD dectective other than in my presence as I sip my decaf and try to lesson plan. I have several suggestions, your car, your living room, or anywhere that does not involve the general public. I now know way too much about you, and honestly, I am tempted to pull up a youtube PSA that warns against the dangers of unprotected sex. (School teacher in me)
3. I think the part I am most concerned about is they are not sure where this Herp came from. I love that she thinks it is from sitting on a public toilet. I have news for you Hooker Betty, that just doesn't happen. Trust me! (There is a whole story that goes with this knowledge but that will be for another day and another post). I am pretty sure you have cheated on your unfortunate looking boyfriend, and now you are scrambling for reasons as to why you have given him the present that no one wants or needs.
I have to tell you that this does not help my mind from wondering what kind of couple they are. After the obvious swingers assumption, I am left with a couple thoughts.
Situation A: This woman is like the Tiger Woods of women in Chicago and her boyfriend has just found out about her infidelities. Therefore, they have picked a public place to talk about all the men she has boned. I get it--this allows for safety and for the boyfriend to have some small joy in her humiliation.
Situation B: She is lying to her boyfriend so she wont have to sleep with him b/c yes, she is a lot better looking than him. If that is the case, then I must say that is some intense storytelling she's got there. Most normal people would just break up with a guy they didn't want to date and/or have sex with. Telling a man you have contracted Herpes from a toilet seat seems a bit over the edge and drastic. But, lady, I don't know your life, so whatever floats your boat.
Situation C: Said girlfriend has neither cheated nor refuses to have sex with her boyfriend, and she really thinks she has Herpes from some random toilet seat in Wrigelyville. In this case, I suggest they go to the Dr. and talk about this situation. There may be more than just a Herpes problem.
In summary, please do not use my sweet coffee shop as a round table discussion for your "private" issues. Thank you!
Taubel--OUT!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
I may have forgot about my blog....
It has been far too long and I am sure I have lost any and all readers...this post may only be read by myself and (awkward pause and breath) well myself. Bueller? Bueller?
I know I was supposed to update while I was on Winter Break. However, instead of "blogging your brains out," I went on a two week bender. Yes, drinking was more important than making you people laugh. Side note--I was punished for lying to you, the aforementioned bender caused me to gain a couple lbs. Which in turn, made my wardrobe a bit "blousey" for a couple weeks. Karma is a b*.
Upon returning to the classroom and the "real world," I was greeted with a work load that would make the past couple of months look like a tropical vacation with Justin Timberlake (who was half naked the whole time and sang to me everyday). Sorry got a little carried away there.
Not only had my students forgot any and everything I had taught them, but they also decided that beating the crap out of each other was a fun way of telling Ms. T how much they loved her. On top of that, I decided it would be a solid idea to be the Cheerleading coach for my school. (Go RED ELEPHANTS!) Therefore, on weekdays from the hours of 3-5pm I was stuck teaching 13 year olds how to have pep. I think it goes without saying, that I had a glass of wine (or 4) when I got home each night. This was in an effort to get the cute songs and cheers out of my head. I also took to cussing like a sailor just to remind myself that I was 25 and had friends that were born before the late 90s or early 2000s. Please take a moment to get a mental picture of me, bottle of wine in hand, and dropping f-bombs like crazy.
I think it also goes without saying that my dating life is non existent. That last statement would infer that I had a dating life before which we all know is not exactly accurate. Now, if "dating" meant having a few cocktails and a couple bar make outs, then yes I have had a dating life since freshman year of college (note--cocktails during freshman year of college were 2 cans of natty light).
There has been some good that has come out of my long hours at school--I have made two new friends at my school. Both of them are married and extremely settled, but they have been really fun to get to know. However, one has a knack for awkward situations. Now, you may be saying to yourself, "Becca, you are awkward yourself, and I can't count how many awkward situations you have gotten yourself into." Yes, friends, I agree, but hear me out, ok?
My new friend and I went for drinks the other night, and she starting asking about me (all the pleasentries). She got to the dreaded question, "Are you dating a guy?" I laughed because I knew this was impossible with my weekday schedule and weekend benders. New friend took that giggle the absolute WRONG way. Her response, "Oh. I am sorry. Are you seeing a woman?" And I was back peddling, "Oh GOD no. I mean I don't hate lesbians. I think they are weird. I mean different. I mean I am not into the ladies. I am strictly a man girl. I mean I am not a man trying to be a girl. Ok this went bad. I like men, lots and lots of men. Well not all at the same time. But shit. ok let's start over. No, I am not seeing anyone. How's your husband? Is he cute?"
At this point my new friend was thoroughly freaked out by me, which is understandable. My rant made me sound like a sexual confused, warped, home wrecker. I have to say she rebounded pretty quickly and asked if I wanted to be set up with anyone. Are you ready for awesome Becca moment number 2? I replied,"Oh hell yes. I would love to get a free meal." WTF?!?!?!?! Who am I? However, the awkward moment wasn't all mine, new friends went into a promo for dating websites. Now, this is not an unusual comment for people to have these days, well it wasn't until this quote came out of her mouth, "I mean online dating is great. Well, you have to be prepared for the average ugly guy, creeper, or pedophile." Um, wait what? Did you just suggest that pedophiliacs may be a slight bump in the road to finding true love via the interwebs? I am not sure I would call that a small bump. That is so freaky that I have no good comparison to make here. Furthermore, why would they be on an adult dating site? I am pretty sure they wouldn't be into me for the mere fact that I was born in the 80s. Just some thoughts. She went on to say that when she met her husband she thought that he was one of those guys that just sat on the computer all day and looked at porn, but in reality he just did that on the weekend. It was at this point that I was ready to finish my drink and head back to the comforts of my apartment, glasses of wine, and cussing sessions.
Here is the kicker, after her last comment she busts out laughing and tells me that my face was priceless. This bitty had been joking with me the whole time. She told me that one of her favorite games to play is "How awkward can I make this situation?" This is a game I love playing but didn't realize other people knew about it. We were meant to be friends. She told me she met her husband in college and they had been together for 7 years. She is pretty normal. I do wonder if she was really telling the truth and just saw how freaked out I was and decided that I was not ready for her freak show. I am excited to have a couple new friends at school, and especially one who enjoys a good awkward moment or two.
Alright, I am off to flirt with the coffee guy. I'm blogging to you from my friendly neighborhood coffee shop. I'm a regular so they give me a discount. I like to think it is because Jack (coffee guy) thinks I am cute, but I am pretty sure it is because they need the business. I try to make a coffee joke every time I see him, "A cup of Jack I mean Joe." (wink, wink). He never laughs, just always looks uncomfortable while he pours my coffee.
I am making no promises about when my next post will be but I will try hard to not leave you high and dry for 2 months.
Taubel--OUT!
I know I was supposed to update while I was on Winter Break. However, instead of "blogging your brains out," I went on a two week bender. Yes, drinking was more important than making you people laugh. Side note--I was punished for lying to you, the aforementioned bender caused me to gain a couple lbs. Which in turn, made my wardrobe a bit "blousey" for a couple weeks. Karma is a b*.
Upon returning to the classroom and the "real world," I was greeted with a work load that would make the past couple of months look like a tropical vacation with Justin Timberlake (who was half naked the whole time and sang to me everyday). Sorry got a little carried away there.
Not only had my students forgot any and everything I had taught them, but they also decided that beating the crap out of each other was a fun way of telling Ms. T how much they loved her. On top of that, I decided it would be a solid idea to be the Cheerleading coach for my school. (Go RED ELEPHANTS!) Therefore, on weekdays from the hours of 3-5pm I was stuck teaching 13 year olds how to have pep. I think it goes without saying, that I had a glass of wine (or 4) when I got home each night. This was in an effort to get the cute songs and cheers out of my head. I also took to cussing like a sailor just to remind myself that I was 25 and had friends that were born before the late 90s or early 2000s. Please take a moment to get a mental picture of me, bottle of wine in hand, and dropping f-bombs like crazy.
I think it also goes without saying that my dating life is non existent. That last statement would infer that I had a dating life before which we all know is not exactly accurate. Now, if "dating" meant having a few cocktails and a couple bar make outs, then yes I have had a dating life since freshman year of college (note--cocktails during freshman year of college were 2 cans of natty light).
There has been some good that has come out of my long hours at school--I have made two new friends at my school. Both of them are married and extremely settled, but they have been really fun to get to know. However, one has a knack for awkward situations. Now, you may be saying to yourself, "Becca, you are awkward yourself, and I can't count how many awkward situations you have gotten yourself into." Yes, friends, I agree, but hear me out, ok?
My new friend and I went for drinks the other night, and she starting asking about me (all the pleasentries). She got to the dreaded question, "Are you dating a guy?" I laughed because I knew this was impossible with my weekday schedule and weekend benders. New friend took that giggle the absolute WRONG way. Her response, "Oh. I am sorry. Are you seeing a woman?" And I was back peddling, "Oh GOD no. I mean I don't hate lesbians. I think they are weird. I mean different. I mean I am not into the ladies. I am strictly a man girl. I mean I am not a man trying to be a girl. Ok this went bad. I like men, lots and lots of men. Well not all at the same time. But shit. ok let's start over. No, I am not seeing anyone. How's your husband? Is he cute?"
At this point my new friend was thoroughly freaked out by me, which is understandable. My rant made me sound like a sexual confused, warped, home wrecker. I have to say she rebounded pretty quickly and asked if I wanted to be set up with anyone. Are you ready for awesome Becca moment number 2? I replied,"Oh hell yes. I would love to get a free meal." WTF?!?!?!?! Who am I? However, the awkward moment wasn't all mine, new friends went into a promo for dating websites. Now, this is not an unusual comment for people to have these days, well it wasn't until this quote came out of her mouth, "I mean online dating is great. Well, you have to be prepared for the average ugly guy, creeper, or pedophile." Um, wait what? Did you just suggest that pedophiliacs may be a slight bump in the road to finding true love via the interwebs? I am not sure I would call that a small bump. That is so freaky that I have no good comparison to make here. Furthermore, why would they be on an adult dating site? I am pretty sure they wouldn't be into me for the mere fact that I was born in the 80s. Just some thoughts. She went on to say that when she met her husband she thought that he was one of those guys that just sat on the computer all day and looked at porn, but in reality he just did that on the weekend. It was at this point that I was ready to finish my drink and head back to the comforts of my apartment, glasses of wine, and cussing sessions.
Here is the kicker, after her last comment she busts out laughing and tells me that my face was priceless. This bitty had been joking with me the whole time. She told me that one of her favorite games to play is "How awkward can I make this situation?" This is a game I love playing but didn't realize other people knew about it. We were meant to be friends. She told me she met her husband in college and they had been together for 7 years. She is pretty normal. I do wonder if she was really telling the truth and just saw how freaked out I was and decided that I was not ready for her freak show. I am excited to have a couple new friends at school, and especially one who enjoys a good awkward moment or two.
Alright, I am off to flirt with the coffee guy. I'm blogging to you from my friendly neighborhood coffee shop. I'm a regular so they give me a discount. I like to think it is because Jack (coffee guy) thinks I am cute, but I am pretty sure it is because they need the business. I try to make a coffee joke every time I see him, "A cup of Jack I mean Joe." (wink, wink). He never laughs, just always looks uncomfortable while he pours my coffee.
I am making no promises about when my next post will be but I will try hard to not leave you high and dry for 2 months.
Taubel--OUT!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Wednesday Night Nostalgia
**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!
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!
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!
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