Kids Say The Darndest Things (Especially When They Are 19 Year Old Marines)

Conversations between myself and one of my students today:

Him: You aren't retired military like the rest of the instructors, are you, ma'am?
Me: No. I just did one tour in the Army and have been a contractor ever since.
Him: Figures... all the pretty girls are in the Army.
Me: Make sure you put your name and information on the roster.
Him: Okay... but I don't know my unit's duty phone number.
Me: That's fine. Just put the name of your unit in that block. We'll make sure you get credit.
Him: Maybe I should just put my cell number there... for you... so... you can like call me... you know... if you wanted to... ma'am.

I am not sure if I should be flattered or horrified that a 19 year old managed to hit on me and call me ma'am in the same sentence. I think these kids have watched too many repeats of "Top Gun". Well, I am no Kelly McGillis (although the fishnets stockings she rocked in her classroom were the shit!)



Come to think of it, that kid has probably never even seen "Top Gun" since it came out before he was even born. Pardon me while I go cry in to my Bloody Mary.

Psssssst: I have to admit... it was kind of sweet and my head barely fit through the door for the rest of the day.

Searching For My Doppelganger

Scientists say that everyone has a twin. Apparently mine is right here in this area. Last week, I was intercepted at the local grocery store by a woman asking me how my kids and husband were. When I told her that I wasn't who she thought I was, she didn't seem to believe me and might of even gotten offended. A few days later, when I opened the door for the cable lady, she exclaimed "Girl... when did you move out here?" Last night I stopped by a local bar where several of the patrons mistook me for her.

From what I have gathered, my doppelganger's name is Kelly and she lives out on Emerald Isle. I just hope she isn't a skank and doesn't owe anyone any money! Funny thing is, I bet we don't even look that much alike.... but it would still be interesting to meet her.

Dirtbag Alert: The Aging Frat Boy

I hated frat boys in college. I only went to their damn parties for the free booze. As I sipped my Pabst Blue Ribbon in a smokey corner surrounded by grunting drones in pukka shell necklaces and Abercrombie cargo shorts, I kept telling myself that someday I would be out in the real world with real men whose life's ambition couldn't be found at the bottom of a beer bong.




Fast forward almost a decade to discover that the guys really haven't changed much. There is a another breed stalking poor unsuspecting women in bars. The Aging Frat Boy still roams in packs. They still tell fart jokes and quote Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller movies with glee. And they still wear those damn pukka shell necklaces and cargo shorts!

But that isn't the worst part. They never reach for their wallets when the bill comes; dates usually end in a half-ass offer to go Dutch. That is, if they even plan an actual date anyways; most of the time it comes down to "Why don't you come over and watch a movie?" (ladies... we all know what that is frat boy-ese for.) When this is all pointed out, they usually fall back on the old stand by of "Well, isn't this what you womens' libbers wanted?" Okay... where is the mens' lib then? If women are becoming more self-sufficient and taking over traditional male roles, why do the men throw temper tantrums and accuse you of emasculation when asked to be more compassionate and caring? I don't want to have to bring home the proverbial bacon, fry it up in the pan and then spend an hour cleaning the kitchen afterward while an aged frat boy sits on the couch playing the latest version of World of Warcraft.

Thanks, but no thanks. Dear Readers... I offer you a glimpse in to my future:

Ramblings of a Wind Swept Mind

As mentioned in the user's manual, I can often be found singing off-key. It's partly because I can never shut my brain off (okay, with enough Vodka I can but that also leads to trips to Spanish hospitals) and a small corner of my brain seems to be a jukebox that is constantly playing. I have actually woken up mid-song and just kept going. Which brings me to my point (yes I have one, kind of...) of my sleep brain. I don't remember my dreams too often but when I do they usually have certain fantastical elements mixing with the mundane to make them weird as hell. Most everyone does, I am assuming. And to prove my sister in law wrong (granted this is the same "democrat" that is now supporting McCain) who says that no one listens when people talk about their dreams (my brother did stick up for me on this saying, yeah, but Rosie's really are f'ed up) I am going to tell you mine. Maybe this way, I can stop thinking of them.

Dream #1: Two nights ago I dreamt I was with my parents at a football game. Evidently a Colts game as Peyton Manning was playing. Somehow, my parents and I were friends with Peyton's parents, and they drove a minivan. They were parked on the road and there was a semi coming so my dad decided to move the elder Mannings' van for them, it proceeded to get hit by said semi anyway. Then I was working the concession stand and the Colts must have lost because Peyton was pissed and at the concession stand to get food. The only food available were boxes of chicken, fries, and other miscellaneous food that didn't really go together. Right when I started flirting with Peyton, my alarm went off scaring the bejeezus out of me.

Dream #2, last night: My family again makes an appearance (can't get rid of them can I?). My brothers and I were all out on vacation or something with my parents. My two brothers took me out for the night, and got me absolutely blotto. I wake up the next morning feeling absolutely wonderful, having no memories of the night before, except for the tattoos I am sporting. And not good tattoos, horrible could have been better if done in prison tattoos. I think there were three of them. Anyhoo, my brothers tell me that I not only got drunk and got tattoos I somehow managed to pawn most of my furniture (even though I wasn't anywhere near memphis where said furniture is located) to further continue my night of debauchery. They didn't do anything to stop it. My parents, upon hearing about it, were not upset at all. Just amused that I had no hangover but no memory of it all. I woke up having that feeling of being incredibly grateful that it was just a dream and pretty pissed at my brothers. Come to think of it, I am pretty pissed at my brothers still.

Anyhoo, if you read this, thanks for reading it, even though it probably makes no sense. I was going to put another moment of zen but the stupid freaking program wouldn't work right. So create your own moment of zen and Enjoy.

Make It Stop!

Everyone knows how much I hate American Apparel ads. But I think they may have outdone themselves this time:



There is such a dark undercurrent running through this ad that makes my liberal heart go all aflutter. Spelling Africa with a K? It is a shout out to Afrikaners, or white colonial Africans. Throw in the lily white model "seductively" posing in tribal prints... seriously, this is so yucky! I really wish American Apparel would just take their ads and go away.

Welcome To The Island: Bloodsuckers 2.0

The best thing about Bad Wolf and my friendship is that we like a lot of the same things but often go to opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to men. Case in point, we both freak on Joss Whedon shows, especially Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But Bad Wolf went with Angel this week so, of course, I end up nominating Angel's arch nemesis, Spike.



Funny thing about this guy: I only love him when he is bleach blonde, wearing a leather trench coat (or no shirt at all!) and speaking in a snarly British accent. I have seen the actor James Marsters in other things but his real life Northern California accent and brown hair just don't do it for me. Sorry James but Spike is the only one sucking on my neck.

Southern Living Roadtripper Style

FAQs concerning my move to North Carolina:

Q: Have you finished unpacking?

A: I still have some boxes here and there but the bulk of it is done.


Q: How's the new job?

A: Ehhhh. I got thrown a curve ball when I discovered that I was expected to fill a different position than what I was told. Most of the people are nice but my immediate office hasn't exactly rolled out the welcome mat for me. It is full of former infantry guys. Maybe they aren't used to a woman... or maybe they are just dicks.

Q: Have you been to the beach?

A: Not during the day yet but I did manage a nocturnal skinny dip while at an after party last Saturday.

Q: Eaten any good seafood yet?

A: Shrimp burgers, shrimp and grits... I am starting to sound like Bubba Gump here.

Q: Have you met anyone interesting?

A: I may have found myself someone to crush on. And he flirts back!!!!!

Welcome to the Island: Bloodsucker Edition

Vampires seem to be all the rage recently. Between the Twilight Movie and True Blood TV Series (both based on books) everybody is trying to see who can have the sexier vampire. They can try all they want, I've got the sexiest right here:

David Boreanaz, who played Angel on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the spinoff Angel. I mean,yowza! Words aren't really needed are they? He may not have the accent Spike has but he did have a soul and a really nice smile:

He can suck my, well, let's just say he's going to need all the energy he can get.