Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Harems... defines a harem as the following: The wives, concubines, female relatives, and servants occupying such a place.

Okay, so I am Catholic, and a woman, but today I decided that I need a harem. And a palace for my harem and myself. My harem would be composed of men. Wonderful, beautiful men that would be at my beck and call. The members of my harem that would live in my palace are as follows:

1. Lee Min-ho: You're pretty. I like you.
2. Kim HyunJoong: You're also pretty. You would have to sing to me when I demanded it. And you would have to translate your Korean songs to English so I could sing along to more than just the two lines of English. Bring your guitar.
3. Kim Bum: No singing. Your responsiblities would include things that cannot be discussed in polite company.
4. Anoop Desai: You're a cutie. I like cuteness sometimes, and you would complement the prettiness of the aforementioned members.
5. James Marsters: Bleach out your hair again, and be ready to sing "Rest In Peace" on demand. I don't want to hear any of your other crappy songs. You would share your responsibilities with Kim Bum.
6. Taye Diggs: Your wife, Idina Menzel, can visit you. She would have to stay in the harem portion of the palace while you were busy with me. We may be very busy, very often.
7. Juanes: Your wife can also visit. She can keep Idina company while we're busy. Again we will be busy very often. When I have had a crappy day you will immediately come to see me and sing "No Creo En El Jamas".
8. Robbie Williams: You're super hot. You must sing "Angels" when I demand it. You will be busy often, likely, repeatedly over a period of 24 hours.
9. Shemar Moore: You will wear your gun--and that's all. It does not matter what you are doing, a gun is the only "clothing" you are allowed.
10. Matthew Gray Gubler: Talk nerdy to me. I love it.

So this dear readers is my varied and multicultural harem. I now return to reality or maybe I'll take a nap and put reality off just a little longer :)

Monday, March 16, 2009

My favorite word...

I am an educated woman. I hold a degree from San Francisco State University in English Literature. My favorite word in the English language is fuck. There I said. I fully admit it. Hate me if you must.

I say my favorite word often, attaching many words to it such as: fucking bitch, fucking whore, fuck me!, fucking a!, and my personal favorite that I got from the movie "Heathers" Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. I utter my favorite word often over the progression of a day--many times in my head due to my job, however, when I don't have to hold it back, I don't. I like that so many people find the word so awful and offensive and that I feel rebellious and defiant everytime it rolls off my tongue or dashes through my muddled mind.

This brings me to a story involving my best friend, The Queen, and my nephew (her son). My bestie called me on Friday and told me that my adorable, wonderful and perfect nephew had gotten in trouble at school. I asked why and she informed me that he had been watching a fight at school and then called a teacher a fucking bitch. I had three thoughts when she told me this. The first was: "Holy shit, elementary kids get in to fights now?!?!?" The second was a feeling of guilt as my bestie and I are pretty free with our language around him. The third was, was the teacher indeed a bitch? If so, my nephew should be absolved of his crime and given a medal for honesty. Truth hurts ya fucking bitch. I was steamed that he had gotten in trouble so I told my friend that she needed to speak to this woman immediately. Post haste. No one punished my nephew for uttering the truth. If she thought fucking bitch was bad out of his mouth wait until she heard what I had to tell her. Whore. Turns out the witch never even heard my nephew say the dreaded, truthful words and that it was hearsay that my nephew admitted to. I still cried foul and demanded that I be able to attend a meeting with this woman. My bestie asked me what I would do if a student had called me a fucking bitch and I told her that it had already happened. She asked me what I did. I told her that I laughed said "duh" and kept on teaching. I'm like Glinda the Good Fucking Bitch. The woman that punished my nephew is the Fucking Bitch of the West that had the evil monkeys and died from a bucket of water. Needless to say, if I ever do become a parent I may have to change my opinion, but I doubt it.

I can remember another time that my bestie and I were out at Wal-Mart, The Redneck Disneyland, and our free use of the word fuck backfired on us. My beautiful nephew was barely learning how to talk at the time and I forgot what I told The Queen. Her response? Fuck you. Less than ten seconds later we hear my nephew gurgle out "uck ou". We tried to correct him, but we were too busy laughing. Even through the giggles we tried to correct him, but I don't think he took us seriously as evidenced by his alleged insult of the teacher last week.

So, will I ever stop using the word fuck? Um, no. Will I ever curb my use of it around my nephew? Probably not, because lets face it at this point he's already attaching other words to it so it is ingrained in his vocabulary. I do vow to teach him the correct uses of it as an adjective, verb, and whatever other part of speech it fits.

The bottom line: You can take the girls out of the ghetto, but never the ghetto out of the girls. Some people might find it appalling, but my bestie and I are who we are, whether we are out at the Redneck Disneyland, at our houses watching Idol, at the park at a birthday party or at any other event in our lives. And not to get mushy, but I love my bestie more than anything because around her I never have to pretend--she is my constant and she has been for 28 years. Besides the gift of friendship she has given me the gift of being a Godmother and an Aunt. Does it really matter if we say fuck a lot and pass it on to the boys? Okay, maybe it does, but fuck it ;)

Monday, March 2, 2009

Beware the Ides of March

Okay, so technically the ides of March is not until March 11th, but I think it decided to visit me early this year. No, I was not brutally stabbed by my friends while whispering "Et tu Brute?" as I crumpled to the floor of the Roman Senate, but hey it kind of felt like it. Where shall I start? Ah, yes, at the begining.

There was no new episode of BBF today. None. Zip. Zero. Zilch. We only get one new episode this week. EW. The reason? The lead actress was involved in a car accident and it delayed filming so the episode that was supposed to air tomorrow is not yet completed and therefore legions of fans will be seeing the episode that was supposed to air today, tomorrow. Remember, click it or ticket bitches. I feel horrible for the lead actress, I know how traumatizing car accidents are so I will wait (un) patiently for my two new episodes next week while she recovers. I knew in my gut that this foretold a Monday that would not be great.

Fast forward to this morning. I go through the drive through at Carls to get a breakfast sandwich and coffee. They guy at the window is moving about as quickly as a slug (did I mention I was running late?) and is schlepping around instead of giving me my food. As I drive out of the drive through and down the street to get in the stupid gate before it closes my leg feels as though it has been lit on fire in a small spot. Apparently the slug at the window had not put the correct lid on my coffee cup and I was now being scalded with very hot coffee. Great. I cuss at him while listening to the radio and proceed to illegally park at the back on the gravel and grab my stuff to go to my room. Then it happens. The lid slides off of my coffee even more and my hand and arm have now been scalded to match my leg. Hooray. The rest of the morning proceeds uneventfully until lunch.

I forgot to take my allergy and asthma meds and the weather was making it bad so on my prep I hop in to my car and head for home so that I can take them and stop feeling itchy and wheezy. I walk in to my house and I am greeted by a very happy puppy but a grandma who decides to lecture me and chew me out because the puppy dragged wood in and ground it in to the front rug. Yippee. I leave my house feeling irritated and proceed to Mickey D's to console myself. I order my hamburger with no onions because I hate them and a medium fry. As I am getting out of my car my bag tips over and my fries spill out on to the floor of my car. I was pissed. My fries were now completely unedible because my car is a disaster and the fries had been completely coated in dog hair, dust and a little bit of dirt. Gross. Instead of screaming I stomped to my classroom and waited for the bell to ring. As I opened up my burger to dig in I saw the aforementioned, loathed onions nestled happily on my hamburger bun. I scraped them off and ate my hamburger without any further incident.

Then came pre-AP. I have to give them some obligatory CAHSEE assignments and they were quite combative about it. They tried every argument they could think of to dissuade me, but I couldn't we have to do it. They grumbled and then grudingly wrote the practice essay. In the midst of it one of them asked how to spell CAHSEE. I decided to inform them that perhaps they did need the practice after all since they were not even capable of spelling the name of the test. I smiled and they silently cussed me out in their heads. Lovely.

Then came the drive home. I ended up behind every slow driving fuck wit imaginable. I still held in my scream and instead played angry Eminem songs, cussing along loudly to scare them as they looked in their rearview mirror. I think it may have worked as they sped up or got out of my way.

Now, I sit here, grandma is at home, I am in my pajamas and much calmer than I was during my Eminem tirade, but I still get only one new episode of BBF so there may be a tirade or two left in me yet.