How are you today? I'm superfantastic.

Because I can no longer be troubled to confine a post to even loosely related topics.

I was reading through the side effects on a medication I'm taking and one listed under "Contact Your Doctor If You Develop" is: paleness.  HOW WOULD I KNOW?

Something I've realized this week: Children=Terrorists.  Allow me to explain.  You know how you should never negotiate with terrorists?  Well, clearly I am rusty as a teacher.  When I told a student to write a certain sentence and he asked whether he could write something slightly different, I said ok.  He has since wanted to negotiate on every sentence he writes.  This came to an abrupt end today, however, when he said "I'll spell 'three' if I get to pick my next sentence" and I said "No, you'll spell 'three' because I told you to."  Problem solved.  (I experienced some guilt over using the "because I said so" rationale for about the first thirty seconds of my teaching career.  Then I realized that it is not only efficient, but also just good solid preparation for life after school.  I have done many a nonsensical thing at the direction of some boss or another simply because he or she said so.)

I'm seeing my friends Jennie and Adam this weekend.  They live in Chicago and I used to visit them when I was up here for Christmas.  Adam would try to convince me to move to Chicago and I would laugh because he clearly had to be joking, seeing as how it was always many degrees below zero during his pitch.  And windy.  I guess I showed him.  I moved...north of there.  Crap.

I currently have sixteen unread Newsweeks in a basket next to my couch.  I tell you, you get behind an issue or two on that thing and you are in trouble because they just keep on coming.  Every week!  Perhaps I should look into getting my news on a monthly basis instead.

I saw a whole lot of band camp kids crossing the street the other day.  I never went to band camp, but I did live for a week in a Madison dorm getting my geek on at Girls State.  Good golly, most of it was boring.  I recall that we were so boy-deprived that week that the sandwich line guy in the dining hall was starting to look good to us.  The kid who had been the governor of Badger Boys State the year before spoke at our inauguration thing and I have to think that those were the only catcalls that guy has probably ever received.  I'm sure we sent him off to college thinking he was hot stuff indeed.  Sorry, former Boys State governor guy.  That probably didn't do you many favors in the long-run.

It's true, what they say about me.

I mean the thing about me being a mean teacher who won't let you.  Why, what else are they saying about me?

I say this because it took me eight days of teaching here to make my first Madisonian student cry.  To be fair, it was only this student's second session with me.  What can I say?  I work fast.  Also, some of you people are clearly coddling your kids WAY too much.

This child has his own personal system for doing math.  It is backwards.  It was my attempt to make him begin adding at the ones place that started the tears rolling and him chanting "I don't WANT to learn that way."  Oh, it's going to be a long summer for that one.

Strong Dislike Monday returns!

Because I have nothing interesting to tell you, and because the increased number of comments on these survey-type posts makes me feel popular, and because I feel certain that we all have plenty more things to bitch about, I bring you the return of Strong Dislike Monday.

1. What's irritating you these days?

2. Is there a commercial that you find more annoying than most?

3. Do you have a least favorite cliche or other tired, overused phrase?

4. What current reality show do you feel represents the most significant scourge on mankind?

5. What daily and/or household task do you most dread?

6. I bet we can all think of more terrible songs.  I know I can.

Let's kick things off with my own personal annoyances:

1. Mosquitoes.  Bills.  Other drivers.  Tyra Banks.  The total lack of magically appearing groceries in my kitchen.  The way that chocolate has so damn many calories.

2. I think it is Kotex that is urging me to have a happy period.  I don't even have to be PMSing to be irritated by that slogan.  I have also been shocked to see that they even show the happy cow commercials here in Wisconsin.  Bold move, California.

3. "Just be yourself."  I think this has got to be the least helpful piece of advice ever.

4. The Girls Next Door

5. Hmmmm...I despise cleaning the bathtub, but now I only have a shower stall.  I do hate to clean mirrors.  I never used to mind until I worked at Ann Taylor and had to clean THIRTY THREE of them every time I opened the store.  Also, I refuse to dry dishes, but that is only because they can accomplish this entirely on their own if left unattended.  It is the only household task that does itself.

6. I forgot before about Angry All the Time by Tim McGraw and what I do feel is surely my least favorite song, Heart's All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You.  You will never see me move so fast as I do to change the station when that song begins.

Ok, now you.

Some things I've found funny recently

The Pizza Hut signs around here say Pizza Hut Italian Bistro.  This cracks me up.  I'm not going to pretend that I don't have an unhealthy love for Pizza Hut breadsticks, but come on, Hut, Italian Bistro?  Really?

I would like to pitch a class to the University of Wisconsin that I would be only too glad to teach.  It would be called Crosswalks 101.  Topics covered would include: 1) Walking your lazy ass the extra five yards down to the corner before running out into traffic.  2) No Means No: How to handle a DON'T WALK situation.

Alternately, watch for an upcoming post entitled How I Ran Over a Nineteen Year-Old in the Middle of the Damn Street and Why I Am Not Sorry.

I was feeling all proud of myself the other day when I realized, as I walked into Target, that I was for once going there not wearing an entire Target outfit.  My skirt came from Banana Republic.  Ha!  (Ok, the outlet.)  Then I realized that my shoes, purse, and sunglasses all came from Target.  Ok, fine, Target.  You've made your point.  You own me.

A good high school friend of mine used to live in Madison, but we lost touch, so I googlestalked her and found that she is back here.  We used to call her Grammar Girl in high school and so when I went to write a We haven't talked in eight years, but I'm moving to Madison WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND? email, I paid extra attention to my grammar.  Because what if I said "you and I" when I meant "you and me" and then she thought that I had clearly not turned out well?  Right, like you've never judged anyone harshly based solely on their grammar.  Really, you haven't?  Weird.

Here's a survey I've been conducting among friends: At a party, is it better to be the socially crippled girl or the really drunk girl?  Please weigh in.

Like riding a...well, a big wheel, I guess.

Here's a sentence you've probably never heard before: there's something so comforting about a nice auditory processing disorder.  Dyslexia?  Sigh.  ADHD with a side of Asperger's?  Like coming home.

Maybe it's because everything else in my life is so unfamiliar and up in the air at the moment that teaching reading feels so darn good.  It has been over a year since I have taught anything.  (Well, aside from "teaching" Madisonians that Texans drive like total idiots.  Or at least people masquerading as Texans by keeping their Texas plates after moving here.  Shhhh...don't tell.)  And yet it all came rushing back to me as soon as that first kid demonstrated poor phonological awareness.  People, I can fix that.  I already know which kids will mix up b and d, was and saw, what and that.  While every kid is different, reading disorders are fairly predictable.

That, and they are just funny little people.  Most of you adults have no chance whatsoever of being anywhere near as amusing as special kids.  It is not your fault.  It just would not occur to you to tell your teacher that you have a secret and after beckoning her close to you, whisper that you have ADD.  This despite the fact that your mother has asked you repeatedly since you arrived whether you took your meds.  And that you are possibly levitating.

Plus, when a special kid is being REALLY annoying, you can say, "UH UH.  Enough."  Grown up co-workers will never let you get away with that.  You know, I guess I never tried though.  Could you all give that a whirl and report back?

What is not familiar is this not having time at work for the Internet.  How do you people with work-intensive jobs maintain blogs?  I have a whole new respect for you.  Please be patient while I figure out this Work at Work, Blog at Home lifestyle.

(Oh, that post title?  I don't bike.  As a kid, I started learning, fell down, and hurt my ankle.  While many very stubborn children would apply their stubbornness toward refusing to give up, I applied my rather considerable stubbornness toward flatly refusing ever to bike again.  And I haven't.  Just TRY making me do something I don't want to do.  I dare you.)

Around here, this is what we call lunch.

(Yes, as a matter of fact, I did drink straight out of the milk jug.  Bachelorhood has its privileges.)

That right there is my very first pie.  My pieginity.  I've baked cakes, cookies, brownies, all sorts of delightful things, but never a pie.  I decided to start with blackberry.  And damn, I make one stellar pie.   Really, really outstanding.

I am currently home alone with this pie.  I am coming up on a week of the month during which there is a real danger of me eating the entire rest of it for dinner one night.  So if you live in Madison, perhaps you'd like to stop by for blackberry pie?  Probably you'll want to bring your own milk.

I am also not a thrice-married Scientologist. Or a crazy person.

Any time that it is cool enough to require socks, I cannot stop sliding on my lovely hardwood floors, all Tom Cruise from Risky Business-like.  Except if it is cool enough for socks, it is definitely also cool enough for pants.

You know how sometimes I write posts that are full of nothing but bitter complaining? Yeah, this is one of those.

Last night was ugly.  I was not feeling well and was, consequently, up until about four this morning.  Have you checked your TV listings for 3am recently?  Bleak.  Very, very bleak. 

At one point, I checked my symptoms on webMD and one of their actual recommendations for me: Avoid constipation.  Is this not a goal that we all pretty much have?  Is there someone out there thinking, "Wait, webMD, you're telling me that constipation is not something to aspire to?"

I don't have any students today, so I thought I'd sleep until noon or so, what with the getting to bed at four and all.  Then at eight this morning, my normally quiet neighborhood suddenly converted to the Den of Deafening Noise.  First there was the car alarm for a good five or ten minutes.  Then there was the truck that was apparently just circling the block in reverse (BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!)  Then they mowed the lawn next door.  Then they did the edging with the noisiest edger in the long and glorious history of weedwackers.  Seriously, I got up out of bed to see what was going on since it sounded like it was about to burst through my window screen at any moment, all horror movie style.  (Coming soon to theaters: The Lawnboy.  "Your lawn has never looked better.  Too bad YOU'LL BE DEAD!")  Then there was some sort of large machinery going on in the parking lot next door, which I thought was annoying until they introduced the one that loudly chugs like some sort of cartoon jalopy.

Which is why I have finally given up and gotten out of bed to write you this sunshiney little post.  As soon as I put on leaving-the-house clothes, I'm off to the store for healthy food and also Diet Dr Pepper because I drank my last one on Saturday and while I was going to make an effort to ease off the diet soda, now is clearly not the time.

Probably some people would just say "stubborn". Probably their couches came all in one piece too. Aren't they fancy?

Seeing as how my couch wouldn't fit through the door, I left it on the curb for some lucky college students and ordered a Ty Pennington Style sectional from Sears that would arrive Some Assembly Required.  Because I am cheap, I decided to take a chance on getting it into my Ford Focus rather than pay the $60  delivery fee.  And because I am stubbornly independent, I went by myself to pick it up rather than trouble anyone to come with me.

Once I saw the box, I was pretty convinced that it wasn't going to fit in my car.  But hey!  It did!  The Focus has been terribly convenient that way.  As opposed to my previous car, a Saturn SC2, the trunk of which was large enough to accommodate about six standard sized grapes.  So the two Sears guys, working together, got it loaded up and I drove home.  I had, at the time, no idea how I was going to get it out of my car, up the steps into my building, and downstairs to my apartment, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.  Present Me loves nothing better than screwing over Future Me.

When I got home, I tried lifting the box and found that there was clearly no chance of me moving it anywhere on my own.  Fortunately, this piece of furniture came Lots of Assembly Required.  I used the Swiss Army Knife on my keys to open up the box and made several trips to my apartment with the various pieces of my couch.  Then I took the empty box to the trash.  But not before I took a photo of it, because I am a sick person who must find blog material in every last thing I do.

Except that is nowhere near the end of this story.  No, no, there were TWO of these boxes.  Only one would fit in my car at a time, so I drove back to Sears, drove home, and repeated the entire process.  Leaving me with not one, but two piles resembling this in my living room:

Which then became this:

I built it with my own two hands.  And, you know, large pieces fabricated in China.  But the point is that at no point in this process did Ty Pennington lift a finger to help.  Did he even show up?  No.  Ty Pennington, MOVE THAT ASS!

Anyway, ta-da!  Couch!  Done!

Wait...

Rat bastard. 

Misanthrope, party of two.

I'm living alone again.  I do so love to live alone.  I recognize that there's some danger in it, since it's entirely too easy to become accustomed to having everything my own way, on my own terms.  Which includes time spent with other people.

Bringing us to one of my most cherished indulgences - hibernation.  On Sunday, I didn't leave my apartment all day.  I talked to some people on the phone, but I had a total fast from actual human contact.  And as always, it was bliss. 

I slept until almost noon (thanks, Upstairs Neighbor, for being so noisy until THREE O'CLOCK IN THE DAMN MORNING), read, watched an Arrested Development marathon, even opened up my NaNoWriMo novel and did a little bit of editing.  I stayed in my pajamas for hours and when I finally showered, I didn't bother to dry my hair.  While it rained all day, I was oh so cozy in old jeans and my big Wisconsin sweatshirt.  Beat that, you with your going places, your doing things, your seeing people.  I didn't think so.

One of the people I spoke to on Sunday was my friend Jake.  We've been friends since high school and he lives here in Madison now.  We got together last weekend and discovered that while we're both very different people now than we were when we met, we still have a real good time together, thanks to some shared interests and a whole lot of sarcasm.  And now we know something else we have in common.

I left him a voicemail on Sunday afternoon to see if he wanted to get together sometime this week.  He called me back that night to say that he was sorry, but hadn't looked at his phone all day.  He was just having some quality no-people time at home to recharge.  Nice.

So we met at Panera today for lunch.  We got our food and he asked whether I wanted to sit in the front or off to the side.  The exchange went something like this:

"Let's sit over there - it's less crowded.  I'm not really into other people."

"That's why you're such a good friend."

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful renewed friendship.

Photo Friday

So, I still have no couch, which means that I also still have nothing hung on the walls.  But here are some photos to tide you over until the rest of the place is photo-ready.

Just before moving, I needed to buy some new face wash.  I like a pump bottle for the shower, and I bought this one specifically because it had a cap to make it all nice and movable.  Then, when I went to pack it, I flashed back to packing up the cabinet under my bathroom sink and thinking, Why did I keep some random cap?  Trash!  Which is why my face wash rode shotgun.

Is Acne Stress Control not the stupidest name you've ever heard?  Right up there with Oil Free Acne Wash, also by Neutrogena.  I do not want to wash my acne, Neutrogena, I want to get rid of it.

Anyway, eventually I got to Madison.  Where this is the view from my front door:

It looks even prettier when it is not just about to thunderstorm.  A thunderstorm which made me realize, as my power flickered, that I have one thousand candles and...zero matches.

And this is my old timey sink, with delicious strawberries.  Aren't strawberries pretty much the best thing ever?

Credit for the "old timey" phrasing goes to Sharon, who used to have an old timey stove.  My stove is entirely uninteresting.

But here's the eat-in portion of my kitchen, as seen from the folding chair that comprises my current living room seating.

This fridge wanted me to have Diet Dr Pepper!

The floor snob is happy!  Also, there's part of my new bed frame.

Check out the doorknob on my closet!

I did not do this on purpose.  This is my go-to I'm-cold-and-want-something-warm-and-extremely-unflattering sweatshirt.  But it seems rather more appropriate here.  When in Madison...

Thank goodness for that full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.  Because the one I brought with me is in teeny tiny pieces.

Coming soon: living room photos!  Just as soon as Ty Pennington coughs up my new couch.  And I get off the Internet and put my new desk together!

But first, one final photo for today.  This, Internet, is where I used to live and who I used to live with.

I miss you guys.