tee hee...

You know what's hot? Men with women's names.

You know what's hotter? A man with a woman's name who told me that I remind him of Donna from That 70's Show.

That's gotta be one of the coolest compliments I've ever received. I told him so. He just grinned at me.

Excuse me while I blush and giggle.

*Insert appropriate title here*

So I really like the National Geographic channel. Earlier this week, they did a four hour presentation called Inside 9/11. Normally, I would scoff at such a thing, and mention how horrible it is to profit from such a tragedy. Then I thought, but this is the National Geographic Channel... Hmmm...

Seeing as how I was still enduring a generous amount of back pain, I spent a large portion on Monday night on the couch with an ice bag, and so I decided to give it a few minutes to see if it was worthwhile.

Needless to say, I was more than impressed with the presentation. I missed the first half hour or so, but I watched an hour and a half of it before i went to bed, making sure to DVR the last two hours. It was incredibly clear in lining up all the history of the men and the plots and the places, without any editorializing. The intricacies of the information we now know is damn near fascinating.

I started to watch the last two hours of it last night, but as the documentary grew closer and closer to the devastating climax with which we are all far too familiar, the program got harder and harder to watch. I found myself trembling and shuddering off the chills. I turned the tv off, and again, went to bed.

So there I was earlier tonight, again with remote in hand. Part of me didn't want to see the rest. (In retrospect, there are parts I wish I could un-watch.) However, my thirst for knowledge and perhaps some inkling of understanding why this happened made me want to finish the program.

One hour to go, my heart aches.
Forty-five minutes, I want to turn it off, but I can't...
Now thirty minutes to go...

I feel almost obligated, as my patriotic duty, to be informed of this nightmare, to not forget the damage that was done.

It scared me, actually. It scared me a lot. I don't think we'll ever find bin Laden. The program mentioned how the new terrorism policy means the US will no longer tolerate any government that uses terrorism as means for power. Okay. Great. The Taliban's gone, and so's Saddam. But how is our government going to find a man who has a welcome refuge among a zillion nomadic and tribal societies scattered across the -istan's?

The last line of the program left me shuddering. Not long after the attacks, a Pakistani reporter mentioned to bin Laden that things have turned out exactly as he predicted: fire and brimstone, war all around him in Afghanistan, etc. The reporter asked him how he felt about the war he created, to which bin Laden replied that he was happy. He would not mind if were killed in the ensuing war in Afghanistan. He said, "That's the difference between us. We love death. Americans love life."

I tremble still, just typing the words. Such evil and such devout faith spat out all in one breath.

I'm going to go to bed now, and going to try not to think about it.

Bon Voyage, Kahuna

So there's the guy I kinda started dating... I'm so very glad I listened to my gut on this one. Not only is the man a very bad kisser, he's 37 and still lives with his parents. At first, I thought he was sweet and nice and attentive and that fun stuff, but I kept poking at his spongy exterior of pseudo-personality, only to discover an abysmal lack of anything worthwhile in his character. There's not really anything there. And he lives with his parents. At 37. Never having moved out. (With the exception of the 7 years he spent in college....)

I killed my back last Friday trying to move a bookcase in my classroom, so I spent my weekend lying on the couch doped up on celebrex and vicodin with a bag of ice on my back. Kahuna, as he calls himself (don't make me laugh), stopped by to watch a movie with me since I, once again, finked on our Saturday plans. While there, he complimented my roommate on her cute shorts no less that 4 times. Strike one.

We also had a conversation about our hobbies. His include legos, collecting Star Wars paraphenalia, and going out drinking 7 nights a week. When I asked him why he still lived with his parents, he said he had a lot of credit card debt. Ummm.... who doesn't? Here's an idea... maybe if you didn't go out every single night, you could pay off some of your credit card debt. Here's another thought... if you are 37 and living with your parents and concerned about your debt situation, maybe going to bar and ordering a $4 Corona instead of drinking the $1 draft beer, simply because you "don't like draft beer unless it's St. Arnold's" is NOT THE BEST IDEA! Goddamn. Strike two.

After I realized this was sooo not gonna happen, I had a little "Come To Jesus" [vocab compliments of 40] talk with him, saying that perhaps we shouldn't get in over our heads, I'm not looking for a relationship, my career needs to be my top priority, blah blah blah... Basically, the "Flipside is not really feeling it anymore, honey" speech. It didn't really take. ("But I have a job, too," he says. Really? So why are you STILL LIVING WITH YOUR PARENTS? I digress...) I'm not sure. He still wants to come with me Wednesday... (I had plans to take a recently single lesbian friend to Professional Lesbian Night at a local gay bar.) I think we're still going to be friends... ? Like I said, I'm not really sure what he took from our conversation... (I should probably also mention that Kahuna's propensity for frequenting gay bars is a little disturbing for a "straight" man...)

Anyhow, I find out that the very next day, he's already called an acquaintance of mine, (who was also there the day we met) and asked her if she wanted to "hang out" with him. Are you kidding me? It's not as though I really mind , or even that she'd actually want to be involved with him after our ever-so-brief entanglement, but come on. Talk about poor form... Mother Effing Strike Three.

Thinking back, I knew there was a reason I told myself that I wasn't going to date anyone I met in a bar. This experience about solidifies that sentiment. I'm going to chalk this whole fiasco up to way too much champagne on a Sunday afternoon. Ugh.

Oh, the places she'll go...

In this past week
The Flipside has found
All sorts of new fun
While travelling the town.

The waxer, drink mixer,
a man who likes boobs,
And with DVR,
never missing the tube!

Okay, okay, poetry is not my strong suit.

Seriously though...
Fun thing #1 - the waxer: I fould this aesthetician out near where I work (in the boonies) who does bikini waxes for only $20. Her office is in a bank building... not extravagant, but very clean and calming, and she did a great job. What a steal - the last place I went for a bikini wax was upwards of $50, and that didn't even include a Brazilian. Then, we'd be talking $80 or more. (New place: $35!) I had convinced myself I couldn't afford such luxuries anymore. I'm so psyched. No more shaving! No more bumps!Yay!

Fun thing #2 - drink mixer: There was this place in small college town where I went to school called Double Quick. It was an extraordinarily fabulous place. Technically, it was a drive-thru convenience store, but they also sold these frozen drinks called Igloos. Igloos came in just about every flavor combination you could imagine, and although they were already pretty intoxicating, you could increase the alcohol content by adding a shot (or two, or three...)

Today while driving to my parent's house, I saw a small billboard for a place called Eskimo Hut, touting "frozen daquiris to go!" Out of sheer curiousity, I stopped in, discovering that this place is indeed of the same nature as my favorite convenience store in my college town. $7 acquired me a medium orange and cream slush with 2 extra shots, complete with a hermetically sealed bag over the styrofoam cup stating "The state of Texas and Eskimo Hut strongly encourage you to refrain from opening this bag until you have left your motor vehicle." Damn open container laws.

I'm in heaven. And did I mention the owner is a complete and total hottie? Who carded me? (I could've hugged him right then...) I think I'll be heading up to visit my parents more often...

Fun(?) thing #3 - the man who likes boobs: Actually, the jury is still out on this one. I met a really nice guy last weekend. He's sweet and a little bit dorky, which for me, is a good thing. However, he is not a very good kisser.

I simply cannot stand kissing someone who comes at you with their tongue already out, ready to jam it into your mouth with very little attention paid to the lips. Kissing should be mostly about the lip action, with the tongue secondary; a pleasant afterthought to be saved for once the lips are all working together in harmony. Should this problem be a deal breaker? I can't say. Hopefully, this is something that can be rectified, but is he likely to be receptive to change at 37? And training a good kisser takes a lot of effort...

Tonight is the vital third date, and quite frankly, I'm feeling a little apprehensive. If the kissing is bad, what else might be bad? Do I really want to test this theory? Do even want to go out with him tonight? Do I like him enough to exert the effort? Argh. Help.

Maybe it'll all be better after I finish my orange and cream slush... I'm taking it in the shower with me.

Here's to a chaste, generic and (illiterate?) night...

My supercool Have-a-Day calendar actually has "have a night" sayings on Fridays and Saturdays. Today it says, "Have a night painting the town red," and beneath the smiley face splattered with red paint, it marks this day as "National Night Out." [They have some of the weirdest date denotions in my calendar from Bad Poetry Day to Evel Kneivel's birthday..]

This particular Saturday night, I'm staying home and doing laundry.

Should I have looked at my calendar before I decided to sit on my ass tonight?

Am I reading much too far into my calendar?

Verdict: my desire for clean clothing, coupled with budgetary constraints, will trump the calendar tonight.

Just call me Queen Homebody.

Me with my baby nephew

Okay, so I'm no supermodel, but I still think it's a good shot...



Addendum: Celebration time! I finally figured out how to post my photo to my profile. (Don't laugh at me. I'm technologically retarded.)

Freaky Friday

So I woke up this morning from a phone call from my dear friend KT. No longer a Kindergarten Teacher, she is now a 3rd grade teacher, but to me, she'll always be KT.

KT called me at roughly 7 this morning. Apparently, she and her crazy roommate friend decided that cocaine was a relatively wise idea at 4 am this morning. THis surprises me a little, because KT does not usually indulge in such extreme craziness. Moderate craziness, yes, but cocaine? Really?

KT was a little freaked out when she called me. I immediately threw on boxers and a t-shirt and drove the whole six blocks to her apartment. When I got there, she was beyond freaking out. She was pacing and mumbling and generally acting quite wierd. I did my best to calm her down, but it was a little scary for me. KT is a poster child for why I never have and never will do coke.

After several hours of calming and consolation, by about ten a.m., I told KT that I was sorry, but, I absolutely had to get to school and finish putting together my classroom.

K.T. said that was okay, and I invited her to come with me because quite frankly, I was a little worried about her. Leaving her alone at home was definetly NOT a good idea. She didn't need or want to be left alone.

So K.T. came with me to school today. By the time we got out to the Boonies to the middle school where I teach, KT was much more collected. As we turned on to the street where my school is, KT felt a sense of familiarity and turned to me and asked, "Tell me again who your principal is?"

Turns out, K.T. and my PRINCIPAL taught their first few years together. Dude. What the fuck?

Small world. And I'm still a little freaked out.

K.T. and my principal (read, BOSS) sat and chewed the fat for a few hours while I put up posters and such in my classroom. My principal apparently thought it no big deal to feel up K.T. in the security of his office, and stick his tongue down her throat. Like I said, they're good buddies. This is a man (married, btw) who, until today, has imtimidated the crap out of me.

So if I was worried about my career this year, I needn't have been. I'm sooo set. I'm psyched. This rocks. Bring it on, fall 2005!

8 random observations upon my life...

1. Things seem to be much more harmonious at Xanadu these days. For a week and a half, 40 had gone a-traveling with the Til5 family across many southern states, leaving me to some much needed solitude after an all-too-short summer, including several trips of my own. Since her return, I haven't had any of of those horrible "I miss my friend" pangs I had been having for the past few months. I even succeeded at talking her out of a really BAD idea she had had. [I won't go in to details, but 40 is one headstrong chick. It's a bitch to try to talk 40 out of bad ideas... in the past I have tried and repeatedly failed...]

2. The last two days have been bucketloads of joy. Moreover, I remember why I did not go into manual labor. But my new classroom is all set up and looks great. I'm so excited... I have carpet this year. And a window. I'm so spoiled.

3. I simply cannot allow myself to believe Rafael Palmiero is guilty of steroid abuse. I'm so naive.

4. Roger Clemens is 43 today. FORTY-THREE! That amazes me.

5. I'm really psyched for football season.

6. All of a sudden, a few months ago, I started liking beer again. It's wierd. I've disliked beer for going on close to 8 years. I never really could drink beer after this whole Kegstand Flipside episode I had back when I was silly enough to be in a sorority in college. [Except imagine a name with a a better alliterative effect than Flipside in this particular nickname...)
And then all of a sudden, I liked beer again. I'm such a versatile drinker now. I can drink and enjoy just about anything. Anything but gin. I dislike gin.

7. Still waiting on the snapshot. You won't be disappointed...

8. It's past my bedtime. I have a bedtime again.