Let’s welcome to the stage….

You remember that scene in Varsity Blues when the football players go to the strip club and see their teacher Miss Davis dancing? She comes out lookin all business in her suit, with a chalkboard that reads Sex Education and proceeds to take off her clothes to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher all the while playing up that naughty teacher bit like it’s her job (well technically it is her job). That is stripping; taking your clothes off in an effort to obtain money from strangers.

I don’t know if they exist elsewhere in the world but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever been to an actual strip club. Stripping is not coming on to the stage wearing a bikini, taking off the top portion of the bikini to reveal pasties and subsequently rolling around on the floor for 3-5 minutes. Strippers, I appreciate that you are intoxicated and probably high off of a drug I’ve never even heard of, but you’ve been letting your patrons down. They want themes; they want naughty teachers and nurses. They do not want “Let’s welcome to the stage a dirty crack whore with a snaggle tooth”. That’s not a theme, that’s you. The day after Halloween all the costumes stores sell things for 50-70% off, get your "boyfriend" to buy you that eightball and drop a few bucks on a pair of ears and a tail. Hell, if you want go get fancy pick up a Little Bo Peep costume (if the old whore at the Clermont Lounge in the ATL can pull it off you can too!). Have the DJ blast Cat Scratch Fever, put on your ears and tail, get on stage and strip them off for the people. The people want it; Nay…they demand it.


Shout out to Sweet Little Baby Doll JT and Look Imperial for inspiring this post by their weekly trips to a local gentleman's club.

I like her hair…I wonder if the carpet matches her pubes

I am peter pan, I never want to grow up but lately the battle is getting harder. If there was some type of potion that I could drink and stay 25 forever I would chug that shit like I was thirteen and someone handled me a bottle of boones farm. That being said, I have been noticing that with age comes a lot of new things…

Let’s talk about the hair. Unlike the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, I do not derive my power from real or fictional dinosaurs, nor do I wear a color-coded battle suit made of spandex and a helmet (though a helmet would have proved useful on many occasions when intoxicated)… I derive my power from my hair. My hair doesn’t provide superhuman strength, or ability in hand-to-hand combat; but I often call on Power of Awesome Hair! in social situations.

You see, about a year and a half ago I cut off nearly 15 inches of blond hair. The result of that cut was the glory that is bestowed upon the eyes of those who interact with me each day. Since the cut, and going back to my natural darker hair color I have noticed quite a few gray hairs coming in. They are patchy at best and I keep them around because they make me look distinguished (and I secretly believe the old wives tale that if you pull one out that two will come back in its place). I’m sure genetics play a factor in the graying of my hair and I do look exactly like my Momma but I can’t seem to get a definitive answer from her on when she actually went gray. I believe two factors contribute to her inability to be able to answer this simple question. 1) She made the decision to start coloring her hair blond at the age of 19 and continued to dye it until about 6 years ago. So, what actual color was under that dye at age 30, 40, or 50 is a question that no one can answer. 2) Momma drinks.

I’m figuring I have about 5 to 7 years to still be able to call on Power of Awesome Hair! before I have to say goodbye to a piece of me that makes me more confident than I’ve ever been. But hey, at least I won’t get caught checking myself out in any and every reflective surface I pass by anymore. There’s always a silver lining ;)

Let’s just hope the silver lining isn’t around my head too soon.

Photo from Halloween preparation...this year I'm going as a really old version of myself (aka: Momma)

That just happened

We have an entire file cabinet drawer for toys in our office…

Oh, you need a plastic grenade for your presentation this afternoon? No, worries. Giant ink pen to write that proposal? No need to run out and get one, we have three. Got some time between meetings to do a little toning? No need to hit the gym, borrow our exercise band.

A's Yearbook

In an effort to help you get to know the wonderful individuals that are daily players in my life and in this blog, I'm introducing them to you ‘yearbook’ style. Hope you enjoy!

Best Dressed:

No-Longer-Easy-E

I met No-Longer-Easy-E in grad school at IU and eventually moved down to FMB with her. In school No-Longer-Easy-E was always the first to be up for a party or a trip to the bar so naturally her and I made fast friends.

While the average 7 year old is a fan of the wet-willy, No-Longer-Easy-E prefers the dry-willy. She finds it to be less gross and ultimately a lot creepier. I do not think I attended a graduate-level course where No-Longer-Easy-E’s finger did not find its way into my ear canal at least once a week. As a side note: she is correct, it is less gross and absolutely creepier. I have had fleeting thoughts that my success in grad school may be directly attributed to my professors believing I had torettees syndrome (due to me violently shaking and jerking away from No-Longer-Easy-E every time she dry-willyed me) and feeling sorry for me.

Above: No-Longer-Easy-E caught in the act...

classic dual dry-willy

No-Longer-Easy-E and I have been roomies for three and half years, she has broken our hammock (ask her about it, it’s a great story!), been a wonderful step mom to Tux, and is no stranger to fashion. She is best known for owning several tiny vests and summer scarves. For that, No-Longer-Easy-E I award you “Best Dressed”. Congrats!

Do you know how I know I’m young?!?

The other day I was reminded that I am (ugh) almost 30. That’s right, peterpan is getting older. This reminder led to a series of “Do you know how I know your old?” and “Do you know how I know I’m young?” statements. I, being peterpan, obviously was spitting out the latter of the two. A sampling….


Do you know how I know I’m young?!?
Because given the chance, I arrange magnets to spell things like poop.

Because I have young people’s hair.

Because I don’t clean my room.

Because my body can handle a case of beer with impunity.

Because momma says I listen to music too loud.

Because I stay up late.

Because my favorite foods are pizza and macdonalds.

Because I still get carded to buy beers.

Because I don’t own mom jeans like No-longer-Easy-E and KFBS (burn!).

Because when I text I say stuff like omg.

Because I wear flip flops everyday.

Because I’m easily distracted by toys and/or shiney things.

Because I giggle when someone says “duty”.

Because I have a thumb ring.

Justice

So I've been told that the last picture I posted of my "bed head" didn't really do it justice so here ya go.



I like to call it "The Kate".

I'm sexy.

Cut Footloose

If 80's clothing has to come back I want 80's dancing to come back too. It would be awesome to actually be a good dancer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhZU5G6qFqE

Corn fed

Recently I’ve been noticing an influx of tv shows based in Indiana. Growing up, I knew Indiana was disinteresting not only because of the corn fields that surrounded my house but also because everything I watched on the picture box in the living room showed far more interesting places, like the mystical Bayside High School in California. Up until recently I truly believed Cali to be a state that was full of tanned beautiful people and sunshiney year round, apparently that is not the case and I should have a) used common sense and b) paid more attention in geography. Oh, and Baywatch- don’t think you’re getting off the hook here; my warped view of life on the west coast can’t solely be blamed on Saved by the Bell.

NBC and ABC both have shows depicting life in made-up Indiana towns--Parks and Recreation is based in Pawnee, Indiana which allegedly is somewhere 90 miles outside of Indianapolis—The Middle is based in Orson, Indiana. I think it’s about time that kids in California get a view of the Midwest on a national tv network. Granted, those cali kids probably caught an episode or two of Hang Time in the late nineties but that likely just led them to believe that in Indiana it was commonplace for a girl to be able to join a boys high school basketball team.



Anywho, shout out to NBC and ABC for providing an honest look at what life is actually like in the Midwest—a little backwards, roads that lead to the middle of nowhere, and lots of corn. Maybe if they would have left Saved by the Bell based at a high school in Indianapolis the world wouldn’t have had to wait for some honesty, maybe I wouldn’t have had grandiose illusions of California, or maybe I would have read more because the lives of Slater, Zach, Kelly and the rest of the gang would have been a little less interesting at JFK High instead of Bayside.

Walking Disaster

I would like to say that I’m not accident prone, and it’s just that inanimate objects have it out for me. However, all evidence is pointing to the former. In the past two days I have managed to fall down once and turn my ring finger a pretty shade of purple (this was two separate incidents mind you).

Two days ago, in pure Lazy A fashion instead of pulling out my office chair to sit down in it, I decided to do some type of bendy-ninja-matrix-type move so I wouldn’t have to expend the immense amount of energy it takes to move a rolling chair. Laziness, and a general lack of coordination resulted in a slow motion fall where I proceeded to land with all of my weight on my right elbow. My entire arm went completely numb which led me immediately to the thought that my arm was broken. As I sat there writhing in pain waiting for blood to start spurting out, I figured out that the numbness was probably due to the whole “funny bone” thing -Not funny by the way. Thankfully there was only one person in the office when this went down and he didn’t even notice. I say thankfully for obvious reasons but in the end, I’m a bit disturbed that I could have cracked my noggin instead of my elbow, rendered myself unconscious and my office mate’s old ass would have been none the wiser until he got up to get another cup of coffee. Consequently I think he’s due for a hearing aid check.

I guess this little incident isn’t that surprising considering I am the same girl who sprained her ankle stepping off of third base after getting called out. That’s correct, I sprained my ankle not actually doing something athletic, but simply walking.

Has anyone seen my helmet?

A's Yearbook...

In an effort to help you get to know the wonderful individuals that are daily players in my life and in this blog, I thought I would introduce you to them ‘yearbook’ style. Hope you enjoy!

Biggest Flirt:

Sweet Little Baby Doll JT (SLBDJT)

Let’s start from the beginning…. I met SLBDJT about three years ago through a friend’s gf. My first real memory of SLBDJT consists of him waking me up at an ungodly hour (aka. prior to noon on a Saturday after a Friday full of libation consumption), after me telling him very nicely that I did not wake up that early on a Saturday he continued to pester me until I agree to ride down to times square with him via scooter and bicycle (there was a parade occurring this weekend so the road was blocked). I was not a fan of him at this juncture but after recovering from a hangover I found him to be quite loveable. SLBDJT is adorable, has awesome hair, and a giggle that makes me smile every time I hear it.


SLBDJT is known for uncontrollable flirting after the consumption of shots of any kind. If his flirtation is turned in your direction you have only a few quick seconds to react and withdraw yourself from the situation before he begins to “rabbit” you. If you escape quickly enough his attention will be turned to the next female in closest proximity. You have been warned. For the rabbit, SLBDJT I award you “Biggest Flirt”. Congrats!

Does anyone have a lozenge?

Growing up I was never a victim of outdoor allergies, however after moving south I discovered I am actually allergic to a few things. One for instance is Melaleuca trees, or what everyone refers to as paper trees- not because they are used to make paper but because they look like they are made of paper. They bloom twice a year and anyone who isn’t a Florida cracker or who has asthma gets a serious cases of the runny noses and sneezy’s.

A second allergy is to children, or maybe it’s just daycares. I can’t really explain it but the moment I walk into a daycare (which I tend to do a lot this time of year), my throat cinches up and gets all scratchy. After about two hours I walk out of random daycare and ten minutes later my throat is fine. Maybe it’s my brain telling my throat to close so I can’t inhale plu (pig flu) germs, maybe it’s just my bodies physical reaction to how my brain feels about children, or maybe I should consider carrying an epi pen.

Have there ever been any documented cases of allergies to children?!? I mean, there are some weird-ass allergies out there…mobile phone allergy (that is actually real, it’s called Mobile Phone Mast Electromagnetism), alcohol allergy (I feel so sorry for those SOBs, consequently we thought Intern was actually one for about a month), exercise allergy (I do not feel sorry for these people), and some people are even allergic to kisses!

you know you're exhausted when

I took a 7-10 minute nap in a supply closet today.

What life should be like in your 20’s

Today at work my boss asked me to write a letter of recommendation for a kid who was looking to start work in our field. I was given the information that he had known him for 20 years and he always helped neighbors with yard work and stuff. So, with that strong amount background information I managed to throw something together. After reading my letter of rec. our secretary told me I should really write a book, as my way with words is very good. So I asked her what I should write a book about and she said “Your life, like peeing next to someone in the ocean and poo dollar, that kind of stuff…..”. After laughing about how she considers these things to be “my life”, I asked what I should call this would-be piece of literary genius and she said “What life should be like in your 20’s”. Perhaps a better title would be I can’t believe I haven’t been in jail or died yet, or A guide to never growing up. Alas, I don’t see Random House beating down my door with offers just yet.

And I really only peed standing next to a stranger in the ocean once and well Poo dollar is just plain funny. Youtube it, and see if you don’t just try it at home.

Patiently awaiting book deals,

A

in a nutshell

i baked a cake, got embarrassingly drunk, made bad decisions, think my cats had a party while i was gone, and tux ate 2 q-tips.

my sad cake

Momma and the misuse of quotations marks

Momma:
An accomplished dancer, teacher, smartass, and jaguar (a.k.a.old ass cougar) who is known for her “eccentric” attire, joy for life (as well as cocktails and parties), and saying exactly---and I do mean exactly--- what is on her mind. She is a recently retired 5th grade teacher (after 30 years), a sleepwalker, and many a gay has described her quite simply as “fabulous”.

Quotation Marks:
The primary function of quotation marks is to set off and represent exact language (either spoken or written) that has come from somebody else.


Momma and Quotation Marks:
As a 5th grade teacher, one who spend 30 years molding the minds of our youth during a significantly important developmental stage in their life, you would think she would have a good grasp of the proper use of quotation marks. Nay.

The following is an excerpt from a card I received from Momma.

In this card she thanks me for being a wonderful “big sister” to The Gray Lining. She then later tells me I am a amazing daughter and that she is “proud” of me.

Had this note been written to a friend of The Gray Lining’s who was older but they were very close saying “big sister” would have been a proper use of quotation marks, however….I am in fact The Gray Lining’s older sister. So can I assume that she is actually proud of me and not “proud” of me?

In the end, momma defended her improper use of “” by saying they give a sentence flair.

“Nice” save Momma.