I was going to try and write a cheerful-sounding post (fake it till you make it!) but five minutes ago my son called down the stairs, "Mom!! I think I just Febrezed the cat! Is he going to go blind?"
(Sometimes there are impulse control issues around my house, and spontaneous Febrezing occurs. Also skateboarding down the stairs. Also microwaving metal objects. )
After I stomped up the stairs and performed a full physical on the cat, I determined that he had only been misted, so he's not blind, only really fresh. But now it’s way too late for phony cheer, I’m sorry to say. Consider yourself warned.
Things that are currently pissing me off:
- Remember my last post, where I shared poorly-written excerpts from student essays? Well. I owe them an apology.
Today I received an email from a teacher's aide at my school. I have copied and pasted the entire email for you here, worded exactly as it appeared:
Eduardo is failing your class. Is she not turning in his assignments? What he be working on now?What he be working on? Why, nothing! That's why he/she is FAILING.
(It’s okay though!! Gov. Schwarzenegger has set up a special education website, full of helpful information. Thank you, Mr. Terminator! I think it’s really going to make a difference. My favorite part of the website is the header, which reads:
A place for infromation about California Schools .
I keep going back there, hoping they've fixed it, but nope. We be freeing ourselves from the shackles of spelling and capitalization rules here in the Golden State! No wonder we don’t need a budget anymore! )
- Four separate people have used the phrase “What a hoot!” in my hearing this week. No. I don’t care what state you’re from, or how funny that crazy George Lopez is, nothing should ever be a “hoot”. I will pinch you. Hard.
- An old roommate of my husband’s has shown up on Facebook. He’s almost forty. His new girlfriend is eighteen, the same age as his daughter. There are all these pictures of him, with his receding hairline and stupid grin, standing in a group of high school kids, one arm slung over his adolescent lady-love, or just the two of them, wrapped around each other in glittery pink lust. Last time we talked to him he was married to an age-appropriate person, but now he’s dating Miley Cyrus, and as a high school teacher, this makes me more than a little nauseous.
- I sort of hate the neighbor kid. Not the one I’ve written about here before, that hits himself in the head with bricks and rides his bike into trees. He’s okay. It’s this new one that’s shown up. He’s eight, younger than the rest of the kids, but I’m pretty sure he’s evil.
Last Saturday he showed up on our doorstep at 7:00 am, and began ringing the doorbell.
Ring,ring,ring,ring,ring. Ring,ring,ring,ring,ring. Ring,ring,ring,ring,ring. Pause. Ring,ring,ring,ring,ring.
Finally someone stumbled to the door. Me. He wanted my son to come outside.
Me: “He’s still asleep.”
Demon Boy: “When is he going to get up?”
Me: “I don’t know. I’ll tell him you came by. Maybe he’ll be out later.” Attempt to close door. Small foot in Payless ninja sneaker is squarely in the way.
Demon Boy: “When?”
Me: ”I DON’T KNOW.” Attempt to push small foot from doorway. Demon Boy has strength of much larger individual.
Demon Boy: “Can you go get him right now?”
Me: “NO. He’ll be up lat-“
Demon Boy: “Why not? Pull his hair. That’ll wake him up. You want me to come in and do it? You don’t know how?”
Me: “I know how, I mean NO. Go home, Demon Boy.” Almost succeed in closing door.
Demon Boy: “My cousin needs to use your phone. Can he come in? Our electricity isn’t working.”
Me: “The phone doesn’t run on electricity.”
Demon Boy: “I mean, the internet is down. We don’t have any cable. Can he use the phone now?”
Me: “Who do you need to call?
Demon Boy: “Someone. I mean, my mom. He’s coming now.”
Cue teenage, non-English-speaking cousin who appears on our lawn out of nowhere, or possibly from out of our bushes.
Cousin: “You dial phone. I make call.”
Which I did, like someone under hypnosis. Cousin spent five full minutes on my phone, speaking in an unidentified language. Then he handed me back the phone without even glancing in my direction, turned on his heel and left, a grinning Demon Boy trailing behind him.
Also, on Monday, Demon Boy tried to off Accident-Prone Boy with a shovel in our front yard. He’s going to fit right in to our neighborhood. I’m getting better locks for the front door.
I need to go lie down now. Tomorrow, when I get up, everything will be shiny new and sunny once again.
You’ll see. It’ll be a hoot.