I'm like this, only less attractive...

and I want to die.

I am officially old.

Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran turned 50 today.

This is the end of my youth as I've known it. You see, Duran Duran were THE band of my youth. They epitomized the 1980's: big hair, make-up, synthesized music, and image, image, image. These boys made MTV what it was and MTV made them. They had elaborate and expensive videos and they looked gooooooood.



So many of my childhood memories are set to Duran Duran's music, "Girls on Film", "Hungry Like the Wolf" (a song outlawed in the Lowe household due to suggestive moaning and grunting)"The Reflex", "Rio". . . I could go on and on.

So, although I have always been (and remain to this day) a John Taylor girl:



I have a big soft spot in my heart for Mr. Le Bon...even if he is old.

Happy Birthday Simon!!

A dream is a wish your heart makes??

If Walt Disney is to be believed, I think I'm in trouble.

You see, Wednesday night I dreamed that I made out with this guy:




Tony Dovolani, from Dancing with the Stars. This is confusing to me, as I've never found him particularly attractive during my waking hours. But, he came walking right into my dream shirtless, and for some reason, soaking wet. Anyway, we kissed and kissed and kissed, and then for some reason I walked away and met this guy:



Maksim Chmerkovskiy also from Dancing With the Stars. Again, while Maks is a super hottie, I can't say that I'm particularly attracted to him. Anyway, I then immediately started making out with Maks and then Tony caught us and there were distraught tears and pleading (from the guys. I don't beg.).

I woke up and wondered to myself, "Why these two guys?" I mean, I'm totally in fake love with my boyfriend Toby



and I've never made out with him in a dream. Or any of these guys:






These guys, I'd understand. But PROFESSIONAL BALL ROOM DANCERS? What's wrong with me? Again. Don't answer. Because if Disney's right, I'm a cheeZy slut.

The *Poopy Clause

First of all, I'd like to say that I try not to swear on a day to day basis. I do pretty well with this (unless I'm hanging out with Jill on a regular basis. I'm not blaming Jill, we're bad influences on each other.)for the most part, but occasionally I slip.

I don't think that it's ok to use profanity when the mood hits, and I really try to find other ways of expressing myself.

There are, however, times when the only way to truly express your feelings is to use one particular profane word, and in those situations, no other word will do.

So, I'd like to codeify what I'm calling The *Poopy Clause. This clause states that you can say *poopy without any guilt feelings or judgy comments from the non-potty mouths.

Here are the types of conditions under which The Poopy Clause could be enacted:

1. You wake up at the time when you are supposed to be at work. You must run around your house throwing on clothes and trying to accomplish some semblance of your normal appearance and then attempt to break all land speed records in an attempt to make it to work as soon as possible.

2. You realize that you have forgotten a job interview/meeting/class/birthday party/family gathering that you HAVE to attend. The meeting is in 10 minutes and you are 20 minutes away.

3. You respond to an email from a co-worker/friend/partner in crime about a third co-worker/idiot/hell hound. After sending your response in which you refer to said third party as a friend of Dorothy/disco dancing drag queen you realize you sent the email to said disco dancing hell hound rather than your friend. Upon closer inspection you realize said d.d.h.h. has opened and read the email, thus embroiling not only yourself, but also your friend in scandal.

According to The *Poopy Clause you would have the right to repeat the word *poopy in tones ranging from the under-the-breath mutter to the outright scream of terror as many times as you'd like with no judging by yourself or others.

Whattaya think?

I'm sold on the idea, and I enacted the clause this morning at 6:40.

(incidentally, if Austen could vocalize actual words he'd have enacted the clause at approximately 6:45 a.m.)

*Oh, come on, we all know I don't say poopy. I can't write what I really say, my nieces and nephews read this blog. Plus, I'm G rated.

Hello Darkness my old friend...

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky -
I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie
Sleepless...
~William Wordsworth, "To Sleep"



This past Saturday I stayed up until after midnight completing my Master's Culminating Experience Portfolio. This is the project that replaces a traditional thesis, and required me to compile examples of papers, tests, lesson plans, reflections, etc. that I had completed as apart of my coursework or as a result of my coursework and then reflect in writing about each artifact. The entire portfolio fills a 3" three ring binder, and if I do say so myself, turned out quite nicely.

Anyway, after finishing this vast undertaking I was EXHAUSTED and headed to bed thinking, "Thank goodness tomorrow is Stake Conference and I can sleep an extra hour." HA!

Instead I tossed and turned, first too hot, then too cold, then my bed was too soft, then it was too hard, and this Goldilocks didn't ever find "Just Right". I took a bendryl at 2:30am and it made me even more tired and dopey, yet I still didn't sleep. At 3:30 I finally felt the beginnings of real sleep and the last time I saw on the clock before sleep took me was 3:50. I woke up at 8 am to the sounds of Austen and my brother's two dogs (I was babysitting. More on that later) crying to go outside and pee. We did so with them pulling my arms nearly out of the sockets and with me in a benadryl haze. We came back in and I fed them and went back to bed until 9 am when I got up and got ready for church.

I considered going back to bed and skipping Stake conference, but am so glad I didn't. It was the best meeting (other than General conference) I've attended in a long time and I was really touched and motivated to make some changes in my life.

When I came home I was determined to take a good long nap, but when I lay down in bed I just couldn't sleep. I was exhausted, my entire body ached from fatigue (where does insomnia hurt? EVERYWHERE.) and yet I couldn't sleep.

My sister Christy (who is one of those disgusting people who falls asleep the minute her head hits the pillow and doesn't wake up three to four times a night having to pee) called and I told her how I only got 4 hours the night before and couldn't even manage to take a nap. Because she's never had a problem sleeping she's always incredulous to hear that I can't, even though I'm so tired I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and hibernate for several months. She asked me a few questions about it and then concluded, "Something's wrong with you."

Finally. Someone other than myself had the nerve to tell me what I've known for a long time. There IS something wrong with me. Maybe some THING (singular) isn't the issue. Maybe it's more like MANY THINGS are wrong with me. What do you think? Never mind. Don't answer that question. I don't want to know.


Oh, and then there's this:



I may never sleep again. Or eat yogurt. Wouldn't want to risk it.

Ahhhhh Mr. Rochester

My kids and I just finished Jane Eyre. Oh. My. Goodness. I just love that book. We had a really wonderful discussion today and it made my heart swell three sizes too big to hear the really wonderful analysis of these characters from my students. I had a couple students stay after class a minute just so that we could finish talking about some topics.

What hits me every single time I read this book is the beautiful message of redemption it shares. The message that no matter how sinful and horrible and unworthy we might be, we can always come back. I love that it is only when both Jane and Rochester humble themselves and ask for help that they can find their way back to one another.

I love how strong, noble, honorable, and spiritual Jane is, while still being imperfect enough for me to be able to love her and relate to her at the same time.

And, even though he's the baddest bad boy of all time, I love Mr. Rochester. Mmmmm Hmmmmm. He does some really horrible things, but because of the way he loves Jane, I just can't do anything but love him.

I love the fact that the love story between Jane and Rochester is a true love story. about two imperfect people who really know each other, soul deep, and love one another for who they really are. I want the same kind of relationship in my own life, which might be why I'm still single.





(And it doesn't hurt that my boyfriend Toby plays him in this adaptation)

Literally two of the best videos ever.

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

Literally.

Feeling Reckless, or Things You Should Check Out, Volume 4

I'm in love.

With a man named Willy Braun, the lead singer of Reckless Kelly(which, you've got to admit is a pretty freaking cool name for a band, isn't it?)

A few months ago I wrote a post about my struggles to find good music, and my wonderful friends Melissa and Danny put together a five disc buffett of alt-country goodness starting me off on an oddyssey that's made my life ipod more interesting.

Anyway, they're fun, they're rowdy, and I wish they'd play a gig out here in Vegas.

Check them out:

Nobody's Girl:



Wiggles and Ritalin:



Break my heart tonight

Rise and Shout Indeed...

Sooooo, how was your weekend?

Draggin'

I'm tired today. Bone deep, world weary, yawning in the middle of teaching, tired. I know that this isn't news to anyone who has had to listen to me whine for the past two year. Teaching full time + UNLV Masters program = tired, cranky me. However, today, I have NOT brought the exhaustion on myself. I mean it!

I had my class last night, and then remembered that I needed to go to Costco to get batteries for my AVID class (all of our TI-84 calculator batteries are shot) and then it was too late to make dinner, so I had to get that, and then I remembered I was out of plastic forks in my classroom... Anyway, long story short, I didn't get home until 8:00 pm. Usually this means that I don't get to bed at a decent hour, but a combination of nothing on television and exhaustion had me in bed by 9:30 (on a side note, Austen is so sick of being locked up that he's going to declare war on me any moment. I feel it coming.).

I fell asleep by 10:00, a shocking development in this insomniac's life. Then at 1:30 am I was awoken by the horrible sound of a car's engine revving, tires squealing, and brakes screaming followed by the unmistakable thud of impact.

Then, wide awake, I was treated to a string of profanity, from whom I can only assume was the driver, that could have landed him in the Guinness Book of World Records.

When I peeked out my window I couldn't see the accident, but I could see my super KLASSY (yes, with a K) neighbor, who is 17 at most, running down the street in a pair of shorty shorts, a tank top, and NO SHOES while screaming profanities at the person involved in the accident. Then, her even Klassier mother came out of the house and proceded to inform the driver that she was going to call the F*&#*ing cops! I know that she was serious because she repeated that phrase approximately 467,000 times.

The thing is, this isn't the first time I've been woken up by the gunning of engines or the screaming of brakes. In fact, it's not even the first time this week. I think that we've got some super Klassy drag racing going on in the middle of the night. At least that's what I have surmissed based on the sounds I'm hearing.

I think they see themselves like this:




When, from the sound of the engine it's probably a little more like this:



The thing is, it always takes place between 11:30 pm and 2:00 am, and ALWAYS involves The Klassy Family teenagers. Always. My question is, why are they up draggin' down my road instead of in bed?

I think someone (perhaps a parent?) needs to be draggin' some Klassy teenage hiney back into the house for some beatings and bed time.

Hmmmph!

I probably shouldn't ....But I'm gonna!

Ok, I'm in full-on rant mode right now, so bear with me. Because we have a roving English teacher this year during my 4th period prep I have to leave my classroom to work in the English Department workroom.

This is fine for the most part, but means that I have to talk to people who come in to make copies. Today one of our law department teachers came in to do so and engaged me in conversation.

He said, "There's something I've been meaning to ask you for a long time but thought it might be inappropriate."

Let me just tell you that this man is quite a bit older, and has come to teaching as something fun to do after a long career as a divorce lawyer here in Vegas. So, I thought that maybe "innapropriate" was code for personal. I cautiously told him to go ahead, thinking that I would refuse to answer if it was too wierd.

What followed, however, didn't make me uncomfortable, it made me EXTREMELY ANGRY.

He said, "You know last year when you presented strategies to us on Professional Development Day?"

Me: "Yes"

Him: "You said that you'd done several presentations that day and I saw that you were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. My question is, why in the world would you wear jeans and a sweat shirt if you were presenting? That just seems really unprofessional to me and I just simply wouldn't be caught dead doing something like that."

I was absolutely stunned. Let's say that my appearance that day WAS unprofessional. WHAT BUSINESS IS IT OF YOURS TO TAKE ME TO TASK, OLD MAN?? In addition, this training that he's referring to was LAST NOVEMBER!! It has been nearly a year that he's been waiting to tell me this.

Now, let me give you the background.

1. On Professional Development Day the dress is casual. If I did dress up it would have been innappropriate. I was presenting to co-workers and wanted to match them.

2. I was wearing my AVID T-shirt and presenting AVID strategies.

I cannot believe the rudeness of this man. After I explained the two items above he smiled condescendingly and pointed to his shirt and tie and said, "This is appropriate presentation attire."

Well, SCREW YOU OLD MAN!

I know. I know. This whole situation says more about him than me, but GRRRRRRRRR!!!

UPDATE: Today is Staff Development Day and EVERY SINGLE PRESENTER has done so in jeans and a t-shirt. FYI.