Chubby Bubba

this here. This is my favorite ice cream. Ever. I had it a few times before it disappeared from my life, and I am sad to say that I think I just discovered why. I googled gay swamp, 'cause that's just how this blog works. I'm feeling swamped and I'm feeling gay. What sort of odd pictures might embody the both? Unfortunately, few. That's when I might have gone on to just gay and then found the gay dalmatians and then would have thought about the dalmations we saw at Town Lake that my son insisted may just be dogs with spots. How dare I stereotype all white dogs with tiny white spots as dalmations?

It seems that shortly after I discovered the malted joys of a chubby hubby (yum), those Ben and Jerry's commies decided to temporarily (for a month) change the name of their delicious treat to Hubby Hubby in support of gay marriage's being legalized in Vermont. Right about that time my delicious love disappeared off my Texas supermercado shelves... never to return. Homophobia? I think not not.

But, it was enough to make transgendered folks in Lubbock take to the barricaded streets!

In other news:
  • Spring Break came and spring came and then both were gone just like that.


This is My Blog on Jimmy Hoffa

Jimmy Hoffa and I share a birthday, see. I've been on the Project Free TV sauce. See, I admit it. Weeds. Breaking Bad. 24, I'm ashamed to say. It's Spring Break. Woot. Tittie flash. Blueberry muffins (crappy mix, sorry) are up and coming. Must. Get. Boxes. Outta. My. Life. Week of sleep. Fever three weekends in a row. No shit. Starting to hate weekend slacker job.

Discovered the free washer in the communal laundrymat. Told my neighbor. Viva la sticking it to la man. Went to juvenile court, surprisingly for the first time. The Future President got not one, not two, but three tickets for curfew violation for 1) being a mile away from school 8 minutes after school started. (That one's bs), and 2) and 3) for going off campus at lunch. She earned herself a fat 42 hours of community service for that shit, 18 of which is so we don't have to pay the cash for her transgressions, thankfully.

There's that. I'm liking my student teaching still. A. Great. Deal. All. Around.

I haven't been writing much, but each week there are these grueling portfolio submissions that even almost this morning, take precedence over blogging, but there is nary a poem in sight.

The words, "Mommy, I'm hungry," preceded by, "You go make them," a reply to, "Let's go make blueberry muffins," has me conflicted. Must. Go. Twist. Arm.

Gotta go walk the dog, too. It's the next big thing. I miss the country in some ways, but the $20 worth of gas's lasting almost two weeks (even is a semi-guzzling mini-van) is not one of the reasons why.

That Genius still didn't make those muffins. Gotta go prop. I think he's desperate, now (2 minutes later). See. Something.




Slipping it in on the Side

Hey, here's a trick. Put up a picture that you will not want to be sitting atop your blog for the next three weeks. You'll be sure to blog, then. Right? Right? Also, start blogging when it's 15 minutes until a 3 hour internet-out at your work. Hurry. Hurry. Look busy. Jesus is coming. Oh. Oh.

Each and every Saturday now, for what seems forever, I am having to write these godamned portfolio submissions. Fortunately, blogging hath prepared me for the task at hand, bs-y bs on all the things I think in ideal terms, so I've been getting good scores, which means I won't have to redo them, as folks often do, but-- and that's a big but, I'm tired. Loving the teaching. Liking the apartment. Missin' ya'll.

What else. What else? TAKS practice tests this week. We played TAKS review Jeopardy, which was a lot of work to make in PowerPoint, even with a template, but fun. Creating centers days from hell many Fridays. Kissing some, "I want a job ass," but you know I like it. If I were getting paid (rather than having to pay) to be doing this I might not complain, but that's unlikely.

I'm out of touch with politics, with blogs, with 24, but not Weeds and Big Love, which I'm managing to squeeze in thanks to Netflix. I'm hearing a guy hack in the bathroom. Uggh. Go home sicky. Got whiny bitched out by a lady here this morning who, apparently, wanted me to telepathically synchronize my rounds with when she was planning on being here earlier than the pass down told me. I failed.

I have kids in my classes loving me and hating me at the same time. I'm feeling like being stricter with them than I did originally. They're so great, and so bad both. I feel like an ambassador to math with them. Math is your friend-- not your enemy. Same with me. Now, get to work!

Well, shitfuckdamn. The internet cutter-offer guy is here.

I hope to do more here sooner than later.