Category Archives: rant

Black Thursday


I really try to be upbeat on this blog, usually-or at the very least I try to be productive about whining.  You know, looking on the bright side, perspective, this too shall pass, I could fix the problem by simply doing this one thing, blah-blah-blah.  But today…is just stupid.  And you know what?  There’s really no good reason.  My life, of late, hasn’t sucked.  I saw Idina Menzel in concert last night and she was fantastic.  She was funny and articulate and super classy.  (Might have had to be there for that one to be funny.)  Even better?  I didn’t have to pay for the tickets.  My friend’s husband won them from a radio station contest and they were nice enough to invite me along.  Work is going well.  At the very least, I am gainfully employed and in this economy that’s saying something.  I have a place to live with parents I love all the time and like about 90% of the time.  If you knew the monster, you’d understand how the other 10% comes into play.  I mean, life is not all that bad.  But today…is just stupid.

First, there’s the dog poop.  Arthur has taken to pooping in the house every morning sometime while I’m in my shower.  I tried locking him up to minimize the damage, but he just poops no matter where he is.  It’s either clean up up in the back of the house or clean up in the front of the house.  Won’t poop outside, no ma’am.  Must poop inside and then look cute and innocent when our people step on the poop with bare feet and let out a tremendous and highly creative slew of curse-words.

Then last night we had a genuine Texas thunderstorm with hail and everything.  On my new car.  Three dings.  Now, they’re small and let me confess fully that if I hadn’t been looking for them, I probably wouldn’t have noticed them, but I am in a BAD MOOD (TM) so I mentally catalogued them and added them to my list of things that make today really stupid.

Then I was just this close to being late this morning, but I was gonna make it on time, only to be stopped in front of the train tracks while an excrutiatingly slow 15-mile long train meandered it’s way down the tracks all relaxed and groovy-like.  I swear to you I could hear Simon and Garfunkle’s “Slow down…you move too fast…gotta make the morning last…” somewhere in the background and I wanted to scream.  In fact, I may have done just that to let off steam but since there was no one in the car with me, you’d have difficulty proving it.  I am not feelin’ groovy.  Just saying.

Oh, and I bought two embroidered polos for work, both of them the same size, one way too big for me, and other way too small.  WTF-ery is this, I ask you???  That’s $60 I’m not getting back any time soon.  And it just pisses me off.

And I have big nasty circles under my eyes and not enough make-up on.  You’re welcome for the visual, Interwebs.

Yes, I know, none of these are big life-altering things.  I’m aware of that.  And ordinarily I’d be sanguine.  Or at least, all perspective-y, because I’m good at that.  But today, I am in a BAD MOOD (TM).  Meh.  I’ll be over it by 2:00 PM.  But as of right now, today…is stupid.


Teachers Know Best


My friend Yalayla is all kinds of smart, witty and fun.  I always love it when she comes to see a show I am in because I can pick out her unique contagious laughter from the crowd.  It makes me thrilled to have a friend there who supports me and doesn’t judge.  She can be serious when that’s called for, but she also has an excellent sense of play.  She likes what she likes, but she’s not afraid of trying new things, either.  All of these traits of Yalayla’s combine to form a compelling instructor.  She is an amazing teacher because she loves what she teaches and she has a genuine passion for sharing that with others.  She can take a difficult topic and break it down so it’s easy to understand.  She has the creative ability to approach a topic from many different angles, allowing many different types of learners the opportunity to understand the concepts she’s teaching.  She is humble and takes pride in continuing her journey as a life-long learner.  She knows she doesn’t know everything and that makes her open to so many ideas.  She is patient, wise and has fantastic taste in music.  No lie.  Between her and Elle, if there is anything worth listening to on my iPod it’s because my friend shared it with me.  I am lucky to have her for a friend.

Recently, she vented on her blog.  I like what she had to say.  It’s easy to villify others and point fingers about our educational system, but beating down the front line does no one any favors.  I hope every student has a Yalayla for a teacher at least once.  The world would be a better place.

Saturday Blues


…as in everyone I know seems to have them today.  The theatre I work at got a less than stellar review for the current show in this morning’s paper.  The critic’s major issue was with the script, not the staging, and he had some nice things to say about our actors, but the headline was something like “Dead in the Water.”  Not exactly the preferred headline for any show review.  It’s the first time in quite a while (I’ve worked here for four years and I can’t remember the last time) we’ve had a not great review.  Aside from that, one of the actors had a death in her immediate family this morning and they’re still debating whether or not to cancel tonight’s show.  Don’t know yet what will happen.  Kind of difficult all around.  Either way tonight will be a tough night for her. 

I was awake really early this morning.  Why is it that on the weekends I can get myself up at 5:45 or 6:00 AM, but on weekdays, I could easily sleep till 9:00 or 9:30?  I blame the job.  I just don’t always enjoy this one.  I love the part where I get to work with students.  They’re really awesome and I honestly thrill at watching them succeed.  I just hate all the administrative B.S.  B.S abounds in education, I’m telling you.  It breeds and has little baby b.s.’s.  Higher education administration isn’t any better than elementary and secondary education administration.  It’s still about numbers-retention and graduation rates, standardized testing scores/licensure testing scores, blah-bliddy-blah.  Elementary and secondary education needs the numbers so they can have more state funds to operate and higher education needs the numbers so they can receive more grants and government funding.  

And now that I’ve stepped upon the soapbox, why is the state’s solution to an under-performing school to give them less money and less resources?  I get the whole philosophy of not throwing good money after bad, but it seems to me that punishing schools like that makes a bad situation worse.  Not to mention there are more evaluation methods than standardized one size fits all testing. 

Bah.  Now I’m crabby.  I’ma stop this blupdate now before I get any worse…

Bridezilla Bites


This is a short and *mostly true story.  Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

[sound effect: the “dun dun” from Law and Order]

Our story opens at a seedy office complex where Rhymes with Moi (hereafter referred to as our heroine) works.  Our Heroine is a very nice person, I think we all can agree.  What kind of story would this be if she were a total bitch?  Because she is so kind, when she notices a sad coworker, she befriends her and tries to help her out.  This leads to a chain of events where coworker, who swears Our Heroine is the bestest friend she ever had, asks Our Heroine to be her matron of honor at her upcoming wedding.  Our Heroine is touched and flattered and agrees to this.

[This is the part of the story where the biographer – me – will most certainly not point out that if coworker loved Our Heroine so very much, then she would have called, or texted, or emailed, or sent a get-well-soon card to Our Heroine at least once when she was home-bound for almost two months after knee surgery, instead of ignoring her altogether and blaming it on her busy, busy life.  The biographer will also not point out that she wasn’t crazy about coworker from the start and that she thinks coworker is a big fat lying liar who lies like lying people do.  For more details on the ridiculous lies told by the lying liar coworker, please email the biographer directly and she will be happy to explicate about the types of lies told and how she will not be telling you about them.]

Our Heroine, who is fond of research, checks out books on the responsibilities inherent in matron-of-honor-hood.  For starters, there is the bridal shower.  Our Heroine holds, not one, but two bridal showers for coworker.  (Ooh, hey, I accidentally just typed cowanker before I corrected it.  Heh.) The first shower was held at the biographer’s (e.g. me) house.  Coworker was almost 45 minutes late to her own shower.  When she finally did show up, she sailed right past the biographer (AKA me) without saying a word or introducing her to the two people she brought with her.  Naturally, the rudeness wasn’t coworker’s fault, because as there always is with coworker, there was drama! happening.  I would share the drama! but I don’t actually care.  The biographer has very little knowledge about the second shower which occured at work.  This is probably a good thing as the biographer (once again, yours truly) is feeling very pissed off and prone to sarcasm at the moment.

Next up was the bachelorette party.  Our Heroine booked a “too drunk to drive” hotel room just in case the festivities got out of hand-coworker does enjoy tying one on.  Our Heroine also purchased the requisite bachelorette bling: tiara with veil, light up plastic ring rock the size of Vegas, doofy sunglasses, and blingy necklaces.  As with the first shower, coworker was late again, but this time she was over an hour late.  She proceeded straight to the liquor and dove right into the spirit of things until another bachelorette party was seated next to us at which point she began verbally bashing the 20-something year-old blonde bride to be.  Statements such as “stick up her ass” and “thinks she’s perfect” were bandied about as if coworker personally knew the stranger seated at the next table.  The biographer is certain it had nothing whatsoever to do with spiteful jealousy.

Between the bridesmaid dress, the two showers, the party, and the destination wedding trip to New Mexico, Our Heroine has shelled out close to $1000.  This is approximately $900 more than she spent on her own wedding. 

Yesterday, during the fitting, Our Heroine discovered the bridesmaid dress does not fit.  This made Our Heroine cry, which am I right, ladies?  Totally understandable.  She plans on taking to a tailor to see if it can be altered and in the worst-case scenario will just go buy another dress from her local department store.  When Our Heroine texted and emailed coworker to let her know, she was met with dead silence.  Please bear in mind that coworker actually works with Our Heroine and is currently sitting not less than 50 feet away from her.  Oh, yes, coworker knows the situation, but feels the silent treatment is the best solution to the problem.  After all, how dare Our Heroine ruin her wedding so????!!!!  Our Heroine has even offered to pull out so the perfect sea of blue dresses won’t be sullied by different shade.  And still the silent treatment.  Not even a “hey, let me process and I’ll get back to you.”

Our Heroine will not allow the biographer to send a scathing email to coworker, so the biographer (it bears repeating, me, me, me) must sadly settle for passive aggressive ass-chewing via the blog vehicle.

The biographer advises Our Heroine to tell coworker to stick it.  The biographer also knows that Our Heroine is too nice to do that, yet still urges her to reconsider.

[sound effect: the “dun dun” from Law and Order]

*the only untrue part is the seedy office complex.  It’s actually kind of a nice building…

Izzybella and the No Good, Very Bad Day


It’s never the truly catastrophic events in life that turn me into an evil, cranky bitch.  I can find a way of dealing with truly catastrophic, especially with the kind of support system I am blessed enough to have.  No, it’s the little things that get me; that climb into my guts and work their way around, leaving slimy traces clinging to every last nerve I have.  In the grand scheme, everything currently upsetting me is all so silly.  Yet here I am-in a vile mood-the sort that enables me to produce total bitch-face.  In case you’ve never met me in person, that’s the expression I get during my very worst moods that causes all to flee before me.  If you think I’m exaggerating, let me assure you this is one (rare) instance when I mean bid-ness.  When you see that expression, you should walk the other way fast, because I will say something I don’t mean that I will be forced to apologize for later on.  And it’s all over a bunch a stupid, idiotic, lame, stupid things that don’t even matter.  For example…

There’s a person at my office (and this person exists in every office) who is extraordinarily kind to my face and back-stabby to my back.  I heard through the grapevine that she said something snotty about me.  Now this is no surprise.  This person always says snotty things about me, and to be fair, every one else.  So ordinarily I blow it off.  Whatever.  blah, blah, blah.  But it upset me this time.  It really upset me and I want to confront her, but I’m too angry to confront her right now, and anyway confronting her does no good.  I’ve confronted her before and she’s completely oblivious.  She geniunely doesn’t see that she does anything wrong and trying to explain how it is, is pretty much an exercise in futility. 

Then there’s parking.  Nothing to bring an inner rage on like trying to park at the office when there is NO parking available.  Ordinarily I don’t leave the office at lunch, but today I just had to get out.  Went to Best Buy and Barnes and Noble.  When I got back the lot was full.  But I knew classes would be ending soon, so I just pulled up next to the building and waited.  Fifteen minutes later I notice, periphally, that a car is backing out and I missed it.  Stupid me.  I knew by the time I got there someone else would have it, so I let it go.  Ten minutes later my boss walked out.  I explained my predicament and she told me where she was parked.  It was awkward getting there because the lot is angled parking and I was coming from the wrong direction.  Right when I was about to turn into that row, another employee zipped in right in front of me and took the spot.  I tried getting her attention, but she pulled that “I’m-going-to-pretend-I-don’t-see-you” expression and strided on by.  Pissed.  Me.  Off. 


Those are the types of small things that are aggravating me today.  And I’m so controlled, I’m doing all I can to not explode, but the thing is, there’s this deep-down me inside that really, really wants to explode.  I want to lose my temper.  I want to stamp my feet.  I want to tell “the great one from up on high” that she can kiss my fat ass.  I want to punch the parking space thief.  I mean, seriously.  I really want a full-on temper tantrum.  I know that I would regret it the moment I started.  I know I would mean only 25% of what I would say, but damn, it would be so awesome to say the 25% I want to say, but never, ever should.

So instead, I chose the responsible option-ranting and raving on the Internet.  Thanks, Internet.  You’re a pal.

Some Venti Goodness


…or badness.  Depends on your point-of-view, I guess.  Just venting.

I am in a rut.  I’m stuck in a rutty rut that is rut-like.  I need to focus on something outside of work and home-I need something.  Theatre is not working out for me at the moment.  Aside from box office for TA, I haven’t done much with it lately.  MMM is struggling right now.  And anyway, I’m not feeling the theatre joy these days.  My friendships seem to be changing and I’m just at a loss right now.  I feel sort of empty, and yes, I know that is lame and cliched.  But that’s probably about the best word to describe it.  I’m not connected to anything and it’s kind of a depressing, hopeless feeling.

I just need to get my proverbial shit together because I hate feeling this way.

Weekend Buzzkill


One of the very best things about the weekend is those few, brief, precious moments I get to spend doing absolutely NOTHING.  Just reclining on the sofa, flipping through a magazine until I fall asleep-and not deep sleep-it’s that drowsy, relaxed wonderful comfy feeling.  I’m warm.  The dog’s snoring isn’t even bugging me-it’s more like we’re sharing this wonderfully perfect, quiet moment.  And then…

Incoming raging stepmonster.  Pathologically incapable of sitting still for longer than 15 minutes at a time.  And I can’t have that perfect quiet moment while she’s running around hanging wreaths and dusting and picking up dog hair.  I’ve already told her I’ll vacuum and sweep tomorrow, yet there she was picking up dog hair by hand all over the house.  Ya’ll, that’s a losing battle.  We have two yellow labs and they shed.  A lot.  So I ended my perfect quiet moment and swept the front porch while she poked and prodded at the wreath till it was just so.  I reminded her that the fancy vacuum cleaner she paid too much for will do a better job picking up the dog hair than her little two mitts.  Then I took out the garbage and now I’m hiding in the computer room.  She’s finally sitting.  For about 13 more minutes.

Freaking buzzkill.