Of the Reproductive System...

Seen and heard in science class today:

1. After a lengthy discussion about cells, including reproductive cells:

"Ms. Kinney, can you get pregnant from swallowing sperm cells?"

2. After asking the kids to name some organs of the human body:

Child 1: "Liver"
Child 2: "Kidney"
Child 3: "Heart"
Child 4: "Scrotum"

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

For the record, scrotum is not an organ.  If he really wanted to be obnoxious AND get the question right he would have said testicles.

Also.  Started my first day as assistant academic team coach.  I swear. These are my people.  I was made for this gig.  Leader of the nerd herd.  Love. It.

Peace, Love and Reproduction,
Claire

P.S. I am absolutely incapable of teaching about the reproductive system without singing the song "Reproduction" from Grease 2.  Who has even seen Grease 2? Answer: No one except me and the girl that made me watch it in college.  Here's to you Melissa Coffey, for making me sit through 2 hours of potentially the worst movie ever made.

Koumpounophobia

It's high time you learned a little more about me and I am prepared to make a very serious confession to all of blog world (at least the approximately 9 people who actually read my blog).  

I have button phobia.  As in I think buttons are the most wretched invention since the history of time. Koumpounophobia is the fear of buttons (usually just the plastic ones) on clothing...and I am self diagnosed.  

Once in Kindergarten, I wouldn't sit next to my best friend on the bus because she had a baseball shirt on.  I am not even exaggerating.  I am hesitant to touch people wearing buttons and I only wear them when absolutely necessary and I almost always feel really uncomfortable when I do and change as soon as possible.  

One of the worst days of my elementary school career involved a blue plaid sweat suit with decorative buttons (really awful because the buttons were non-functional).  It was while I was wearing this abomination, as forced by my mother, that I had my card flipped to orange for the first time in my entire life and had to sit out part of recess.  AWFUL.  I blame the buttons.  (I really do...I can't be expected to act myself when I wear them)

I am not alone in my fear, also suffering is my main man, Steve Jobs.  Now, Stevie has recently stepped down as CEO of apple...but I am serious when I tell you that old boy owes a lot to his phobia.  Obviously, I have done extensive research on the topic and the reason Apple has come out with so many touch screen products is because Steve hates buttons.  So much that the Apple stores in Tokyo don't have buttons on the elevator...making you stop at every floor.  Also the reason he ALWAYS wears turtle necks.  That's my boy.  Anyone else every noticed the AWESOME uniforms Apple employees wear? The polo shirts with out the collar and buttons? Like a polo t-shirt.  It's sweet.  I wish IncrediPet would pick up on this idea. 

I almost had to leave the theater when previews for Coraline came on.  I wish I was kidding.  My roommate in college thought it was hilarious to leave strings of buttons around our room.  I could barely touch them to get them out.  

This is the sad, but true account of my deep and intense hatred for buttons.  I don't even like typing the word.  It's also made SO MUCH worse by people who over pronounces the double ts in the word.  (saying BuT-Tens).  

Well. I am counting on a heaven that does not include buttons and only includes angel robes that zip up the back...or better yet...you can slip over your head.  

Peace, Love and Zippers, 

Claire 

Some Things to Consider: 

1. Has God ever slapped you in the face?  If you're thinking about making a negative definitive decision about someone, just go ahead and reverse it...because they're probably going to come back in your life in a way you never expected.  Touche God. Touche.  I hope you're enjoying a good laugh.  

2. Today a child puked in my classroom.  It almost caused me to break my 11 year puke-free streak.  Thankfully I had to hold it together for my students, or my record would have been broken.  It was a serious close call.  Close enough that I broke my anti-anti-bacterial pact.  My room was clorox wiped from top to bottom.  Good bye germs.  Quit being butt heads.  

Thoughts on Today

My intentions for today:

1. Work
2. Dog Park with the Coop
3. Redecorate bedroom
4. Laundry
5. Start Couch to 5k
6. Eat nutritious dinner
7. Watch Bachelor Pad

Granted...this was a little lofty...but what resulted is just sad.

What actually happened

1. Work
2. No Dog Park, Sad Dog
3. Lay on Couch
4. Play on Facebook
5. StumbleUpon
6. Eat ice cream, mac and cheese and triscuits for dinner
7. Watch Bachelor Pad

I guess I got the first and the last right? Ah well...some days are just like that.  Tomorrow we set smaller, more reasonable goals.

ON a different note a student came up to me today, arms spread and said the following:

"I'm a hugger!!!" Then she hugged me...for the third time...in three days.  If you have read my blog before you know how I feel about hugs.  If not...read about it here.

It could be a long year on that front.  Maybe I'll start throwing out the hand for a hand shake or high five. I feel like she'd be a classic diverter.  

Other than my serial hugger... my kids seem like a charming bunch...but then again, they all do for the first week of school...I'm waiting for the flood gates to break.  And when it does...I'll be armed with silent lunch and my sassy tude.

Ah Well.

Peace, Love and Unnecessary Touching,

Claire

Nightmares

I have always had vivid dreams.  I dream in color and I remember them, and a lot of times my dreams get really insane.  So, for that reason, I guess I'll tear myself away from watching Bachelor Pad and the woes of Jake and Vienna to tell you about some of my recent nightmares.

Dream 1: After a long day of work moonlighting as a pet care expert at IncrediPet,  I come home to my apartment tired.  However, when I walk up to my door, it is open. This obviously scares me, so I go hide on the steps up to my apartment where I call my mom.  Because obviously my hundred some pound 5'4" mother is going to help me with an intruder.  Police?? Who needs them? So my mom comes rushing over purse swinging and is like, "Claire, get up, you're being ridiculous, just go in your apartment.  Come here." So my mom goes to my door and yells, "Hey. Is anyone in here?" At this point, we see movement coming from my utility closet and out of the closet comes none other than Morgan Freeman because Morgan Freeman clearly needs to steal my furnace.  Morgan Freeman slowly walks over to the door where my mom and I are standing, picks up a hammer and hammers my mom in the head. He turns to me and swings...and I wake up.  For the record, I have not watched Driving Ms. Daisy recently.  Also. Is Morgan Freeman ever a bad guy?? I woke up from this dream legitimately terrified. I was even trying to come up with someone who would move in with me because there was no way I was living alone anymore.  Owen did not help matters when he attacked my hand as I went to turn off my alarm.  I won't lie...I screamed.

Dream 2: The first of many dreams that I have ruined my career.  Last year before the beginning of school, I had a dream that I was 5 hours late to the first day of school.  This year I dreamed that I showed up, but had nothing prepared.  The kids sat and stared at me.  Also, the kids were only a year younger than me and all they did was stare at me and tell me that I had no authority in teaching them.  I have actually had multiple, multiple dreams along these same lines, and every time I, for whatever reason, get very stressed about my first day of school power point.  I finally did my power point the other day, so I would quit dreaming it wasn't finished, but it didn't help...it just shifted my dreams to ones like...

Dream 3: I show up for the first day of school and it goes fine...but on the second day of school I call in sick because I have a meeting for my haunted house job.  However, around noon, I remember that I've left no sub plans.  I rush to school and all three of the other teachers are walking down the hallway toward me, mean girls style.  I pass them and say, "Oh my gosh guys! I totally forgot my sub plans! I'm a terrible teacher!" They look at me and say, "Yes! You are." and then walk away in step with each other. Then. I'm supposed to get new desks at the end of the first week of school.  The teacher next door took my desks, which coincidentally are neon colors and look like they are made for barbies.  I asked her if I could have her old ones...she told me she needed them all and too bad.  The third day of school my kids sat on the floor.

I am infamous for my dream life.  As a child, I sleep walked like it was my job.  Once I came up to my mom and told her I was ready for school about 10 minutes after I went to sleep.  I also couldn't watch Disney movies because I had consistent nightmares about the villains.  The eels from Little Mermaid definitely swam around my bed at some point and the Huns from Mulan definitely invaded my house and hid in the crawl space.  I would have thought that I would grow out of these ridiculous dreams...but I guess not.

Peace, Love and Rem,
Claire

Some Things to Consider:

I think Owen is autistic.  He is overstimulated pretty much constantly and here is a pic of Owen doing what he does on a very VERY regular basis...staring at himself in the chandelier...in fact...he is doing it from a different vantage point as I type this.

Fright Night: The Beginning

Note that I have used the ever popular colon in this title...indicating that I am both very serious about this topic and there are more (hopefully many) to come.

As many of you may know, Halloween is my least favorite holiday...ever.  I hate it even more than the Valentine's day I spent sitting alone in my dorm room eating Chinese food while the rest of my best friends were on dates with their boyfriends...or the Christmas banquet I went to as a seventh wheel.  (Do the math...three couples plus me) Anyway, my point is...I hate Halloween.

This is how I view it: As a kid Halloween is awesome.  You wear super great costumes (if you are me you got to be a Claire-ibu (like a Caribou, get it...?) and Albert Einstein...CHA-CHING!) AND you get tons of candy. Win win situation.  Then, sometime in high school, the tables start to turn, you're too old to go trick-or-treating and too young to really party it up, so you end up spending the evening handing out candy with your parents...awesome. (or, if you're me...you spend the evening on a band trip...which always seemed to happen) Then college comes around and it's suddenly popular to dress as a slutty something (slutty lumber jack and slutty darth vader are some of my favorites that I've seeen) and get schmammered.  Not really my scene.  Combo this mess with my intense hatred for all things scary and you can pretty much chalk up the last two weeks of October as a loss for me.

So, my dear friend Justin has a differing view...in that he's basically obsessed with Halloween and spends more time than I care to know thinking about fake body parts and his dream of owning a haunted house conglomeration. SO naturally, when Justin heard about the opportunity to be an actor in a Haunted House, he jumped at the opportunity.  AND when he heard about the intense shortage of people, he started recruiting and talking about it NON-STOP.  So.  After Justin texted me the number to call every day and promised me a pack of popsicles if I did it, I gave the guy a call and found my self at a meeting this evening for people interested in acting Fright Night at Jacobson Park.  I. Don't. Know. How. This. Happened.

Well. Let me tell you, if you are interested in some good people watching...go to a meeting for people interested in acting in a haunted house.  One of the guys running this deal was wearing creepy contacts and when his phone went off it legitimately played the Halloween theme song.  I mean really...can you be any more stereotypical? Also. If I had a dollar for every facial piercing in the place...I wouldn't have to teach anymore...I can tell you that much. Also. There was an intense amount of black.  I looked a little out of place...but what else is new?

So, part of this meeting was going through the haunted house with the lights on...this was legitimately interesting.  The owner also talked to us in every room and told us all the inner workings.  Also. Let me describe the owner for you: Blonde Dread locks, eyebrow ring, lip ring, beard, HUGE muscles and I'm ashamed to admit...oddly attractive. He also had all kinds of sweet lingo..for instance...Haunted House...shorten that to The Haunt...sounds much cooler right?  Further also, there is no air conditioning in this place, so everyone's eyeliner and guyliner is starting to run and you can see the sweat beading up around this facial piercings...no bueno.

After the tour, we went outside again, discussed some logistics and signed up, which involved waiting in line and getting your picture taken.  So. I guess I'm signed up to scare the crap out of some people come October. Apparently I also get to be trained in the art...this should be interesting...

Peace, Love and Creepers,
Claire

BK: Have It Your Way

This post goes out to my new BFFL Ramiero.

Who's Ramiero?

My Burger King Lover.

Unfortunately, VERY unfortunately for both my budget and my calorie count (which I don't count..but whatevs), there is a Burger King on my way to work for the summer.  You may be thinking that Burger King is gross, and you would be correct if you are thinking about Whoppers and Whopper Jrs with Cheese.  Those are gross.  However, their Cini-Minis are about the best thing I ever put in my mouth and they have Coke products, helping me to spur on my ever increasing addiction to Diet Coke.  Also, none of this requires me to actually cook in the morning, or even make sure that I have groceries in my refrigerator.

So. Every morning for like 4 weeks now I have been stopping at BK to help out my bleak breakfast situation.  Enter Ramiero.

For the first 3.5 weeks, Ramiero never really said anything, he just handed me my Cini-Minis and Diet Coke and we were on our way.  He back to his fryer...me on to my darling children awaiting me in the nine zillion degree weather.

It all changed a week and a half ago when I brought my own diet coke from home.  Woah did that one throw him for a loop.  "No Diet Coke for you Baby?" he asked me.

The next day, not wanting to stress Ramiero out any more than necessary and having an intense love for diet coke in a cup with ice, I got my usual.  At this point Ramiero starts being extra nice to me and calling me sweetheart.  Cha-Ching.

The next day I pull up to the drive through and Ramiero comes on the speaker and says, "Cini-Minis and a Medium Diet Coke?" Oh yes.

The next day:

Ramiero: "Welcome to Burger King. Would you like to try Cini-Minis and a Medium Diet Coke?"

Ohhh snap...Ramiero pulled a funny!

The next day:

Rameiro: "Oh no baby!! We are out of Cini-Minis!!!"
Me: "It's fine! No stress." (Secretly I was a little stressed...I'm developing a healthy addiction, but I wasn't going to make Ramiero feel worse than he already did)
Rameiro: "Sweetheart I was so stressed this morning, they only gave me TWO Cini-Minis for the morning and some lady came and ordered both of them and I though OH NO! So here's your Diet Coke, it's on me."

Today:

Ramiero: "Baby, I am making you some fresh Cini-Minis and it is all on me today."

Oooohh Yeah. This kid now has Burger King Connections.

I add Ramiero to the gas station attendant at Thorntons and the owner of Roly Poly, who recognized me even after I had been away at college for three years.  I guess you just don't forget a mug like mine...or I'm just such an extreme creature of habit that I just pound my face into people's mind by shear force.

Peace, Love and New Friends,

Claire

Some Things to Consider:

1. Yesterday a kid in my group at camp farted.  Me and my entire pack literally laughed for 20 minutes about this.  It was then that I realized that my true calling really is teaching middle school.  I'm sorry, I don't care who you are...farting in stinking hilarious...every time.  Especially when it is coming out of the cutest little Asian child you have ever seen.

2.  I'm going to start going back to school this week...I am BEYOND excited!!

Potty Stories

Working with elementary kids again really makes me remember what is so precious about them.  I mean, they're adoring, actually cute (I don't have to pretend they are cute like I do with  my 8th graders), sweet and many other things.  However, they do come with some issues that 8th graders normally don't.  (Note the use of the word normally, I use it loosely).  The bulk of which involve the bathroom.  Elementary kids for the most part have figured out the bathroom situation, but there are definitely slip ups.

At camp the kids use porta-pots.  Delightful. I know...but what do you expect for a government run day camp that costs $100 for two weeks? There are two actual bathrooms with plumbing, but they are for adults only. Thank goodness.  Kids are rough on bathrooms.  Anyway, I thought I'd share some bathroom stories from years past.

Musical Feces:

Once at camp we were playing musical chairs.  Packs 1 and 2 (6 and 7 year olds).  The kids are going around, having a good old time when I start to notice a stench.  I don't think a lot about it because kids also fart a lot.  But at this point I also start to notice some mud on the chairs.  Well. At the time I thought it was mud.  More and more chairs are gaining mud, when I figure out that it probably isn't mud.  Crap. Literally.  However, at this point I have no way of knowing who the culprit is...and it's not like I can just scream "Alright kiddos, who took a dump in their pants and is smearing it all over the chairs like a monkey!?" So. I did what every good counselor does, I let the kids finish the game...when the poop stopped, I knew the kid who went out last was my pooper.  Well. The chairs continued to get poopy until the very last.  I did a little sniff test and as it would turn out, our winner also had a winner in their pants...which she promptly denied.  Also. Her mom refused to bring the poor girl a change of clothes.  Super nice.

I gotta go:

Camper: Umm. Miss Claire, when are we going up the hill?
Me: In about 5 minutes

Three minutes later

Camper: Umm. Miss Claire, when are we going up the hill?
Me: In about  5 minutes.
Camper: You said that a long time ago.
Me: Well. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow bud and it isn't time yet.
Camper: Well. I really gotta poop, so do you think we could hurry this process up?


Poop is not only limited to children for me.  I've been pooped on by a bird three times to date:

Location 1: Freshman year - First band contest ever, waiting for awards...square in the middle of my hat.  There were literally 200 people who noticed this before me and laughed.

Location 2: Also band, this time Junior year - Warming up for a football game, right on my jacket.  I go see our uniform crew, they die laughing and proceed to call me the bird poop girl for the rest of my band career.

Location 3: Lecturing my campers on respect and listening to me when a bird dropped on right on my lap.  Nice.

Well friends, that's all for today...hope I didn't gross you out too much,

Peace, Love and the Pot,
Claire