End Of An Era

Iris is old and needs replacing. It has come down to this: I really, really need a new computer.

 

For over a year now, her screen has become increasingly pixilated, to the point where some days, I can’t read anything at all. For the past six months, I get a bi-daily reminder that her start-up disk is almost full. I know that all of this can be fixed, but I am not really sure of how to go about that. In addition, seven years is a really good run for a cute little iBook G4. She can rest soon. But my heart doesn’t want her to. Is it strange to be emotionally attached to a computer? I feel as though everything important that I have done over the last seven years has happened with help from or because of Iris. I typed all my lesson plans for student teaching and my first year of teaching on her. My certification portfolio was published on her. I applied for Le Cordon Bleu using her browser. She and I conceived a blog together. A blog that I cannot read at all right now because she is having a bad screen day.

 

When I finally get over my bizarre attachment, then I am hoping for some renewed blogging enthusiasm. That, and not having to email solely by iPhone.

Bachelorette Party Pooper

I just got an invitation to a bachelorette party and I am taking some issue with the following:

1. Bachelorette parties. I have a bias. I think bachelor parties are okay. They look like fun, not humiliating to anyone in particular, and like somewhat “normal” dude activities. That is not saying, however, that I would be in support of any man that was going to marry me having one, but, hey, I’m all about the double standard. Seriously, though, dudes in a bar/strip club on a Saturday? Not a shocking surprise.

Tell me, ladies, when is the last time you hit the town with your girlfriends wearing a veil? Do you often make t-shirts with candy stuck to it and ask strangers to pay you to eat one of them off your boob? How many times do you hang out while sipping a cocktail out of a plastic penis?

Bachelorette parties seem forced to me, like the girls are trying really hard to prove that they are crazy and having lots of fun. Plus, I see them out and about and I get embarrassed. For the bride-to-be, for me, for my gender. I’m anti.

2. The invite reads, “Please bring a pair of pantys for the bride. It’s for a game, no need to wrap!”

A) The spelling error. The invitation is typed up and printed, people. Come on.

B) The word “panties.” Gross. Worst word in English. Bar none.

3. It goes on, “The bride is a small/34 C for those interested in bringing a lingere gift.”

A) Here we go again! Doesn’t spell check come installed these days?

B) Small? 34 C? Excuse me while I go binge on Dexatrim.

C) I’m not, nor will I ever be, interested in bringing a lingerie gift. To anyone, barely even myself. It’s like saying, “Here, I’m giving you this so that you go get freaky. I’ve put thought into your getting freaky, perhaps even imagined a scenario in which you wear this little number while getting it on.” I don’t want my friends thinking of me this way, nor do I want them thinking of me thinking of them this way. Not cool.

But even with all my negativities and objections, I will go to said party, the third pre-wedding event for this friend, because I love my friend and she is so over-the-moon happy these days. No one can take issue with that.

Exposed

“I found your blog.”

Panic constricted my throat and I felt the flush from the inside, radiating outward in a blazing crimson. I was very hot. My eyes could only focus downwards, away from his eyes.

It is the thing I do that I hold close, that I don’t tell people about. I like to write but I am humiliated by it, exposed in a way that is more real than flesh.

I never wanted him to know. I thought I could hide it forever, especially if I just didn’t write anymore.

But I have been outed. And he is all the more aware of what he’s got, for better or for worse.

He May Never Learn

Student: Ughhhh..stop bothering me!!!!!!

Me: What’s going on over there?

Student: Miss, he keeps bothering me!!

Me: Oh, he’s just flirting with you.

Student: Well, tell him he’s doing it wrong!

Can We Say Potential Lawsuit?

Last week, my boss asked me when I was going to have a baby.

Today at lunch, he looked at another single female employee and I and asked when we were going to get married.

It could be argued that it was a pathetic attempt at conversation. But I can’t help but wonder where he was during every single human resources sexual harassment and gender equality lecture since the dawn of time.