Even though she had a baby with Scott, I still think she's the smartest person on that show, don't you?

I was having a bad day yesterday. A really bad day. Someone -- I'm not going to mention any names here -- forgot he needed to come home from work a half an hour early so I could get to an important meeting on time. By the time he got home, I was running VERY late and freaking out. THEN, I got stuck behind a line of 15-20 vehicles that were all stuck behind a huge construction vehicle, so for the last ten miles I was going 30 miles per hour in a 55 mile an hour zone. GUH!! Then, THEN, just when I thought I couldn't feel any more stabby, as I glanced in the mirror to make sure my rage hadn't ruined my make-up, I saw a HUGE WHITE HAIR, hanging right down in my face. 

That was the last straw. I was in full oh-woe-is-me mode.

Here's where things got zany. Out of nowhere, I heard Kourtney Kardashian's voice. (That doesn't ever happen to you? Strange.)

Yes, this Kourtney Kardashian.

In a recent episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians, Kim's fiancee threw her in the ocean in Bora Bora and one of her humongous diamond earrings fell to the bottom of the sea. While she cried about it, her sister Kourtney scolded, "People are starving, Kim."

Burn.

And she was so right. I know, I know, you assumed you couldn't learn anything from Reality TV, but you were wrong. My problems are nothing compared to those of others.

Although ... it's not like I'm necessarily in a position where losing a diamond earring is NBD because I have 50 bajillion dollars and can go buy diamond earrings for every person I've ever met without batting an eye. So, I mean ... I guess that "your problems are not as bad as other people's" argument really applies to her more. 

But wait, WAIT. I figured it out again. Here's why I have things to be grateful for even though I am poor and have never been to Bora Bora: I don't have an ugly fiancee who has the same name as my mother (Ick. Just ick.) who throws me into large bodies of water when I beg him not to, PLUS I didn't make a sex tape with an ugly man who pretends to be able to sing. 

Got you there, Kim! I'll just sit here, poor as we may be, with my handsome husband who has never thrown me into an ocean against my will and doesn't lose my jewelry. I may have a white hair and road rage, but people don't make fun of my butt on TV every day. Life is good.

That's not all Reality TV has taught me. Check it:

From Sixteen and Pregnant and Teen Mom, I learned to not let a teenage boy impregnate me (check and CHECK.)
From 19 Kids and Counting, I learned to avoid ... well, you know. Millions of kids.
From Sister Wives, I learned to not marry a man with a Sammy Hagar haircut.
From Rock of Love, I learned if you ever see Brett Michaels, RUN IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. 
From Flavor of Love, I learned if you ever see Flavor Flav, get him to record the outgoing message on your cell phone. That shit will NEVER not be funny.

And that, my friends, is why Reality TV is the shiz.

What have you learned from Reality TV?

Choose Your Own Adventure. But Not Really. But Kind of ...

So, I was in the Burger King drive-thru (SHUT UP, healthy pregnant ladies!!!!) because it turns out the baby prefers fast food to anything healthy, and I had me a little "moment."


I was waiting patiently for my food and to scratch off the "Edward" to see if I won a prize, and I heard the guy behind shout his order at the top of his lungs (probably not necessary) in a mean, bark-y voice.  I very clearly heard him shout "I need three whoppers, two small fries, and two small cokes!!" and the drive-thru girl respond, "Okay, three whoppers, two small fries, and two small cokes?  Is this correct?"  What does this filthy hick shout back at her?  Not "Thanks for dealing with my rude, really fast order!" but, "Are you serious?!?!?  That is NOT what I said at all!!!  Can you give me what I actually ordered the first time, which is one whopper, one large fry, and two large cokes?!?!  Or is that too much to ask?  How hard is it to actually do your job??  JESUS!!"


Okay, it turns out I get the rage pretty easily, especially when it comes to rude strangers.  Whether they are cutting me off, being rude to people in the service industry, or getting in my way so I can't get to gettin', rude strangers really get my blood boiling.  So I did the only natural thing:  I shouted out my window, "Her job isn't that hard if you don't change your order and scream at her!!!!!!"


Then I threw open my car door, ran back to his car, karate chopped him in the neck to disable him, and grabbed his windpipe.  I forced him to apologize to the drive-thru girl and then apologize to me for existing, then got back in my car, got my chicken sandwich, and drove away.


Well, not really, but that was my one and only dream in that moment.


What really happened is after I screamed out the window and realized that I had shouted at two dirty, rude hillbillies and I was trapped behind another car and couldn't drive off and escape if they decided to kill me, I got a TAD nervous.  A dozen scenarios flashed through my mind involving them whipping out their Confederate flags and shotguns and running toward my car letting loose war whoops. 


But after a minute, I realized ... there was no reaction from them at all.  That means they either ignored me or didn't hear me.  And here comes the big dilemma:  Even though I had just realized how foolish it was for me to shout out the window and risk death or maiming, I REALLY thought I should yell AGAIN, because if they didn't hear me, then how would they ever learn?


Just then I was handed my delicious fast food, and my decision was made for me -- drive off into the sunset and just assume they didn't react because they were busy doing some soul-searching and realizing they should change their ways and apologize to every person they had ever wronged.  


Why did I share this story?  I have no idea.  But I have a  few possible morals you could glean from it, like a Choose Your Own Adventure book (how much did you love those?):


1.  If you are a horrible person who is rude to strangers and thinks of no one but yourself, there are people out there like ME, who want nothing more than to hold your head under water.  Keep that in mind.


2.  It is seriously not that hard to be polite to strangers, and especially people who have to deal with people all day, like servers and fast food workers.  Not hard at all.


3.  Maybe you shouldn't yell at people out of your car window when you are trapped and can't drive away.  Because I bet there are people who would hurt or kill you, even if you are eight months pregnant.


4.  Or maybe you should ALWAYS yell admonishments out your car window.  Especially at people who clearly don't know how to drive, because maybe they just never KNEW they were doing it all wrong, and in that case you are giving them an important life lesson, and they would probably thank you and send you a muffin basket if they had your address.  


Well, now I'm confused.  And maybe you are too.  But just take comfort in the knowledge that I DID get my food and devoured it and then felt fantastic at work because of the amazing magical power that crappy food provides me when I am oh-so-pregnant. 

The Lost Art of Paying Attention to Details

I am a composition instructor for a private college.  You might not be able to guess it from this blog, but I am a stickler for details.  Grammar, punctuation, layout:  There are rules, and they should be followed.  


My students freak out when I walk past them and say things like, "Oops, you have an extra space between those two words" or "It looks like your margins are 1.2 inches; make sure you set them to 1 inch."  They are like HOW DO YOU DO THAT, YOU CRAZY WITCH WITH LASER EYES??!?! and I just remind them that I see HUNDREDS of papers every few weeks.


I obviously don't tell them that surface features are more important than content and development and originality and whatnot, but I tell them that once they have that content, they should pay attention to the surface and make it as pleasing to the readers' eyes as possible, because that is what makes documents professional.


I really try to model professional writing with my students at all times.  It's too bad my husband tries to sabotage that.


Back when we were dating, I was in my first year of teaching at Central Michigan University.  We spent a lot of our free time at my apartment because I usually had tons of crap to do and was always reading drafts and answering student e-mails.  Also, I liked my apartment better, but that is neither here nor there.


Anywho, one night, I was at Jeremy's apartment and I jumped on his computer to get some work done while he was watching a baseball game.  I had an e-mail from a student who was really struggling to put her paper together.  She had sent me a draft and asked for comments.  I spent a long time giving her ideas and pointers and comments.  At this time, I was using the comment feature on Word that adds little bubbles along the margins and saves it as a whole new document.  I finished, double-checked all my comments to make sure they made sense and had no spelling errors, attached the document to the e-mail, and sent it off.


After sending the e-mail, I decided to create a document to distribute in class the next day, and opened Word again.  As it was loading up, I just happened to notice the registration information on my lovely boyfriend's version of Word -- Author: Jeremy, Registered to: MY ASS.


PANIC.  I opened the e-mail I had just sent to my student and rolled over each of the comments.  Every time my mouse rolled over a comment, a little bubble appeared, announcing the same information -- Comment author: Jeremy, Registered to: MY ASS.


I screamed at Jeremy to come look at what had just happened, and what does he do?  LAUGH AT ME.  Ha ha, that's so funny that you sent that to your student.  Really?  REALLY?!?!  Get ready to be my sugar daddy when I get FIRED!!


Jeremy was quick to point out that had I noticed that BEFORE sending out the e-mail, I might have avoided the situation.  You know, by paying attention to details, like I ask my students to.


Eff that noise.  I didn't take into account that my loving boyfriend might SABOTAGE my career.  But now I do.  Oh yes, I always assume sabotage. My best advice: CONSTANT VIGILANCE, my friends.  You never know when someone might trick you into making an ass of yourself.  You can take that advice to the bank, people.

Super-Important Life Lessons that You Need to Read and Memorize IMMEDIATELY

So, last week I had a little adventure.  And that little adventure ended up costing me approximately $3.2 billion.  Or something.  So, my little Chickadees, I thought I would save YOU the time, money, and embarrassment of a similar situation by raining some important life lessons down on you.  Ready? 

LESSON 1:  If you feel like speeding down a quiet, deserted country road late at night -- the kind that is all smooth and straight and flat and car-free and glorious and makes you want to roll down the windows, turn up the music and speed -- DON'T.  Just DON'T.  The Sheriff in those parts is likely bored and hiding in a bush somewhere.

LESSON 2:  If you ARE speeding down a quiet, flat deserted country road late at night after a 12-hour work day and you exhibit such suspicious behaviors such as immediately pulling over your Ford Focus (with the ASPCA sticker on it), putting on your flashers, and putting your hands on the steering wheel, you are sending a secret message to the Sheriff.  That message is: You are dangerous.  

LESSON 3:  Therefore, said Sheriff will NOT come to the driver's side window like a normal cop.  Instead, he will creep up on the passenger side and then pop up like a jack-in-the box.  When he does this, do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT allow yourself to be scared and say something stupid like "OH MY GOD, YOU SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME ... I mean, hello officer.  How are you this fine evening?"  This, combined with the English textbooks in your backseat and the ungraded student papers in the front seat will cause Sheriff #1 to signal his friend, Sheriff #2.

LESSON 3:  Here's where it gets tricky.  You should have NOTICED that signal, and that way you would be able to anticipate that Sheriff #2 was about to show up and lean in your open driver's side window and get two inches from your face and then snap on a flashlight.  In this case, PLEASE also avoid being startled.  This will only further convince them that you are drunk, a meth lord, a human smuggler, or a serial killer.  This will lead to many questions and flashlights in your face and other scare tactics that are very effective on pregnant English professors.  DO NOT CRY.

LESSON 4:  It turns out, you have to renew the registration on your plates every year.  No, like EVERY year.  Even if ... stay with me ... the Secretary of State sends your renewal forms to your OLD address (you know, the apartment complex where the new residents are likely to see the envelope and be all "not my problem" and throw it away) and NOT the address on your driver's license.  No one cares if this happens to you.  YOU are still the idiot because you didn't notice that you hadn't gotten that form yet this year.

LESSON 5:  In this type of situation, once you have given Sheriff #1 and Sheriff #2 your license, registration, and proof of insurance, they will make you wait in your car for TWENTY TWO MINUTES until they come back.  Get ready to see those flashing lights in your mirrors for long enough to drive you insane.

LESSON 6:  When Sheriff #1 comes back and tells you that your insurance is also expired, don't enact the following conversation:
S #1:  Okay, your insurance is also expired.

You:  No, it's not.

S #1:  Yes, it is.

You:  NO, seriously, it's NOT.  

S #1:  Ma'am, look at the date on this piece of paper.

You:  Hmm.  Irrelevant.  My husband just put a new one in my car like 3 weeks ago, so it's here somewhere.  I thought he replaced the old one with the new one ... ?

S #1:  Ma'am.  I have no idea what your husband did with the paper that YOU are supposed to be in charge of when you are in a moving vehicle.

You:  Ha.  Ha ha ha.  Of course.  Sorry officer.  But I swear, I HAVE insurance.  We can call them.  Will that work?

S #1:  Ma'am ... sigh ... how about I just give you this ticket and then you can leave?

You:  Okay, sounds great. But I totally have up-to-date insurance.  Just so you know.

S #1:  Well, that's great, because usually in a situation like this, we tow the car away.  But I think I should just give you this ticket and let you go home instead.

You:  Sounds fantastic.

S #1:  Sigh.

SUB-LESSSON (6.b.):  If you are prone to ignoring your dear husband when he gives you important documents, like your proof of insurance, he will instead start putting said documents in your car FOR you.  However, he might NOT put them in the handy little marked book in your driver's side visor that says "REGISTRATION AND INSURANCE."  No, he will put it somewhere else. Somewhere where you will never think to look.  And then a Sheriff will threaten to tow your car.  So, pay attention to your dear husband when he tries to give you important documents.

And finally, LESSON 7:  The Secretary of State is NO PLACE for a pregnant woman who was recently told by her doctor to get more rest and stay calm if this woman also cannot tolerate foolishness.  I'll leave it at that.

THE END.