Sunday, March 29, 2009

Recession and T-Ball

Recession brings people to desperation. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I can't imagine the choices one would be forced to make if feeding his or her family were at stake. I'm sure that some are desperate enough to do things that in normal circumstances they would be incapable of doing. This is not to be taken lightly.

But, on a lighter note, I generally provide one of those, there are also desperate moves that are goin' on during this time that are not a result of survival, but merely something else...which I can't yet put my ring-less finger on. Yes that's right, I'm talking about desperate moves made by men, more appropriately titled, boys. Moves that make me say out loud, "hmmmm?" and also "huh?" I have touched on my "When it rains it pours" theory before. Well it still has yet to be disproved. We got most of the P1-P4's outta there and now there's a whole 'nother team up at bat. I can't help but use the baseball analogy as it has come in so handy within the last 10 minutes of my life. I jokingly told a friend (with whom I discuss matters with as if he were a woman, far too often) that I am "out of his league." His response was that I was right, he's in the major leagues and I play "T-ball." Only one appropriate response from me: Touche. I took it with a subtle nod of agreement. If I had a tail it would currently be in between the legs of my plaid pajama pants! I agree with my littler than Little League status (unwillingly) because when it comes to dating I DO feel like I'm playing fricken T-ball!

I often admit I'm not a pro, however being less than an expert should not force one to go play with 4 year olds! That came out wrong, try to follow. I've played the real game before. I probably would've been on a team like the Padres. They certainly are not the best (tough to say as a San Diegan), but they continue to give it their all even after a terrible, embarrassing game (after game, after game...) and those Padres are very lovable for it. So I'm in the league I should be in; for a 20-something, after having done the serious relationship thing for almost 5 years, dating around a bit etc. But I can't find anyone around who wants to play with me! OK that sounded bad. What I'm saying is, the ones that wanna "play" (attempt keeping your mind outta the gutter!) seem to be only capable of playing T-ball. I feel like throwing my bat (possibly even at a male in close proximity) and screaming "I don't wanna play T-ball anymore!"

Here are some of my stats:
Within the last week I've had 4 past "players" text me. Apparently, text messages are the new phone call? Anyway, I haven't heard from Texter #1 in a good 6 months. He felt it was okay to text at 2:00 in the morning. Do I look like that kind of baseball player? (Insert the answer "no" here). Please don't BT (booty text) me at 2:00 in the morning...or ever, obviously. A) I'm aware it's the weekend, but still am tired from working two jobs during the week and am not even awake at that hour B) Even if I was awake, I have some self-respect, thank you very much, and am not ready and willing to be "called up to bat" at any given moment! C) How dare you?! and D) How dare you again?! It seemed like it should be said twice for emphasis!
T1 clearly has some issues and is desperate enough to move to the Booty Text. Wow. Texter #2 texted me this evening and had to literally write his name and where I know him from before the actual message. It went something like this:
"Hey Sara, it's (insert name) from (insert location we met at). Long time no talk. How ya doin?"
It took me a few minutes, and I have a pretty decent memory! It has literally been a full year since I saw or heard from T2. He took me out to dinner and a movie once, coffee another time, and I'll admit it, sat next to me in class so we could flirt and write notes. Wow Point Loma dating scene was so lame. Anyway, homeboy is even older than I am (really should be in the majors by now) and still can't get a clue. I wasn't super interested at the time so the never-called-again thing didn't really phase me...'til tonight.  Why after a year are you contacting me?! Obviously neither one of us liked each other that much anyway. Is it because it's wedding season and these dudes are depressed or something? It's also bathing suit season, that seems much more depressing to me! What is going on? He had unconvincing reasoning and we went back and forth a bit with friendly catching up as I didn't want to be a total hag. His last message (infuriating mind you) was to have a great week and he "promised" he'd keep in touch. After consulting my aforementioned wise friend, I replied, "You don't have to promise, I won't be holding my breath." The kicker...are you ready for it, T2 had the audacity to reply, "Not even a little?" ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Wow, I'm seriously playing T-ball. I replied, "This is where I stop texting. Good night"

P4, see "When it rains..." post, continues to text after my quasi-dump. He was a relationship guy (a seemingly big leagues quality) and was moving pretty rapidly. Long story short, I wasn't that into it, couldn't see a future, broke it off. (Remember he doesn't love Jesus? Deal breaker.) Tonight we wrote a bit (I have unlimited texting in case that concern crossed your mind at this point) and within a matter of minutes he said he misses and thinks of me constantly AND that a friend "Julie" was coming in from Colorado to stay with him. I thought nothing of it. 1) Whatever. 2) I have no right to care. Then he was dumb enough to say that they used to "hook up" but now they just "sleep together." Since P4 is a relationship guy, he really does enjoy literally sleeping with someone. After commenting that I am his first choice (to sleep next to maybe?) he made it pretty clear that there was some baggage with this Julie chick etc etc. Again, reasons 1 and 2 from above apply. I made a joke about it being a good thing we're not dating now. He wrote again that he missed me and wished I was there with him. Since I'm not retarded, I caught on that "Julie" would be sleeping in his bed and it's pretty ridiculous that he says he wishes I was well? Going for utterly catty-girl I said "Yea the three of us sure would be warm" The T-ball player replied, "Yea, I need to get a bigger bed. Gnight". Is this a desperate measure for jealousy? Some sort of reverse psychology tactic? No more.

Texter 3 and Texter 4 aren't worth the energy it takes to type. I think you get the picture. My stats are low...or high, whatever is BAD in baseball!

I'm tired. It's not the major leagues, but it's still exhausting!

Thursday, March 26, 2009


I've been dancing all week, four hours a day. I have the sore body and bruises to prove it. It's amazing to me how there are certain things in life that make us (or at least make me) utterly focused. Dance is one of those things. I don't dance often enough, but every time I do, I say to myself, "Why don't I do this more?!" It's sort of like cooking for me. For some reason my brain tells me it's more fun to go out to eat. Then, I take the time to cook, go through the process, put on the cute apron blah blah blah...and realize cooking is great and just like dancing, I should do it more often! Today as I sat (perched rather) in an awkward break-dancing position, this is where the bruises come from, it made me really think. Now normally, I don't need help thinking, this analytical-beyond-over-thinker has enough thoughts on her own. However, dancing takes away the wheels on the bus going round and round type thinking and all the sudden turns me into a focused thinker. I'm focused on good things, things that make me smile and life worth while. Some might compare it to going to Costco. Not really. It's much, much more than the rush of a Costco trip.

Seriously though I can't help but feel beautiful when I dance, even in the "8-step position" where my badonkadonk is in the air and the sweat from my red cheeks is falling to the floor beneath my hands! All inhibition goes out the window and the choreography has my attention. I think of only how my body is moving and how much I love it...and my life. As I am forced to look at myself in the wall of mirror, I see a metaphor staring me in the face. I'm forced to "spot" all day, using my own face as my spot. The key to spotting is to look in one specific place until the last possible second, then turn one's head quickly enough to see that place again. I can see the beauty in the turn, turn my head only long enough to find that beauty again. Failing to do this correctly results in losing my balance and sometimes even hitting the ground. If my eyes leave my "spot" for even half a second longer than they should, I'm clumsily falling out of the turn and in most cases getting hurt.

When I was a cheerleader in high school, spotting was totally different. In cheer terms, this meant making sure the 90 lb. girl in the air didn't crash to her death on the loose dirt track. Back then, spotting was for keeping as safe as possible when you knew a fall was coming. Now, and in dance, it's for attempting to prevent the fall before it occurs. I'm getting too old (and by old I mean SMART) to keep doing things that result in falls, even if I've become an expert at catching myself before totally hitting the ground. This week I'm reminded to prevent the falls instead. I'm no longer a cheerleader. Dancing reminds me to spot.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Nice Rack

I am extremely sore and joyfully exhausted. This week has been fantastic...and it's only Wednesday. After a day of cardio hip hop, break dancing and learning incredible choreographed routines I went home to hit the shower. That's how you know I got worked. Normally after a hard workout, I'm all about hitting the errands sans an in-between shower. These days though, the dancin madness has got me resorting to cleanliness! I've been sweating like a man...more than an average man probably.

 After a shower and Advil I was ready to conquer my to-do list of errands. I started out picking up my bartending paycheck. I just love having two makes it seem like there's always someone paying me! My manager (the "mo-fo" abolitionist) had left a message for me earlier asking if I could work on Saturday morning. Let me just say that Saturday is my ONLY day off. In a given week I work forty hours teaching and two nights mixin' 'dem drinks (okay, pouring ice teas mostly but you get the point). Even if I were to decline a Saturday shift simply for my mental and physical health, I think that'd be acceptable. This week, I was already on an extra two nights. I said nothing, and took them as I was available and let's face it, have a spending problem which makes more cash flow hard to turn down. So, that puts me at four nights this week, in addition to my "day" job. Aside from an already reasonable excuse (not going nucking futs on a Saturday morning) I had a prior that involves a shower to attend for a wedding in which my sister is the bride and I am the Maid of Honor! My manager walked away P.O.-ed (awesome acronym I haven't used in at least a decade) and mumbled, "OK, well don't say I don't offer you hours."Ah well, paycheck picked up, deposited, on with my life...

My next stop was Costco, always slightly overwhelming and inspiring at the same time. When I go to Costco I have certain things in mind. Generally they include feminine products (enough to last 3 months for the price of a 20-pack, ladies you know what I'm sayin'), 10-packs of Trident (I just simply can't resist it, it's an impulse buy in all honesty) and before I worked in a building with an Oasis of Arrowhead water available to me, cases of Kirkland H2O made the list as well. The warehouse full of well-priced goods makes me a little stressed, then I think about how one day I too will be one of those women, shopping at Costco, who can spend $15 on enormous boxes of protein bars and fruit trays that last a life time...or until they perish. Costco isn't like Target, screaming babies must be stopped at the giant doorway or something. Mothers are happy, children are happy and everyone is considerate and enjoying the frozen ravioli and spinach dip samples passed out by women in hairnets. How can you leave without being inspired to live life?!

Here's where things go haywire. The next discount store on the agenda is Ross. This is where I'll find a sexy pair of panties to finish off the bride's shower gift. There will be enough oohing and awwing over sets of bathroom towels, this MOH's gift will get those shower ladies smiling...not to mention I can cross "Sis' red chonies" off my to-do list. Ross is always an adventure. Unlike Costco, it is uninspiring. Let's call it a "cultural experience" for lack of a better term. After about 10 minutes of blue tooth lady speaking Vietnamese (in a very high pitched voice) and Mexican child screaming "Mira!" I was ready to hit the roped line and get outta there. As a stood behind not so Costco-considerate folk, I was anxious. sweating. itchy. Two dresses caught my attention. Hey, we all should know how to self-sooth I guess. Each was under $9.99 and ya know what crossed my mind?...I deserve those. Without trying them on, I confidently took them up to the register (with the red panties) and purchased them like no one's biz. BTW, tried them on at I know how to pick 'em or what?! Perfect.

The plan of attack was to hit up Borders next to find Grandma another Word Search book. I sent her one for Valentines' Day and she has been raving about it ever since. She just loves those word searches, not to be confused with cross word puzzles! Borders has 500 page word search books whereas Target, where she normally frequents for these treats, only carries 100 page books (lame). I got side-tracked...and ended up at a little piece of heaven called...Nordstrom Rack. I like to refer to it as Nice Rack. I also have a friend named Nichole who is called Nice-hole...I'm a little off. Anyway, if you don't know about this haven of glory, in a word, it is...spectacular. I found a close parking spot, although I did not pray for it! As I walked up to the sliding automatic doors I had to remind myself, "Lingerie for Sister, nothing for YOU! Lingerie for Sister, nothing for YOU!" I did it quietly so that my craziness wasn't too apparent. I found the perfect "outfit" for the Lingerie party which will occur at her Bachelorette weekend getaway I am throwing. In case you're wondering,...Yes, I am an experienced Bridesmaid. This will be my 5th time and by October I will have 6 under my belt (or spanks rather). Instead of the saying "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride" I prefer, "Always a hot bridesmaid, soon to be a bride in the future ;)" Mission accomplished. Another check off the list.

Borders is now closed and the most amazing TV show ever is starting in 20 minutes. I speak of LOST. I really am obsessed. If I get to know a man and he does NOT watch it, he better work pretty hard to impress me, or catch up on the DVD's real fast! Wednesday night a productive one. Now I'll lay in bed, bask in my soreness and dream of hip hop moves that I'll practice tomorrow...and maybe of Costco too!

Monday, March 23, 2009

We represent the LOLLI-POP kids!

This week we represent the HIPPI-HOP kids! I have the privilege of working at a school that is legit...too legit to quit (hey hey!)

I came from a previous job that couldn't be more opposite than the current. My principal micro-managed her staff, and not to mention, the children (which bothered me most!) They are human beings, not robots. They are full of quirks and craziness, embrace it! Basically the last place was not a fit for me, and I was not at all a fit for them...too wild. I think my boss considered me an untamed horse...with too many clothes.Side note: The principal at my current school, which we call a "director" asked me what my last name was this morning. Awesome.

My current job allows me to have the most amazing next month ever. For the next two weeks I am heading up one of our "Intersession" teams with another hip hop enthusiast. We are taking a group of 27 students to an incredible dance studio to dance for the next 5 days from 10:30 in the morning to 3:30 in the afternoon! I feel like a teenage girl again...back at cheer camp where I'd dance all day and fail to ever pry the smile off of my red cheeks!

 Since we are not going to the studio for classes today, I will be teaching a routine to our kids! Are you kidding me? I feel like I shouldn't even be paid to do this! After these two weeks of Intersession, we have something even better...where (although I love kids of course) there will be no children, nothing but silence, and free time. Yes that's right, I will have 2 weeks of SPRING BREAK! If I were a logical gal I'd be bummed because I won't be getting paid for those two weeks...but I'm NOT. I'll enjoy my time immensely and the lack of a paycheck will figure itself out of course.

Lovin' life.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Grey turned black and white...but mostly black

So as I briefly mentioned in my "Tangent Tuesday" stint, some gray area in my life just turned well, a lot less grey. This is all in reference to P4. Here's a little taste of how p4 treats B.S.S (Blonde Story, for the slow learners-I always have you in mind as a Special Needs teacher!) Anyway, for productivity's sake, I'll give some examples in list form-my unspoken thoughts in parentheses as usual:

Some of my text-tastic treats:
"Ur such a sweetheart, I like you" (Ok fine)
"That's one of the reasons I like're funny and clever" (Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all night, don't forget to tip your waitress!)
"I love your eyes. Seriously I get lost in them, you don't even know the power you have." (I could really take advantage of that! But I'll try not to)
This is the kinda stuff that I've been hearin' from P4. This paired with consistency, thoughtfulness and wanting me to have dinner with his parents (which I gracefully denied) all sounds fantastic right? Well, yes it is all fantastic however; another name for this man could be Mr. Grey! In other words, I'm so in the middle! I can't figure out if I like him, or just like being liked. Don't hate me, I already hate myself for having said that. I feel like one of those retarded (so un-PC, especially in my field) girls in movies that you wanna kick and give a pony-pull. I've been waitin' it out and unsuccessful to find things that sway me one way or the other...from grey to white (meaning super into it) or black (meaning totally over it). By the way welcome to my color code for relationships!

Well, a deep (one of the first I shall point out) conversation last night kicked me right into the black category. This is actually ironic because this white girl was called a "black" racial slur yesterday by a student! I gave the kid our version of lunch-time detention , that little slip up will have a certain 7th grader picking up trash tomorrow while his friends enjoy lunch time bball. Lesson: Don't mess with Miss Sara,or call her the "N" word! Okay back on track (only Tuesdays allow for that kind of tangent!)
Mr Grey (now Mr Black) does not like (for lack of a better term) many things that for me...are just plain deal-breakers. Again, a list form...including only the 2 biggies:
1) Asking questions..."I like asking YOU questions, but don't really care about anyone else." My confused response, "...but people like answering questions." This kind of person is mind-boggling to me. How can you NOT want to know about people and their lives and passions and even just how their day was?! Hello? That's what this whole thing is all about!
2) He doesn't believe in GOD. Whoa. I don't even know what to say. That is absolutely, positively a deal-breaker. How sad for P4.
My two loves in life (shoes take 3rd place): God and people.
Seriously? I couldn't have gone from gray to black any quicker...just ask the kid who "slurred" me!
Gotta love dating.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Tangeant Tuesday, brought to you by the overthinker

I should feel refreshed after a relaxing (sorta) 3-day weekend. That's the thing about being in education, the people that run our schedules think we deserve many random 3-day weekends, and I concur. I'm not exactly refreshed however, since I am in the spin cycle of my over-thinking...just keep going around and around!

I have many tangents today.

I just found out that this week we are going to be doing Sex-Ed in the 7th grade tomorrow. Lookin forward to that, especially with these 12 year-old yahoos!

Happy St. Paty's Day. Hope you're wearing green.

I wish there was a book of rules for life...especially for relationships. Black and white could actually be really helpful in certain cases. Unfortunately, most decisions are based on some sorta gray shade. As of an hour ago, my gray sitch just showed its black hue. A decision made. fewf.

I got a rolled up dollar put in my hand by a 92 year old customer I served last night. She looked up from her dark, large glasses and wig bangs and whispered, "Go buy yourself an ice cream cone or something." Based on that statement, I assumed it was only $1, a standard "extra" tip. I checked it out once she left and it was 20 bones! That filled my gas tank.

Lookin' forward to a short week of STD's (teaching Sex Ed, not poor choices in my personal life), friends in town, lots o' sleep, eating groceries instead of food out, good weather and a tax return!

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Blatter Pattern

A co-worker and I keep running into each other in the "Teacher" bathroom. After the standard passing with a smile, 30-second convo, we decided we must be on the same "schedule"...I added, "Or the same blatter pattern!" (laughter, laughter, laughter) It's a good thing these people are easily amused. Also, they might think I'm insane.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009


This was one of those Monday mornings where I literally say out-loud, "Seriously?!"
I skipped the morning cardio due to Daylight Savings too tired and too dark. I got up and through the a.m. routine (including a bowl of nutritious cranberry oatmeal...adding a dash of cinnamon makes all the difference!) I was out the door in under 30 minutes and only going to be about 10 minutes late for work instead of the usual 15-20.I have this buffer...I technically should arrive at 8:00, however there are rarely students there for morning tutoring before 8:30. So, you can see where the temptation to sleep a little longer comes into play. I decided it would be wise to use my "extra" time and last two $1 bills on an iced decaf from the coffee stand minutes from my house then headed to work, only 3 minutes away.

Blinker on, about to turn into school, I realized the delicious beverage had spilled from the bottom of the plastic cup...and onto my boob! This may have been salvageable except for the fact that I was wearing a white polo shirt! The quarter-sized spot was very obvious and impossible to get by junior highers. The blinker was no longer for turning left, it was for making a U-turn. I had to go back home and change my freakin shirt. Now I really had to utilize my half-hour of buffer.

I shared my fun story with two friends. My mistake, they were both male. The first response: "Man, now I'm gonna think about your boob all day!" The second: "I've never wanted to be coffee more in my life!" predictable, I shoulda seen that coming.

I left the entertaining Monday Morning sitch saying nothing more than...Seriously?!

Monday, March 9, 2009

My 2 latest issues involve the word "MO-FO"

Let's start with "Mo-fo" issue #1.
Last Monday I was asked to make a list of helpful hints for a coworker (at my bartending job). She would be opening the bar solo the next day and needed some essential reminders...things like; put place mats and rolled up silverware out so people can help themselves etc...just your average list of frivolous information that surprisingly makes a difference. I titled the list "Things that will make life easier." I got a friendly call from my manager on Saturday. FYI I'm not a fan of work related calls on Saturdays-I tend your bar 2 nights a week, beyond that I'd like you to pretend I don't exist!
She asked me if I remembered #5 on my list of reminders. Obvious response-"Um...nope." There's only so much room in this head and trust me there's already a lot goin' on up there, I don't recall what "#5."  She continued, "Well you wrote, 'Make extra iced tea, people drink it like Mo-fos'" Then there was some silence and confusion on my end. My defense: a) I put my list in a place where no one could see it b) The horrific #5 was on page three of a tiny server pad, invisible to the naked eye and c) It was a fricken joke! They really do drink insane amounts of iced tea! OK fine, I'm immature.

I got scolded (like a struggling child) for poor judgment, use of language and insensitivity to the generational gap. According to Manager, "Being called a mother ****er is pretty hard to misinterpret." Does anybody else see how ridiculous this is? And since said new bartender was the only person who should've been behind that bar at 11:00am, I think our main concern outta be: Who's snoopin' around the liquor?!
Crisis overted. Didn't get fired.

Mo-fo issue #2...all within the same week mind you:
I'm not a man. Shocker I know. Because I'm not a man, there are certain things I just will never understand. I'll skip the whole football topic (rules of the game and general interest in it are mind-boggling) and move along, in consideration to your time as a reader of course.

I've been seeing (casually seeing, I have commitment issues) a new guy-"P4" for those of you with some prior knowledge. He's super, super sweet. He is consistent, thoughtful and thus far I like what I see. It's making the daunting task of dating bearable for sure. There's only one problem...he TOO likes the word mo-fo...only not the abridged version! He doesn't always use that distasteful word, but seldom is too much. It is just beyond me why some men (I said some, trying to get away from blanket statements) think talking like this is cool. The part that interests me about this particular gentleman is the sweet part! I'm not in the market for Mr. BADA$$! I know there are many girls that don't exactly disprove the "nice guys finish last" theory, I've been one of them in my time. But, the reality of the situation is that the legit girls (tooting my own horn as I include myself in this group) like the NICE guys! The mo-fo talk is totally over-rated. If anyone is impressed by this, it's going to be a bunch of a bar...that ride Harleys!

Here's to a brighter (literally) week...without any mo-fos in it!

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Life lessons and Algebra

As I've shared before, I love an almost freakish sorta way. I love how predictable it all can be. There's an established rule for everything. I also really like rules....sometimes. It's the teacher in me, sometimes at odds with the hippie in me, balance is the key right?
I love how there's only one answer for each problem in Algebra. There's one rule. Sometimes there's an exception to that rule, but once you've experienced and memorized this exception, you're okay...things are back to being predictable.
Life lessons on the other hand, are the contrary; unpredictable, full of way more than one exception to the "rule," and even once you've learned the exception, there are many more to come, more to experience and figure out. More that are unknown, unsafe and can even be devastating.

You can't predict when or how you will get hurt, who will hurt you, or on an even more terrifying note, who will love you. It's all ultra-unexpected and most of all, unpredictable. I don't know how many times I have to be reminded by life circumstances (or by the "universe" for the new-agey folk out there) that certain things are unsafe. I used to recklessly say (and make decisions accordingly) that "unsafe is the new safe." An unsafe person was actually safe...listen to the preposterous logic: If I know they're unsafe, I won't allow myself to get too close, then they can't really hurt me...which means they end up actually being surprisingly safe in the long run. Obviously this logic is not at all actually ends up being pretty destructive.

So, with new perspective in mind, new "rules" if you will, we attempt to make better and more productive decisions. Who we let in, who we love and let love us. But, because of random life chaos, we can't ever be totally prepared, even with all of the rules and exceptions memorized. There are always more exceptions to learn and experience, leaving us (or at least me), only hopeful that the learning will be bearable and hopefully even a little fun.

Which is the wiser choice: allowing only Algebraic-type situations in life where things always make sense and follow the rules, staying away from chaotic exceptions...or diving into the unpredictability with as much insight and wisdom as we possibly can, allowing for the inevitable, pain?