Your friendly neighborhood reminder if you haven't checked out: The Glossary Update.

You know what looks so good on paper but sucks? Profiteroles. Those fucking things are pretty anticlimactic.

Jenn heard--on the news--overweight people referred to as: "People of size." What a sensitive world we live in. In which we live.

I watched a rerun of The O.C. on TV the other night, and all I can say is damn, if you haven't seen Summer in a while, she sure is pretty. That's my lady.

I too am in the framing business.

You know what sucks balls? Hazelnut coffee. Barf. So fucking weaksauce. I am not really feeling any of the flavored coffees. Although true to Rotten Robbie (gas station) Crack Coffee form, if I am somewhere where the coffee sucks, I will rock that Coffee-Mate French Vanilla creamer shit. That shit makes shitty coffee taste like not-shit. Heh. It makes it taste like, well, French Vanilla. Which is a sexy taste. And I take solace in the high ratio of overlap between people/places that have shitty coffee and provide access to that Coffee-Mate French Vanilla shit. Owning that stuff is almost like admitting, "Hey, I make shitty coffee. But I do treat myself to some cracked-out creamy, sugary flavor."

You know what else always brings a smile to my face? When in books, movies, and TV shows, some cheesy woman cries out "Hold me" to some fucking dude. Hold this, baby.

*Crotch Gesture*

Germs and Adulthood: When you are a kid, you don’t know about germs. You don’t know about the evil that festers...everywhere. The invisible killer. I watched my summer school kids sharing lip gloss, putting their hands all over each other's food, eating food off the floor, picking up trash and then eating it, not washing their hands after the bathroom, and all sorts of nasty business. Germs are something that you have to be smart enough to fear. That's my new theory. Kids and dumb people don’t go around afraid of germs; they don’t know any better. Genius that I am, I take all the necessary steps to minimize germ contact. So my theory holds true...

Remember when we were in college and Bert had just got a brand-new computer and we were hanging out in his room, all drunk and shit, and my monkeyboy self picked up a recently blown out candle and succumbed to the urge to pick it up and throw it up in the air with a spinning motion and hot wax went shooting out all over Bert's new rig? That was not good times...

You know what I never thought of before that is hella dirty? Pearl Jam. Are you guys named after the making of the pearl necklace?

I don’t know if you are aware of this, but technically and traditionally speaking, manners dictate that a man does not offer his hand (for shaking) to a woman; if a woman wishes to extend her hand to a man upon introduction or greeting, it is up to her.
Sincerely,
Miss Manners

I was talking to one of my favorite students, little Miss Attitude herself, and she said that her mom bugs her because she (her mom) is lazy. She said her mom doesn’t work or nothing. Her step-dad does though. So I asked her if she ever sees her father. She said, "He doesn’t really want to see me." So I said, "Screw him." Then she said, "Loooooooooooooser. But he still has to pay child support." You know she got a high-5 for that one.

Proof I am Maturing: When I first started fucking with Half-Pans, many years ago, I would eat the entire pizza in one sitting. These days, it is usually 2 meals. For fuck's sake, just the other weekend I made 3 whole meals out of what used to be 1. And if you think this is just some Half-Pan anomaly, I will have you know that I went to an All-You-Can-Eat Indian food buffet with Mikey last week and I didn’t even need to be carried out. Although I was soooooooooooooo full. And if we are going to be honest, you should probably know that I ate the Half-Pan (sausage; is there any other kind) for Saturday lunch, Sunday lunch, and Sunday dinner. So it wasn’t exactly a "healthy" thing. Plus you know I noshed on some nuts.

Hey Fellows (guy dudes; not all dudes): Once, I asked Megara a very important question. You know how as guys we sometimes get those questions that we need a good female friend to answer for us, to shed some light on some feminine issue for us? OK, so you know how sometimes a girl will graze/brush/rub her boobies up against you when you are nonsexually talking/hanging out/whatever (like if you are at a public gathering of whatever ilk)? I asked her if/how much control girls have of their boobies in those scenarios (i.e. is she rubbing her boobies up against me on purpose or does she not know she is rubbing her boobies up against me or does she know that she is but she isn’t really trying to rub them up against me?). I asked Megara if girls knew/didn’t know/didn’t have real boobie control, and she told me that for the most part (that there are obviously accidental boobie contacts initiated by girls, but that those would fall more in the "light-grazing" category), when a girl brushes her boobies up against a guy, she is doing it on purpose. See, this is the good shit to know...

Boobies.

You know what I love: Those nights where you feel like you ate as well as anyone else on Earth. Do you know what I mean? Niko smoked some pork and some briscuit for like 9 hours on Saturday, and I had one of those "feelings." Go the grouse.

Not to be confused with the following morning's feelings.

And I ended up eating so much that I couldn’t go out.

We were having some drinks, talking about different kinds of whales, and you know Mr. Justin was all, "SPERM WHALE." And then I was "and they swim too." Why are Sperm Whales called Sperm Whales? Are they inordinately shaped like sperm?

My students were complaining about one of the teachers at the school, and how that teacher is mean to students. One of the students said, "______ needs to get..." and my tactful little princess, already mentioned above, saved the day by blurting out, "...a massage." Good times...

Last day of the summer program, and I went around the class and had everybody check in on how they would rate their experience in the summer program (scale: 1 to 10). The Jean Shorts/Dirty South kid (who I love and think is hilarious) gave it a 7, which was actually a pretty low score compared to his classmates. I asked him why just a 7 (especially since he made so many invaluable contributions to me giving it a 10), and he said, "Cuz on the CS Monterey field trip, when we all got McDonalds for lunch, you guys said we would get fries, but we didn’t." Alex has some pretty high standards/tough grading criteria.

*Rubric*

Speaking of, I just want to say that while I totally see the value of grading rubrics and stuff, both for students in order to more clearly understand expectations and for teachers to more easily grade papers, it is weird to me how I feel like there was no such thing as a rubric 10 years ago when I was in high school, and now they are everywhere.

Seriously though, the kids were soooooooooooooo excited for the McDonalds lunch that day. I spent the whole bus ride over there reciting creepy facts about McDonalds food, just grossing them out. Talking about e coli in burger meat, how the fast food cows are treated, how their french fries are deep fried not once but twice, and how their "chicken" nuggets and "chicken" sandwiches aren’t really real pieces of chicken, but are ground up combinations of dark meat, gristle, fat, and even bone, shaped together from mush into whatever shape is then fried and served to them. Making 13-year-old girls squeal is like shooting fish in a barrel.

We were reviewing some presentation techniques/skills for the exhibition the students would be having for their parents, and I was having students call out different aspects that made for a successful presentation/speech (for a small audience). One student said, "Don’t just stare at my mom." Later, when I was summarizing all the points the students had named, you can be damn sure I included, "Don't just stare at Abraham's mom." We all thought that was good times, even Abraham.

Do you ever get drunk and call 1800 DO-IT-NOW? Me too. I can't believe that guy hasn’t changed his number yet. His voice on the voicemail doesn’t sound like he is the type of guy who really enjoys having 1800 DO-IT-NOW as his phone number. Ingrate.

That Guy: This week I wanna go with a younger, more up-and-coming That Guy (although upon IMDB research, I find that he is 52-years-old). His name is David Morse, and although he is young, he is already getting himself out there and has a fan-based website. I can't help but wonder if David still has hopes and dreams of becoming a superfamous, first tier actor, or if he is comfortable with the idea of building up an impressive That Guy resume. Hmmm. Do you think his wife is ever like, "Forget being superfamous. You just be the best That Guy you can be." Or do you think she gets drunk and talks shit to him, saying shit like, "Aren't you the guy from 12 Monkeys." Good times...

Plum Roles Include:
Dancer in the Dark
The Green Mile
The Negotiator
Contact
Extreme Measures (Tagline: Not all surgery is intended to cure. Don't move a muscle)
12 Monkeys
The Rock
The Langoliers (I have to include this one even though I have never seen it cuz Bert is all about it)
Max Dugan Returns
St. Elsewhere

by Justin
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