The 911 Hair Dilemma

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I pulled myself from bed this morning and started my regular routine for a normal school day.

Yeah, you know the type of steps that I’m talking about to get oneself ready for a day of just about any type: showering, shaving, fixing your hair, dressing, eating breakfast, and finally brushing your teeth.

Now, maybe this isn’t your particular schedule, but I imagine that it’s something pretty close.

However, this morning I did the unthinkable…

I did one step out of order: I brushed my teeth after shaving.

Bad move.

I got dressed and—with not a lot of time for breakfast—I headed to school, deciding I’d wear the tie I got from ‘Joey’ for Christmas. After all, I’d left it at school after my last time of wearing it.

I arrived at work around 7:00 and took my stuff to the classroom. I grabbed my tie and headed to a mirror to put it on.

As I looked at my reflection staring back at me, I gasped.

I’d completely forgotten to do anything with my hair.

Whoa, just wait a minute here Teachinfourth, why is this even a concern? After all, doesn’t your hair always have a messy kind of look to it?

Yes, it does…but imagine hair with no gel in it whatsoever.

Needless to say, it wasn’t pretty. I looked like an overgrown Chia Pet. That, or a puffball.

Since I had students arriving in the next few minutes for before-school homework lab, I had no time to drive home and remedy the problem. So, I did what any other sane person would do in my situation.

I called up a friend.

I must admit that it’s a good friend who’d be willing to bring you hair gel at the early hours of the morning, and save you from a notoriously awful ‘bad hair day.’

Yes, that is a good friend, indeed.

Rites of Passage. AKA: The WoMAN Voice

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I finally did it—even after years of careful listening—I mistook my friend’s 11 year-old son for his mother.

I firmly believe that a milestone in life has been reached when a pubescent boy experiences a stretching of limbs, facial features, and vocal chords—making him sound akin to a grown-up woman—not too dissimilar to an adult Michael Jackson.

“Hey *Becky, how’s it going?”

“This isn’t Becky, this is her son, *Joey.”

Verbal Faux pas.

I felt instantaneously terrible for what I’d done; I quickly began to backpedal, talking about how I couldn’t hear properly because the stereo was up far too loud, my windows were down, passing traffic was flying by in the opposite lane, a sonic boom had just thundered down from the heavens, the air-raid sirens had suddenly started blaring signifying a nuclear fallout, and aliens had stolen my eardrums and replaced them with cotton swabs.

As I apologized I though back to the days of my own mom-voiceness, and the numerous callers that would mistake me for my mom. This started to happen so frequently that there came a point where I either wouldn’t answer the phone, or would intentionally lower my voice several octaves so that there would be no way on heaven or Earth that I could be mistaken for her.

It usually didn’t work.

In fact, I can remember one day when I was so sick and tired of saying, “This isn’t her; this is her son,” that I decided to simply roll with it. I carried on a complete conversation with a salesman who was trying to get us to switch our life insurance playing the part of my mother.

I was amazing.

Luckily, this awkward period quickly passed, and I was never mistaken as my mother again.

I arrived back at the present.

“So anyhow, that’s how come I couldn’t tell it was you.”

“Oh, that’s okay…” he responded with a trailed off voice.

I just couldn’t bear to tell him that he did sound like a woman on the phone.

However, maybe I should have. After all, it is a rite of passage…


*These are not their real names; I wanted to protect the identity of both Stephanie and Tanner.

I originally 'aired' this post at Four Perspectives.


Photo shamelessly pilfered from here: http://www.topnotchparents.com

The Visitor - Oddities, Grims, & Bangles...Oh, My!

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I was in the midst of teaching my fifth grade class about the proper way of going about presenting literature responses when the visitor arrived, pushing her way through the classroom door, amid a spangled array of baubles and bangles. She stood for a moment, blinking from behind her thick spectacles and wild tangles of disarrayed hair.

I at first assumed that she was a parent who’d come in for her child’s birthday and the student had failed to inform me of this paltry little detail, so I stepped aside and allowed her the opportunity to present the class with her child’s treats; however, it didn’t take me long to realize that this was not the case whatsoever.

The visitor soon began to utter with ethereal-like tones as she beckoned the students toward the floor in front of her, and commenced to make predictions of the future, mutter incantations, and gabble on and on about something called a grim as she gazed at the ‘portents’ of the leftover dregs of her afternoon coffee break.

The class decided that it was best to humor her; they were polite, answered her questions, and were even willing to nod in agreement at some of her pronouncements of being late and other forecasts that nobody could ever know about occurring.

I snapped a photo or two of this crazy lady to send down to the principal in the event that she were an escaped lunatic or something from the local nut factory. I can only assume so, and I was glad that none of my students were harmed as she whipped her shawls about her and made a dramatic exit out the door, muttering time and time again that my class needed to protect me that crazy grim-thing…

Heavens, I can only wonder why my classroom seems to be a magnet for these types; after all, this isn’t the first time that an occurrence like this has taken place. Why only last year there was some gal by the name of Stargirl who wandered into my classroom, and the year before we were exposed to a truly horrific woman by the name of Spiker. Perhaps even more odd was my first year at this new school when we met a woman I'll simply call Donna because the name she went by was far too long to try to write.

I have only one thing to conclude…my classroom is most certainly becoming flypaper for freaks.

Now I just wish I could get rid of this big, mangy dog that keeps following me everywhere I go…I think it’s a stray.

Essence of the Nitrate Stick

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Though hot dogs have been around for quite some time, historians have yet to nail down their true origins. Yet, the stories of where they came from are most certainly interesting, whether you believe they originated from Homer’s brief reference in the Odyssey to the sausage, the ascription given to German butcher, Hohann Georghehner who lived in the late 1600s as being the creator, or even the attribution of their invention as happening at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904—the St. Louis World’s Fair. Wherever the birthplace of these little beauties, I still find that they taste incredibly awesome.

Speaking of franks, did you know that it wasn’t all that long ago that I was visiting a few friends down in Green River? I’d brought along a few gourmet bologna ponies from the land northward and was out placing these on the grill. I watched them hiss as they hit the barbecue with a sizzle. As the package emptied, I found myself gazing at the juice of these footlongs, still saturating my fingertips. Not wanting to wipe them on my cargos, I instead licked my fingers—not having a paper towel handy.

As the sweetened nectar of these durgers tantalized my taste buds, I realized just how delicious this stuff really was. I glanced at the plastic packaging; there was probably a quarter cup of that sweet essence in the bottom of the hot dog container, just waiting to be appreciated.

I thought about it.

Man, if only I'd had a straw.

I thought how this stuff’d make a wonderful popsicle; hot dog juice flavored frozen delights for a hot summer’s day. Why hadn’t anyone thought of this before?

Pure, unadulterated deliciousness.

I thought about drinking the remaining juice right from the package then and there. After all, I was thirsty, too. Well, that’s about the time everyone else started to come outside bringing the rest of the food for dinner.

I rapidly changed my mind and tossed the package in the trash.

Curses.

Maybe one day...


On a side note, of the facts below, all are true save one...if you want to guess which in the comments, feel free to do so. If not, that's okay as well. You can see the answer yourself by highlighting the section that says, "answer" at the bottom to reveal the lie in all of the truth.

1. The most popular condiment for kids with hot dogs is ketchup, while with adults it’s mustard.

2. The world’s biggest hot dog was 1,996 feet in length and was created by the Sara Lee Company for the Olympics in 1996.

3. The most expensive hot dog in the world was made my Joe Calderone and was sold for nearly $70. It featured not only truffle oil, but duck foie gras, and truffle butter as well.

4. By utilizing tongs or a spatula instead of a fork while grilling, your Dodger Dog loses far less moisture while cooking and all of those succulent juices.

5. Hot dogs are briefly featured in every Meg Ryan film—with the exception of one.

6. The hot dog was approved by NASA as a regular food item on space and shuttle flights.

7. On average, Americans consume 818 hot dogs per second in the United States.

8. The first words Mickey Mouse ever uttered in a cartoon were “hot dogs.”

9. Los Angeles residents consume more hot dogs than any other city.

Answer: #5 At least, not that I know of...

Images borrowed shamelessly from here and here.

The Blogger Barbecue

Pin It The streets twisted and turned through the suburban neighborhoods as I drove past the variety of houses, following the directions preprogrammed into my TomTom device – let’s call her Vicky.

On the seat next to me was the biggest cake wreck I could find. After all, my dad had made it a point to let me know that you never show up to a monumental event like this empty-handed; Faux pas to the infinite degree. So I scoured the bakery department at the local grocery down the street, and found this little beauty…German chocolate with buttercream frosting (and there just might have been some Wookie hair in it too, I can’t really be too sure). A better housewarming gift I could not have preplanned any better.

It was to be a red-letter (not to be confused for a scarlet letter) day for sure; this was the day I finally met Em-Cat, the family of Utah Tib, and the notorious Cheeseboy. What can I say about these three bloggers that you don’t already know? Maybe that they’re amazing? No, I suppose that you already know that.

Curses.

You know, I do find myself in awe at some of the amazing people that are out there, just waiting to be met and work their way into the realm of friendship. I experienced Em-Cat’s sassy mannerisms, Cheeseboy’s awesomeness, and Tib’s views on tapeworms and Rob Thomas (not together, of course). I was even challenged by Ethan to a game of basketball in the front cul-de-sac.

The food was great, and the company was even better. I just wish that I’d have taken more pictures than I did.

I have the world of blogging to thank for it all.

Thank you, Blogger.

L to R: Em-Cat of That's What She Said, Teachinfourth of Adventures and Misadventures of Daily Living, Tib of Shark Bait, and Cheeseboy of The Blog O' Cheese.

We be awesome like that...

Last Weekend

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The Blogger Lunch

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It was a great afternoon. Tib brought these, I brought these, and we all had a ton of fun. It was awesome to spend a little time with (and to finally meet) Tib, Stacey, and Rachel.

I ate far too many rolls.

Hope you can come next time.

There's Still Time...

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Updated: If you decide to come and you don't see us, as the hostess for Teachinfourth's party…we'll be the group having all the fun.

I went out to dinner last night with three of my great friends.

We talked about what was going on in our lives. We laughed about the good times. We discussed our challenges. We spoke about the future.

The food was good, but the company was better.

I am still thinking about later this afternoon, 13 hours from now. There’s still time to come if you change your mind.

I’d love to meet you.

And you’d love to meet me, too.

Texas Roadhouse

200 W. 10600 S.

Sandy, Utah  84070

801-572-7718

I’d Love to Meet You…

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So.

We’ve never actually met in real life now, have we?

Kind of sad, really.

So here’s your chance to turn cyber stalking and online buddyism into a real-live meeting, and a chance at being friends in the real world.

(Cue deep breath).

One week from tomorrow (June 12th) I have decided that I will be driving up to Draper, Utah and will be having lunch at 1:30 at either the Chuck-A-Rama or Texas Roadhouse; I’d love it if you were there, too. Would you join me? Could we be friends in real life instead of merely acquaintances via the anonymity of the Internet?

That would be awesome.

Please feel free to send me an email if you think that you’d like to attend this particular blogger lunch at teachinfourth@yahoo.

But teachinfourth…what if nobody shows up? Are you still going to go? Would you really eat all alone? Which of the two places will it really be: Chuck-A-Rama or Texas Roadhouse? How will I recognize you?

It’s still okay. Yes. Yes. I don’t know, I guess I’ll let the vote decide, just check out which place it will be when the voting ends at noon on Friday. Look for the guy with the spiky hair and the lack of B.O.


Hope to see you there…and tell you what, I’ll even blog about our meeting.

Texas Roadhouse

200 W. 10600 South
Sandy, UT 84070 

801-572-7718

Chuck-A-Rama

12344 South Minuteman

Draper, Utah

801-748-4850

The California Experience - Day 2

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You know the drill…enjoy…we're off…

The California Experience - Day 1

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While I could put each of these photos in chronological order as to how the events unfolded, explain the story behind each and every one, as well as chronicle the adventures thus far, I will forbear, mostly because I could spend my time either organizing or seeking out new adventures.

I know what you're thinking…'Hey, Teachinfourth, it's nearly noon there, how come you aren't out right now adventuring?' Well, this would be mostly due to the fact that our tour guide is a night owl, and isn't quite ready to venture out into the waking world. You know, sparkly vampires, sunlight, and all that.

But it will be soon - The word I hated as a child used when asked 'when' - soon that we'll be on our way back to San Francisco to explore Chinatown, partake of goodness at The Cheesecake Factory, and then top it all off with tickets to the Orpheum Theatre to see Wicked.

Exciting? You ask…

Is sunburn about the hottest thing there is?

So, for your viewing perusal, I present (in no particular order) just a few of the sights of the events that have unfolded thus far.

Enjoy.

More adventures later.

By the way, it's funny…I can tell every single photo that was taken with my camera as opposed to the other two…can you?