"At-Risk" Lexicon.

Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics
just one explication really and it is a direct quote

Most of you know I have worked with "At-risk" teenagers most of my teaching career. I have been out of the "biz" for the past 2 years because I have been attempting to raise my kiddos.

I have returned. Different school, different state, same kids. Teaching little delinquents is a little like watching Jerry Springer, you are so horrified you can't change the channel.

I have decided to share a few statements that have survived in infamy over my career and some new ones I am sure will join them.

Here are some student classics, sure to remain with me forever, or maybe just a really long time.

1. "Redickless": Misspelling of the word ridiculous.

When to use: Incredibly appropriate for many ridiculous situations.

2. "How'ma gonna smoke this, Bitch!": Statement made by a student to a store clerk who wouldn't sell her wrapping papers for her marijuana. She allegedly pulled out her bag of weed and showed it to the clerk to illustrate her point. Not so genius when you are wearing your school uniform.

When to use: This statement is perfect whenever one does not get their way, even if the situation doesn't involve elicit drug use.

3. "But don't you see, it's just like Days of our Lives!": Comment made during a conflict resolution between a girl, "Aspiring Porn Star" and her boyfriend "Thought She Truly Loved Me". Thought She Truly Loved Me(TSTLM) and Aspiring Porn Star (APS) had been together for at least a year, but all along she had been dating an older boy (Hotter than You) on the side and dropped the "I'm engaged to Hotter than You" Bomb on TSTLM who didn't know that Hotter than You even existed. There was a sea of 16 year old tears during which APS said, "But don't you see, it's just like Days of our Lives!" Yes, little 16 year old children, being a porn star is a quality career choice and yes, life is just like it is on TV.

When to use: Whenever life gets to the unbelievable crazy point, which at my house is ever day.


More Later

Muscle Car Mania

Thanksgiving thankfulness #2 : I am thankful for the 2010 muscle cars. They are so sexy. I feel the same about muscle cars as I did about Jonathan Knight from NKOTB when I was 12. I get giddy every time I see one. I do believe I need to get a poster of the Camaro and hang it above my bed. And every night as I drift off to sleep I will have "Bitchin' Camaro" by The Dead Milkmen running through my head.

"Bitchin' Camaro, Bitchin' Camaro!

I ran over my neighbors
Bitchin' Camaro, Bitchin' Camaro!
Now I'm in all the papers"

Aren't those tail lights hot?!?

I really am a bit befuddled by my recent attraction to cars. In general I have never cared about cars, especially sports cars.


I guess there was that time in my college years that I really really wanted an old land cruiser, but since then practicality has ruled my life.


Perhaps it is a subconscious longing for a little more glamor in my life or the desire for fancy expensive things that I have worked so hard to squelch. Maybe it is the wild, untamed freedom that muscle cars stand for. Maybe I am hitting my midlife crisis early. Whatever the reason, as soon as they add a 3rd row seating option to accommodate my brood, I am buying a muscle car!

Attitude of Gratitude

"Attitude of Gratitude" for some reason that little cheesy, rhymey rhyme makes me want to barf. It is not that I don't believe in being grateful, I sure as hell do! I guess I just don't believe in being cheesy.

So, with that in mind, I am going to jump on the thankful full season of Thanksgiving in this the thankful month of November bandwagon, but in my own, No Excuses, hopefully not too cheesy sort of way.

Today I am thankful I was not born into idiocy.

I work with a lot of kids who were born into complete asinine, idiotic stupidity. The poor stupid things really just don't have a chance. "My momma raised me up good. She was only 16 and didn't have no high school dee-ploma. She smoked pot when she was preggers with me too an look! I turned out just fine. And my daddy, he in jail." You begin to wonder why at some point no one looked around and saw that their life was a complete mess and realized hey, maybe there is a better way to go about things. Perhaps I don't have to start smoking when I am 6, get pregnant by 14, drop out of high school, smoke myself retarded by 18, and by age 20 have 4 kids each with a different daddy and every single one of those daddies in jail. It seems to be a never ending revolving door of dumb dumbs from which there is no escape.

Thank you Heavenly Father for not landing me in that big pile of stinky doo doo.

I am thankful that I was born into a legacy of education and integrity which I am honored to pass on to my children. I am lucky enough to come from pretty smart parents and they had pretty smart parents too. They believed that getting an education and living a moral life were important. So thank you Mom, Dad, Grandpas, Grandmas, Aunts, Uncles, and of course N-laws too for not being idiots or raising idiot children!

Dear Love's Truck Stop, I Hate You!

Dear Loves,

The other day I stopped at your establishment on my way to work. I am a tutor and it is generally a tedious job. I need a little happy in a cup so I can make it through. This particular day was looking to be extra craptacular, but I was running late and didn't have time to go a little out of my way to stop at my usual Diet Coke spot. Since your store is on my direct route I thought perhaps you could fulfill my needs. Oh, Loves, you disappointed me so!

Why in Heaven's name can't you get lids that actually fit your 44 oz cups? Really, is it that hard?!? I know you are just being the cheap bastard you are, but this is why it doesn't pay in the long run.

I ruined at least 5 lids before I finally got one to barely cling to the lip of the cup. Yup, 5 lids in the trash.

Then after paying $1.freaking50, hopping in my car, and speeding recklessly out of your parking lot, I reached down to my cup holder and tried to pick up my cup, but because the lid was not on securely, because it didn't fit, I dropped my 44 oz of Diet Coke, Sweet Nectar of the Gods, and it exploded all over the floor of my car.

And since I was running late, I didn't have the time to run back in the store and unleash the furies of a crazy woman without a diet coke. I could only pull over, carefully lift my floor mat up and dump my precious, all 44 oz, (well except the puddle still on the floor of my car) out onto the street all the while screaming obscenities that I had forgotten I knew.

And that is why, Dear Loves, I hate you! I hate you, hate you, hate you! And I will never ever ever ever step foot inside your white trash fest establishment again!

Sincerely,

Ranting Crazy Woman without her Diet Coke who has Totally Lost her Schmidt!

Pigsty

The reason my blog is titled No Excuses is because: 1) I believe people should take responsibility for their crap and not blame it on others or circumstances, 2) I believe one should be themselves and not excuse or apologize for their beliefs and personality.

I have found an area in my life that needs improving in the "No Excuses" department. I am constantly apologizing and making excuses for the messiness of my house. I may have spent the entire day working my guts out cleaning, and someone comes over and I say, "Sorry my house is a mess." Well, it's stupid and I'm not doing it anymore.

My house is messy. It is not so bad that you will get a disease from using my bathroom or anything, but there is just a general feeling of messiness. There are toys all over, the sink is full of dishes, if you walk on my kitchen floor barefoot you are bound to have a chunk of something squish up between your toes, I am not sure I even have a duster and I haven't seen the floor in my bedroom in months but, you know what, when I stand at the Pearly Gates, I don't want my life's accomplishment to be, "She had a clean house."

I am no longer going to make excuses. I'm going to just be me and when you come over to my house, you can check out my mess and say to yourself, "Really? There are cheerios stuck to her walls!" You can go home feeling better about yourself because your house may be a little messy too, but at least when your kid throws soggy Cheerios to the wall you clean them off.

I will lift the self esteem of every woman who comes through my door and I will do it one cluttery pile of crap stashed in a corner at a time.

O.D.D.

***Disclaimer***

It is not the intention of this post or its author to trivialize an actual mental disorder or to make fun of persons who struggle with a mental disorder. The author of this post is just trying to explain and understand her uncontrollable desire to "give the bird" to anyone and everyone who tells her what to do.


The beautiful thing about the internet is there is no longer a need for one to go to a Dr. for a diagnosis. Based on some recent self realizations and Google Health I have determined that I have O.D.D.

Oppositional defiant disorder (O.D.D.) - a pattern of disobedient, hostile, and defiant behavior toward authority figures.

Symptoms include:

• Actively does not follow adults' (or lifegurds') requests
  
• Angry and resentful of others
• Argues with adults (or the miniature bosses that run this house)
  
• Loses temper
  
• Spiteful or seeks revenge
• Touchy or easily annoyed

So here are the recent events that have lead me to believe that O.D.D. just might be my problem.

Story #1
Getting All Up in a 15 Year Old Lifeguard's Grill

Actually this little story is the second time I have almost come to blows with a lifeguard at the city pool. The rules at our city pool are ridiculous or redickless as one of my old high school students spelled it. (thought you'd appreciate that Julianne)

I was going to explain all the back story, but it got long and tedious so here is the gist of it. We had moved out to chest deep water because I had a bloody ankle from being stomped on in the kiddie pool and some monster 13 year old had trampled MB. I had the baby and Hubby and I were passing the other 2 back and forth between us. The Lifeguard told us it was not acceptable for one adult to be holding 2 kids. Rather than being rational adult who understands that the rules may be stupid, but they are the rules and getting in a fight with a teenager about them is juvenile, I freaked out.

"Why!?!"

The lifeguard looked at me with a disbelieving, I can't believe some parents are so stupid, look and replied, "Because it is dangerous."

"What do you think I am going to drop one of my children and not notice? Do you think this is anymore dangerous than letting them be trampled to death by a herd of moron 13 year old boys which you allow to run through the kiddie pool? Or hey, check out that kid bouncing to his death because you don't have a rope separating the kiddie pool from the deep end."

At this point Hubby started slinking away, trying to join the crowd of spectators.

"I am leaving! I am never coming back to this pool! Your rules are idiotic! Where is your boss?"

I stomped off. Well, when you stomp off in a pool, it kinds of loses its effect. Once all the onlookers had gotten bored, Hubby rejoined me and talked me back down to sanity, which is his role in our marriage. If it weren't for him, there would be a body count by now.

Story #2
Testimony Meeting Rebellion

(More disclaimer: Guy at Church is a fantastic guy, his wife is awesome. I am the one with the problem.) Guy at church makes an analogy about mistakes, comparing mistakes in life to putting hymn books in the holders the wrong direction. He told us to put the books in correctly to prevent damage to the spine. Just because he said something about it, I could not bring myself to reach up and turn the books in front of me. I looked around and everyone was obediently turning their books to the correct position. Very sneaky like, while no one was watching me, I reached up and turned all the hymn books on my pew upside down.

Story #3
In Which I Wanted to Stab Myself in the Eye With a Binky (hey it was all I had on hand) During the Parent Meeting for DQ's School

My little kindergartner, DQ, will be attending a smarty pants charter school starting next Monday. The school has uniforms, which already has me a little chaffed. But from what I understand the regular public schools are atrocious, so I am comprising my beliefs in individuality to hopefully get a better education for my kid. It better be worth it.

During the meeting they go through all the uniform rules. Shirt must be from Such -N- Such Screen Printers with school logo. Pants must Dickie Brand black. During the winter, any sweatshirts or long sleeve undershirts must be in the approved colors, black, green, gray or white. At this point my eyes are rolling and the bile is rising.

Jewelry will be kept to a minimum, no large hoops or dangle earrings. I threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Then the snack and lunch policy.
"The following items will not be permitted in a child’s snack or lunch:

Soda, diet soda

Candy or candy bars
Cookies, brownies, cupcakes, cake, etc. (100 calorie packs are acceptable)
Pop Tarts
Gum

Prohibited snacks will be sent home unopened with the scholar and an alternative snack
will be provided for that day."

I almost stood up and yelled. "If Andrew brings Pop Tarts to school, they'll all bring pop tarts to school. It'll be ANARCHY!" Instead I just rolled my eyes some more, swallowed the rising bile, and started staring at a really interesting dot on the ceiling.

Okay, I understand they don't want kid's to be all sugared up at school and they want them to eat healthy foods, thus hopefully breaking the cycle of obesity in America. I agree with all that, but just because they made a rule and wrote it out in their handbook, makes me want to send DQ to school with a box of Twinkies and secretly pass them to all her classmates at recess.

I have a problem!

This is for those of you who did not get the earlier reference because you don't have Breakfast Club memorized as I do. (Okay, I have most 80's teen flicks memorized. I know, I know, I have a problem. More than one apparently.)

The quote you need to hear is at 2:30ish.

Ha!

MB just tried to end an argument by counting to 3.

MB: I sleeping on couch!

Me: No, you're sleeping in your bed.

MB: Yes

Me: No

MB: YES

Me: No

MB: I SLEEPING ON COUCH! 1 . . . 2 . . . 3!