Do you have something to prove?

People make me nervous when they walk around chewing gum like they're gonna put you in their armpit and make you say, "Uncle!"


20 bites. Count 'em and weep.

A word of advice: don't go to sleep with a really angry bug
trapped in your sleeve.
It will bite its way to freedom.


Mother Confessions

After her car light was on all night, she confided in me:

"I had a really bad reason for the light being on; I had to steal some pepperonis off the pizza."

And now I tell the Internet.


Will yourself not to eat?!

"I always thought bulemia was anorexia... and I didn't even know there was such a thing as anorexia."

How can you not love an innocent little idiot who says this adorable crap?


Sprinkle sammich?

Ah, hell yes!


Not trying to be moles.

It was just over a year ago that the Chilean Mine Disaster struck, and close to 2 months ago when I finally understood that those sunglasses weren't just to look cool afterwards.


This guy was one fast creepy crawler!

Taking the picture was scary.
Speaking of creepy crawlers, today while shopping at junk thrift stores we saw one of the old oven sets. Once upon a time, I made so many of those bugs. And then they came out with the girly unicorn molds! And then I just had bags and bags of two-dimensional rubber things that I never played with. Those things will most likely someday test positive for being the main cause of most types of cancer, and none of us will be all that surprised.


Accept or Deny

My mom theorizes that if she's out of half and half, she could just put a small pallet of butter in her coffee.


Goat in a car.

Gettin' towed.
yeah, there was some unsafe highway driving in order to get this picture.

I just realized why Carmel Delight Trail Mix costs an arm and a leg.

There's not a peanut in it, just cashews and almonds as far as nuts go.
    I think the name of the mix tells you why I'm willing to pay the steep price.
    one of those delicious carmel delights


Thanks, Rodney Harrison Sheets.

For non-funny reasons which I don't want to jump into right neh, I've decided I hate teaching. I kind of knew it the first time in college when I had to sit down and plan a semester's worth of lessons. It became very clear when I was in the vortex of student teaching. And, I made peace with it after a (very successful) semester of (paid!) teaching this past spring. A semester of good kids and good lessons and grand moral support from everyone, allowing me to rest after riding out an initial sea of panic - to stop and say, "Whoa! Man, this job sucks." Sorry, world! The thing is that I'm good at teaching - I'm natural at it and the youth of this world generally like me. I like being funny in front of them. But it's not my gig. It does not make me happy. Not that kind of teaching, anyways. So, I quit. And what was a horrible realization after 4.5 years of money, time, and effort, has now become a peaceful, important decision. I look at my future, happy that it no longer is doomed to be filled with crooked writing on the chalkboard, or giving presentations for 6 hours every day, or alcoholism and early onset wrinkles.

In the mean time as I'm making a new path, I'm subbing! It has been good so far. Except for the hour we were all held hostage because there was a shootout in a nearby neighborhood and my job (supposed to be over at 2:30p) was to guard the door and tell 25 Seniors to cool their shit and sit the cuss down, only to get to release them an hour later. I'm still exhausted by the end of the day but my soul isn't drained! I don't have to come home, cry while I jog, try to choke down my anxiety so I can choke down some dinner, cry in the shower, then spend 4 hours planning for the next day! It's glorious. I get to go have some fun and then leave it all in that building.

Anyways, the point of this is that I wasn't meant to be a teacher. My grandma was. When I got to see her last weekend, I found this letter in her school scrapbook. She taught at a Catholic grade school, back in the day when you were allowed to slap the kids a little. Who wouldn't want to teach back then? Especially when the students write letters for you, such as this:



"She's such a pain to work with. She always acts all Goddy."
"Goddy? As in The Lord?"




It's a race where 2 teams of dogs race side-by-side on a 51ft long course. Each dog must run in relay fashion down the jumps, trigger a flyball box, releasing the ball, retrieve the ball and return over the jumps.

We saw it at the Broncos' half-time and I refused to cheer.  But the last dog in the relay is tiny and can barely make it over the jumps, and one team had this little superstar that would always make the race incredibly close.  And I'll be damned if I wasn't cheering at the end.

Curse you adorable Frasier dog!

Kiss me, I'm Polish.

While visiting my grammie this weekend, I looked at hundreds of my favorite old photographs. Ones from way before my time; pictures that have become a part of my memory. They're awesome, I love them. So, I thought I'd do you a favor and share a few good ones every now and then.

These are my great-grandparents. They escaped the Russian army to come over to America. They're 100% Polish and never spoke a word of English. Pretty amazing stories come from their experiences, but the best part? His name was Stanislas Zarzeski. And everytime I hear "Stanislas" I automatically think "Coleslaw." Great grandpa Coleslaw.


"No shit, Miss Daisy?"

Happy Labor day!

Good luck pushing out all those babies, everybody.


Just hangin' with my grandma in Ohio

She and I, we go way back.

Speaking of grandma's, TJ and I might be moving into our own place within the next two weeks! It'll be great to officially be living in sin again.