Big, huge, VENTI skinny mocha with an extra shot from Starbucks. FIELD TRIP, PEOPLE.

Sometimes I get all random with my thoughts and have to do a list instead of trying to write cohesive syntax. Even using that word “random” gets my panties in a bunch because it is overused to the point of ickiness which makes me even more random arbitrary.

Consider yourself advised that the train in my brain is running through stops, pulling the whistle chain recklessly, and will take a while to get to the connections. Or just think of this as a non-drunk Drunk Post, ok?

• Leadership Ethics class will be really good because the deep, philosophical stuff started right away from our professor who lets us call her Amee. She looks like an Amee, all cute and intelligent and funny and sorta kinda hippy-like. It’s a long class that begins right after school (when I’m downright ravenous) and goes until 8:00 p.m. To get class started she began by saying, ” Ok. Let’s get started and begin with the important things first: what’s the deal with dinner?” We felt at ease and laughed because we always have to ask for a break. I shouted, “Oh, my God! I love her already!”
• Later, Amee asked us what was so hard about last semester (she had, apparently, heard) and what statistics class did we take? “Death by Statistics” I retorted. Again with the laughter. Do I need to enroll in Clown College or what?
• All the department chairs for Language Arts got together FOR TWO DIFFICULT DAYS OF ARGUING and I was, thankfully, placed with my two friends Angie and Angie. Confusing, yes. So let’s call one of them “Spanky” for differentiation. Angie told Spanky about my blog and at first she said, “What? A blog? You do what?” and then called me weird. Of course, she read it for the past two days and is now wondering WHY I HAVEN’T MENTIONED HER ON MY BLOG. There ya go, Spanky.
• My school went on a field trip today and so did Mason’s school and there was endless teasing of I’m-not-going-to-acknowledge-you-Mom from him, but that darling son of mine actually waved to me when he saw me. That goes against the logic of the 14-year-old angst-ridden teenager and I was flabbergasted. Then, he told me he forgot his lunch so I gave him mine. Not just because he didn’t treat me like a leper, either.
• One of the girls from Mason’s school came to sit with one of the girls from my school to eat and when I walked by the two of them one of the teachers called me over to ask a question. On my way back the girl stopped me and said, “You’re a teacher? I thought you were one of the kids!” I’m going to buy her a pony.
I take that back. There really was no logic in my brain, just swirling thoughts. Spanky will commence to thinking I’m weird again.

I changed my mind about buying coffee this morning. Instead, I had some African coffee sent to me by aak which she said was a Spanish blend. It’s strong. Very strong. Stay-awake-for-days-strong. But it’s muy deliciso.

That great, giant sucking noise? It was loud. Last night? Did you hear it? It was Oprah sucking me into her show on the Legends Ball that I did not want to get sucked into, but whose slow, melodic piano overlay brought me to tears more than once. Then, when Shirley Caesar started singing gospel music spontaneously after they ate chicken and waffles? Well, that was just the final straw.

Oprah, honey. What’s up with the chicken and waffles, girl? We didn’t have enough stereotypes to go around? Ok, I’ll forgive you if you’ll just stop wearing cornrows to dine for 5 hours when you pick out out the meal for your extravagent gala, ok? Cornrows on you, my dear, are cute. At home.
This entire mess is to be blamed on Ken who is such an Oprah Slut it’s disturbing and worthy of a phone call to a hotline for help. My night was going to be worthlessly spent on junk food and making fun of any season finale I could find on television. If that didn’t satisfy my appetite, then I was finally going to watch those nimble marionette superheroes kick butt that has been on my To Watch list. Something else that’s just been added to that list is something which I can’t seem to shake after having a dream about Snake Plissken last week. It’s not for me so much as it is for the kids who are being properly indoctrinated by their father and me. Now, of course, it’s really fun to watch Escape From New York because it was made in 1981 and set in 1998 which has long since past and which bears only a slight resemblance to the current state of maximum security prisons.

Stop acting like you’re grossed out. Snake Plissken was hot.

Oprah’s Legends Ball probably had plenty of viewers since all the good shows have aired their season finales. I’m just not one to appreciate the self-aggrandizement of people so I tend not to watch, but there were a lot of amazing women honored so I decided to give in. I’m glad I did, because did you hear that poem (which Oprah says with 2 pronounced syllables “po-em”) where they kept chanting “We speak your name”? Even though he knows of my disdain for her shows, Ken kept peeking at me with tears running down my face and saying, “See? SEE? It’s good, isn’t it? SEE?” and he was right.

Yeah, ok. It was good and I cried non-pre-menstrual tears and was moved by the music and the po-em, but I’m still worried about you, Ken. Your Oprah obsession has got to stop or I’ll be sending your butt to the island of Manhattan and you won’t come home until you’re wearing an eye patch like Snake, ok?

Just another piece of evidence against me: unidentified coffee at the meeting I attended today. No Splenda at all and I don’t use sugar. And there was powdered creamer. What’s wrong with these people? I’m treating myself to GOOD COFFEE tomorrow.