I never should have shared that sweet letter about being a Prissable with some of my friends and co-workers. Everyone is calling me “Prissy” now. Damn.

Having a weekend with my daughter was long overdue and put me in a better mood than I’ve been in for a long time. Won’t make that mistake again.

Touching my eyes to rub my dry contacts after touching my neck where there is perfume is a bad thing that makes me have raccoon eyes.

Watching Game 7 of the Cardinals against the Mets made me a little constipated. Also, it made me want some Prozac.

Lola is getting fat. I blame my mother feeding her ice cream every evening which is a practice we never did until she moved in with us.

My comment spam is getting really bad so it’s time to close the comments on some of my older posts. Also, the spammers really want me to look into penis enlargement AND breast enlargement. Hermaphrodite, anyone?
I still don’t know all the words to “Margaritaville” and I’m okay with that.

Trying to watch “Grey’s Anatomy” on abctv.com really sucks. Bandwith blabbity blah blah blah. I can’t wait for that TiVo to arrive.

All salon services at my hairdressers is going up about $10 and I’m really pissed about that.

An unexpected fart from a student in a classroom where I’m observing is still funny.

Eating a scone at my desk while teachers are coming in and out of my office will prompt EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM to ask me where I got it and if I have another one for them.

The Gap and I have made up since that unfortunate ad with Audrey Hepburn because they (A) put up posters of Common and Don Cheadle and (B) sold me the best pair of ass jeans I’ve ever had IN MY LIFE that included these beautiful words on the label: curvy, boot cut, stretch, and long. I love The Gap again.

Watching “Scrubs” in syndication is funnier than watching the new episodes.

Cross the Don in the morning. Sleep with the fishes in the afternoon.

Beyonce makes me tired when I watch her videos, but I keep downloading her songs for my iPod running mix because they make my new ass jeans fit better.

The chocolate in any kind of mocha is truly the best part, but when Starbucks puts it in an iced mocha you get an extra shot of the gooey goodness at the bottom of the cup. Getting one in the afternoon for a boost, I was caught slurping the contents on the bottom with some help from my straw and someone asked if I’d had enough of my coffee. “I’m done with the coffee. I’m getting the chocolate now.” The person prompted me again with, “I thought you loved coffee.” to which I replied, “I do. I do this for the coffee. No. The chocolate. The coffee. Chocolate.” Oh, who the hell cares? I just do it for the mocha.

As it is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and all is pink everywhere I go, I am doing my part to wear as much pink as possible. I swear it has nothing to do with the fact that I love that color and look so cute in it. Swear.

To support the two breast cancer survivors in our building we had a PINK! day last Friday for the male who wore the most pink and we’re also wearing pink ribbons. The P.E. teacher has been wearing his all week long and today a student approached him to mention something about it.

Student: So. Is that for Breast Awareness Month?

P.E. Teacher: Why, yes. Yes, it is.

After I stopped snorting from laughter at his recitation of this story, I saw him in the hallway with three female teachers standing near him and chatting.

Me: Just so you know… right there? Six breasts. Be aware.

Poor Kennimus. He was trying to make me coffee this morning before he left and the Splenda came out too fast. Tis quite sweet. Then, Morgan dropped a cereal bowl breaking it into several pieces while Kennimus was trying to get out the door to work. The coffee is a strong Sumatra blend from Starbucks and at first sip all those other troubles went away…

I may be a Lowly Insect in the Blogosphere, but some people think I’ve got a thing or two to offer.

Recently, I was contacted by a loverly lady who wanted my opinion on something.

I know! My. Opinion. MINE. Clearly, something is wrong here.

So, apparently there is this new thing called TiVo. Do you know it? Yeah, I’m so late to the party all the time. Just yesterday at a small group meeting of instructional leaders in our building, teachers were mentioning Desperate Housewives and Dancing With The Stars and Extreme Makeover. I do NOT watch any of those shows so I kept quiet until it became apparent that it was, like, totally my time to talk.

Not that I really ever wait for that opportunity. Normally, I just pounce right into the conversation because the invitation would take far too long for my mouth to catch up. My mouth? It cannot wait sometimes. In fact, my foot practically JUMPS UP TO SHOVE ITSELF IN JUST FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT FACTOR AT TIMES.

I don’t watch those shows. Basically, I don’t watch tv.

Yeah. That’s right. She blogs. (Insert maniacal laughter from the table)

Well, I watch tv, but I don’t obsess about it. There’s no time with all these classes I’m taking and work to get behind in and children and dog poop to assign children to pick up because it’s fun to watch them pucker up their cute faces. (I’m a fun mom that way)

What I was asked about was this thing called KidZone that comes through TiVo (let’s remember here that I don’t have TiVo, mmkay?) that uses closed captioning (how much do you LOVE CC? No, seriously. How much?) which helps aid children as they’re learning to read (Because, hello? Sesame Street and Zoom and The Electric Company? Anyone? ANYONE?) and I’M A LITERACY COACH SLASH ENGLISH TEACHER TRAPPED IN THE BODY OF A PRISSABLE.

The parenthetical statements are for effect, but you’ll not soon forget that I was a snooty English Lit. major in college and that Beowulf does not frighten me in least. Reading it in Old English does, but the story itself is no longer something I feel the need to fear.

How to fix the problem of not having TiVo was easier than I thought because this company is sending me a TiVo machine to use as I review the KidZone stuff.

I know! Shocking, right? There is even a little embarrassment on my part that I’m even being offered this opportunity. At least another blogger I know of has been asked to check this out as well and so the company is good.

Perhaps I should avert my eyes from the screen at this moment to look away. Ok. The moment is over because I just realized how dusty my dresser is right now.

The chagrin multiplies when I realize just how little television I actually watch (and how often I mention it to people: “Oh, I don’t watch television.”) since I’ll have to blow off that big project for class rearrange my TV Schedule just to keep up with my regulars of Gilmore Girls and Veronica Mars as well as start watching new shows. The latter of which my mother compares my life to since I seem to be able to figure everything out and get back to my Lucky Life (I know. I just threw up in my own mouth a little writing that) in the 60 minutes that Veronica figures out the mysteries of all time and does it with perfect lip gloss and sass. Rather, the 60 minutes minus commercial time.

The list now begins of all the shows I’ve been missing for the past two years since I’ve been in grad school and I really just want to know this: is it too late to start TiVoing episodes of Doogie Howser, M.D.? Because, you realize, he really was the very first blogger.

What? You didn’t know that? Puh-lease. The boy wonder typed his pithy statements in his computer journal at the end of every show. Of course, that was minus the lip gloss and sass, but I’ve got plenty of both to go around.

But I can deconstruct Anglo-Saxon literature and appreciate the fact that TiVo can be conjugated into a verb all the while eating my C.O. Bigelow mentha lip gloss off of my lips with the best of them. So off to TiVoLand with me…