Stuck up

So yesterday I told you about the boy who brought me in some fish and how sweet it was. Well today it was time to see the other side of him. During our science lesson I heard him keep making a sound like he was blowing his nose. As I looked closer I realized that he had his finger up his nose and he didn't even have a tissue which about made me puke. When I told him to go get a kleenex he said seven words that I hope I never hear again: "My eraser is stuck up my nose." Sure enough he had a bright orange eraser wedged in his left nostril. I grabbed a couple tissues and tried to use my finger and thumb to grab it but they were too big. I finally got it out by using both of my pinkies as a kind of tweezers. (It wasn't a good look because using your pinkies for anything makes you look really gay.) After a few minutes the booger-coated eraser was safely removed and disposed in the garbage. Suddenly the fish-giving doesn't seem so weird.

Something a little fishy

Remember the old days when a student would bring a shiny apple to school for the teacher and she would display it proudly at the edge of her desk? Ya well I think those days are gone. Today one of my students brought me in an unexpected gift. Now he is one of those kids that I refer to as a 50/50 student because half of the time you really love him while the other half of the time he will drive you crazy. Yesterday I asked him how his weekend was and he told me that he went finishing with his dad and caught nine trout. I tend not to believe a whole lot of what he says after he told me that he went to batting practice with Albert Pujols and visited the Great Wall of China (on separate days of course). So today he walks in to our class with a large baggie of fish and says "Here's some trout for you, Mr. Ritchason." I peer inside and notice that there are four huge fish minus their heads. This will go down as the most unusual although unexplainably charming gift that I've ever gotten from a student.

Battleground

Another week, another star student to take out to lunch. Today it was Austin who chose Arby's. Everything was going just fine as we were eating until he told me that his stepmom had a baby in May. He followed this up by saying that his mom and his stepmom used to be best friends until his dad decided to move in with the best friend who is now the stepmom. Where do these people live? Wisteria Lane? Is there a guy chained up in the basement too? As Austin finished up his chicken strips he tipped the box up and began licking the inside of it to get the last few crumbs. Now if an 8-year old Ella is ever smashing her face into the bottom of a hot fudge sundae cup, writhing her tongue around for the last few drops of chocolate please feel free to swat her head away.

We headed to the parking lot to get into the car when Austin opened his door so wide that it banged into the car next to us. I looked and saw that there was someone sitting in the pimped-out Fast and the Furious car. Immediately the juvenile delinquent/black thug in a white man's body/wannabe Vin Diesel jumped out of his car decked out in Diddy's Sean John clothing line and raced over. "Whatchu doin' son?" he said to Austin, who gets literacy support and can't understand a simple sentence in a book let alone this high school drop-out jive. Thoroughly perplexed, he just stood there and said "Sorry." I examined both vehicles, neither of which had a single scratch. I too apologized and he just stared at me like he was unsure of what to do next. I was waiting for Slim Shady to challenge me to a freestyle battle right there in the Arby's parking lot. Finally, I said "Well we have to be getting back to school" to which he responded by reaching out his hand to me and doing one of this ridiculous handshakes with the fists and the thumbs. I never understand when people (especially white people) do that. Basically it's like a retarded version of a thumb war. We said our requisite "peace out" goodbyes and started to "roll out." Maybe I need to start rethinking this whole star student thing.

One of each

Rachel and I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon to find out the sex of the baby. Almost immediately the doctor could tell it was a boy (good genes). We're very excited but still a little surprised. We both had been leaning more to it being another girl. So of course Rach has already been out shopping to begin filling his closet. Which leads me to my office which will now disappear faster than Bo Bice's career. In the coming weeks my computer, bookshelf, and CD's will make way for a crib, changing table, and rocking chair. We haven't fully decided on a name yet, although Ethan has suggested Striker, which we would be foolish not to consider.

Step-by-step directions from a dirty old man

I will preface this post by saying that Rachel was mortified that I would even write this for fear that it was crude. So to my goody two shoes friends (you know who you are) you might want to stop reading now. So last night at church Aubrey and Sarah were way too excited to have me help out at a station where the kids would be making their own bouncy balls. Now it's actually a cool little activity where you pour different colored powder into molds, add a bit of water, and let it dry for a while. And sure enough it actually worked and the kids loved them. However, I'm certain the directions were written by a pervert. For instance, after letting the ball dry for three minutes in the mold it says to "Open the mold. Your balls will be sticky, so let the balls sits on waxed paper for about two more minutes to dry." I mean, c'mon already. Then the final step says "It is best to store your balls in a small plastic bag when not in use to keep them soft and bouncy." To which my prim and proper, English-bred wife (who if you remember thought I was being crude) replied "Kind of like a ball sack" before she dissolved into giggles, proud of her own little pun. Maybe next week the kids will enjoy the Oscar Mayer weiner maker.

On to New York

So on Sunday my friend Seth and I headed down to St. Louis for game 4 of the National League Division Series to watch the Cardinals beat the Padres and move on to the NLCS against the Mets. The coolest part of the whole experience, however, were our seats. We were just a handful of rows behind the Cardinals dugout, which has now spoiled me for life. Even Ben Affleck doesn't get seats this good at Fenway. Now granted we got stuck listening to the play-by-play of these die-hards that were under the impression that they had a direct line to LaRussa himself. By the third inning they were even finalizing the pitching rotation for the upcoming series (For those keeping score at home they'd go with Weaver, Wainwright, Suppan, and Carpenter). The guy sitting next to me wasn't much better. For starters he resembled that guy from the DMB "Everyday" video that just goes around hugging everyone. The best part was that he smelled like a mix of Bud Light and body odor. Plus as an added bonus former Idol contestant Nikko Smith was there to sing the national anthem. It was an amazing experience that I won't soon forget. So here's hoping that Weaver and his 8-14 record can overcome the Mets in game 1 tomorrow night. I'm sure my buddies from the row behind me already have their scorecards ready.

The future Mrs. Ella Ritchason-Carter

Tonight I was flipping through the channels after the Cardinals' game one win and came across E!'s new House of Carters. I had caught a bit of it last night before dozing off. (I mean what am I going to watch instead? That disappointingly dull Studio 60 show? I've tried it for two weeks now and I'm done. At least Seth likes it.) Basically this reality show is a peek inside the dysfunctional relationship between the singing Carter clan: Nick (semi-famous still I guess), Aaron (barely famous and most likely to show up next season on Dancing with the Stars), Angel, Leslie, and Bobbie Jean (no idea). First of all this show is a train wreck (but of course I won't miss an episode). Basically everyone argues through the entire thing. One of the girls (does it even matter which one?) is drinking in 96% of the episode and almost catches her hair on fire while lighting a cigarette on the stove. Nick and Aaron start brawling over a loud stereo. There's even a Paris Hilton shout-out. What more could you ask for?

The truly unnerving thing about this is that Ella was fascinated with the TV while it was on. After a couple of minutes I switched the channel and she started whining. So just for fun I turned it back and a huge smile crept across her face as she hustled right up to the screen. Then she did something that almost pains me to report. She extended her neck and put her mouth right on the image of Nick Carter as though she was kissing him. First of all, the last time I checked this wasn't 1999. I haven't heard "I Want It That Way" in years (not that I'm complaing). And let's just say that it doesn't look like the Paris Hilton break-up has set that well with him. In fact it looks like the guy just ate an entire SUV. You know it's gone downhill when girls now say that Howie is the cutest Backstreet Boy.