Smut

Last night Rach and I went to a wedding at church. At the reception we sat next to John and Letty and our friends Matt and Mindy. After a while talk turned to reality shows and Rachel admitted that she really got into this last cycle of The Bachelor. In the midst of the conversation our table was dismissed to go through the buffet line. As we were waiting our turn to grab plates and silverware Letty stated that The Bachelor was smut and a truly trashy show. Without missing a beat a man in front of us turned around and said "My daughter was on The Bachelor two years ago. She was one of the bachelorettes." At that point I had to look away because the expression on Letty's face was priceless and I was near the tipping point of unleashing the seal laugh. When we got back to the table I asked her if she needed help removing the foot from her mouth.

The return of the Christmas crap

Christmas vacation has arrived which means another class Christmas party has come to a close. As usual the gifts from my students were a mixed bag. Well if I'm being honest they were the worst ever. You know it's bad when your greatest gift is a $10 gift certificate to Taco Bell. Here is the complete list of everything I received:

* 8 tubes of pastel colored icing
* 2 sheets of stickers with half of them missing
* a pair of student-size scissors
* a plate of cookies that were carried to school in the rain and not covered with anything (Mmmm a soggy snickerdoodle!)
* a Shrek the Third popcorn canister (I hate popcorn.)
* 4 used Christmas pencils
* a lotion dispenser containing lotion that smells like Betty White
* a cardinal ornament superglued to a pinecone
* a large letter R magnet the size of Ohio with matching notepad
* a St. Louis Cardinals travel mug
* an already read Goosebumps book with Cheetoh's fingerprints on seemingly every page
* a candleholder with accompanying tealight (This was presented to me by a mother who prefaced the opening of it by saying "Here's your gift. I think your wife will really like it." She didn't.)
* a coconut cut in half with a zipper attached to the middle to open and close it along with a face drawn on it in black marker and a straw hat on the top

Needless to say I could get a box of freshly excreted crap on Tuesday morning and it would probably outrank 80% of the gifts listed above. Merry Christmas!

Welcome back f***er

So I returned to school today after a too-exciting-for-words weekend in Vegas. I think I should have stayed an extra day. A boy in my class has been bringing a water bottle to school every day since the beginning of the school year. It's fine when it's 87 degrees outside. Not really necessary when sheets of ice are covering the playground. On Friday before I left I simply told him to take the water bottle home because it doesn't need to be at school any longer. Waiting on my desk when I returned today was a note from his mom which read, "Please allow Noah to keep his water bottle at school. I do not allow him to use the school drinking fountain because he has a history of contracting herpes from fountains." I'm hoping she means that he's getting blisters on his mouth and not on his genitals. If he's sticking his penis in the stream of water from a drinking fountain, I think we might have more problems than just the herpes.

Then towards the end of the day we were doing a seemingly harmless Christmas craft. The students traced their handprints several times, cut them out, and assembled them to form a wreath. Supposedly a boy said to another boy sitting beside him that his cutting was subpar and that his handprints looked more like monster claws. Like any good third grader would do he simply turned to him and called him a "f***er" which echoed all the way over to my desk on the other side of the room. In what seemed like a single bound I leaped over to him, grabbed his arm, and took him into the hall. I went through the typical conversation about how that wasn't appropriate to say at school or really anywhere else. I asked him why he said it and he said that he didn't really think it was a bad word. Rather than calling him a liar directly to his face, I simply said something to the effect of "You're too smart of a boy to not know that was inappropriate." He followed this up by stating his defense while in the process saying the word several more times: "My dad always calls our dog a f***er even though my mom tells him not to say f***er in front of us. She says that f***er is a bad word for kids to hear." It was like sitting through a elementary school production of "The Big Lebowski." Where's the $1 Vegas margaritas when you need them?

Cutting class

It's Friday and the weekend couldn't come soon enough. In the morning Rach and I hop on a plane and head to Vegas for a long weekend. After today an extra day off is much needed.

You know it's going to be a rough day when by 8:43 a.m. you have already shouted the phrase "Get your tongue out of the electric pencil sharpener!" By the time you're 9 years old you would hope you would have learned not to put any body parts near rapidly moving blades.

This week students have been working on adding adjectives to their writing assignments. On the board I had a list of close to 50 adjectives. Their task was to choose two words that could describe the nouns listed on their worksheet (tree, puppy, coat, bus, etc.) The trick was that both words had to make accurately describe the item. For instance, you couldn't say a flat, skinny globe. After a few minutes I called on students to share what they had written. One girl said "a thick, heavy book," while a boy stated "a smooth, red slide." The last boy I called on didn't seem to understanding the activity because he interjected "A black, hairy ball." I asked him what he meant by that because a ball could be black but not hairy. He responded "You know like Shaq." I tried to explain that Shaq wasn't consistently missing free throws because he was shooting with a hairy basketball. As though I wasn't understanding, he spoke very slowly. "Mr. Ritchason....black....hairy.....ballllllll," emphasizing the last word. Oh, okay I got it. I can appreciate a good testicle joke. I'm just disappointed it took me so long to get it.

Near the end of the day we learned about Christmas in Sweden as part of our unit on Christmas around the world. I taught the students that children there celebrate Saint Lucia Day, which is the start of the Christmas season. On that day children wear crowns with lit candles on the top of them. Each of the students got to make their own crowns using glue and strips of construction paper. When they finished they were told to come up to me so I could cut off the excess paper to fit their heads properly. As I was sizing up a girl's crown another student brought up a worksheet he had been working on for me to check. Not paying much attention while I cut, I looked over in time to see locks of hair floating to the carpet. I had cut a good inch or two from the back of her head. It wasn't major but at the right angle it certainly was noticeable. Oh well, I'm on my way to Vegas.

The Christmas pot

Today our school went to the Dragon's Dome to decorate trees for Christmas. As we were entering the building there were two old senior citizens getting ready to leave after a few strenuous laps around the track. One of the guys asked four of my boys "Are you going to be good here today?" to which they nodded. "Not going to be rowdy or anything?" he further pressed as the boys shook their head. This was followed up by a question that is often asked of third graders: "You didn't bring any weed did you?" Thoroughly confused by the old man, the boys looked at me. All I could come up with was a disgusted "Uh no" as I shoved them past the aged stoner. Later on as we were decorating our class tree I noticed that one of the branches was missing. Immediately I visualized the gray haired man puffing on some pine needles.

Family feud

Last night I went to the Sugarland concert at the Civic Center. It was a great time except for the mother/daughter team sitting next to me. They bickered back and forth throughout the entire show. They argued about which parking lot was the closest, which album a song was from, and which restroom was the newest. At one point they even argued about whether or not the cheese with their nachos was too spicy. They followed this up by saying "Oh this guy is probably sick of listening to the two of us." I acted surprised like I hadn't been listening to the whole stinking exchange and said "Oh no, I'm too into Jennifer Nettles." I realized I had opened a can of worms as this was followed up by yet another argument between the two. Another fight broke out over whether she was the main songwriter for the group. I tried to zone them out and have my own silent argument with myself over which one was the most annoying. I think it was a tie.

Set List
Speed of Life
County Line
Want To
Settlin'
These Are The Days
Irreplaceable
Take Me As I Am
Happy Ending
Where The Streets Have No Name
One Blue Sky
Just Might (Make Me Believe)
Down In Mississippi (Up To No Good)
Who Says You Can't Go Home
Everyday America
Baby Girl
Something More

Encore
Stay
Life in a Northern Town
Pour Some Sugar On Me

A lickable/forceable/pleasureable morning

Only half of the school day has is over, yet it has already been an eventful morning. One of my troublemaker boys who I can't help but like walked into the room at 8:30 singing the Ludacris classic "What's Your Fantasy." There's nothing so touching as an 8-year old starting the day singing "I wanna lick lick lick lick you from your head to your toes and I wanna move from the bed down to the down to the to the floor."

Later some students were working on making PowerPoints for some Native American stories they have been reading. As I was walking back and forth something jumped out at me when a girl was writing a summary of the book. She was in the process of typing "The coyote raped the bear..." When I asked her what her sentence was going to say she said "The coyote wrapped the bear up in the blanket she had made." Nothing like a little Algonquian Tribe: Special Victims Unit.

Then just now as I went to the infamous restroom after drinking one too many cups of coffee this morning I watched as a second grader put soap on his hands and then proceeded to put the hand down his pants. I'm not sure if he was using it as a lubricant to pleasure himself or if his balls just needed a good scrubbing. Rather than interrupting him, I tiptoed out and headed to down to the first grade restroom which was far more G-rated.

Tick tock

Thankfully it's almost the end of the day, and Thanksgiving break couldn't come soon enough. Here's a recap of my school day:

* One of my students came up to me in the hall first thing this morning and gave me a hug. However, it was one of those side hugs where unfortunately as he was wrapping his arms around me he managed to grab my butt and my balls at the same time.

* Today we were reading a story about Squanto and how he was sold into slavery early on in Spain. One girl raised her hand and said that her aunt lives in the Phillippines where they eat rice and baby ducks. When I asked her what this had to do with the story, she thought for a moment and said "Oh nothing really."

* This afternoon I walked into the boys restroom to find a boy with his sweatpants down to his ankles with his ghostly white rear showing for all to see. To make matters worse he would pee a little bit in one urinal, pinch his penis to stop the flow, and move on to continue the journey to the next urinal. It almost had a rhythm to it that I kept waiting for a grieving Kanye to come lay down a verse about his mom.

* As if one bathroom tale wasn't enough, later on I went back in there to check on a boy who had been in there longer than an exntended episode of Grey's Anatomy. As I turned the corner I saw him on his knees over the toilet bowl in the instantly recognizable I'll-know-next-time-not-to-order-the-smothered-burrito-at-Fiesta-Ranchera vomit position. I asked him if he was okay to which he replied "I dropped my glasses in the toilet." I stepped forward to get a better view and discovered that they were way down there hiding in the darkened cave part of the toilet. Since water was already dripping off his arms I told him to try again. But as luck would have it he couldn't reach them. So like any good teacher I looked for the crazy janitor. She was nowhere in sight. So I retreated back to the restroom, pulled up my sleeves, and reached in, praying that I wouldn't discover a lost turd. The glasses were saved and now only smell faintly like the port-a-potties at the Heart of Illinois Fair.

So I'm sitting here counting down the remaining minutes of the day as Play Doh goes flying through the air. After today neon green Play Doh mashed into the carpet is the least of my concerns.

Do you smell something burning?

Today we had to return our books to the school library. One of the girls in my class said she didn't have hers. When I asked her where it was she said it was over at her dad's. Then she proceeded to add that she didn't know when she would be back over there. Before I could ask why not, she stated "My mom and dad aren't allowed to talk to each other because the other night she get really mad at him and set his car on fire." I didn't ask but I'm hoping the library book wasn't left inside the vehicle. A charred copy of Charlotte's Web anyone?

Dinger envy

This afternoon we were doing a reading activity where the students had to find words in the passage that fell into a certain category. One of the columns was "Words that end in -inger." Students listed words like singer, ringer, finger, and stinger. One of the boys raised his hand and asked if he could also write down other words that weren't in the story. I agreed and then tried to think of some others. All I could come up with were zinger and swinger. A few minutes later when we were writing them on the board the boy raised his hand, confident that he had come up with something that no one else had. I called on him and he said "dinger." I tried to explain to him that it wasn't a word but he stood steadfast in his choice. I asked him if he could use it in a sentence so I could get some idea of what he meant by it. He smiled and said "My dad has a big dinger" before he burst into laughter. Most teachers would send him to the office, but I just chuckled and said that it was time to move on from his dad's dinger. It should make for an interesting parent/teacher conference next Thursday.

Rut-ro Shaggy

Yesterday for our class Halloween party one of the girls came to school saying that she couldn't find her costume at home anywhere. I assured her that she didn't need a costume and that we'd make sure that she still had a good time. (Awww, here's my Golden Apple). As the party progressed the costumes began to make them hot and itchy, so a few students asked if they could change back into their regular clothes. When one of the girls came back from the restroom she offered to let the girl without a costume wear her Scooby Doo costume for a while. She was really excited and ran down the hall to change into it. How I used to love the old Scooby Doo cartoons as a kid, but when she returned I noticed something that I had never spotted in all those Saturday mornings. She still sported the perky ears, curved tail, and oversized black nose, but it was the appendage between her legs that caught me off guard. I don't recall Scooby Doo having a thin, blue penis. I guess that's what happens when you eat too many Scooby Snacks.

Truly scary

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Rocket man

So last night I got to go to the Elton John show in Moline at the last minute. My stepmom got struck with yet another imaginary sickness that leaves her debilitated for six months. Dad needed someone to go so I swooped down for her $92 seat. Thanks DD. The show itself was great from start to finish even though Elton continually reminds you that he's getting up there in age. He now has a teleprompter discreetly fastened to his piano that scrolled through the lyrics all night. Also, at one point he tried to climb atop the piano and failed miserably. Kids, let this be a lesson to you to avoid drugs, alcohol, and eating a 20 piece bucket of KFC all by yourself.

The crowd was a diverse lot. I can only sum it up as a combination of a hospital volunteers meeting (people more than twice my age), a dinner party at Tim Gunn's place in Greenwich Village (upper-class gay men), and a Hillary Clinton campaign rally (idiots). A woman behind us reeked of cat pee and tequila. I didn't know whether to change her litter box or do a body shot off of her. An older gentleman in front of us leaned over to his wife at the start of every single song to ask her what song it was. It was like going to the opera with Marlee Matlin. I don't mean to be a musical snob, but if you can't hear the lyrics "Goodbye Norma Jean" and not figure out that it's Candle in the Wind, under which rock have you been hiding the last 40 years? There was another guy in the section over from us that looked like he should be reporting to Soldier Field for tomorrow's game. This guy was massive. I noticed as the concert went on he kept knocking back these fruity drinks. The more cocktails he had in him, the higher his arms went in the air. By the halfway point in the concert he was punching his fist in the air at every single note. That works if you're rocking out to Livin' On A Prayer. Not so much if the song is Daniel. After Elton took his final bows of the evening and the crowd dispersed, he walked past us sobbing, tears streaming down his face. "That was amazing!" he blubbered. Maybe powderpuff football is more his style. Next time lay off the cosmos, Carrie Bradshaw.

Set List
Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding
The Bitch Is Back
Madman Across The Water
Tiny Dancer
Levon
Believe
Take Me To The Pilot
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
Daniel
Rocket Man
Honky Cat
Someone Saved My Life Tonight
I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues
Burn Down The Mission
The Bridge
Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
Candle in the Wind
Bennie and the Jets
Philadelphia Freedom
Sad Songs (Say So Much)
I'm Still Standing
Crocodile Rock
Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting

Encore
Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me
Your Song

Hi Chris!

Since the beginning of the school year every time I pass a first grade boy he always calls out "Hi Chris!" The first couple of times I just ignored him, thinking he was greeting someone else. But after he kept doing it I realized that he thought that was my name. So I just began saying hi to him every time our paths crossed in the hall. Today he was heading to the cafeteria as my class was getting ready to come back from there. I said hello to him as I ducked into the restroom. I sat down to go about my business when thirty seconds later his head poked under the partition. "Hi Chris!" he exclaimed with a huge smile on his face as though this is the most natural place for a conversation. Senator Larry Craig I'm not. All I could come up with was "I think you're supposed to be eating lunch right now buddy." He looked back at me with an "Oh ya" expression before saying goodbye. Let's just hope he doesn't go home tonight talking about seeing Chris' weiner.

Ready for our close-ups

When artists sign up for network television specials they start out by looking for a venue that is renowned in the music business. Elton John filmed a concert at the Sydney Opera House. DMB filmed at Red Rocks Amphitheatre. Back in the day The Doors recorded their show at the Hollywood Bowl. Even Timberlake scooped up Madison Square Garden for his recent HBO show. So naturally when Martina McBride was looking for a venue for her own TV special she looked no further than the legendary iWireless Center in Moline.

You know it's going to be a good night when the two women who sit down in front of you immediately spill beer on the head of the snooty woman in front of them before the concert even begins. For me it makes the whole trip worthwhile. In all honesty the two women were two of the oddest ducks I've ever seen. As the night wore on their behavior became ever weirder. To make matters worse one (or both) of them had a strange, pungent odor that permiated the space around them. Rachel and I couldn't figure out if it originated from their underarms, feet, or some other section of the body. I must admit that the blonde woman was a little stranger than her more masculine friend. Some of her friends had seats on the floor and whenever she wanted to get their attention she would let loose with an ear-piercing "Ca caw! Ca caw!" like a wild bird of prey.

When the concert began and Martina rose from below the stage she started bawling and continued through the entire song. She veered from one emotion to the next throughout the show. The next minute she was spastic acting like she was going to rip open her shirt and show us her McBoobies. At one point she and her friend started singing loudly and dancing with one another. The camera guy couldn't get there quick enough to capture the moment. I pray that it makes it on the air so you can see Rach and I giggling in the background. Truth be told anytime the camera was around I burst out in song like it was my American Idol audtition. Rachel had to remind me that some lyrics just look wrong coming out of a guy's mouth. Hopefully they leave me singing "He thinks I'm pretty. He thinks I'm smart" on the cutting room floor. Near the end of the show another one of blondie's friends came over to join in the festivities. I missed a song or two because I couldn't take my eyes off the woman's breasts. Location-wise, they were the highest mammary glands I'd ever seen. They were basically shooting out of her neck. Bet you don't see that at Radio City Music Hall.

Set List
Anyway
When God-Fearin' Women Get The Blues
Wild Angels
My Baby Loves Me
Tryin' To Find A Reason
How I Feel
Happy Girl
(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden
You Ain't Woman Enough
Help Me Make It Through The Night
Where Would You Be
Concrete Angel
For These Times
Love's The Only House
Blessed
This One's For The Girls
A Broken Wing
Independence Day

Encore
Don't Stop Believin'
Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Post-Taping Set
It's My Time
Cry Cry (Till The Sun Shines)
She's A Butterfly
Safe in the Arms of Love
Ashes
If I Had Your Name
Whatever You Say
Phones Are Ringin' All Over Town
Cheap Whiskey
Heartaches By The Number
I'll Still Be Me
Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Next time hold the mayo

This afternoon Rachel sent Ella and I on a simple task: run to the store and get a jar of mayonaise for a recipe she was making for tonight. We head to the store and pick up the mayo with some other odds and ends (pizza, canned vegetables, soda, Easy Mac). Ella helps me load them on to the conveyor belt and the cashier starts scanning the items. As the woman is scanning a can of green beans Ella turns to her and says "Daddy poopied on the potty. Daddy wiped his bum. Stinky." I was tempted to just lay down $20, grab the two bags, and high-tail it out of there. The lady just smiled, continued scanning, and informed me of my total. Thankfully I wasn't purchasing toilet paper or toilet bowl cleaner, so my ego was saved slightly. We returned home, put the groceries away, and took a dump.

That's shirt with an "r"

Today we were reading a short story called "The Missing Shirt." It's a lame tale about how this boy is getting ready for school but can't find his beloved shirt. (Yes, it's really as boring as it sounds.) After reading it together the students had to answer some comprehension questions about the story. The last question asked where did the boy eventually find the missing shirt. Just now as I was grading the papers one of the responses caused me to realize that I need to spend some more time teaching spelling. One of my students wrote "The boy found the brown shit on the bathroom floor." If you're finding poop on the floor then you have more problems than just spelling words correctly.

A crappy encounter

So this is my first blog of the new school year. It's just like old times. We've been back to school for a week and I already have that one boy who will make the year drag on and on. Basically he doesn't listen, can't follow directions, picks his nose, never returns his homework, reads worse than Liam, can't add 5 + 2, and barely knows his own name half of the time. I've been trying to get ahold of mom for the last several days but she doesn't answer the phone, won't return my emails, and apparently can't read the notes I send home. (It must run in the family). To my surprise she was waiting to pick him up today after school. I was excited to see her until I noticed that her t-shirt read "Go f*** yourself." I disregarded the invitation and walked up to her. As I got closer I realized her white sweatpants had chocolate all over the crotch like she was Betty Crocker herself, baking cakes instead of responding to my emails. She must have noticed me glance down because the next words out of her mouth were "I couldn't get back to you because my daughter's been sick and she keeps shitting her pants." I couldn't jump back quick enough as I basically blew off my concerns and said we could talk about them at another time when her pants weren't covered in feces.

It's so over

Last night was the final stop on the old summer concert series. We went to the Illinois State Fair in Springfield to see Daughtry. I can't think of much to write about other than it was blazing hot outside in the grandstand. It got up to 99 degrees yesterday with the heat index well over 100. When I start getting the butt sweat you know it's bad. The concert itself was subpar at best. Daughtry himself seemed to just be going through the motions. Plus he felt the need to keep reminding us of how hot it was. Ya the smelly armpits to the left of me won't let me forget. The show plodded along so much so that I didn't even care he was onstage for only 55 minutes. This is my final trip to the state fair. I don't care if Paul and Ringo reunite for a tour. I'm not going. My idea of a good time is not wringing out your underwear before you hop back in the car.

Set List
Crashed

What I Want

Used To

It's Not Over

Gone

Breakdown

What About Now

Nutshell

Feels Like Tonight

Over You

Encore

Home

There And Back Again

Spending the night with Sanjaya

Last night we headed to Moline to see the American Idols Live tour. It was actually kind of cool because we landed second row tickets on the floor just a few hours before. The revelers around us included a diverse lot. In front us sat two overprotective parents who required their kids to wear fluorescent orange earplugs throughout the entire thing. Um, nerdy. I mean this was Idol not Ozzfest. Further down their row was a girl with her gay guy friend who kept taking pictures of Chris Richardson on his cell phone. Also in the front row was a 60-year Filipino woman who kept dancing seductively to Blake's beats. On one side of us sat a 40-something woman who introduced herself and went ahead and apologized for all of the craziness that was sure to come during the show. She left early with thirty minutes left to go in the show and without throwing Phil her panties. Wow, how wild. To the other side of us sat a group of four including a 20-year old girl who kept bragging about how Blake winked at her. Needless to say, during intermission she called everyone she knew to tell them that she would soon be Mrs. Lewis, while checking with her friends to make sure her hair looked good.

The show this year was one of the best Idol stage shows yet. For several years they did those dreadful group numbers where all ten of them sang together to California Dreamin'. This year they toned down the group dynamics, instead pairing two or three contestants together for various numbers. As much as I hate to admit it the performance of the night for me was Blake. He recorded his beat boxing live on stage and then played it back as the track while he sang She Will Be Loved. It was pretty ingenious as it later morphed into With Or Without You. But then he followed it up with a ten minute lesson on how to beat box and I was right back to hating him again like normal. Let me just tell the people behind the Idol tour to rewind their Tivo and look to see who actually won the contest this year. To my knowledge it wasn't Chris Richardson even though he was on stage more than anyone else the entire night. We saw Jordin for 90 seconds of the first song, for two songs right in the middle, and finally her solo set at the very end.

It was great to see that LaKisha had used some of her newfound wealth to fix the gap in her teeth. Maybe some additional funds need to be spent on breast reduction surgery. Near the end of the show she walked on stage wearing a Kellogg's Corn Pops t-shirt. Those were the two biggest corn pops I've ever seen.

Let me just say upfront that you don't go to an Idol show to see Haley Scarnato sing. That's like going to McDonald's for the romantic ambiance. The girl is known for her legs and nothing else. So imagine my disappointment when song after song she came out wearing jeans. But then the second half rolled around and the strains of Lady Marmalade filled the arena. Up from below the stage came Haley in all her hooker glory. The booty shorts were full on display and all was right with the world once again.

And finally let us not forget the myth, the man, the legend, Sanjaya. Now I've gotta admit that the kid can sing….kinda. He was actually better than the vast majority of his performances on the show. Thankfully he didn't bring any of them back for a second go round. Smart move. Instead he tackled Ike Turner (good) and Michael Jackson (not so good). The real low point was when he lent his vocal ability(?) to Hey Jude and provided the "Na na na na na na na" part of song. Somewhere Paul McCartney is jumping in front of a speeding subway car.

Set List

Everyone: Let's Get It Started

Melinda & LaKisha: Baby Love; Stop In The Name Of Love

Melinda, LaKisha & Chris R: I Heard It Through The Grapevine

Sanjaya & Melinda: Proud Mary

Phil: Blaze of Glory

Chris S & Gina: Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Haley: When God Fearin' Women Get The Blues

Sanjaya: The Way You Make Me Feel

Chris S: Typical

Gina: Who Knew

Jordin & Chris R: What Hurts The Most

Jordin & Melinda: This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)

Blake: Time of the Season; She Will Be Loved; With Or Without You; You Give Love A Bad Name

Melinda, LaKisha, Gina & Haley: Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

Phil: America The Beautiful

Blake, Chris R, Chris S, Sanjaya & Phil: Crazy; Hey Jude

Haley, Gina & LaKisha: Lady Marmalade
Blake & Chris R: Ain't No Sunshine; Virtual Insanity; Geek in the Pink; SexyBack
LaKisha: I Will Always Love You
Chris R: This Love

Phil & Gina: It's Your Love

Chris R, Sanjaya & Haley: Life Is A Highway

Melinda: (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman

Haley, Gina, LaKisha & Melinda: Ain't No Other Man

Jordin: I Who Have Nothing; Heartbreaker; You Were Meant For Me; A Broken Wing; Livin' on a Prayer; This Is My Now

Undiagnosed

We went to the St. Jude telethon Saturday night to present the money that we had raised all year at school. The three boys and I stood under the lights waiting for our cue. Just before it was our time one of the boys looked back at me and whispered "Mr. Ritchason, I think I'm gonna pee my pants" with a serious, deeply concerned look on his face. Well that would be a first for the telethon. Someone urinating on live television while the mayor answers phones in the background. Just then a heavily makeuped Lee Ranson (who is one day away from death) walked up and called me "Mitch." I guess he combined my first name and last name maybe like one of those Hollywood couple nicknames (Brangelina, Tomkat, Locoke). But all was forgiven when he recognized me as a Golden Apple winner. Try getting that shout-out, Forest Whitaker. He asked the same questions we get every year and the boys fumbled over the total which has also become something of an annual tradition. While we were on the air, one of the St. Jude runners stopped to admire Liam lying in his stroller. She smiled, shook her head, and said to Rachel "Well that's what we do this for." To all those who are concerned, Liam is not undergoing chemotherapy. He's just a little bald.

Battling a senior citizen

I was coming home from summer school today when this old man pulled out right in front of me. Disregarding the fact that he was probably 90 and senile, I laid on my horn and swerved around him. I glared at him and gave him an "Are you kidding me" look as I passed him in the other lane. Then just as fate always does when you do something stupid, I got stopped at the next stoplight and the white Oldsmobile pulled up right next to me. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and at first acted like I didn't see him. He then proceeded to lay on his own horn in a long, drawn out fashion. A smart alec after my own heart. I finally turned to my right making sure all of the windows were up in the car and mouthed the words "I can't hear you" as I pointed to my ear. This pissed him off even more so he began reving his engine like we were Diesel and Walker getting ready for a street race down Court Street. This made me start laughing as I watched his wife reach across the steering wheel, trying to calm him down. I wasn't about to let the dancing guy from the Six Flags commercials intimidate me. I mean it wasn't like I was squaring off with Brad Pitt. ("I mean have you seen Snatch and Fight Club?": A shout out to my Big Brother brethren). The light turned green and thankfully the van in front of me was quicker than the Jimmy John's delivery driver in his lane. I sped off, looking forward to another round with Peter O'Toole down the road. Somewhere he sits right now amongst his nursing home buddies playing bunco and relaying his run-in with the troubled youth of America.

Urban meets Springer

Last night Rach and I went to Moline to see her boyfriend Keith Urban. The show was really great but we got stuck in the raucous section of the crowd in the first row of the upper bowl. On one side of us a group was knocking their beer over the side and spilling it on the people below. This begat a stream of security that was present all night long in the aisle. In the other aisle stood a drunk man and his girlfriend who didn't even have seats in the section and were blocking some people's view of the stage. Finally, a rather large woman in a sequined tube top walked down the steps and began screaming in his face. Then her boyfriend in the Coors tank top joined to get in his own word. It was straight out of The Jerry Springer Show when a thug is dating a transsexual only to find out that he's also sleeping with his ex-boyfriend who happens to be a midget with dyslexia. Then they proceed to just beat the crap out of each other. Finally the drunk gentleman did a little dance and stumbled down the stairs. Oh I can't forget the two drunk lesbians who were sitting in our seats. When they realized we were going to be sitting there they sighed loudly and stood right beside us hollering "We'll just stand right here all night. I don't even give a f***." As a side note it's amazing what people will wear to country concerts. My favorite are the 50-year old women with no teeth that are classy enough to wear daisy dukes that are so short that you can actually see their vagina poking through. It's a nice touch.

Set List
Once in a Lifetime
Where The Blacktop Ends
Faster Car
Shine
Raining on Sunday
Stupid Boy
Used To The Pain
You're My Better Half
Making Memories Of Us
You'll Think Of Me
I Told You So
Days Go By
I Can't Stop Loving You
Tonight I Wanna Cry
Who Wouldn't Wanna Be Me
Somebody Like You

Encore
Got It Right This Time
Better Life
Everybody

Potteritis

So I just got back from picking up the new Harry Potter book shortly after midnight (Nerd Alert!). I got hooked earlier reading the first third of the book that someone leaked online days ago so I got in line with the rest of the people in need of social life.

I'm all for little kids getting dressed up like Hermione or Dumbledore, but I draw the line at people over a certain age donning overgrown spectacles and a lightning bolt on the forehead crafted from Crayola washable markers. Let's just say that if you have hair growing under your armpits (or other places on your body) it's probably time to hang up the oversized cape. As soon as I walked into the store I heard a boy speaking in a dreadful British accent saying "Hello, I'm Larry Potter." This kid who was old enough to know better had on the full Potter costume and was just obnoxiously over the top. Before I could even roll my eyes he turned to me and said "Oh hi Mr. Ritchason." I turned to see a boy I had my first year of teaching who is getting ready to go into 8th grade. I made polite conversation, discussing the book and his summer before heading for my spot in line. Not much has changed for him in the last five years. Even an invisibility cloak can't hide a dork.

This group of three 50-somethings in front of me were way into it. They were having their own book club right there in aisle 2. I mean if I never again hear the phrases "social isolation" and "emotional frailty" I can die a contented man. I was waiting for Oprah to come waltzing around the corner. Oh and I guess I made some lady mad because Colin and I were discussing parts of the book we had already read. She turned around and glared at me like I had just urinated in her grandmother's applesauce. Spoiler alert: On page 274 Harry transforms a crabby, unibrowed lady into an ear of corn. Oops!

The cable guy

The cable guy came out this morning to hook up everything to our new TV. He was a nice guy, explaining exactly what needed to be done as he connected various cables. However, as he was reaching behind the cable box he let out a fart. He and I both acted like nothing happened, but Ella yelled out "Boy toot." At that moment I wanted to slide underneath the couch. I grabbed Ella's cup from the floor, took her hand, and said "Why don't we go get some more juice." To get from the living room to the kitchen takes about five steps, but it seemed like hours as she kept repeating "Boy toot" over and over. Needless to say the guy rushed through the rest of the job without any further explanation, only asking for my signature on the bottom of the paperwork. I guess I don't blame him. He probably needed to find the nearest restroom.

A word about moustaches

We were leaving Wal-Mart the other day when we passed the "spa" as various women were getting manicures and pedicures. On a bench outside the entrance sat a man with his legs crossed like Katie Couric along with the posture of a young Margaret Thatcher that just kept scanning the patrons who walked past him. However, after taking a few steps I realized that was not what concerned me. Instead it was the hideous moustache that had grown along his upper lip. Back in the day Charlie Chaplin and Groucho Marx utilized their moustaches to comedic effect. Even some of the most influential men in history, including Albert Einstein and Martin Luther King, Jr., weren't afraid to grow the old moustache. In the 70's it was hard to find a musician who didn't sport facial hair, most notably David Crosby and Freddie Mercury. In fact the 80's brought us some of the greatest 'staches of all time from the likes of Tom Selleck, Alex Trebek, and Geraldo Rivera. But now 25 years later the moustache has fallen on not so hairy times. Sure there are still a handful of people who can pull it off, but unfortunately the moustache now gives off a creepy, To Catch A Predator kind of vibe. If you don't believe me check out the photos below from actual MySpace profiles. Paging Chris Hansen.

Making whoopee

I was checking my email today as usual, but I always make it a point to go through all the new spam messages just in case something I really want accidentally gets misdirected there (like offers for one-legged Asian call girls). There was a message with the subject "Having sex with celebrities," which naturally piqued my interest because I couldn't believe that even Paris could be out with a new sex tape already. I opened it and it included a link to a quiz. I clicked on it and answered some lame questions about what kinds of pets I'd want and whether I always use condoms. (Um, only with the one-legged Asian call girls).

I finished answering the twelve questions (two of which were exactly the same) and clicked submit to see which celebrity will be camped outside our door waiting for a piece of me. Come to find out none other than Jennifer Aniston is wild about me. It read "You like your women to be the sweet, pretty, girl next door types. You want that special one that you can take home to mom. Apparantly the dirty little sex kittens aren't for you." Sorry Rach. Guess you need to try a little harder to be naughty. Meow.

Now my runners-up were a most peculiar lot. The celebrity who I am second most likely to have sex with is....Nick Lachey? Either he's had a sex change since the Jessica breakup or the survey is trying to tell me that I'm gay. Gwen Stefani came in third and Keira Knightley was fourth.

http://gotoquiz.com/which_celebrity_are_you_most_likely_to_have_s

Freaks and geeks

Yesterday I went to the Cardinals game with dad. Now it wouldn't be a trip to the ballpark without getting stuck in the middle of annoying freaks. Behind us was a 50-year old man who kept discussing baseball movies. Now mind you I love Field of Dreams, Pride of the Yankees, and The Natural just like anybody else. My quibble is when someone starts quoting lines from The Sandlot 3, The Benchwarmers, and Mr. 3000. Some pieces of dialogue should never have been written, nonetheless repeated. My day would have been just fine without having to hear the man in the next row recite the following line from Summer Catch: "I'm pretty sure I just poo pooed in my panties." He then went on to talk about a movie he had just rented the other night. In fact, he actually called Miss Congeniality 2 one of the funniest movies he's seen in a long time. Let me be frank: I laughed more during surgery as my hemorrhoids were being cut out with a meat cleaver.

To the left of us was an annoying girl who did not shut up the entire first four innings. She talked through the national anthem, the starting lineups, the guess the attendance question, and even the game where you have to figure out under which cap the ball is hidden. She told a charming story about how she was driving home late one night when a man on a bike darted in front of her. The man's bike went flying and she jumped out of her car to assess the damage. However, she wasn't worried about the man so much as she was concerned about her car. As she retold the story, the girl said "There was blood all over his head and I didn't even care if I got AIDS. I just wanted to get it off my car." It's not very often that you get the opportunity to meet the Angelina Jolie of St. Louis. Later on she began boasting about how many hip clubs in town she's visited. Correct me if I'm wrong but St. Louis isn't exactly known for being a trendy hangout. I mean I've never seen Ryan Seacrest report on Lindsay Lohan driving drunk into the Mississippi River. The girl even took it a step further to say that her friends view her as something of a celebrity now because she's partied with so many celebrities. I just wanted to shake her and tell her that that doesn't really classify you as a celebrity. Now the day I see her in the pages of Us Weekly checking into rehab with no panties on then I might reconsider. My ears perked up in anticipation as she spoke, ready to hear untold stories of debauchery alongside of some of Hollywood's biggest names. Her "celebrity" friends included Jesse McCartney, Derrick from Road Rules, and some guy name Brian Glazer. Now even I didn't recognize that name so I looked it up on IMDB and this guy's only claim to fame is that he appeared on the second season of Average Joe. I'd classify Ella as a bigger celebrity.

Pictures with a prostitute

This weekend we went out to dinner for our anniversary with Seth and Traci who were also celebrating their anniversary. After eating we took pictures outside but wanted to get one of the four of us together. There were a few people around us to ask but Traci thought they might just run off with the cameras (think Sandra Bullock in Crash). Just then two people walking hand in hand came toward us and I quickly asked if one of them would take a photo. He was a balding white man and she was a hooched out black woman. As I started to hand the camera to her she pointed to him and said "He real good." Praying that she was talking about his photography skills and not his sexual prowess, I handed over the camera. As we were getting into position for the photo shoot I couldn't help but size up this odd couple. He was wearing tight Rustler jeans, while she was thisclose to letting a nipple pop out. She reminded me of that prostitute that goes to the dinner party with Borat. As they strolled away Traci encouraged me to get a picture of the pair for this very blog.

Our daughter the hoochie

Let me just come right out with it. So recently Ella discovered that she has private parts and now she has become fascinated with them at every diaper change. Last night as I was drying her off after her bath I gave her the old stranger danger talk. I said that no one should be touching her down there. It's her special, private area. Only mommy or daddy or a grandparent should be wiping her off to change a diaper or drying her off after a bath. So after the big talk we reviewed like any good teacher does. "So who can touch you down there?," waiting for the list of relatives to be ticked off. Instead her response was simply "Boys!" As you can see, Rach and I certainly have our work cut out for us.

Shopping for a serial killer

On my way to summer school this morning I passed a pawn shop. A sign outside the building advertised gift ideas for Father's Day. It read...

Gifts For Dad Found Here
DVD's
Tools
Guns

Unless your dad is a serial killer in the market for a murder weapon you might want to look elsewhere for a present for dear old dad.

Bilingual

Tonight at Wal-Mart there was a woman in front of me in the checkout line with a cartful of four children. She was wearing a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off of both sides. On one arm she had a tattoo of a large breasted woman with heavy eyeshadow and long dark hair that ran the length of her entire arm. On the other arm she had what looked like an alien playing drums with long droopy fingers and blood dripping from the mutant's teeth. Across the top of her shoulder was scrawled "Livin' La Vida Roca," which if I'm not mistaken translates to "Livin' the skanky life."

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Well school is out once again and it's time for one of my favorite times of the year, the summer concert season. Yesterday Rach and I headed up to Tinley Park to catch Gwen Stefani's Sweet Escape Tour. We stopped at Cracker Barrel for a quick bite to eat before the show. As our meal was coming out the waitress dropped my side of ranch dressing and it shattered all over the floor. In fact, one of the shards of the porcelain bowl actually cut Rachel. It wasn't bad or anything but they gave us free dessert. I tried to get her to push it in a little bit more to really make it bleed because I thought maybe we could get our whole meal for free. No luck.

So we arrived at the amphitheatre with our $10 lawn tickets in hand and enough snacks to keep a diabetic going for weeks. Just inside the gate we noticed two workers hawking upgraded seats for $10. I went to check it out and found out that we were able to trade in our tickets for seats down in the first section of the venue about 15 rows from the stage. We ponied up the $20, said farewell to our pot-smoking brethren in the grass, and headed down to our seats. How is it that we always manage to sit behind the most annoying people in the place? In front of us sat six high schoolers whom we were able to psychoanalyze by the end of the night. There was the flamboyant gay boy, the straight guy who will on a dare go ask another guy for his number in order to win $20, the snooty girl whose crap literally smells of lillies, a solemn young lady secretly battling depression who popped a Zoloft in the restroom, an annoying girl who tries to run with the cool kids but will never be up their level, and a ponytail-wearing tomboy who is just inches away from shunning boys forever.

The show kicked off with some girl named Lady Sovereign. She's like this British hip hop chick whose MySpace page calls herself the biggest midget in the game. Um, I guess that's good right? There were obviously people in the crowd who knew her because they sang along to every expletive-laced ditty. Let's just say she let the F-bomb fly more times in her five-song set than Tony Soprano has in six seasons.

After a short set change Akon strutted out. Before you get too worried he didn't simulate sex on stage with anyone or throw any teenagers out into the crowd. He's making progress. His performance was unlike any I have ever seen. He only sang 90 seconds of each song. It's like he American Idol-ized his set. And before he left he swiped a page from the Marky Mark/Usher play book and ripped off his shirt when relaying a fascinating tale of dating a stripper. It kind of makes you all warm and fuzzy inside.

What can I say about Gwen? I have liked her for some time but I was never really a huge fan until last night. She is an amazing entertainer and really had the audience in the palm of her hand from start to finish. She put on probably the second most elaborate and theatrical show I've ever seen after Janet Jackson (and well, maybe N'Sync in their No Strings Attached heyday. Um yes, I'm sorry. I was there.). Needless to say, that s*it was bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

Set List
The Sweet Escape
Rich Girl
Yummy
4 in the Morning
Luxurious
Early Winter
Wind It Up
Fluorescent
Danger Zone
Hollaback Girl
Now That You Got It
Dont Get It Twisted
Cool
Wonderful Life
Orange County Girl

Encore
The Real Thing
U Started It
What You Waiting For

Wardrobe malfunction

The other night I was at Wal-Mart buying velcro, gummy bears, and popsicles. (I sound like a six-year old who can't tie his shoes.) I was going from one side of the store to the other so I simply took a shortcut through the women's clothing department. As I was coming up to the fitting rooms I noticed that one of the doors was open and I could see some lady's bare back who seemed to be attempting to try on a bathing suit. She then proceeded to turn around and I came face to face with her rather large, saggy breasts. Luckily the naughty parts further down were wedged into a bit-too-tight lavender suit. Needless to say I couldn't bring myself to eat a grape popsicle later that night.

Lost in translation

Today the entire school went to see the Charlotte's Web movie in Morton. About halfway through, the film suddenly flipped upside down and then the entire movie began to run backwards. The dialogue too was disrupted and began to sound like one of those Twisted Sister songs that when played backwards tells you to kill your next door neighbor. The students became increasingly antsy as the seconds ticked by. I looked back at our principal who didn't seemed bothered by it in the least. After about three minutes of what sounded like the Malaysian version of the movie I walked over to the principal and asked her if she was going to let someone know about it. She looked baffled by my suggestion and replied "Oh, I thought they were just talking in animal voices and that's why I couldn't tell what they were saying." Not the smartest pig in the pen.

A weekend at the supermarket

The last two days I've had to run to the grocery store to pick up some odds and ends. Yesterday as I was leaving the parking lot I saw one of the students I had last year in my reading group walking along the sidewalk. He had a chicken leg in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. Guess he was sleeping through that two-week unit we did on nutrition and a healthy body. Then tonight as I'm going into the store I hear a vehicle behind me with "Because of You" blaring. As it passes I look through the open window to see a fifty year old man singing at the top of his lungs. For some strange reason I doubt that when a 16-year old Kelly Clarkson wrote the song she never imagined that an older man in a cut off Harley shirt would be driving in a pickup truck in Kroger parking lot belting out the lyrics like a lovesick high school freshman.

Better than Viagra

My class has been working on a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory play which they will perform in two weeks. Today I asked them to create their own original candy inventions like Willy Wonka did in the story. Some of the creations were Spicy Gum ("keeps you warm on cold days"), The Dragon ("one bite and you'll breathe fire"), and Fudgey Gum ("makes you turn into fudge so you can eat yourself"). My favorite though was The Rock Box which gives the unrealistic promise of "making you as hard as a rock for 12 hours." Somewhere Larry King is smiling.

Ooh that tickles

I was looking through a teacher magazine this morning that showcased ideas for the end of the school year. They suggested writing letters to next year's students and holding an awards assembly to pass out prizes and certificates. A few pages later was an idea that I had never heard before. The writer said to give each student a small beach ball along with a permanent marker. They were then instructed to "sign his classmates' balls." I'm sure it was supposed to be a completely innocent command but it made me laugh. If Liam ever comes home from school with the name Brandon scribbled on his testicles in black Sharpie there will definitely be some explaining to do.

Shopping with whores

This afternoon we went to Grand Prairie to get Ella and Liam's pictures taken together. It was a nice time and the photos turned out really well. (I mean we do have the cutest children ever. Sorry Brangelina.) Letty met us afterwards and we grabbed some coffee. As we were sitting at a table outside, Ella made her way to the large lion with the massive testicles that sits outside of Bergners. She's really into animals right now and constantly wants to read this book at home with pictures of various creatures. She even now knows the sounds they make. So she ran up to the lion and yelled "Roar!" What a scholar. But then everytime someone remotely walked in her direction she had to say it again and again for them to hear. The problem is that she can't quite pronounce the first "r" yet. To make a long story short, basically she was yelling the word "whore" to each passerby. They would first look at her quizzically and then look at me at which point I would have to explain what she was really saying before each person smiled and continued on their journey.

Natural disasters down south

So I only have about a week left of my maternity leave/spring break/taking afternoon naps on the couch. I made the mistake of heading into school to copy a few things to be sent home this week before I return. When I pulled up I immediately noticed the dreaded janitor's car in the parking lot. I quietly swiped my entrance card, slowly opened the door, and creeped down to my classroom. I even left the lights off to remain completely incognito. After finishing things up I threw on my coat, exited the classroom, and ran straight into my nemesis in the darkened hallway. It was kind of like breaking out of prison when you make all these elaborate, thought-out plans, only to run into the toughest guard right as you're ready to jump out the window. We exchanged a few pleasantries before she asked how the labor went. I knew that no matter how I answered this, it wouldn't turn out good. I filled her in to which she responded that it was the worst pain she's ever had to endure. In fact, she'd like to propose that every father should have to have his bottom lip stretched out and wrapped over the top of his head to provide a glimpse of what the birthing process is like. Then she moved on to her own childbirth experience. The pain, she said, was so intense that she felt (and I quote) "like her stuff down there was going to explode." And if I didn't fully understand the comment she made sure to use the index fingers from both hands to point to her crotch "down there." Even I was at a loss for words so I simply said "See you next Monday" and continued down the hall.

Spilled milk

Last night we went to the Chinese buffet for dinner. Midway through the meal I got up to get a refill on my chocolate milk (because everyone knows that nothing goes better with ginger beef than chocolate milk). As I pulled up the handle to get the milk to come out I heard something drop into the bottom of my glass. I couldn't see anything in it but it made me a little sick knowing there was something swimming in there. I just took it back to the table for the busboy to pick up on his rounds. I headed back up, grabbed a fresh glass, and tried again. As the milk neared the top of my glass I pushed the lever back into place. Yet instead of returning to its original position it broke off in my hand. Chocolate milk started spilling everywhere. An Asian woman dining a few feet away started yelling at me in her native tongue as though I wasn't aware there was a problem. What did she expect me to do? Wrap my mouth around it and start suckling it like a cow's teat? I was standing there pinching it closed when the aforementioned busboy came to help me out. I handed over the udder and figured he could work it out. I watched him search frantically for a missing piece when it dawned on me that maybe that was what fell in my glass. I wiggled my fingers to the bottom and discovered the missing bolt. I ran it up to him and he said "Oi kahn chi," which I'm going to take as something of a thank you.

The arrival

This is such a special blog posting that I feel like there should be confetti and a clown making balloon animals. It's very exciting to announce that Rachel and I are parents again. Liam McCartney Ritchason was born on March 20 at 11:32 a.m. (exactly one minute later than Ella). He weighed 7 pounds, 8 ounces and was 19 ½" long. Basically he has long bird-like legs like his father and is destined for a life of looking anorexic and avoiding shorts each summer. Anyway, it's a thrilling time at our house.

The delivery actually went rather quickly. Rach started to feel some discomfort and called for the nurse to come check her. She took a look and ran out the door. In just a matter of minutes it became like a set change to a Broadway show. People were coming in as others were exiting, carts were being wheeled in, instruments were on hand, and the spotlights were switched on. Rachel did great with the exception of her spitting in my face at one point, but she apologized mid-push.

There's two things I'm really tired of hearing. First, people saying "Well that's an interesting name." That's actually quite ironic when you hear it coming from a nurse named Cassany. Even my brother-in-law Andy had to give us a hard time about naming him after a celebrity. This coming from a guy who named his youngest son Clay Beckham King. I told him at least we chose a famous Brit that has some actual talent, unlike a guy who simply plays soccer in between injuries. Secondly, no we did not steal the name from Tori Spelling. If anything it's the other way around. I let the name slip when I bought a George Foreman grill from her yard sale two months ago.

While at the hospital there were a few things that made me chuckle. One of the doctors came in and said "Congratulations. Now you have a hunting buddy." Obviously we had never met before. Me hunting is about as likely as me ever watching another Lindsay Lohan movie. It's not gonna happen. I think Liam's more of a "lay on the couch watching Idol" buddy. Another time the lactation nurse came in to give Rachel a refresher course on how to breastfeed. She said Liam needed a little suck training. I think suck training is how Rachel and I got into this predicament to begin with. People think that having long legs is a blessing. Sure you can hang stuff up high or easily reach the top shelf, but it also has its disadvantages. The first night in the hospital I was sleeping soundly on a rickety five foot rollaway bed when the nurse brought Liam back in his crib and ran right into my ankles hanging off the bed. It was kind of like that scene in Misery where psycho Annie Wilkes smashes James Caan's ankles with a sledgehammer.

Finally, there's nothing like being at the hospital with Rachel's dad. It's actually like being out on the town with Paris Hilton, except a lot less skanky and without the extensions. Everyone knows him from the nurses to the chaplain to the crazy guys trying to find the mental ward. The best part of it is that he only ever recognizes about 1 out of every 10 people. The rest of them he fakes it by saying "Hey guy" or "Good to see you." After walking away and asking him who that was, he simply states "Oh, I have no idea." Classic.

Cleanup of dirty secrets in aisle 10

Ella and I ventured back to Wal-Mart this morning and it is apparent that I could write a book just about my adventures at the supercenter. We picked up a few assorted items and headed to the checkout. I took everything out of the cart and the woman began scanning each of them. Here's how the rest of the exchange went down. The cashier's words are legit but mine have been made up for dramatic/comedic effect. Basically I didn't have the balls to really say anything and just responded with "uh huh."

Her: You gonna pay for that? (pointing to the donut sack that Ella was holding)
Me: Oh I'm sorry. I forgot she had that. (handing over aforementioned donut sack)
Her: You weren't trying to steal that were you?
Me: Well times are tough but I think I can afford the 45 cent donut (followed by a lame chuckle).
Her: Ya you don't wanna get caught shoplifting. Trust me.
Me: Thanks for the advice.
Her: I once shoplifted a digital camera from K's Merchandise, but they caught me in the parking lot.
Me: Better luck next time.
Her: I had to stay in jail for 60 days. They're not nice to you in jail.
Me: Ya I've seen Ernest Goes To Jail and it was brutal.
Her: Luckily my mom and dad got me out.
Me: Wow, they must really love you to keep you locked up for two months.
Her: (smoky laugh) Here's your receipt. Have a nice day.
Me: You too sticky fingers.

More disgusting than a can of Pringles

So I was in the office making copies this afternoon when I heard the faint sound of my friend the janitor. She was telling the assistant superintendent's wife of all people that she suffers from irritable bowel syndrome. As if that wasn't enough she added that she "can't even eat a potato chip without taking a sh*t." I started giggling so hard to myself that I almost did the same in my pants.

Foul mouthed nine year olds

I was grading some papers this afternoon when I stopped dead in my tracks. A student had written her explanation for an estimation problem with what looked like an inappropriate four-letter word. I think she meant "took" but it came out as something else. Look at the second word she wrote and judge for yourself.

Pucker up

So I took another Star Student out for lunch today. When will I learn? On the way to eat she motormouthed her way through a variety of topics (her old school, school lunches, her sister in junior high, American Idol). She stated that it was her mom's boyfriend's birthday this weekend. Making small talk, I asked if they had bought him anything yet. They hadn't but had been looking at some Packers sweatshirts. The girl added that her suggestion was to get him a tattoo. She went on saying that her mom had a couple of tattoos, a palm tree on her ankle, a rose on her back, and (drum roll please) bright red lips near her privates. Well won't that make parent/teacher conferences on Thursday a lot more interesting.

Oscar outlook

The Oscars are this weekend and it's probably going to be a ho-hum show. Most of the races have been wrapped up for months, so I'd be delighted if there was an upset somewhere. Of course the Academy really lost some credibility when they denied a Best Picture nod to Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector. Here's my picks for the big show on Sunday night:

Best Picture
Babel
The Departed
Letters From Iwo Jima
Little Miss Sunshine
The Queen

Should Win: Babel
Will Win: Little Miss Sunshine

Basically this comes down to a three-way race between Babel, The Departed, and Little Miss Sunshine. Babel's multi-layered tale of intersecting lives looks to be a distant cousin of last year's Best Picture winner Crash which could be a good omen. The Departed is quite simply a popcorn movie that doesn't have the clout to be a Best Picture champ. Little Miss Sunshine has become the little movie that could. Hordes of Academy voters love it and it will probably walk away with the night's biggest prize.

Best Actor
Leonardo DiCaprio (Blood Diamond)
Ryan Gosling (Half Nelson)
Peter O'Toole (Venus)
Will Smith (The Pursuit of Happyness)
Forest Whitaker (The Last King of Scotland)

Should Win: Ryan Gosling
Will Win: Forest Whitaker

Forest Whitaker has become the Philip Seymour Hoffman of this awards season. He's swept every other award in the galaxy and should easily wrap up the Oscar. The only potential spoiler could be Peter O'Toole. With eight nominations and no wins he could be the sentimental favorite. But this year sentiment won't win over Whitaker's unforgettable performance.

Best Actress
Penelope Cruz (Volver)
Judi Dench (Notes on a Scandal)
Helen Mirren (The Queen)
Meryl Streep (The Devil Wears Prada)
Kate Winslet (Little Children)

Should Win: Helen Mirren
Will Win: Helen Mirren

I would be thrilled if Kate Winslet won after five nominations. However, this is Mirren's year to reign supreme. Already Dench has announced that she's staying home in London. The other nominees would be smart to follow suit watching the show from home in their pajamas and chowing down on Chinese take-out.

Best Supporting Actor
Alan Arkin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Jackie Earle Haley (Little Children)
Djimon Hounsou (Blood Diamond)
Eddie Murphy (Dreamgirls)
Mark Wahlberg (The Departed)

Should Win: Mark Wahlberg
Will Win: Eddie Murphy

This is the truly wide open race of the night. Murphy has the edge going in, but remains to be seem if Norbit works in his favor or not. On one hand, it shows his flexibility as an actor. On the other, it could give voters the impression that his nominated performance is just a one-off fluke. That could allow Arkin (with his first nomination since 1969) or even Wahlberg to slide in for the win.

Best Supporting Actress
Adriana Barraza (Babel)
Cate Blanchett (Notes on a Scandal)
Abigail Breslin (Little Miss Sunshine)
Jennifer Hudson (Dreamgirls)
Rinko Kikuchi (Babel)

Should Win: Jennifer Hudson
Will Win: Jennifer Hudson

And I am telling you that there is no way that Jennifer Hudson will leave the Kodak Theatre empty-handed. She's a shoo-in for a performance that some critics have boldly called one of the greatest film debuts ever. Not bad for a seventh place Idol contestant. Somewhere Jasmine Trias is yelling at her agent. Plus, I saw enough of Kikuchi's vagina in Babel to never want to see her anywhere ever again.

Best Director
Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu (Babel)
Martin Scorsese (The Departed)
Clint Eastwood (Letters From Iwo Jima)
Stephen Frears (The Queen)
Paul Greengrass (United 93)

Should Win: Martin Scorsese
Will Win: Martin Scorsese

If Scorsese doesn't win this year on his eighth nomination he should just pack it in. After being snubbed for classics like Raging Bull and Goodfellas, he's overdue and the Academy will right its wrong once and for all.

Dancing with people who look vaguely familiar

So yesterday the line-up for this season's Dancing with the Stars was announced. Now this is a show that I despise on many levels. I hate the costumes, the judges, the host, and especially the dancing. My real problem with it is the "stars" that it showcases. Now I understand that the first couple of seasons it's hard to get big-name talent, but now it's a huge hit going into its fourth season. I don't expect to see Denzel Washington or Jennifer Aniston doing a samba, but I do expect to see bigger stars than Billy Ray Cyrus, Leeza Gibbons, and Steve Sanders from 90210. It's pretty sad when your biggest celebrity is Heather Mills-McCartney, the gold-digging, one-legged ex-wife of the greatest singer/songwriter of all time. So to help the show become a bit more respectable I've brainstormed a few suggestions of stars they should try to land in upcoming seasons:

* Jerry Maguire child star Jonathan Lipnicki

* My second grade teacher Miss Fryman

* Jason Alexander, Britney Spears' 55 hour husband

* Sporty Spice

* Jaleel White, Urkel from Family Matters

* One of the remaining non-Academy Award nominated members of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch

* Magic, the dog from those Old Navy commercials

* John Wayne Bobbit, the man whose wife cut off his penis

* Haylie Duff, Hilary's even more untalented sister

* Sandy, my favorite barista from Starbucks

* Mambo No. 5 singer Lou Bega

* The Soup Nazi

* Connie Chung

* Isaac Hanson, the oldest member of the singing Hanson family

* The San Diego Chicken

* MC Skat Kat from Paula Abdul's Opposites Attract video

* American Idol first season host Brian Dunkleman

* Lark Voorhees, Saved By The Bell's Lisa Turtle

* The elderly woman from the "I've fallen and I can't get up" commercial (if she's still with us)

Pitchy at best

There are some people who watch Idol strictly for the auditions. I am not one of them. There's only so many horrendous versions of Fallin' I can withstand. This year they crammed in so many terrible auditions that viewers rarely saw actual decent singers. When I watched the first performance show last night half of the guys I didn't even recognize and for good reason. Let me go out on a limb right now and say there is no way a guy will win this season. If by some strange miracle that happens in May I will rush right out and buy 20 copies of Kellie Pickler's atrocious album. The guys as a whole are not good and I really don't see many of them improving over the next several weeks. Most of them picked extremely boring songs. I mean it's your first night to really wow America and what do you pick? Richard Marx? You've gotta be kidding me. So here's a few observations from last night.

* If Chris Richardson is the next Justin Timberlake, then I'm the next Stevie Wonder.

* Sanjaya Malakar (or Kumar as I like to call him) reminds me of Michael Jackson but a bit creepier and with less talent.

* If you're getting more attention for your bare feet than your singing, that's not a good thing Paul Kim.

* The two that stood out for their originality were Blake Lewis and Chris Sligh. I'll admit that I haven't yet warmed up to Blake and his annoying beatbox, while I think Chris' personality alone will catapult him into the top 12.

* It was nice knowing you Sundance Head, a name that sounds perfectly suited for a career in porn.

The John and Jessica tour of, um, love? Seriously?

Now I could blog about how great John Mayer was live last night. But I must admit I missed out on about four songs halfway through his set when a certain divorced, former MTV reality star magically appeared behind the sound board. Now I'm nowhere near a Simpson fan, but I was transfixed watching her struggle with the lyrics as she attempted to sing along. After about three songs she was bored and proceeded to play with her hair for the next thirty minutes. Anytime she even remotely glanced in our direction the girl in front of me waved wildly. But alas Jessica was only there to support her man and in no way wanted to take the spotlight off of him (ya right.) I mean what couple doesn't want to spend a Saturday night together in Bloomington, Illinois? I find them to be something of a good match because you can't listen to either of them speak for very long. I doubt their love for linguistics is what brought them together.

Set List

Vultures
Good Love Is On The Way
Why Georgia
I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You)
Clarity
Waiting on the World to Change
The Heart of Life
Bigger Than My Body
I'm Gonna Find Another You
Belief
No Such Thing
Gravity

Encore

Bold As Love
Your Body Is A Wonderland

Neon