That's huge!

Well the second day of school has ended and now we only have 178 more to go. So far they seem to be a good group. Today we did an activity that's called Me in a Bag where the students bring in three things to share with the class that tells us something about themselves. Usually they'll bring in photos, trophies, books, movies, or instruments. It's kind of a good way to learn about them and what they're interested in. As we went around the room today one girl said that she likes to help her grandpa in his garden. She then proceeded to pull out the largest cucumber/zucchini in history. I'm still not sure exactly what it was but nonetheless when it stretches from the waist of a third grader to their head it's mighty impressive. Plus it was a lot more interesting than looking at yet another Pokemon action figure.

Fleecing the tweens

This morning we were at the mall when I came across a Hannah Montana wig. It was one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen. It kind of resembled Jennifer Aniston. Well that is if Jennifer Aniston was stuck in the eye of a hurricane and a riding lawnmower landed on her head. It was actually on sale….but then again it wasn’t. I know our education system is flawed in places but surely the tween population isn’t dumb enough to fall for this deal right?

Change

A couple weeks ago my brother Colin signed up for the Obama VP text message to be notified the second he announced his running mate. This is Col's first presidential election to vote in and he's taking it really seriously. He's actually taking time to learn about both candidates rather than listening to the masses drone that McCain with his numerous houses (Is it 7? Is it 10? I'm so old I can't remember.) is out of touch with the common man and that Obama loves killing babies. So over the last few days he had anxiously been awaiting the text. This morning he called to tell me that his phone started beeping maniacally at 2:09 a.m. He awoke long enough to see Joe Biden's name before rolling over and going back to sleep. If the change that Obama hails in every stump speech involves awakening me from my dream as a hang-gliding prince who fights crime with Helen Mirren while eating cotton candy and Sour Patch Kids, well then count me out.

Still waiting for the stars

It’s no secret that I’m not a fan of Dancing with the Stars (http://mritchason.blogspot.com/2007/02/dancing-with-people-who-look-vaguely.html). I find that they throw around the term “stars” much too liberally. I have yet to see Will Smith doing the foxtrot or Meryl Streep waltzing across the dance floor. Yet in all truthfulness I’ve never endured an entire episode, so I might have missed that when I flipped the channel to order the pancake puffs pan from that infomercial. Mmmmm, crab cake puffs. Today online I came across the lineup for the next season which starts September 22. I’ve already marked my calendar. Here’s a look at some of this year’s competitors:

Warren Sapp (retired NFL player) – Um, it’s football so…..well…..I’ve got nothin’.

Ted McGinley (Actor) – With this guy’s not-so-illustrious track record on TV, Dancing with the Stars will be cancelled by October.

Misty-May Treanor (Olympic gold medal-winning beach volleyball player) – A teacher at school today was shocked that I didn’t know who this was. “Haven’t you been watching the Olympics?” she lashed out. Unless your name is Michael Phelps, Kobe Bryant, or those American gymnasts I’m not really interested.

Mark McGrath (Lead singer of Sugar Ray) – I’m docking him a vote for each time I’ve heard that annoying “Every Morning” song. That should leave him at - 2,873,024 votes in the hole. Good luck!

Cody Linley (Hannah Montana actor) – If a pop culture junkie has to Google someone’s name to figure out who he is, then he’s probably not a star.

Brooke Burke (Model/TV host) – I remember her from that Wild On show on E! and she’s married to that guy from Baywatch. “That guy from Baywatch”? Hey, with a description like that he’s just what the producers are looking for next season.

Lance Bass (former member of N’Sync) – As long as I don’t have to listen to him sing anymore, it’s all good.

Kim Kardashian (star of Keeping Up With The Kardashians) – If all it takes to get on this show is to star in your own sex tape, then I look forward to seeing Screech, Mini Me, and my grandma in the mix next year.

Cloris Leachman (82-year old actress) – This will probably be the death of her. Literally. I hope she’s updated her will and someone at ABC is on set with those defibrillator paddles.

Toni Braxton (Grammy-winning singer) – She’s my pick to win it this year. If the poor man’s Whitney Houston can’t do it, well then nobody can.

Snacks and such

My dad and stepmom have been babysitting for us this summer on Tuesday mornings while I’ve been at summer school and Rach is at work. It’s always a mixed bag with my stepmom because you never know what she’s going to say or do. It’s like watching an M. Night Shyamalan movie. You know something out of the ordinary is going to happen, you just don’t know what it’s going to be. Today when Rach was leaving for work she told Ella that she was going to put on “Toy Story” for her and Liam to watch. Well my stepmom nixed the idea because quite simply she doesn’t like that movie as she told Rachel. Okay, well when the third hour of Barney is causing you to wrap your mouth around the barrel of a gun don’t say we weren’t trying to help you out.

When I returned home just before noon I found Liam crying as he was getting his diaper changed. Immediately my stepmom told me that he hit his head hard on the back of our couch. I don’t get too worked up about things like this because both Liam and Ella have had their share of bumps and bruises. It’s part of growing up and neither of them stand much of a chance with their ungraceful parents. (Yes, I did slip and fall all the way down the stairs the other morning. And yes, Rachel laughed hysterically.) She added that he could barely walk as though he was drifting in and out of consciousness like a wounded Tom Cruise in “Born on the Fourth of July.” I told him it was lunch time and he came sprinting like a Nigerian track star on steroids. Needless to say, Liam doesn’t have to give up his dream of being a successful leg model one day.

Whenever they babysit my dad and stepmom bring snacks for the kids. However, it’s never the typical fruit snacks or animal crackers. Instead it’s always one of two things: Chex mix or nacho cheese Gripz. Now mind you it can’t be the original Chex mix that your grandma makes every holiday. Rather it’s the bold-flavored Chex mix that you buy in the bag at the store. When I get home and kiss the kids it literally almost makes me faint. Their breath smells like they’ve eaten a charbroiled raccoon that’s been simultaneously dipped in clam chowder, hot sauce, and raw sewage. I’ve ridden on commuter-packed trains in New Delhi that smell better.

Now if you’ve never had a package of Gripz they’re these small cheese crackers that are about the size of a pea. I’m pretty sure that you’re supposed to eat them but all our kids like to do is play a game with them. Basically the object is to try to scatter them as many places throughout the house as possible and see how many mommy and daddy will step on. Hey International Olympic Committee, I’ve got a new event for you. We end up finding them everywhere, in the cushions of the couch, in the toe of our shoes, in the crisper of the refrigerator, in Liam’s ears. It’s a nightmare because when you step on them it leaves streaks of orange all over the carpet. It looks as though Chester Cheetah has farted cheese dust all over our living room and dining room. I’ve started to refer to them as the turds of Satan.

Donating

Today I went to a blood drive at the hospital here in town. Now I’m not one of those devoted donors that does it every eight weeks. In fact, I usually only get around to doing it in the summer while I’m off school. So I got there today and a lady led me back to a small cubicle to check my vitals and ask me a few questions about my health. (No, I haven’t traded sex for drugs, although I have bounced the idea around a few times.) It was very awkward sitting in there because there wasn’t any room to move around and our knees were touching while we sat across from one another. It felt like we were Ariel and Prince Eric in “The Little Mermaid” where they sit across from each other in the boat holding hands while the fish circle the vessel squirting water into the air. All we were missing was Sebastian the crab singing “Kiss the Girl.” The worst part about it was that it smelled like the woman had eaten 37 of those peanut butter crackers. When she smiled you could see little bits of the orange crackers in her teeth. Very sexy.

One of the questions she asked me was “What are you donating under today?” I didn’t really understand the question. I rapidly started going through appropriate answers in my head.

• Under the Tuscan Sun (dreadful Diane Lane chick flick)

• Under the influence of Jager bombs (a la Shia LaBeouf)

• Under the Table and Dreaming (still the definitive DMB album)

• Under the Sea (What is it with The Little Mermaid references today?)

I gave up and just asked what she meant. She clarified, “It just means are you donating as a man or a woman?” Really? That’s a question you have to get clarification on from people? I was tempted to tell her some elaborate story of how I was six months into the painful process of gender reassignment. But considering that I still had my balls I had to check the male box.

The actual process of giving blood doesn’t really bother me. I listen to my iPod, make tight squeezes ever few seconds, and in no time it’s over. A college aged girl sitting directly in front of me was struggling. She told one of the Red Cross workers that she thought she was going to faint so they lowered the cot she was sitting on all the way back. Another worker came over to bring her a bag of ice for her head. After only 45 seconds she complained that it was too cold. Yes honey, it’s supposed to be like that. It’s ice, not Grandma Giuseppa’s famous meatballs. She proceeded to open the bag and begin eating the ice like a malnourished squirrel. The girl only slowed down long enough to turn towards me and puke all over the carpet between us. A little extra donation for the day. Ironically her vomit resembled Grandma Giuseppa’s famous meatballs.