Who wears long shirts?

When I was in Junior High, there were typically five shirts that were popular at any moment. They would generally be the current attire from American Eagle or Abercrombie and Fitch, and usually have the largest logo possible denoting the store. Or simple a miniscule moose or tiny eagle at the bottom of the shirt that somehow multiplied the cost of a plain tee by at least 5.

My mom didn’t have problems purchasing these overly priced shirts (probably because she was finally finished scouring the stores for Beanie Babies). However, she did have a stipulation: I needed to buy these shirts at least two sizes larger. She thought this advice was great, since I could get in much more wear out of clothing. This advice was odd for a few reasons 1.) Junior High girls change their clothing preferences quicker than the amount of time it takes a Furby to turn frightening; 2.) My mom didn’t even fit into these shirts herself and 3.) Wearing the clothing too loose clearly defeated the look I was going for.

But wearing those shirts—even though they were longer than basketball shorts—was still “important” enough for me to purchase them. A few years later, of course, I tossed those t-shirts, because they still didn’t fit (and were out of style as soon as they moved to the sale racks anyway).

Although I gave those shirts to Goodwill, my mom’s logic lingered. For the following years, I purchased clothing larger to make the wear was maximized.

Eventually, I realized that this logic was slightly ridiculous. It may work when you’re a toddler, but not when you’re a likely-to-grow-no-longer (until-you-understand-that-the-freshman-fifteen-is-not-false) teenager. I also realized that it is not necessary to wear ‘Surf Until You Can’t Stop!’ unless you actually have ever surfed before. Especially when you can’t even stand up on roller skates (guilty).

Spending so much time with 8th graders this semester makes me remember my wardrobe woes. There are many girls that are so put together, probably so excited to wear their outfits, that they probably think that the same clothing will be in their college closets. I would have been the same way in 8th grade. In fact, I probably would have bet that I would be wearing my favorite sleeveless maroon-and-gold reversible hooded ‘American Eagle 8’ long after my wedding. Is it just me? Maybe girls these days are a bit more sensible. They’re certainly more stylish. Maybe one day headbands with a bow and high-waisted skirts will be ridiculed. Regardless, right now their style seems far superior to donning shirts longer than your teacher’s skirts.

Product Persuasion

A little known—though probably not surprising—fact about me: I am very easily persuaded by infomercials.

My fascination with phone-in products began when I was young. I had ALOT of trouble sleeping. I tried it all: counting sheep, drinking warm milk and/or taking a warm milk bath (maybe doing both at once would have done the trick?), placing orange peels by my bed, and listening to CDs of nature sounds couldn’t cut it. Then I discovered “The Home Shopping Network.” It was a miracle. Something about one-size-fit-all sweaters and smells-like-Christmas everyday candles lulled me to sleep within minutes.

My sisters and I became addicted to the HSN. While many others our age would watching Saturday morning cartoons, we more frequently tuned in with ladies named Tammy with two-toned, teased hair and toothy grins that could be persuasive enough to make you think that it was necessary for you to buy products to prevent baldness before you hit puberty.

Although I no longer (regularly) tune into HSN, I’m still a sucker for similar products. Smooth Away, the Shake Weight, and yes, even the ShamWow! have made me want to pick up the phone and purchase before the salesman can tell me where to make my 3 easy payments.

Of course, like millions of others who’ve been conned by commercials, I often end up disappointed. The products rarely work the way they do with the magic of TV. Michelle Tanner could certainly attest to that. Although I know that infomercials are generally incredibly off, I continue to call-in in hopes that the apparently amazing product truly is perfect.

My intense love for infomercials makes me wonder: Are those who are easily persuaded to purchase products also easily convinced by creepers? I generally have a terrible creep detector. I think someone wants to just have a friendly chat over a Coors—which is certainly not generally the case when they chat while attempting to caress you.

Back for Mo(o)re Looney after a long lapse!

It has been far too long.

To be fair, I’m not sure why I didn’t blog the entire summer. My job as a coach for 4-9 year olds certainly brought me some great material. A few highlights—er, lowlights:

1.) I sprained my ankle attempting a one-handed cartwheel while coaching Cheerleading camp. I can’t touch my toes and have never made it through “The Electric Slide” without bumping into at least 10 people mid-dance.

2.) A few campers informed me of far too many details that their parents would certainly prefer to have been kept personal. Namely, their own bathroom habits…and those of their parents.

3.) There were countless classic stories from campers…which I can’t really remember at the moment because, well, I didn’t blog about them as they happened. 😦

But now, blog, I am back-in action. And boy, this semester will bring many stories that will certainly reveal to all of you even further of my difficulty with things that are supposed to be “as easy as 1-2-3.” Mr. Moore, my mentor teacher, gives new meaning to the word organization. The best way for me to describe this is to depict our differences:

MOORE: Deletes emails immediately after reading and responding.

ME: Just got done deleting emails…after my Inbox reached over 11,000.

MOORE: Has a single file folder of papers from 39 years of teaching.

ME: Could accumulate a single file folder from one week of school.

MOORE: Began papers the day they were assigned in college, and edited them every day until turning them in.

ME: Feels extremely accomplished if I begin a paper two nights before it is due.

MOORE: Has a year long lesson plan book filled out for the following year as soon as the previous year finishes.

ME: Is an expert at purchasing planners, but extremely poor at actually using them.

MOORE: Planned since he was in Kindergarten to be a teacher.

ME: Planned one week before my college graduation to be a teacher.

MOORE: Keeps five contacts in his phone.

ME: Has contacts that include “Joey Oyster Pub,” “Scott – Durbins” and “Richard DSM CAB!” (a man who I apparently thought was so nice at the time that he deserved an exclamation point).

When it comes to organization, we’re polar opposites. He’s a perfect planner; I’m a proficient procrastinator. You couldn’t find a Mo(o)re Loon(e)y match. Yet somehow, we make a perfect professional pair. Neither of us take things seriously, and can joke about each other’s organization (or complete lack thereof).