So Vegilicious

I used to HATE vegetables. Despise them. Think about throwing up at the thought of them. In fact, I once threw up after eating one of them (a baked bean at age 7).

For the majority of my elementary school years, most of foods that I ate fell into five categories: Fast Food, Fried, Dessert, Pizza, or the blandest of bland carbs (i.e. spaghetti without sauce or bread without butter). I could put down six Taco Bell tacos, eat nearly an entire pizza, or almost an entire box of pasta (Thank you, metabolism!).

My favorite thing in the entire world was Sara Lee’s Chocolate Fudge cake, which I once ate a slice of every single day for an entire summer (the summer before 7th grade). My mom allowed me to do so because she believed eating that was better than eating no breakfast at all. At least, that’s what I figured at the time. In reality, it was probably because she didn’t want to deal with a tempermental teenager.

Once I started getting involved in sports, I realized I couldn’t exactly eat 2.5 slices of deep dish pizza before practice. I started adding (gasp!) healthy foods. Grapes were a huge go-to. I truly believed that I would only race well if I ate grapes before a meet. Of course, I also thought I had to pop at least two peppermint candies, eat a 1/2 of a plain bagel (minus butter), wear a particular (extremely frayed) sports bra and do a minimum of six “jumps” before each race as well.

I was a tad superstitious.

The odd thing? I suddenly LOVE vegetables. I’m one of the people that I used to find insane. Today, part of my lunch consisted of a whole cucumber, an entire tomato, and alot of spinach—all foods that I used to find repulsive. I ate a (nearly) entire veggie themed meal yesterday…and have followed suite so often these days. My elementary-school alter ego only knew foods that were brown (minus those slathered in A.) Cheese or B.) Frosting. The only time my food resembled a rainbow was when I was eating Lucky Charms.

I’m certainly not a healthy eater all the time. Case in point: Tonight I’m going out for dinner for All-You-Can-Eat Chicken Wings. I ate almost an entire pizza the other weekend (at 3AM, after eating a huge Thai meal, and, er, enjoying many beverages). I fantasize about eating an entire gallon of ice cream in one sitting.

What are your thoughts on vegetables? Do you love ’em or loathe ’em?

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Interests You? Count Me In.

A recent revelation: I like things that other people like.

You may read that and think “So she likes whatever is popular?” Certainly not true. I bought Beanie Babies when they had already made their way to the $1 bin at auctions, and I still DVR episodes of “Saved by the Bell: The College Years.”

If someone else likes it, I’m more than willing to give it a shot. I’ve tried food that initially seemed frightening (Hello, Cow Tongue!). I became a [complete] Gleek by recommendation. I’ve made my way through pretty much ever Mascara that exists. I purchase infomercial products solely based on their positive feedback via the paid celebrities.

I’ve recently become a fan of something I previously had minimal feelings about: Football. I enjoyed some parts of the game, but didn’t grow up around many people who were very interested (we were a basketball/baseball/track-and-field house…along with ridiculous amounts of Reality TV). Yet I’ve recently hung out with more people who are football fans, and I’m started to, suddenly, really like football. A bit of my [excessive watching of] E! has been replaced by ESPN.

I’m certainly not about to create a Fantasy team anytime soon, but I probably won’t pick my Super Bowl teams based on their uniform colors or the amount of members they previously had on Dancing with the Stars.

My recent fascination with football has made me realize that I like the things that the people that I’m surrounded by do. Which made me wonder: What else have I been missing out on? What thing that you like should I learn to [and likely love]? Hit me with your best shot…minus hot dogs and heavy metal. 🙂

Run ‘n’ Cash That

I highly doubt the name Antoine Dodson is a name that will grace future history books.

The name doesn’t ring a bell? Please watch this video immediately. Then listen to this song. Then proceed to have it play in your head at numerous inappropriate times.

My head has broken it down with the infamous “Bed Intruder” several times during the past few weeks—luckily, not while I’m teaching…yet. The videos have been viewed by millions. In fact, more than the amount of people who watched a game of the world series.

Another infamous YouTuber of late? The man who spotted a Double Rainbow. I heard on the radio yesterday morning that he will now have an iPhone app. The man is making alot of bank for being very excited for spotting a beautiful sight.

There have been thousands of others who have been spotted and made a career from YouTube. Which made me wonder…

Will this instant Internet “success” change the career goals of kids? Neither Antoine or Double Rainbow had to earn an education to gain instant success. They didn’t have to join a gym at age 3, practice baseball before beginning their ABCs, or start singing directly after they learned their first syllable. Yet they will make far (far) more than most of us can ever dream for a two-minute video on YouTube.

Will hopes of becoming a professional athlete/singer/veternarian/doctor/lawyer eventually change to becoming a professional YouTuber? I love teaching far too much to trade it in for instant celebrity. Plus, I’m technologically challenged. However, I certainly wouldn’t mind running ‘n’ cashing some of those instant internet dolla dolla bills ya’ll.

Sweet Little Lies

One subject that I’m oddly skilled at? Making up stories to strangers.

This is probably not a skill I should be proud of…considering “making up stories” is basically a nice way to say that I speak complete lies. However, I like to think that my “stories” are harmless. I only create stories if the person is A.) Creepy or B.) A VERY likely liar themself.

My favorite go-to story? Convincing people that my friends are Amish and are celebrating their Rumspringa. I’m not sure where this fascination with the Amish faith began, but a few of my friends and I have been obsessed with pretending that we have chosen to trade our bonnets for beers.

I feel as if we’re realitively convincing about this. Of course, we are only each other’s judge so there is also a likelihood that I’m as good as telling faith falsities as I am faking sick.

As you know, I’m an extremely gullible person. However, I tend to be exactly the opposite when it comes to stories from strangers.

Case in point: I met two separate people last Saturday who both said that they played football for Arizona and Iowa. Not too crazy, right? Well, the two teams that played on Saturday were Iowa and Arizona. One of the guys was named “Gumby” [I know. I have no room to talk about last names]. “Gumby” also gave me a free Iowa shirt (a former Arizonan who just happens to have a spare Iowa shirt?) The kicker? The two guys were friends. Way too many coincidences.

Imagine my surprise when a little Internet search told me they were telling the truth. (Actually, I’m only certain about the Iowa guy—”Gumby’s” status is still up for grabs—though if his friend was telling the truth, maybe he was too?). Iowa didn’t lie about a single stat.

Do you create stories to strangers, or are you always upfront? Do you believe what you hear, or beg to differ?

Cell Phone Clutter

I recently decided to examine my cell phone contacts.

Upon doing so, I realized that quite a few fall into one of the following categories:

1.) Have met the person at a concert/bar and have titled that person accordingly (aka “Joey Oyster Pub”). If I didn’t bother to get their last name [which is usually for a reason] and can’t recall what they look like, chances are we are not destined for a lifelong friendship.

2.)Have worked on an assignment/project with them once, and have only called them once during that time. I don’t forsee any Freshman year Ethics class reunions in the future.

3.) Are co-workers who I traded numbers with strictly for emergencies. I can’t imagine myself calling “Cindy,” the ex-cheerleader I worked with who was about as outgoing as Oscar the Grouch.

4.) Is someone who I’m pretty certain miraculously made his or her way into my phone.

The problem? I can’t seem to part with any of these people. My philosophy of “you’ll never know when you need it” [which also applies to clothing, elementary school papers, half-torn ticket stubs and sheets of paper from street vendors], refuses to allow me to rid myself of cell phone clutter.

How do you know when it’s time to cut the conversational cord?

A Laffy Taffy Lesson

As I mentioned earlier, I’m awful at remembering jokes. I’m a thousand times worse at guessing the punchline.

Which meant that I could have probably performed better at surgery than as an 8th grade English student today (Sidenote(s): I never disected anything in high school because I gagged at the smell of the small pigs. I was allowed to put my head down while watching an open heart surgery. I turn the channel as soon as they enter the hospital in ANY medical show or special on obesity. I’m not certain I could tell a scapel from a screwdriver).

Mr. Moore and I like to do what we call “a little bit of this and a little bit of that” during most days. The “that” is the subject content (currently parts of speech and vocabulary). The “this” is anything else that strikes us…usually watching music videos as “intermission” and, of course, testing the student’s gullibility.

Today’s “that” was reviewing the parts of speech, intermixed with a little bit of “this.” We decided to test their riddling skills, seeing that their gullibility has a long way to go.

The students proved that, although they believe their 60-year old English teacher carries a shotgun and would hide a boy’s body in his 5 acres if necessary, they can take on brain teasers.

I, on the other hand, didn’t get a single riddle correct.

Here are the riddles for you to test your skills. Or, hopefully, for you to admit that you’re stuck on these, too. Two’s company, right? Er…[I told you I’m really, really bad at riddle recollection]:

A man and his son were in an automobile accident. The man died on the way to the hospital, but the boy was rushed into surgery. The emergency room surgeon said “I can’t operate, that’s my son!” How is this possible?

There was an airplane crash, every single person died, but two people survived. How is this possible?

Johnny’s mother had four children. The first was April, the second was May, and the third was June. What was the name of her fourth child?

Imagine you are in a sinking rowboat surrounded by sharks. How would you survive?

How could the 22nd and 24th U.S. Presidents have the same parents, but weren’t brothers?

How could all of your cousins have an aunt who is not your aunt?

How far can you walk into the woods?

Got Gullible?

I have been told—and subsequently believed—all of the following:

1.) That my calculator would melt in the car—during the length of the time it took me to stop for a Portillo’s lunch.

2.) That P.Diddy happened to be taking a pit stop in the Evansville, Indiana airport. Perhaps the world’s smallest airport and without a single speck of bling? He’d sooner keep the same name for life.

3.) That it was perfectly safe to put a heated iron on a wooden table. It is…if you’d like to see that brown iron mark for the rest of your table’s [now short] life.

There have been plenty, plenty more. However, none of those occurred during what I’ve recently learned are the prime gullibility years: Junior High.

Mr. Moore and I have quickly realized that 8th graders are possibly even more gullible than they are awkward around the opposite sex. And boy, has that revelation been entertaining.

1.) Mr. Moore and I decided to tell our 6th period students that, for the past three weeks, I was under disguise. I was not his student teacher. In reality, I am his nurse’s aide. I must be there so he remembers his schedule, ties his shoes, and deal with any other memory lapses. I added that I will be taking applications when I leave the school on December 10, so students may see me if they are interested in the position.

At least half of the class completely bought it. One student, Ben, even commented, as if this had been perplexing him all year: “It all makes sense! You’re a nurse! But wait a minute…how do you know so much about English?” A few other boys raised their hands to ask me about the application process (probably figuring it’d be their easy out of Algebra).

2.) Mr. Moore decided to tell the students a bit more about his 9th grade daughter, Emily. He explained that he is protective, and said he created an “Application to Date my Daughter” when she was 3 months old. He read them the lengthy application, which included requirements such as the state representatives’ signature, a blood test, your social security number, and numerous threats. You can find the hilarious application here.

Every single student bought it. Not a single person questioned whether this was computer generated, and the girls were likely ecstatic that they were not Emily.

I’m definitely someone that is easily conned, but is this the case for all? Is it believable that your mild-mannered English teacher spends his summers cleaning his gun?

If they believe that your 60-year old English teacher will actually prevent baggy pants by “taking my electric staple gun and fastening your trousers securely in place around your waist,” the opportunities for more gullibility tests are endless.