girlfiend

It’s snowing again. The timing of the storms this year has been perfect. So far we’ve had three early dismissals and two late openings. It’s fantastic. The busses are starting to pull up in the parking lot, signifying the early end to this school day, that at 12:15 has already lasted entirely too long. I can’t wait to get out of here.

A friend that I haven’t spoken to in weeks just called. For a number of reasons she was unable to attend both of my showers and she wanted to check in and let me know that even though she hasn’t replied she’s definitely going to the wedding. I was filling her in on some of the stuff that’s been going on- the photographer, the 26 separate RSVPs that haven’t made it back, my mother’s insanity, and just when I was in the middle of telling her about the unintended results of the strapless dress workout (boobs too big to fit in dress) my vice principal walked in. He looked slightly embarrassed, but rather than leave he just stood there and listened and waited until I got off the phone.

It’s a good thing I don’t like my job. It doesn’t look like I’ll be keeping it at the rate I’m going.

I just spent most of the evening writing thank you cards. Aside from a few that I’m saving for a time when I’m more inspired, I’ve written all of the engagement gift cards and shower cards. Whew. Boyfiend helped address and stamp envelopes. I’m glad it’s done. I’m even more glad that Boyfiend is going to write at least half of the thank you cards for the wedding gifts.

I have another dress fitting tomorrow night. I can’t believe how quickly this is all happening.

Bear with me while I post boring pictures just to get the hang of it.

Hanging up my coat.

My family’s version of lingerie.

The junkiegirls.

Worst gift ever.
* Six pasta bowls each decorated with a different waiter. The large serving bowl has a group portrait of the waiters.

Things got old after the first hour of opening gifts.
I was starting to sweat.

Boyfiend and the rest of the men arrived just in time for the cutting the cake.

I can’t believe I have another shower in just a few days. It’s a good thing I’m materialistic.

Nude Man Steals, Wrecks Philly Police Car

PHILADELPHIA - Police chased a naked man through the city’s slushy streets early Monday after he allegedly stripped off his bathrobe, bit an officer, then stole a police cruiser in an attempt to escape.

Last week the glycemic eating was easy. I was fine through Friday. Saturday I went out to dinner and they brought biscuits and mashed potatoes to the table and even then, aside from a silver dollar sized chocolate chip cookie I was fine. But yesterday at my bridal shower I accidentally ate cake, cookies, and crackers, then at home I accidentally ate two slices of tomato pie. A glutton for punishment, for breakfast I had a grilled cheese with bacon on rye. And disco fries. I love me some disco fries.

The effects of all of those bad for you carbs hit me immediately. Not only do I feel bloated and gross, I weighed myself and I’ve gained a pound. Since yesterday. I can’t believe how quickly my body reacted to the glut of carbs I’ve injested in the past 28 hours. I feel sick just thinking about it.

Considering how nasty I feel after eating all of that crap, I wonder if this will actually become a permanent lifestyle change.

In lieu of an actual post I’ve added my book list to the sidebar. Enjoy.

It turns out that my Strapless Dress Workout worked too well. Now that I have pectoral muscles my wedding dress just barely zips. I needed a new plan so on Tuesday I sweet-talked my way into yet another free training session, this time with Dreamboat. He scrapped my weight workout entirely and led me through a new routine on an exercise ball.

Using just my body weight, a medium exercise ball and an eight pound medicine ball, the new workout includes crunches, squats, bicep curls, and something crazy weird he calls “I’s, Y’s, and T’s” that works shoulders and arms. He’s got me doing pushups- the real ones for the first set and girly ones for the second set- and calf raises too. In addition to a half hour of cardio, I’m supposed to do the ball circuit on Mondays and Fridays, and yoga on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Compared to what I’ve been doing the past five weeks this new circuit seemed like cake. Because it’s so much less strenuous than I’m accustomed to, he added a diet component. I’m following the glycemic index- high glycemic foods early in the day and low glycemic foods after lunch. This essentially means that aside from fruits and vegetables I’m not eating any carbs after noon. As much as I hate the idea of cutting carbs, it’s only for four weeks,and I can eat bread in the morning.

Tuesday night, after eating my meal of meat and vegetables, I doubted Dreamboat’s wisdom. I wondered if it was enough. Wednesday when I went to yoga I noticed that my abs were slightly sore. Thursday I could barely move. Every step I took, every word I spoke, each time I laughed, coughed or cried I doubled over in pain.

Just for kicks I weighed myself today. Tuesday I weighed 113. Today I weigh 109. It has to be the lack of carbs. Now I’m just worried that the dress will be too big at my next fitting. I’ll have to start eating cheesesteaks for breakfast to make up the difference.

Yesterday as I sobbed at my desk I was interrupted three times. Two of the people who barged into my classroom despite the closed door were teachers. The third was my student Ollie.

Ollie, when he’s not trying to sleep, is a pain in the ass of the “hops around the classroom like a frog” variety. The kid acts like he’s as dumb as a rock, and has no interest in getting any smarter. Unsurprisingly, talking to his dad is like talking to a brick wall.

Me: Your son needs to read books at his independent reading level.
Dad: Yes.
Me: I sent him home with The Magic Finger last night. Ollie told me you wouldn’t allow him to read it.
Dad: Yes.
Me: He read The Bad Beginning instead.
Dad: Yes.
Me: The Bad Beginning is too hard for him.
Dad: Yes.
Me: Then why did you have him read it.
Dad: It’s longer.
Me: Have him read the book I sent home tonight
Dad: Yes

Of course the next day Ollie told me that his father wouldn’t let him read the Dahl book because it was too short. Once again, he read The Bad Beginning, referring to Klaus as Carlos and Violet as Violent. Close enough I guess, since the kid doesn’t understand a word of it.

Anyway, I digress. As Ollie burst through the open door I quickly wiped my face and took a deep breath. For the first time all week he used his powers of observation. “Miss Fiend, you look like you’ve been crying.” Not knowing what else to do, and still a mental wreck, I told him the truth. “Ollie, my photographer just called and told me she can’t shoot my wedding. I have to find a new photographer and I’m feeling a little stressed and upset.” Ollie took what he came for, his confiscated marbles and rubber band ball, and said, “I’ll see what I can do. I hope you feel better. See you tomorrow.”

Today he burst into my classroom and thrust a slightly crumpled, folded scrap of paper in my hand. The outside read “Open it Hope you like it”. Inside it contained the numbers of two different photography studios with prices and descriptions. Meticulously copied from the ad in the phone book was the phrase, “A wedding coverage to fit any Budget.” He said, “I talked to them both but they didn’t know if they could do it because I didn’t know the date. But if you call them they can help you.” I was glad I’d brought in donuts for them today. He got three.

Later I talked to his counselor in the hall and showed her the note. She said, “I don’t understand. Why is he such a nightmare in the classroom? Why is it that he only does what’s not assigned? And why does he disrupt every classroom he enters when he obviously has empathy?” I told her, “He’s just a juvenile delinquent with a heart of gold.”

Last night my mother called me to let me know that none of my friends have RSVPd for my bridal shower. She wants me to call them and ask if they’re coming. I have several problems with this.

1. It’s an invitation with RSVP and a phone number at the bottom. Grow the fuck up and respond already.

2. I’m not throwing myself the shower. I don’t know who was invited and who did or didn’t respond.

3. My mother’s not throwing the shower. Her sister is. Why the hell is she calling me?

As I was venting my frustrations to my future sister-in-law I got a phone call that made me forget about the shower entirely. I’m sure that it’s my fault. I got too cocky. I actually had the nerve to write about having a good day. It’s never a good idea for me to feel good about anything, because as soon as I do something else goes wrong.

Our wedding photographer called to cancel. She was very apologetic and very nice, and her reason (dying father-in-law) is completely acceptable, but for all of my understanding and common sense I couldn’t keep it together. Upon hearing the news that something I was counting on, something that I was excited about, and sure of, was no longer there, I burst into tears at my desk.

Now I’m just waiting for the rest. I’m not sure that no one responding to the shower invitation counts as something bad. If the photographer cancelling only counts as one negative event what else am I in store for? Will our honeymoon destination disappear into the ocean? Will our rabbi decide that I’m not Jewish enough? Perhaps our band will get stuck in a traffic jam, leaving us with nothing but a pipe organ. I’m done with being positive. Fuck it. My “expect the worst” attitude never leaves me brokenhearted. At least if I expect the worst I can be pleasantly surprised if nothing major goes wrong.

This really pisses me off. Chris Crutcher’s book Whale Talk, one of the best audio tapes I listened to last year, was pulled from the shelves of a high school and a teacher was suspended for teaching it.