Trifecta

I just finished Night by Elie Wiesel for our book club, which was a very big mistake to read before going to bed, especially when I actually have to set an alarm clock and be up early in the morning. Instead of lying awake for any longer, I figured I would do a little bit of writing and watch some Jersey Shore before trying to rest my eyelids again.

Random grocery store somewhere on the East Coast...

For those who have been living under a rock for the last week, the east coast has been rocked with an earthquake, a hurricane, and a few tornadoes over the last few days. First came the earthquake, which occurred on Tuesday afternoon, and pretty much scared the shit out of anyone who had never experienced a quake. I was actually at my friend Pat's house, during the quake, where the language arts department was having a meeting of the minds. While sitting at the table discussing UbD, the entire house started to shake, which resulted in Pat hollering at her daughter for running around in the basement. After her daughter came upstairs and the house was still shaking, everyone in the room quickly realized that something wasn't right and we all ran outside to investigate. We quickly realized that we weren't the only one's on the street whose house vibrated. All of the adults in the house immediately began using our cell phones to try to reach our loved ones, out of curiosity as to whether they had felt the rumbling from below.

Cell phones were not operational for about an hour, since all lines were jammed with people trying to reach their loved ones. Diddy finally sent me a text telling me that an earthquake had occurred in Voorhees (where I was presently at), completely unaware that I was actually in Voorhees. I chuckled at the thought that she actually thought the earthquake was in Jersey, let alone in Voorhees. After several texts back and forth, she finally realized that the quake actually occurred in another state, but we both agreed that it was a scary, yet exciting experience.

After getting home and reading the humorous status updates about the quake on Facebook, I soon realized that a hurricane was quickly approaching the east coast. "Are you fucking kidding me," was my first reaction, followed by rationally trying to prepare my brain for how to prepare for a hurricane. The idea of a major storm faded from my brain until Thursday night, when Rachel's daddy called her about the mandatory evacuation of her Aunt Pepper from the Jersey shore. Aunt Pepper is Rachel's 76 year old great aunt, who loves the casinos and cigarettes.

Rachel and I decide that Aunt Pepper would stay with us for the weekend, and developed a game plan that involved picking up her brother Paul on Friday morning, then head to Longport to pack up her house and prepare it for the storm. Aunt Pepper lives less than a block away from the ocean, in a beautiful shore house, where she lives all year round. After arriving at her house, the three of us pack all of her patio furniture from the front and back porch into her living room and outdoor shower. Out of fear of losing power for an extended amount of time and losing some of her frozen food, Aunt Pepper packed some very tasty foods for her weekend in the Langmore, such as filet migon, shrimp, hamburgers, eggs, cheese, breakfast sausage, and butter. After loading up her bags and food into the car, we then made the trip back to Mullica Hill, with Paul driving her car back.

On the way home, Rachel and I witnessed a Wawa cyphon gas from the pumps, in preparation for the hurricane. Even with the mandatory evacuation of Aunt Pepper, the severity of the storm had not actually fully hit me until witnessing the gas being cyphon at Wawa. After getting home, Rachel, Paul, and I began to prepare our building for the storm, removing the community patio furniture and rubber mat from the first floor porch, removing an extremely loose plank of wood from the outside of the building, and helping the Mullica Hill Flower Shop put away some of their flowers. Rachel and I then dropped Paul off at his house, and ran out the store to attempt to find water and fuses. Of course, water by this point was a rare commodity, but we eventually found some at Big Lots. Nobody had emergency candles in Jersey, so we had to settle with cheap, stinky candles from Big Lots also.

The following morning, Paul met us for breakfast at the Harrison House. After a hearty breakfast, the ladies headed back to the Langmore once again, where we planned to brace the storm. The rain started around noon, and Rachel and I both realized that our garage was bound to flood during the storm. After moving our cars to the safest location in the parking lot, the two of us tackled the garage, creating a barricade using Rubbermaid containers. We also had some empty crates in the garage, which we flipped over to create a platform to keep a wooden bed frame, a window fan unit, a box fan, and two of my kitchen chairs off the ground, in the hopes that they wouldn't become water logged. We also brought in a few important things from the garage, such as two containers of old video game systems, a box of dolls that Rachel's mom had been holding onto from Rachel's childhood, and a box of childhood books that her father had recently given to Rachel.

Moments after we finished our project, the rain began to get extremely heavy, and within 90 minutes, we noticed the puddle in front of the garage was turning into a lake. I headed back to the garage to try to barricade the door with logs, but couldn't find any that were suitable. Rachel then came up with the ingenious idea of using the wooden planks from the make shift garden surrounding the large tree in the parking lot. We used the wooden planks to create a make shift damn instead.

For the remainder of the evening, the three of us watched as the rain increased and the winds began to get heavier and heavier. Around 8 pm, we briefly lost power, so when it flickered back on, Rachel and Aunt Pepper jumped at the opportunity to start making dinner. As we were eating a delicious meal of filet migon, apple and grape salad, and pea soup, Diddy texts me about a tornado that's heading right for Mullica Hill.

Shit gets fucking scary from here.

Rachel goes into panic mode, turning on the television where the television goes crazy with this annoying, piercing noise and the tornado warning scrolling across the bottom of the screen. The tornado was heading for Mullica Hill, then Glassboro and Pitman afterwards. Rachel makes us stop eating and head for the basement, where we regain our composure and start to make phone calls again. Diddy, at this point, is chuckling because the tornado warning had been lifted, while Rachel is on the other phone with her mom, whose telling her that the tornado warning was lasting for another 20 minutes. After giving the tornado a few minutes, I decide to be brave and check to see whether there is actually anything even going on in the neighborhood. I expected to see an empty street (or at least a flooded street).

Instead, I witness a the tunneling winds of a tornado coming down our street. My feet are like bricks, as I watch the winds circle, picking up leaves and water off the road into its funnel. I finally regain my composure and make a sprinting run for the basement, almost falling down the wet stairs to tell Rachel and Aunt Pepper about the tornado. I immediately call my sister to tell her that "a mother fucking cyclone is coming down the fucking road...what the fuck!"

Moments later, the power goes out, so now we're sitting in a dark basement, which is freaking me the fuck out. After roughly ten minutes, I noticed the winds have died down. We decide it is safe to go back into the apartment, and try to head back upstairs only to be soaked by the water pouring out of the porch above us. The already weak boards on our porch had given way, cracking under the pressure of the downpour of rain. After getting inside, Rachel and I start checking the apartment for damage, realizing that both the bathroom and kitchen windows are leaking, along with both windows with air conditioners in them. While searching for water leaks and damage, we also notice several spots damaged from the earthquake, such as a previously small crack in the ceiling becoming bigger.

I'm not sure whether it was the actual site of the tornado or the hype of the storm, but after checking for damage my brain went into a rational yet panic feeling. I immediately went into a calm overdrive, in which I grabbed everything I could that was important to me, and shoved it in a backpack, this way if we were forced to suddenly evacuate I would feel more prepared. Rachel, began to do the same thing, yet in a more frenzied state. After packing her bag, the two of us rearranged the entire apartment, so that the couch was in the hallway, away from all of the windows.

Later in the night, Rachel and I both shared what was in our "emergency bag," which was actually an amusing exercise. My backpack consisted of my jewelry box, my GPS, a phone charger, my safety deposit box (which contains my teaching certification and SS card), a phone charger for the car, and my wallet. Rachel's bag was much more practical, with three bottles of water, a change of clothes, and other necessities. It was actually amusing to see that I packed more sentimental items, while Rachel packed practical items.

East Lake Road
Woodstown, NJ

The aftermath in Jersey depended on the location. The shore was barely hit during the storm, while most of the inland was flooded. The bridge near our home was flooded and closed for several days, while East Lake Road, in Woodstown was completely destroyed. Every river in the state flooded, due mainly to the amount of rain fall. Additionally, flash floods occurred throughout the state, that resulted in the death of a young woman in Salem County, when a flash flood swept her car away.

The power outage at our house only lasted for several hours, but several people were stuck without power for several days. On Sunday night, Berman's family still did not have power. Rachel and I had assessed our apartment to see how we could arrange furniture so they could sleep in our apartment. Berman wound up having power in the morning, so there was no amazing sleep over for us (frowny face).

Aunt Pepper went home on Monday to a damage free house. There was absolutely no water in the house, nor any debris scattered across her porch. It was as if a storm never even occurred in Longport.

After all of the hype and talk of the storm, Rachel and I have decided we will never name our child Irene, because our daughter would wind up being a giant disappointment...

Stretching

Over the last few years, I have slowly been stretching my piercings, with the ultimate goal of having my bottom hole a 4g, my two other lobe piercings a 12g, and my cartridge to a 6g. My first goal was reached last month, when I stretched my bottom piercing from a 6g to a 4g. Simultaneously, I stretched my cartridge from a 12g to a 10g, which was excruciatingly painful.

What the hell am I talking about? Stretching or gauging is a form of body modification, in which a piercing is slowly stretched to accommodate larger jewelry. Any piercing can be stretched, from a lobe piercing to a Prince Albert (why any man would want to do that is beyond me). 

The size of a traditional lobe piercing is sized at either a 20g or an 18g. As you stretch your ears, the gauge size decreased by 2, until it reaches a 00g, then the sizes increase in size by a fraction of an inch (another reason why fractions are amazing). It is definitely not wise to skip gauge sizes when stretching a piercing, since it can cause blowouts, which is when the tissue twists and literally pushes itself outside of the piercing. 

4g Tapers

A taper, circular taper, or pincher can be used to stretch a piercing. The taper is a long, tube like earring, which starts with a narrow pointed tip and gradually increases in width until it reaches the desired gauge. I don't like using tapers for two reasons, I find them too heavy for my ears and they are extremely long, making them difficult to sleep in. A circular taper has the same premise as a taper, the difference being it is circular, so the length of the taper isn't as irritating. My preferred stretching tool is the pincher, which resembles a claw. Each side of the pincher is thin and increases in width until it reaches the middle of the earring, again increasing in width until the disired gauge has been reached.

The taper is not to be used as jewelry, and should be removed after a 24-48 hour period, which is another reason why I prefer the pinchers over the tapers. I have found that I can leave the pinchers in for a few days longer so that I can take care of the piercing more easily. After this time period, the next step is to replace the taper with a plug.

Normally, a taper will come in a set with a pair of no-flare plugs (which usually match the taper in color and material). Personally, I avoid double flared jewelry, because the only part of the plug that has the matching gauge size as my piercing is the center of the plug. In order to insert a double flared plug into a piercing, you would need to further stretch the ear to accommodate the larger sections of the plug (which help keep the plug in your piercing). If you do not remove a double flare plug everyday, over time the piercing will shrink around the plug, making problematic to take out.

Instead, I am a fan of single flared plugs, in which only one side of the plug is slightly larger, which is easy to insert and held in place by a rubber o-ring. Obviously that means that a no flared plug is the same size throughout and requires an O-ring for both sides.

Other types of plugs consist of threaded flesh tunnels, which require the back to be screwed into the rest of the earring. Top hats resemble a letter t, with a flat design on the front and a plug attached to the design. Think of it as a small plate with a handle attached to the back of it. 

My personal favorite type of earring to wear, is silicone earskin, which maintains the size and shape of the stretched piercing, while showing off the circumference of the piercing. Unlike most metallic materials, silicone has a wide range of colors to choose from and are extremely light on the ears. 

Of course I showed off my new stretched piercings at our last 69 club meeting. I think this entire entry can be summed up with one Berman quote: "I can see the street through your ears."

Father's Day

My parents separated when I was in fourth grade, the result of his night of drinking and wrapping my mom's car around a telephone pole. I only visited him once in the hospital, but once was enough considering he had bolts coming out of his knee and a gory, nasty wound on his forehead.

After the separation, the man who was my father disappeared and was replaced by a cold, sadistic human being. The same person who wanted to take my sister and I with him everywhere we went, suddenly lost interest in his children. We became luggage in his new life of revolving women, alcohol, and drugs. Eventually, he settled with Dawn, a friend from his years of high school. Dawn had three children, Chris, Karen, and Jenn, who became the replacement children. In fact, Jenn and I not only share the same name (though spelled differently), we also share the same age.

Custody was arranged through the court system, Wednesdays after school, every other weekend, and one Sunday a month. In the beginning, it was a strange adjustment but went smoothly. Wednesdays consisted of a trip to the library and dinner, with an occasional trip to his parents house. The more involved in his relationship with Dawn, the more he ignored his children though. Eventually, our Wednesday library trips were replaced with him not picking us up. Then the Sunday visits abruptly ended.

He still wanted us every other weekend, though why I'm not completely sure. Every weekend became the same, Friday nights consisted of buffalo wings or Chinese food, both made my sister extremely sick. I lost track of the number of times I had to call Momma Dukes at three in the morning to ask what I should do for her. Of course, my mom felt trapped seeing that our car was smashed into a telephone pole and she had no money to replace it.

Saturday and Sunday consisted of Diddy and I caring for ourselves, occasionally stealing the change from his truck to walk to Wawa to purchase food for the weekend. There was food in Dawn's house, but it consisted of stale cereal, leftovers from Friday night, flat soda, and chunky milk. We would live off of candy bars and soda during the weekend. We couldn't even shower at his house, since there was a hole in the bathroom door the size of the door and no clean towels. Eventually, it would be Sunday evening and we could finally go home to our loving mother who always had a huge meal cooked for us, clean towels, and our own beds to sleep in. Diddy and I would often make it a race to see who could get to the shower first. Momma Dukes always made sure that everything in the house was perfect for our return, because she knew the horrors we had to endure.

Nobody listened to her complaints about the environment she had to send her children to for the weekend, time after time, judges would favor Dave's side in court. As time passed, I got more and more frustrated and depressed at the thought of going to his house for the weekend. We watched him snort drugs on the side of the house, become annihilated with alcohol to the point where he couldn't even say his own name right, and even practically having sex with Dawn on the couch. Countless times, he would have a beer while driving us to or from his house.

After three years of painful weekends, I was on the verge of a breakdown. Of course, I held all of my emotions in because I was a conflicted, naive teenager who didn't know what to do. Going into seventh grade, he planned a vacation to Maryland with us. It was supposed to be a week of vacation on the beach in Ocean City, Maryland. My mom made sure we had everything we would need, including plenty of food and snacks (just in case). The night before the trip, she realized she had forgotten to purchase sunscreen for us, so she asked me to call Dave to ask him to pick some up for the trip.

What was supposed to be an easy phone call, turned into a four hour screaming match between the two of us. At barely 13 years old, I had to listen to the man who was supposed to be my father scream at me that my mother was a whore, I was unwelcome to come on vacation, he always loved my sister more, I was a mistake, etc. Nobody wants to hear this from their father, especially a teenager.

Instead of going on the trip, we stayed home. It was the best vacation of my life. Momma Dukes made sure that we had the best time at home, making everyday that week as special as the previous day. At that moment, Momma Dukes took on the permanent responsibility of mother and father.

Over the course of the next few years, he came in and out of our lives. The straw that broke the camel's back was my sixteenth birthday. After being separated for almost six years, my mother was not financially at a point to file for divorce. A few days before my birthday, I went to Dave's parents house (they insisted on taking us for his visitation weekends) where the delinquent showed up. He sat down with me for dinner, filled my head with thoughts of fixing our relationship, and asked what I wanted for my birthday. Seeing that the man hadn't bought me a gift in years, I was actually caught off guard. I told him that I didn't know what I wanted, which he told me was okay because he found the perfect gift. He was going to have it mailed to my house, but it would probably arrive a few days after my birthday.

My gift? On my sixteenth birthday, he filed for divorce. What a gift!

I was crushed. Not at the thought that they were finally going through with the divorce, but at the thought that it was so malicious and calculated. Was this his plan all along? How much effort and planning had he put into this "thoughtful" gift?

We stopped speaking for years, which really didn't change anything. It wasn't until I graduated from Rowan, had my own apartment, and began working my fantastic job at my district that I actually began speaking to him. He hadn't changed much, he was still the coward that I always new him to be. Dave talked a big game, how much he missed me, his regrets on losing so much time in my life, missing my graduations from high school and college, how he was so proud of me. The typical stuff you would expect to hear from a man who had vanished from your life for over a decade.

After almost two years of building on a relationship, putting in all of the effort and getting nothing in return, I had enough. I would call him only to get his voicemail with no return call from him. I would show up at his house occasionally when I was in the neighborhood and he wouldn't answer the door, even though I could hear him in the other room. We would go to his parents house and he wouldn't show up, even after his parents and siblings would call to tell him that we were around.

This past April, I had enough. I wrote a very long, nasty letter expressing everything to him, I even had the Bermanator edit the letter for me. At the very last moment, I decided to not send it. Instead, my sister called him and laid into him about how I was feeling. It resulted in him calling moments after their phone call, once again with his typical reaction of how much he loved and missed me. The phone call resulted on a positive note, we made plans for lunch and arrangements for phone calls in which we would take turns calling each other. He reaffirmed for me that he would call me later in the week with plans for lunch.

The phone call never came. There was no lunch later that week. Dave has not called me once since our conversation. Instead, I would call him every couple of days, for a five minute conversation. He would spend most of the conversation talking about Dawn, "their" children, and his grandchildren. I haven't called him in over a month, since his birthday. I'm waiting to see how long it takes for him to actually pick up the phone to call.

So here I am, once again, in the same exact predicament as I was for countless years, spending Father's Day with no "father." Though this year is a little different, at least I have not one but two future father-in-laws who actually treat me like family. Instead of spending the day with my own father, I will be having dinner with Rachel's father, who adores me...which definitely makes me smile.

Pot Holders and Tears

Tonight is my first official night of summer vacation. I am thoroughly enjoying the idea of staying up late tonight to watch brainless, mindless television and catch up on some blog writing. My summer vacation has been broken into two parts, the first part consists of last part of June and the second part of vacation is the entire month of August. July will be spent teaching the small people during the Extended School Year program, where I get the opportunity to teach students who are roughly a quarter of my age.

This past school year has been filled with highs and lows, due mainly to the part that I have been teaching a behavior disorder class (BD for short), that consisted of an average of three middle school students, who had the bodies of teenagers and the minds of small children, which definitely resulted in some unique and interesting experiences. At a certain point in the year, I stopped becoming their teacher and more like a mother. I had to make sure they were eating breakfast (and lunch), doing their homework, getting sleep, and all of the other things that a parent should be providing for their children.

During my year, I encountered a student who is like no other. I could call him a problem child, but that would be an understatement. S is an extremely oppositional person, getting a thrill out of arguing with anyone over the most mundane things. For example, if you were to ask him what color the sky was, he would have a giant debate that the sky is white due to the clouds. To sum him up simply, he was a walking headache.

By the end of the year, I was convinced that S didn't like me, but I was proven completely wrong during the last few days of schools. To begin with, he had to spend the day with Berman (who he detested all year for absolutely no reason). Suddenly, he thought Berman was the coolest teacher in the building and was trying to make excuses to visit her. He wanted to share the remaining food in our classroom with her class and even made me a fancy pot holder using Berman's fancy pot holder making contraption (I'm sure there is a term for the device but I have no clue what it is). To top off the entire experience, as he was leaving school on the last day, he gave me a huge hug and had a couple of tears.

That my friend, is why I became a teacher. It isn't for the pay check, having the summer off, or the medical benefits. It's the small rewards in life of knowing that I made a difference in someone's life.

BCDW 69 List

In 2005, Time Magazine published the 100 Top Novels, a list compiled by two men who I'm pretty sure have no idea what good literature consists of. The list was in alphabetical order, and we were originally going to read the list the way in which it was published.

Berman, Chudzie, Sharpie, and myself were ready to throw in the towel after encountering the first book on the list, The Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow. Berman and I were more determined than ever to continue our adventure of reading a list of classic literature. At the end of last week, Berman and I had homework: to find a different list of the top 100 novels.

Over the weekend, I found three lists published by the Modern Library, The Top 100 Novels, The Reader's List of the Top 100 Novels, and Radcliffe's Rival 100 Best Novels List. After analyzing these three lists, and comparing them with the Time Magazine list, I found 28 books that appeared on each list:

1. 1984 by George Orwell
2. All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren
3. An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
4. Animal Farm by George Orwell
5. Beloved by Toni Morrison
6. Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
7. Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
8. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
9. Catcher in the Rye by JD Sallinger
10. Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
11. Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willia Cather
12. Deliverance by James Dickey
13. The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles
14. Go Tell it on the Mountain by James Baldwin
15. Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
16. Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
17. I, Claudius by Robert Graves
18. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
19. Lolita by Vladimer Nabokov
20. Lord of the Flies by William Golding
21. Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien
22. Native Son by Richard Wright
23. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
24. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
25. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neal Hurston
26. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
27. To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
28. Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, Ulysses by James Joyce, Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey, Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie, and War of the World by HG Wells all appeared on each of the Modern Library's lists so we added those seven books to the list. Berman also worked hard, finding a list published by The Telegraph (a British newspaper), and added Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy, Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin, and Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf.

During our weekly ladies lunch this week, the four of us got together and finalized the list. Chudzie and Sharpe each added several books to the list. In addition to the recommended books from the five lists, we also each imputed our own recommendations. For example, we removed To Kill a Mockingbird, since it has become a required reading book in our school and most of us have read the book way too many times. We also removed The Lord of the Rings and replaced it with The Hobbit.

After everything was said and done, we had a list of 69 novels that ranged from classic literature such as Ulysses to mashup literature such as Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Killer and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I plan to post the entire list on a separate page an will continue to update the progress of our book list periodically.

The Watermelon Challenge

Recently, Rachel and I went to Peking Buffet for some delicious, yet extremely unhealthy Chinese food. During our meal, I found myself gorging on fried dumplings. I'm not sure what the hell the mystery meat inside the dumplings are, but the little buggers are quite tasty. So tasty, that I declared that I had eaten my weight in fried dumplings that night.

I seem to use this phrase quite often, primarily after a gorge fest of me shoveling said delectable item into my mouth. I'm pretty sure that I barely chew the food, it just glides down my throat, clogging up my arteries and sticking to my midsection as a constant reminder that I love to eat. Over the last few years, I have declared that I have "eaten my weight" in fried dumplings, Slim Jims, buffalo wings, pizza, Pizza Pringles, fudge pops, and pizza rolls. Obviously I have never actually eaten my weight in any of these items, which in all honestly would be plain gross (and possibly a little painful).

As we were leaving the restaurant, I came up with the amazing idea of really eating my weight in a particular food during a specific time period. The original plan was to eat my weight in cucumbers this summer, but that just sounded gross after awhile, especially at the thought of all those seeds. Plus, there also is the problem that cucumbers don't have much nutritional value, especially when you slather a coating of salt on top of the cucumbers. Then we're getting into the territory of too much salt in my diet, which would just be bad.

The idea continued to develop during our drive to Deptford, until finally, the two of us hatched an amazing plan that would put Benjamin Franklin and is kite to shame. During this summer, I will be challenging myself to eat my weight in watermelon over the course of 100 days. The actual day in which this challenge begins has not been decided yet, mainly because I want to begin the challenge at the beginning of watermelon season.

The rules of the challenge are quite simple, I must eat my weight in watermelon in 100 days. The weight of the watermelon will be decided after the rind has been cut off, since obviously I will not be chowing down on the hard, inedible portion of the juicy fruit. Over the course of 100 consecutive days, I shall consume 215 pounds of watermelon.

One ounce of watermelon has 8 calories, 2 grams of carbohydrates, and 2 grams of sugar. By eating two pounds of watermelon a day, I will only be consuming 256 calories in watermelon, 64 grams of carbohydrates and 64 grams of sugar. Obviously, the need to supplement my diet with other healthy foods will become necessary, seeing that a normal human being cannot live on 256 calories a day. Therefore, with the assistance of the lovely Rachel, the remainder of my diet will consist of lean proteins, a multivitamin, and other fruits and vegetables that will help keep my body running on a normal basis.

Berman pointed out the simple (yet important) fact that eating my weight in watermelon will surely become a natural colon cleanser. Going into this personal challenge, I was fully aware of my frequent need to use the bathroom and am quite prepared to tackle this feat. Chances are, I will be spending plenty of time in the bathroom during these 100 days, which brings me to my next challenge of reading at least 50 books off of the Time Magazines All Time 100 Novels. I shall go into that challenge in another entry though.

Once the watermelon season arrives, I shall begin my challenge and will keep you all posted on my success of eating 215 pounds of watermelon in 100 days.

Brazilian Wax Part 2

Now that I've been able to get the strange image of the disemboweled medical mannequin covered in rancid fish guts out of my brain, I'm going to take a stab at my original blog post: the Brazilian Wax.

Hopefully, most people understand that a bikini was ix the removal of body hair in and around the pubic region, most commonly done by females (but I'm hoping that some men out there do the same). I'm pretty sure that bikini waxes have become increasingly popular due the decreasing size of women's swim swear. I'm beginning to believe that the world supply of cloth is deteriorating, therefore clothes have to be made with a smaller amount of material. In fact, I'm quite sure that within the next century, clothes will be made out of recycled water bottles, leaves, and the tiny berries found on wild plants.

Of course, many cultures have been removing hair from their nether regions for centuries. In many Middle Eastern societies, removal of the female body hair has been considered proper hygiene, while in Islam, the practice of removing pubic hair is known as Fitrah.

Waxing or shaving of the bikini line may be classified into several basic styles. The three most basic styles are the American waxing, the French waxing, and the Brazilian waxing.

American waxing is the removal of only the public hair that is exposed by a swimsuit, depending on the style of the swimsuit. I assume that this type of style has been dubbed "American" since it seems like the lazy way of keeping your nether region trimmed. French waxing leaves a vertical strip in front and removes all remaining pubic hair. The French wax is also referred to as the landing strip. Brazilian waxing is the most known of bikini waxes and involves the removal of all hair in the pelvic area (front and back) while sometimes leaving a very thin strip of hair. This thin strip of hair is also referred to as the landing strip, though I'm sure much tinier planes would use this form of landing strip. More like the personal jet rather than the bulky passenger planes.

Of course, not every female has to perform pubic maintenance through American, French, and Brazilian waxing. Perhaps you're not into vertical lines, instead preferring horizontal. Then the mustache wax is for you. Everything is removed except for a wide, rectangular patch just above the hood at the top of the genital slit. The mustache wax is sometimes referred to as "Hitler's Mustache" or "Chaplin's Mustache." Of course, you could always have your hair removed in the shape of heart and then dye your pubic hair pink.

You don't have to rush out to the store for a fancy razer kit to shave amazing shapes into your nether regions either. Perhaps you would like to shave a a blue dreidel or green Christmas tree for the holidays into your secret no-no area. Most websites recommend you dye your public hair first, to prevent skin irritation (ladies are quite sensitive down there). Then you can use a sturdy material, such as an index card, card stock, or stencil material to draw your preferred shape of choice. The final step is to shave around the sturdy material.

Brazilian Wax Part 1

Let's face it, my blog is amazing. I think my head just grew a little with that statement. Between my Awkward Wayne Moments and the Emaciated Liverwurst Sandwich I'm surprised that I haven't won a Nobel Peace Prize yet. Perhaps Clark should get working on the paperwork for our discovery of the sixth state of matter so that I can get recognized for something.

Needless to say, I've been running out of crazy things to write about. Though I'm not sure whether it's a lack of ideas or that my creative brain has been going into overdrive. Without even realizing my lack of ideas, Berman suggested a topic that was quite appealing: Brazilian Waxing. I was going to write an entire entry on waxing, and all the creative designs you can wax/shave into your nether regions. During my search though, I came across this photo:

I kid you not. My initial interweb search was for Bikini Wax and this image popped up. 

What...the...fuck...

Now that I have the urge to once again gouge out my eyeballs with the stems from the grapes Rachel is currently eating, I shall take a new stab at this entry tomorrow night. After I recover from what appears to be a medical mannequin covered in rancid fish guts.

The Fish Head Song Lyrics

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum

In the morning,

Laughing happy fish heads,

In the evening,

Floating in the soup,

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum

Ask a fish head,

Anything you want to,

They won't answer,

They can't talk

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum

I took a fish head,

Out to see a movie,

Didn't have to pay 

To get it in

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum

They cant play baseball,

They dont wear sweaters,

There not good dancers,

They dont play drums

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum

Roly poly fish heads are never seen

Drinking cappucino in Italian resturants,

With oriental women, yeah

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum, (yum!)

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum

Fish heads fish heads,

Roly poly fish heads,

Fish heads fish heads,

Eat them up yum,

Yea.. 

Youtube of the Week: The Fish Head Song

Awkward Wayne Moments

This week I walked into the faculty lounge to eat my breakfast before common planning, when I was treated to a sight that will forever permeate my brain cells, corrupting them with horrible thoughts. This was not the first time I had to constrain my arms to prevent them from removing my eyes with the pen I was holding.

This has not been the first awkward Wayne moment I've had and I'm sure it won't be the last either. I'm not quite sure how the man was hired in the first place. I honestly think he should be very far away from children of all ages because he creeps me the fuck out. I honestly wouldn't be surprised to find out that he's got an entire computer of kiddie porn or women peeing in a toilet (he seems like the urination fetish type). Before I continue with my favorite Wayne awkward moments, I think a basic description of Wayne needs to be written.

Wayne is a middle aged man who's probably between the age of 40 or 50 who appears to be the genetically engineered science project of Igor the mad scientist. I'm pretty sure (almost confident) that his mother is a pot bellied pig and his father was a horse, resulting in a robust, over stuffed watermelon with the mane of a horse. That may have been a little cruel, perhaps his mother wasn't a pot bellied pig, but how else can you explain the over stuffed watermelon shape.

Of course, being an over stuffed watermelon does not make a man. He also has a mane of hair that appears to be straw like. He usually wears in it in a pony tail that reaches to his butt crack. His hair is always in a pony tail. Always. There are times when I want to be brave and touch his hair to see if it has the texture of cooked spaghetti or straw, but quickly realize how disgusting that would be.

Wayne has a very selective wardrobe of three outfits: one pair of cream colored khakis that have become stained beyond repair. They have never been washed, which is evident by the black stains on the cloth leading into the pants pocket. Wayne also has three shirts, a purple polo shirt (which he just bought last year), a dull ocean blue color, and a second blue shirt that has a v-neck. 

Now it's time for the awkward moments:

Awkward Moment 1: I walk into the room to find Wayne playing with his stringy, straw like hair as if he were Fabio. He's running his chubby fingers through his hair, running them from the top of his scalp to the dead, split ends at the tip of his hair. He then runs his fingers underneath his hair, scratching at his dry scalp. Tiny particles of dandruff fall to his shoulder. He then flips his head over, moving all of his hair into his typical pony tail.

Awkward Moment 2: I'm eating lunch with Berman in the faculty lounge, seating myself across from the door. Halfway through my meal, Wayne walks into the room. There is a long table to the left of the door, where there are snacks to purchase to help fund the 7th and 8th grade class trips. Wayne stores his lunch box underneath the table, right next to the door. After Wayne walks into the room, he bends down to retrieve his lunch and that's when I nearly tossed up my entire lunch. There is a hole in his pants the size of a dinner plate located on his inner thigh. The hole is so bad that I can safely say that he is a briefs man and not the boxer type.

Awkward Moment 3: There is a long hallway on the north side of the building that leads to the gym and pathway to the Pancakes and Cantelope building (PAC). There is a "secret" hallway that leads to the science wing staircase that forks off of the long hallway. On my way to the PAC building this afternoon, I noticed Wayne lurking in the shadows of the science wing hallway. I continue my journey to the PAC building, paying Sausage Fingers no mind when I realize that he springs forward to talk to me, realizes that I don't ever talk to him, and turns around to lurk in the hallway once more. It was like he was hiding out, waiting for someone to walk past the science wing to start a conversation.

Awkward Moment 4: During my first full year at GIS I kept food in my drawer of my desk, usually granola bars, snack size chocolate bars, and lifesavers. Since I'm anemic, I keep food on hand to take my iron during the day. Towards the middle of the year, I wound up with a sinus infection and stayed home from school. Upon returning from my deathbed illness, I come to school to find all of my granola bars and lifesavers gone. Two boxes of Nutrigrain bars and an entire bag of Cherry Lemonade lifesavers were gone, vanished into thin air. I thought it was extremely odd that all of this food disappeared, but by the end of the day I finally had answers. During my last class of the day, one of my students informed me that Wayne ate both boxes of granola bars during fifth block math class. Two boxes of nutrigrain bars equals 16 granola bars. That's just gross. I really haven't been able to enjoy nutrigrain bars since.

Awkward Moment 5: A few days after finding out I was laid off, Miller and I were having a conversation in the faculty lounge during lunch about Chris Christie. Wayne was sitting at another table by himself being completely unsocial (which is a good thing) when he suddenly blurts out that he voted for Christie and would do so again. He then proceeds to go on a rant about the taxes he pays, teachers doing nothing, the lack of work/days he's been called in recently, etc. At that very moment, I realized how much of an insensitive, asshole Wayne was, providing justification to have free range on Wayne jokes.

Epic Fail

On our way to the zoo this past Sunday morning, I decided to text Berman and Bourquin to see if they wanted to get together during the week for dinner. We made general plans for dinner on Tuesday but nothing official since Berman has two mini-Bermans at home, who need an adult to supervise them. I told Bourquin that I would text her with all of the details when I had them.

Rachel and I went to Laura's house for meat and fire, which literally means we cut steak and chicken into small pieces, create a fire in the fire pit, and use fancy metal-forks/pointy sticks to cook meat over the fire. Of course, after we are done eating, Laura and I want to burn everything in sight, such as BBQ potato chips, Peeps, leaves, grass, paper, and wood. The only problem with Laura's house is the lack of cell phone reception. As soon as you turn into her driveway, a large, invisible, black cloud forms over her house, making texts and calls nearly impossible. While there, Berman and I made official plans for dinner on Tuesday night.

The texts between Berman and I were over an hour apart, so I decided that I would give Bourquin all of the details when I got home. The problem was, that as soon as I walked into the house, I passed out for the night. When I woke up Tuesday morning, I was convinced that I had talked to Bourquin the previous night and gave her all of the details.

Later that night, we met up at TGI Fridays for dinner at 7. Berman, Rachel and I sat at the bar and waited for Bourquin to show up. After twenty minutes of no Bourquin, I decided to give her a text to see where she was. That's when I realized that I had made an Epic Fail: I never informed Bourqin of the dinner plans.

It's no wonder why Bourquin was twenty minutes late, since she didn't know where we were eating at nor what time. I'm very grateful that Bourquin has a good sense of humor; instead of getting furious with me she made a joke about the situation (apparently I intentionally didn't tell Bourqin because I wanted Berman to myself).