This shit is just unreal. Maybe I’m idealistic, but I really feel that something like that wouldn’t happen in the south because the cops wouldn’t put up with that shit. Not only would the cops not put up with that shit, but I would hope to holy hell that their parents would beat the living shit out of them. I’m not for beating your kid, god knows, but if I ever found out that the spud was hanging out with a group of hoodlums doing that sort of shit (Hee! Let me take a brief moment to laugh myself silly at the very thought.) I’d kick her ass. There’s a follow-up here. (Both links came from Fred’s forum, and originally from Rachel Lucas)

You know you’re hormonal when the video for Reba McEntire’s “Fancy” (hee! I almost typed “Fancypants”) makes you all teary-eyed. You also know you’re hormonal when someone calls you a bitch in traffic (I’m 99.9% sure I had the right of way) and you desperately wish you had a gun with you so you could shoot his big fat head right off. (Calm down, I don’t carry a gun, and I don’t intend to start. Oh, wait. Um. Note to stalkers: Yes I do, and I’m not afraid to use it, motherfucker!) (And as a side note, after I flipped him the bird, I had a conversation with myself about whether or not that was the right finger. Hee!)
So, we went to the spud’s school concert last night. The concerts are always a big deal, because not only do we have to leave the house at night (horrors!), but we also have to bring food. They have a “reception” once the concert is over (which we never stay for), and I always get a call asking me to bring something. I always volunteer to bring cookies, and on his way home from work Fred buys some cheap cookies from the bakery in the grocery store. Anyway, the spud had to be at the school at 7:00, and told us she’d be playing at 7:30. We got to the school, turned the cookies over to the reception committee, and sat in the auditorium. For half an hour we sat and watched people wander in and out of the auditorium. We made comments to each other about various people, and listened to the bands – one on the stage, the others down in the front rows – warm up. The instruments got louder and louder, blending in a painful cacophony reaching a pitch that seemed aimed at making my brains leak out my ears. After an interminable amount of time, the band director stepped up onto the stage and waved his arms for silence. The instruments quieted almost immediately, except for a tuba, which gave a final defiant blat before fading into a wary stillness. We were unpleased, by the way, to find out that the spud’s band would be the second, not the first, band to play. We had to sit through the 7th grade band’s stylings, and a little award ceremony wherein 3/4 of the band got a “Director’s Award”. I perfected the appearance of clapping without actually hitting my hands together, because too much clapping makes Momma’s hands sore. The band director made a speech wherein he said something along the lines of “the expression that these kids are, uh, expressing is just wonderful!” After the 7th grade band played and finally left the stage, we waited while the parents of the kids in the 7th grade made a mass exodus, oblivious to the band director’s sad “I know you’re busy, but you might find it interesting to stay and watch all the other bands!” Fred leaned over to me as the people streamed by and whispered “Lucky bastards!” An eternity passed while the spud’s band took the stage and tuned up (or whatever the hell it is they do). The director pointed at various people and had them play a tune or two, and then play it again. I leaned over and said to Fred, “Do you ever want to yell ‘If they don’t know it by now, they never will!’?” Finally, they began playing. They played “Alamo March”, “Phantom of the Opera”, “Gypsy Dance” (in our opinion, the best one, because of the tambourine player, who danced like mad while waving his tambourine around), and then there was a break while the band instructor handed out Director’s Awards again. Like last year, 3/4 of the band got an award, and the spud did not. Or maybe that’s just how it seemed. Lastly, they played “Rites of Tamburo”, we gave them a standing ovation, and then hauled ass out of there. We waited in the hallway while the spud stayed to listen to one song by the Jazz Band. It was just after 9 by the time we got home. I convinced Fred to stay up to watch Survivor (so long, person who was voted off. Glad to see you go!), which is an amazing thing. After a period of staying up until 10:00 every night, we’re back to going to bed at 9, because I was so tired of hearing Fred bitch about staying up “so late.” (When I say “bitch” what I mean is “whine.”) And that, dear readers, was our big night out.
1. Would you consider yourself an organized person? Why or why not? Not really – I mean, I’d like to be organized, and I always INTEND to be organized, but at this point in my life, I think it’s just time to accept that organization on a daily basis just isn’t in the cards for me. I can organize certain things – for instance, when we go on vacation, I’m very organized about getting things packed and almost always remember everything we need to bring – but on a daily basis, I’m not particularly organized, no. 2. Do you keep some type of planner, organizer, calendar, etc. with you, and do you use it regularly? I have three calendars hanging over my desk. At the moment, only one is on May – I haven’t gotten around to turning the other two over from April. I write birthdays on the one closest to my computer, but for the most part I only have them because I like the pictures (I also have another one in the kitchen). I have attempted carrying an organizer around with me, but frankly, my life isn’t so hectic that I really need an organizer. 3. Would you say that your desk is organized right now? Organized as in I have some idea where everything is? Yes. Organized as in uncluttered? Ha. No.
4. Do you alphabetize CDs, books, and DVDs, or does it not matter? I’ve been intending to alphabetize all the movies and CDs we have for about three years now. Hasn’t happened yet. I don’t alphabetize books, though, because it really doesn’t matter. 5. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to organize? The Bullshit! distribution list! It helps a LOT that there are so many great people keeping me informed of what’s going on, though. Y’all have a great weekend!]]>