The Cake

Today the hubs and I have been married for two whole years. Crazy. I feel like that is a Lifetime. I mean, really that's a pretty long time. Two years. That's more than I've really stuck with anything. ever. in my whole long life. shame really. But true. So anyway. We got hitched two years ago today. For some reason thinking about that day makes me happy. Here are 10 reasons why:

1. I was getting hitched!

2. My whole big entire family was together. All of my brothers and sisters were there. We were all together. The last time we had been together was Christmas in 1997 (I think). That was a really long time ago. So for us to all be in the same spot at the same time was really something very wonderful. So happy. Probably one of my favorites parts about having a wedding was seeing all of my brothers and sisters. Also, my grandparents came and a bunch of aunts and uncles. More of my family was together that day then they had been in a very long time. It was just so wonderful. really. it was.

d. I got to wear a really pretty and beautiful white dress. O, it was sooo pretty! I felt like a bride in it.

f. Lots of other friends and family and even people I didn't know were there.

4. The day was simply beautiful!

5. I was able to say I had two more sisters and even more family!

j. It was the day I got to start spending the rest of my life with my very bestest friend.

10. and that's starting to get a little mushy, so I'll just stop there.

But, it really was a happy day full of fond memories and such. I think one of the best memories, would be the cake, or lack there of. You see, we ordered a cake. A very yummy cake. O, it was an amazingly delicious cake. There was going to be carrot, pineapple, and strawberry. Lots of cake. Pretty cake. Yummy cake. It was one of those things that we decided needed to be at the wedding, regardless of the price (wedding cakes are expensive!). So we got one. We ordered the cake. When we ordered the cake I told the man the address and the time that the cake needed to be there. He said, "Fine. No problem!" Three days before the wedding I called to confirm my order, the time, and the place. Again, he said, "Fine. No problem! We will be there."

Well, come Saturday at 1:47 pm (13 minutes before the ceremony starts), I see the Fan-say (obviously he's not my hubs at the time so I can't call him the hubs, he was still my Fan-say, you know, the guy I was engaged to be married to. In 13 minutes!) and he looks very distracted and very secretive. Like he is hiding something. Let me just tell you, 13 minutes before you are going to walk down the aisle is NOT the time to hide something from your soon to be life long pal. ya know? So I says to Fan-say, "What's wrong, Fan-say? You look suspicious."

"Huh? me? Wrong? Nothing. No. Nothing's wrong," he stutters as he is running out of the room to escape what he thinks will be my wrath. Obviously Something is Very wrong. Not good.

"What's wrong?" I ask again chasing him into the next room.

"Nothing," he looks at me. I stare back at him till his eyeballs are dry.

"Tell me. I don't care. I just want to know!" I demand. It is after all MY day and if I want someone to say something or do something, they must. Right? Right. Yes. my day. Everyone will do as I say!!! hahaha. not really. but you know. I wanted him to tell me. So he did... not...

"Well, I just don't want to upset you and it's almost time to start and .... " he doesn't tell me.

"What already?! Just tell me! It's ok. I promise I won't get mad."

"Promise?" Fan-say looks a little scared.

"Yes, I promise, tell me already!" this is taking entirely far too long. I just want him to spit it out already. ... I notice all of the groomsmen sheepishly backing out of the room at this point. They also look a little scared. huh. Could it really be that bad?

"Well, ok," he inhales. "The cake's not here," he quickly spits out while he takes a step back. Why I wonder does he take a step back? huh? I mean, does he think I'm going to hit him? Does he think I'm going to go crazy cause the cake isn't here even though it was supposed to be here two hours ago?! probably.

"Oh. Ok," I chirp.

"That's it?" he looks at me incredulously.

"What do you mean that's it? Yes. That's it," and say. "I mean, what can we do about it now? Nothing. Don't worry about it." I think he's a little shocked and surprised that I just said that and that I am entirely calm about it because Fan-say starts to say...

"Well, it's really all under control. Really. The ladies downstairs have your phone" [really? when did he give my phone away?] "and his number and they are calling him and it will be here before the reception starts. That's what he said when we talked to him."

"Ok." And that was that. We skipped away and down the aisle and got ourselves hitched. Except that wasn't really it. About the cake at least. Nope. No. None. Not. No. You see, the cake was still Not there when we walked downstairs for the reception. No cake. Not even a little cupcake. Not even any icing. And the cake wasn't there as lots of people were leaving. And the cake wasn't there to cut and eat. There was no cake.

Then he came. Cake Pants arrived. 5 hours late. He opens the door and comes in with a very pretty cake. Of course everyone in the room starts cheering. The cake is finally here and we can eat it now. Sheesh. The cake was yummy. very much so. it's a shame it got there so terribly late.

I found out later that when Cake Pants went into the kitchen the ladies that were helping in there gave him a licking. They chewed him inside out, telling him he should be ashamed of himself for ruining my day. I like them. He did not care. I bet he did care when we didn't pay him a dime, not even a penny for the cake. Of course we weren't about to pay for a cake that we didn't really even get to enjoy. We were going to hold up our end of the deal and pay him, he failed to do his part. Severely failed. So much so that we even got our deposit back. So really, I was just fine with Cake Pants pretending to get lost and arriving 7 hours late with our cake. Free for us. Bad for him. O well. His loss. Our gain.

But yes. I like to think about that day. It was nice and fun and happy. I think that's all I have to say about that.

the other thing!

So, here it is. What you have been dying to find out. What you have spent the last few days wondering about. What you wanted to know. ...I remembered. And I was so happy when I did. As I normally am when I remember something that was so terribly exciting.

I fixed it. The vacuum. I did. It's true. I called about one thousand vacuum cleaner repair shops in town and asked them if they had the part I needed. Most of them said, no. Some of them said, "well, I might, but you would need to bring the vacuum in so I could make sure." Some said they could order the part for me. They all gave me super high prices too. Like a hundred dollars high. It was a little ridiculous. I could buy a whole new vacuum for that. I also didn't want to wait for the part to be ordered and shipped in. I needed to vacuum our house before Saturday.

You see, my mums is deathly allergic to animals. Dogs especially. So I wanted to clean things up super spick and span in hopes that she wouldn't stop breathing while she was visiting us. In order to do that I needed a vacuum. That worked. That did not blow up in flames when I plugged it in or pushed the on button. No. I needed a properly running vacuum. The hubs and I even talked about purchasing a whole new vacuum if we couldn't find the right part. I kind of like my vacuum so I really didn't want to get a new one. Not to mention a new one costs Hundreds of dollars and we are cheap. But, if that's what we needed to do, that's what we needed to do. O my.

Thankfully I called one shop that happened to be right down the road from where I live. It's true. I asked if they had vacuum parts and if I could get the part for my vacuum. The man told me I would need to bring in my broken brush and he would check and see. So I did. And he did. It was really quite wonderful. Because all the way to the shop I was praying that they would have the part I needed. I really needed the part. I really didn't want to buy a new vacuum and I couldn't wait a week for a new part to come in. He was my only hope. He did not fail me. Thank goodness. He took my brush and went to look for a matching one. I was so relieved when he came out of the back room smiling with a second brush in hand. He said he was pretty sure it would do the trick. He also took the time to explain to me that the new vacuums have constantly changing parts these days, but it should work. He was positive. I also got a new belt from him. I about kissed him smack on the check when he told me how much it would all cost. It's true. I nearly did. I didn't. But I almost did.

It's kind of like the time the hubs and I were eating lunch at this little fish and chip restaurant that was appropriately named: The Dumpling Shop. I mean, such an Obvious name. Seriously. Ingenious. I would definitely walk past The Dumpling Shop and think, "you know, fish and chips sound really good right now." I mean, wouldn't you? Anyway, the lady in the shop was this little old Chinese woman who was probably also the chipperest lady I've ever seen. She was also a little flirt! Good gracious! After she brought us our food the hubs asked for some ketchup or some such something and she said, "Ok! Only if you give me kiss!" and she moved her check closer to the hubs' lips. yikes!!! Not really. for me anyway. I was actually dying in laughter because I had NEVER seen the hubs blush. Let me tell you, he was beet red. Or tomato red. Or lobster red. Or apple red. Or you know, red. He was red all over. Hilarious really. Ms. Flirty laughed and said, "Jus a joke!" and waddled off to get the ketchup. After she walked away, I said, "Wow. She really made you blush! I've NEVER seen You blush before!" and I proceeded to double over with laughter. It was really pretty wonderful. Ms. Flirty came back with the ketchup and said proudly to me, "See?! You see how I make him brush?! [that's how she said blush] He turn so red!" and then she nudged the hubs with her elbow and chuckled some more. When Ms. Flirty hobbled off once again the hubs finally said, "I didn't know what to do! I would've kissed her... I guess. I thought she was serious. I think she would have let me. ...I, I, I didn't know." I have also never seen the hubs speechless. But he was, for about four whole minutes. He would have kissed her for some ketchup. That's how much he loves his ketchup. traitor.

So anyways, like I was saying, I was so happy I nearly kissed the man with the vacuum piece. I didn't. But I did do a little happy dance. In my head. That's how excited I was. You see, the total cost for both the brush and the belt was twenty whole dollars less than what just the brush would have cost me at some of the other shops! Holy Moly! Amazing! He did not rip me off. I like people like that.

See? I told you it was good news : )

Good and Bad

So, I have some Wonderful news. In fact it's just so exciting I don't know where to begin. It's pretty much the greatest thing that has happened to me in ... some time. I'm not sure how long. But it's pretty wonderful. Actually, there is a second wonderful news thing that has happened to me also... except I can't really remember it, so I guess I won't share that. Even though it really was wonderful. ...but it also seems that with every little bit of fantabulous news there is some super dreadful news. Which I also have. shame really.

Good news: The sock that was eaten by the dryer was not really eaten by the dryer!! It's true. The hubs found it. After the lonesome sock sat clean on top of the dresser for about a month and a half the hubs said to me, "Hey! Look!" a mile wide grin plastered to his face. He was holding up a wrinkly black sock. dun dun dun. ...the missing sock! In the other hand was a shoe. A shoe the sock had been stuffed into. Apparently. The shoe he supposedly wore the day he had the socks on. For some reason the hubs likes to stuff his socks in his shoes when he is done wearing them. I guess that's as good a place as any... unless of course it is the dirty clothes basket. Which I think might be better, but maybe I just don't know. Maybe shoes are an even better place to put your dirty socks. What I want to know is why only one sock made it out of the shoe. Why not both? It's a mystery. ...But you know, I really can't say much. the missing sock was found. The dryer did not eat it. thankfully. I can still say our dryer has not eaten any of our socks. And now that I just said that, I'm pretty sure when I wash laundry next I will only have one of each sock. but you know, that's the way it works.

I remembered the other good thing I forgot. O wait, no. scratch that. I forgot it again. Well, whatever it was it was really super exciting. really, it was.

The poopy news is that some lady lied to me. I hate liars. Really. Just don't do it. Number one, it's just wrong. Number two, it's just not nice. Number four, it can lead to sad sad things. Like what I'm about to tell you. O, it's really quite dreadful really. So, remember Evil Saturday? Well, there is going to be a second Evil Saturday. Evil Saturday II. O. Good. Grief. I thought I was done with that crap. Nope. I knew it was too good to be true. I found out after talking with a few people and after a little comment about a personal Evil Saturday experience, that I might, just might, have to take a second test. It's true. Well, I looked and researched and I just didn't know what to do... When I was pretty sure I would have to take a second evil test, I called the school I go to, again, and asked them, again. I explained the entire situation. I said, "You know, I talked to this one lady and asked her what test (tests) I needed to take and she told me, 0059, (or some such something). I asked her, if that was all I had to take. I wanted to make sure I didn't register and take the wrong test and she said yes, yes it was. She assured me that was the only test I needed to sign up for and take. But I'm a little afraid that she lied to me. I would have taken the second test on the same day had I known. I just took it. Do I really have to take another? I just wish you weren't liars." Really, it's true. I said that. Word for word. I was secretly hoping that she would say I wouldn't have to, but I secretly knew she would say I needed to take a second test. She did. I do. bad. bad. bad. bad. o. how I loathe these tests. bother.

Good news: I got to see mums and dad the other day.

Bad news: they left me the next day.

Good news: I have a cute puppy, especially when he sleeps (though everything, and I mean everything is cute when they are sleeping)

Bad news: sometimes he sinks his little teeth into my skin and it hurts. a lot.

Good news: I made Frog Eye Salad.

Bad news: I have no one to share it with. shame.

Good news: it's almost the weekend! : )

Evil Saturday

Two trips to the store, one box of tissues, two boxes of cold medicine (one for night and one for day- obviously), ten pencils, and one pencil sharpener later I was ready. For bed. It's true. I suppose most people might brush their teeth (at least I would hope), comb their hair, floss (but really, who flosses every night? I mean, I sure don't... unless you're my mum reading this, in which case I floss every single night before bed, yup : ), gargle some mouth wash, take your contacts out (unless you have perfect eyes, in which case, you're not my friend), and possibly take a shower (unless you shower in the morning in which case you wouldn't), climb under the covers, and turn out the lights. I suppose, that is a typical night of getting ready. I mean, most people do that before bed, right? Right. Really, I suppose I did all of that too... but I wasn't even ready to get ready for bed until I was ready with my ten freshly sharpened pencils.

It was Friday night, I had to be across town and at a test center to take the evil teacher test by 7:30. 7:30 on a Saturday morning. Now that is an abomination. For real. Since I have the bestest hubs in the whole wide world, he sweetly took me to my doom. And when I was not ready to leave his side he pushed me out of the car (though he did say a prayer with me first) armed with half a box worth of tissues, and went away to enjoy the rest of his morning (i.e. sleep). I on the other hand had to take a test.

The first part I thought would be simple enough, go inside the building, and tell them I am there. Thankfully there were a bunch of ladies out in the hallway eager to help. I told them I was there and asked what I needed to do. They said, "Find your name!" ok. Find my name. I wasn't really expecting to find my name on a folder before the praxis or anything, but since they insisted, I looked for my name. Nope. No me listed. huh. I tell them I am missing, they ask me to wait. After about an hour of twiddling my thumbs and trying to whistle, two other girls start looking for their names. They are missing too. At least I'm not the only one. Then the nice helpful ladies ask if we want credit for this and what school we go to. I was pretty sure all I had to do was bring my license, I didn't know I was getting credit to take the test. Turns out, I wasn't. Unthankfully, I was in the wrong spot. Thankfully the two girls knew exactly where the nice helpful ladies told us to go. So I followed them. Up the stairs, through the hallways, pass dozens of doors. Until I see it. The line. The door of doom. The room in which my fate will be determined. I think I am going to be sick. O wait, I'm already sick. Never mind.

So I wait in line. Praying and praying for calm nerves. Good gracious. I Hate taking tests, especially this kind. The kind where you can study for weeks and months and years and still fail. The kind where someone who never studied at all can get a higher score then you can even though you studied for six months. The kind that are unpredictable. The kind that you have to pass if you want to be what you have been working towards for your entire life (or for year). The kind you have to have lots of sharpened number 2 pencils for. The kind you have to read questions and fill in bubbles for. The Evil kind of test.

They let me in (thankfully?) and I sit down. It's 7:34 on Saturday morning. I am sick. I cannot breathe. My nose is stuffy. My throat is burning. My eyes are itchy. I pull out my pile of tissues and lay them on my desk. Before the tests even starts I have a quarter less than what I started with. Long 2 hours. I pray for a clear head (i.e. no stuffiness). And start filling in my bubbles.

You know, I read many different instructions and guidelines for this test. Every single thing I read said, "No Phones Allowed" and if you did have a phone, and if it did go off while you were taking the test, you were disqualified, you had to call your school and cancel your scores, and then sign up to take it again. Well, about half way through the test a phone beeps. My face goes white. Or red. I'm not really sure. There wasn't a mirror there for me to look into to see what color my face was, either way, it was not its regular color. And when I say face I mean face, not nose because my nose was already bright tomato red... even though I was using the Puffs Plus Lotion tissues. They are the only tissues I trust my nose to. They are the softest and the thickest. They are the best tissues out there. I would know. I have used every single brand of facial tissues and toilet tissues out there. You could probably say I go through at least one box of tissues (the big family size boxes) in a month. By myself. I've set a new record (maybe): in a week I have gone though two whole family size tissue boxes. Now that's a lot of snot.

So, the phone beeps (more like chimes really). Just once. The two test administrators stand to their feet, prowling the room like lions about to pounce, not wanting to give away their presence. They are also somehow able to hover like vultures about to go in for the dead toast. I'm trying so hard to concentrate, but all I can think about is how the phone sounded and I knew it was close to me. I read the same question ten times before realizing I had already read it. I just could not concentrate. No wonder they tell you not to bring any phones in. They are plain old distracting. They never found out whose phone went off and went back to their seats.

I breeze through the rest of the test (well, you know, kind of, sort of, but not really) and when there are only 30 minutes left a phone rings again! Ah! Stupid people! You are Killing me! And this phone is sitting right in front of me. And I mean right in front of me. The girl bends over and rustles in her purse to find and silence her phone. Too late. She's been caught. Test Lady comes over and quietly says to her, "I'm sorry, you're going to have to call your school and have them cancel your scores." She takes Phone Girl's test booklet and answer page off her desk and gives it to Test Man who quickly goes to work writing Void all over it (or something like that, I couldn't really get a good look from where I was sitting). Ten minutes go by and Phone Girls' phone rings AGAIN!!!! Are you kidding me?! I mean really?! You didn't turn your phone off after the first time it rang?! What an idiot! So, again, I am distracted for ten minutes on the phone situation instead of the essay task at hand. Not a good time to get distracted. Not at all. The whole time I was sitting there worrying that my phone was going to go off and that my test would be ripped up and I would have to pay again and take it again. Not a pleasant thought. And even though I knew it was sitting in the car with the hubs, I couldn't help but think it had somehow found it's way into the room and was lurking near me waiting to go off. Even though 1. no one Ever calls me. b. it's early on a Saturday morning. 4. No one ever calls me on a Saturday morning. .... oh, but this would be my lucky day. The day when Everyone in my entire phone book would think, "Huh, you know, I Never call Cupcake, I ought to give her a ring, even though it is not even 9 on a Saturday morning I'm sure she won't mind..." it's true it would happen to me. Thankfully my phone does not have legs and it did not follow me into the test room and my test was not torn to shreds.

Thankfully the test is over. Thankfully I had one tissue left to spare at the end of it. Unthankfully I have to wait for a month before I can find out if I failed it. o my. I really hope and pray that I didn't.

the mourners

This weekend, the hubs and I got a puppy. It's true. We did. And I love him dearly. It's pretty much impossible to not love him. I even loved him after he peed on my carpet... even though we had stood outside with him for 45 minutes.

Like I said, it's pretty impossible to not love him. See? Told ya. Anyway...

We do not have a cat, but a cat claims us. He comes around all the time, scratching at our back door for us to let him in, or to feed him. (At this point you are probably thinking, "Why would she say that she got a puppy if she is talking about a cat? Crazy!" Well, let me finish....) I really think that if he was a little bit taller (longer) he would be able to open the back door (even though he only has paws and it would be really really difficult, he would figure out a way to get it open). After a few days of his constant coming around we dubbed him, Horatio. Every morning he comes around tapping on the back door. You would think by now I would not jump out of my socks when I hear a sound at the back door in the morning. But that's not the case. Every morning comes and begs for food and every morning I jump out of my slippers when I hear him. Thank goodness I know his eyes are yellow and people are not that short. Well, he begs and begs for food. Not that he needs any. Horatio is the fattest cat I've ever seen in the world. Well, maybe not the absolute fattest, I've seen a few cats that were maybe 110 pounds as opposed to his 108 pounds. But still, you get the idea. he is a fat cat.

One of my favorite things to do is watch him sprint across the yard to our door. After I open the curtains in the morning, I see him in the far off corner of the yard. I'm convinced he has super hearing powers or something because every single time I open the curtain he points his head up and dashes as quick as he can to our door. As he runs for the door his belly drags across the ground, I've never seen a cats belly drag on the ground before. That's how fat he is. Horatio comes to the door as though he is absolutely famished. He is not. When he gets to the door I promptly do not feed him. Yet for some reason he lounges on our back porch all day long. Waiting to be fed. Ridiculous. Then one morning I actually did give him some food, he nibbled at it. Then when the nice neighbor lady that always feeds him came outside he deserted me and ran to her. Was my food not good enough for him? Apparently not. He is one picky cat. I figured, if he was hungry he would eat whatever. He's apparently not that hungry. Unless of course nice neighbor lady is gone for a week, then Horatio will eat anything and everything we give him. gracious.

Well. One afternoon, a day or two after bringing Boady home the hubs was outside with him. For some reason the hubs had to leave and asked me to step outside. For a split second we were both inside at the same time. When I went out to watch Boady, I couldn't see him. I looked and looked, but he wasn't there. That's when I saw Horatio. With a little brown critter hanging limp from him mouth. My heart stopped. I started running towards Horatio, calling and scolding and scared from little Boady's life. Then I saw it had a big bushy tail. And Boady barked up at me, he was right by my foot. O thank goodness. For the next twenty minutes Horatio batted and swung that squirrel around. Today the hubs found a head and a tail. nice. While Horatio batted the poor little critter around, the squirrels in the trees all around me were screaming, "EEEE" and "ekkekkkekkk" and "eeek eeek" more and more squirrels kept joining in. Personally, I was getting a little scared for my life. I was pretty certain the squirrels would come and attack me for something the cat did. o brother. ... I've never heard squirrels mourn before, but they do. It's true. And now there is a tail in my yard. Thanks, Horatio.

a-ller-gic

I'm ill. horribly horribly ill. It's really quite wretched actually. My nose is stuffed up. My head is stuffed up. My throat is itchy. My ears hurt. My cheeks are in pain. My eyes are itchy and watery. I wasn't sick last week. And then I went there to the building full of germs, the place where my allergies come alive. School. Stupid school. contagious kids. evil kicker-upper of allergies. Cause that's what they do. That's what happens. They make me sick. It never fails. Never. Ever. All I have to do is be near a child and I get sick. All I have to do is walk into a room full of children and I'm a goner, I get a stuffy head and am pretty much useless. It's tragic really. I have diagnosed myself as being allergic to kids.

I babysat this little baby boy once (well, actually he was not so little, he was really pretty chubby) for a day. one day. He had Hand Foot and Mouth Disease (yuck), a disease that grown ups don't get. Well, guess who got Hand Foot and Mouth Disease? That's right! You guessed it! Me! I got Hand Foot and Mouth Disease. dumb baby. Why?! Why did I get it when grown ups don't get it?! huh? tell me that? What makes me so special that I would get this vile illness? huh? Well, thanks to this chubby little baby I spent a week and a half with a mouth full of tiny little bumps. It was like I had eaten poison ivy my mouth was so bumpy. I could hardly brush my teeth it was so painful. There was no way I was about to floss. Mouthwash? Forget about it. It's bad enough when you have an uninfected mouth. Eating was impossible... I just couldn't eat. anything. At all. For two whole weeks. I'm not even kidding. That's a long time to go without food.

Obviously I have chosen the wrong profession. How can I possibly be around kids every day when I am deathly allergic to them? o brother. It is so true though. I'm telling you, ever since I started subbing last week it's been horrid. I can hardly breathe. I hate to tell the secretaries that I can't come in and sub because I'm allergic to the kids though. So I suck it up and go in anyway. Only worsening my allergies. I don't know what is the better thing to do.

The hubs says, "It might not be the kids you're allergic to. It could be a new season, I know my allergies are really bad right now too."

"I'm pretty sure it's the kids, it's like this no matter the season," I say certainly. That's why I haven't been able to even check my email for the past few days: the kids have made me ill. I've been trying to get a doctor to confirm my diagnoses. They won't. Thankfully, at least I know the truth. I guess I better start taking allergy medicine. dumb kids. dumb allergies. bah.

physical education

Yesterday I was a P.E. teacher. I called and told the hubs, "Guess what?!"

"You are going to fix lunch?" he questions.

"I got a sub job!" Of course I would only be excited about this. Subbing it pretty much the best thing ever. ...or maybe not. But still. I never turn down a sub job.

"That's great! Do you know what you will be teaching?" He's so swell.

"Elementary P.E." I state matter of factually.

"Wait, could you repeat that? It sounded like you said, P.E."

"I did. I'm teaching P.E. today."

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA," I'm glad he's so easily amused. Actually, if you know me, which you might, or you might not, you would know why the hubs was laughing so hard. I am the least athletic person on the face of this earth. I hate running and jogging and if I can avoid walking somewhere, I will (ok. well, that might not all be entirely true...). Well, you know, unless I really want to. Be active. Which really rarely Ever happens. Ever. Pretty much never. My least favorite subject in school was not Math (even though I loath the very idea of it) but P.E. That was ten thousands time worse than math. I'd rather pull my hair out of my head trying to figure out a dumb math problem than put on a pair of tennis shoes and run one lap. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" the laughter continues. "Oh, man. That's hillarious."

Really? I couldn't tell he thought so.

P.E. is a good thing to sub for though. I make children run : ) It is glorious. Then they come up to you all sweaty and I can't help but laugh an evil laugh inside. But seriously, it's good. I make them run. They are allowed to be loud so I don't have to keep telling them to hush. It's nice.

I subbed today too. But it wasn't P.E. But I did make them hush. It was glorious. I even brought tears to a few children's eyes. I'm not mean, really I'm not. In fact, I'm really quite nice, and I'm sure that the kids take advantage of me more than I make them cry. I'm trying to change that though. And that is why a little girl cried. Almost. kehehe. o my. Now you probably think I am the most cruel person ever in the world. But I'm not. I can reassure you of that. I'm a Baby Whisperer (or so I've been told) I can take a screaming baby, hold him (or her) and she stops. And most of the time they usually fall asleep in my arms too. It's quite nice really. So, if I make babies stop crying, I really can't be that mean, now can I?