This is what happens when you are an idiot.

Go out.
Leave.
Get home.
Cry an awful lot.
Scare parents with the crying.
Hug dogs and pine for the $100 kitty I could have adopted at the vet surgery today.
Drink bottle of chardonay. (bleh)
Eat toffee icecream.
Watch Bridget Jones Diary.
Cry an awful lot more.
Poke self in eye with tissue, causing profuse watering and even more tears.
Insomnia.

I am an idiot.
And I'm not quite sure what to do about it.

Oh yes.

I am hurting.
And I am frustrated.
And I am FEELING STUPID.

Is it that hard to love all of me? Not just the parts to pick and choose, but every part of me? Really?

I hate feeling stupid.

But I love Bridget Jones.

26 down; 4 to go.

I am quite comfortable with admitting I am completely shocked that it is the end of November. The last few years have flown by, and they're speeding up every time. I'm not sure whether that is a good thing or a bad thing, though.

It's good because December is always my favourite time of year, what with Christmas, time off and relaxing over Summer. I'm not even a fan of Summer (evil sunburn, yeeow) but I AM a fan of air conditioning.

It's bad because after Christmas time starts speeding up again, and the holidays always seem to be over before they start. Also because once a year is gone, you can't go back and change it.

I talked to a mother at my school yesterday, and found out she just turned 24. She has a little girl in Year 2, a little boy in Kindergarten, and another little boy in daycare. Why does that make me feel old? And I'm not even 23. Weird.

Anyway - 30 days to go until Christmas. 19 teaching days of school left. 36 days left of 2006. 43 days before New Zealand beckons.

And only 5 days before we put our tree up and go crazy with decorations!

(snort)

Why am I snorting? We live on a street where the neighbours all go out of their way to beat each other with tacky exterior house light displays. We love decorating the inside of our house, but the outside? No thanks. In a way we're a bit Scrooge-ish. But it IS funny seeing people come strolling up our streets checking out their tacky displays, and walking past our house where the only lights are coming from the Christmas tree and the garage spotlights. Hee.

Oh, Oh. And this year will be extra special! Mum found a Bart Simpson wooden cut-out and he's wearing a Santa hat and mooning people. Doesn't that send a nice message to our neighbours? Bah humbug to you and your scary possessed mechanical reindeer whose moving heads and glowing eyes freak me out every time I stare out my window.

(And just to clarify, I LOVE going walking or driving at Christmas, checking out lights. It's one of my favourite things to do! Just not with idiotic neighbours, who also like to block off our entire street with road barriers, just so THEY can have a barbeque down the end without interruptions. Bastards.)

What have you got to do in the ONE MONTH before Christmas?

25 down; 5 to go.

But I definitely don't love a sunburnt bosom.

No sir, I do not.

Click here to see a sad and sunburned Aly

And a sunburnt bosom is what I am the owner of right now.

And it is the most disgusting thing you've ever seen. WAH. And the key chain mark that is around my neck? Is just the icing on the cake.

Next year, my pale skin and I are putting up a fight about taking a sports team. PALIES UNITE! BOO TO SUNCREAM THAT DOESN'T WORK! JUST SAY NO!Just when I thought I was getting rid of the ugly watch tan, too. Damn ye summer. Damn ye.

I pull faces in your general direction. Now. Can someone please pass the aloe? I hurty.


24 down; 6 to go!

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Dude. If all of those things were real, I'd be a hot, skinny model with an immune system of steel with a partner who sounds too good to be true (!) sitting at a computer with fabulous software having nano-chipped robots doing all my work and cleaning for me. And did I mention I'd be skinny?

I could handle that.

Sometimes I wonder if the "Block Sender" icon in my Outlook Express is even worth using.

Is the effort of scrolling down the task bar for each individual junk mail really doing anything? Is it worth waiting a couple of seconds for the (DING) noise that lets you know that your junk mail is done, gone, kaput, finito? Or not. They LIE.

Is the (DING) "penisenlargement4free@annoyingspamgod.com has successfully been added to your blocked senders list" pop up message really even legitimate? HAVE they been blocked? Because I have this one astronomer email stalker that keeps on sending me through personalised horoscopes (totally free! only $49.95 per email!) and I swear, I've blocked her ass about fifteen times.

I bet in some top secret Windows testing laboratory, you could find the original pop up messages floating about. And I bet they go a little something like this:

(DING) "Ha! Fool! You just wasted ten seconds of your time clicking that button. And you know what we did? We had a game of fooze ball and drank a few beers. We even played that little ding-dong sound to keep your sad, sorry excuse of an ass occupied and thinking we were actually doing our job, when really? We actually sent the junk mail gods a nice little email telling them to keep up the good work because ha ha! You're still reading this! That's another ten seconds. And another ten seconds trying to find the "OK" button on this message because we made sure it was a flashy one that doesn't stay in the same place for longer than a second. Ha! Have a nice day, sucker."

But then I'm sure they changed it because it was too long. Or something.

Those bastards.

DOWN WITH SPAM! (And Outlook Express too.)

23 down; 7 to go.

Five Things You Might Not Know About Me.

1. I swear. An awful lot. Yes, you may see some of that reflected in this blog but in real life? Even more so. What is interesting is that my brain automatically switches to teacher mode when I'm at work. I think I've had one time where I nearly bellowed out a Sugar Honey Iced Tea (hee!) but that was only when I slammed my finger in my desk drawer, and luckily my brain was awake that day. What is also interesting? Jason rarely swears, at all.

2. I'm a very fussy eater. I don't eat seafood, not even fish. I don't eat tomatoes. I don't like a lot of green vegetables, and get told I act like a little kid when I'm choosing meals. I also pick sultanas (or raisins, whatever floats your boat) out of cereals, breads and cakes. Hmm. What else? Oh, right - I didn't like strawberries or kiwi fruit or other fruit with seeds, but I think that was just because of the seeds. I've been trying to be better with that, because I generally really love eating fruit. Basically? I'm fussy. Deal with it.

3. I have the palest skin in the history of the world. I once got so badly sunburned on my back that the peeling caused my skin to bubble, and it has never smoothed out again. Gross! Because of coaching my sports team every Friday at school, my arms have started to go a little brown, leaving me with nice pale key chain marks and t-shirt marks. I'd prefer to be pale all over again, thanks.

4. I don't wear gold jewellery. I never have worn gold jewellery. I never will wear gold jewellery. Unless we're talking white gold, in that case; you buy it, I wear it. Nice and easy. Seriously though, ever since I was a little girl I always preferred silver. Maybe because I was so pale, maybe because that's what mum wore, I don't know. I'm definitely a silver kind of gal.

5. I would prefer to be at home reading a book than at a social party mingling with people I don't know. I don't do social outings very often OR very well. I do read well, though. My secret ambition is to be an author one day, but with the way I procrastinate? I think I'd better aim for short children's books.. and learn to draw. I cannot draw to save my life.

I'm tagging anyone who is struggling for NaBloPoMo ideas for this one. Consider it a gift from ME to YOU. Especially the randomiser visitors, who are lurking these days. Come out, come out, wherever you are..

22 down; 8 to go!

40.9.

That was the temperature today at around 2pm.

In celcius.

That's 106 degrees Fahrenheit if my conversion site is correct.

And it's SPRING.

Say it with me now; Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

It wouldn't bother me so much if I were at home, since we have a wonderful thing called AIR CONDITIONING. One would think at the institution where it is my job to instill knowledge and worldly advice and dance moves into my kidlets minds would be as comfortable as the education department could get, right?

Fuck, no. We have no air conditioning. I had a classroom of hot, sweaty, grumpy and miserable kidlets today. And they had a hot, sweaty, grumpy and miserable teacher today. I bet all the education bigwigs aren't sweating it out in their offices with no air conditioning. *snorts*

Therefore, since several dozen of my brain cells sizzled away into nothing after my duty on the scorching asphalt playground of death, it's time for a to-do list. I've been meaning to do one ever since I saw Nicole's one, so what better time than the present?

* Finish the student report comments and student database information. (Sounds simple but that involves 1 page of crappy new statements for each of my twenty five kidlets. TWENTY FIVE PAGES OF COMMENTS.)

* Tally up absences and partial absences for the record cards. (Counting is absolutely not my strong point.)

* Get my kids doing their cowboy line dance up to speed because we tried it with music for the first time yesterday and they totally sucked need some practice. (I'm a mean cow who snorted out a few giggles watching the unco-ordinated ones shuffle around. Mean!)

* Somehow find twenty five cowboy style hats for the kidlets to wear on the performance night. (How I'm going to manage that, I have no idea - suggestions welcomed!)

* Use the next four weeks to finish my teachers accreditation which let's face it; is going to be the death of me. Death! (And if I die before NEW ZEALAND OMGZ I will be one pissed off teacher lady.)

* Find Christmas gift for Jason, Ajay and my work Secret Santa. (Everyone else has been bought for, because I am a semi-organised chook this year. Impressive, eh?)

* Save money (to attend my staff Christmas party, as well as Jasons.)

* Save money (to put aside for holidays since I might not get paid during them.)

* Save money (for spending money for NEW ZEALAND OMGZ!)

* Spend money on decent summer clothes, some swim shorts and other necessities (for NEW ZEALAND OMGZ!)

* Make a countdown calendar (for NEW ZEALAND OMGZ!)

Are we seeing a pattern here?

I was a good girl today and stayed back until 5pm typing out more report comments, so I've made a bit of a start there. But there is such a lot to do, and such a short time before the end of school / Christmas / early January holiday time.

Just need to imagine the wonderful stress-free time I'll have after all of that stuff is behind me. Positive thinking, right?

Now if I could just un-melt myself off this chair...

21 down; 9 to go!

Have you had any strange things happen to you lately?
Have any boats or planes that you own suddenly gone missing?
Is something just not right and you just can't place what it is?

Perhaps the Bermuda Triangle is involved.

The Bermuda Triangle of mosquito bites, currently residing on my right calf, that is.

Seriously. The ghosts from the homestead must have been pissed at me; they're haunting me in the form of itchy bites that won't go away! Ack!

I am totally not running out of ideas for NaBloPoMo.

(Cough)
(Crickets chirp)
(Tumbleweeds roll past)

Fine. I'm sprung.

20 down; 10 to go!

Hold your breath people; I actually WENT OUT last night!

No really, I kid you not. I went outdoors. Outside. With other people! Neat, huh?

Jason and I went out to a historical homestead with my parents, for a night out. It was run through my parents Mustang Club, and was a dinner slash dance slash ghost tour evening. We decided to stay at a hotel overnight, just to make an evening out of it.

Because I am lazy, dot points will have to suffice for now. Besides, I think this summarises the evening fairly well.

• I got a sty in my eye. Hurty. Very hurty. Made eye puffy. I made a poem for it. (Oh sty, Oh sty, I hope you die. You're not very nice to my poor little eye. Oh sty, oh sty, you picked me - why? I think I'll eat a piece of pie.) Talented, no? I am the queen of the sty(ie)s!

• The hotel room my parents booked into was crawling with ants. Ours was not. So they got upgraded to the upstairs hotel room, with a BALCONY! Bitches! (The ants go marching two by two, hoorah, hoorah..)

• It was a beautiful afternoon. It was a beautiful homestead. It had a beautiful garden. It even had a beautiful peacock in said garden. (Hey Dad, look at the bird! It just had its peacock out! - NB: I MEANT to say its tail, perves.)

• Wine tasting at the door is always a good start. Not so much though, when old people park themselves in front of the bar and WILL NOT MOVE. Even free wine is not worth the fussing. Instead, I just waited for some to be brought to me. (On looking at a rather pervy painting on the wall of the homestead - Aly: Hey, look at that picture! It's a chick looking up another chick's dress! Mum: No, that's a guy! Alyr: It is? (pause) Hang on, she's got no pants on! What a whore!)

• Yummy food. I got seafood (bleh) and then beef (bleh). What I ACTUALLY ate was pasta (yum) and chicken (yum). (You know you've got a good boyfriend when he willingly swaps the alternate meal dishes with you because you're a fussy cow.)

• A lantern-lit ghost tour around the homestead. Complete with predictably "set up" noises and creaks that predictably had me crapping my pants. No ghosts though. At least, none that I saw. (It's perfectly acceptable for two grown women to be holding hands walking through a scary dark homestead right? RIGHT?)

• Paying $10 for a breakfast of Cornflakes, juice and tea. Ten dollars. Okay, so I didn't exactly pay for it, but it was still dodgy. And beware of toast that looks nicely toasted, so you butter it, but then you pick it up to eat it and it is BLACK and BURNED on the other side. (Aly: I thought we got the COLD breakfast!? And you got the HOT breakfast?! - NB: My cereal milk was warm, and mum's toast was cold. What the..?)

Anyway, had a good time, even if I only managed to crack a smile out of Jason once or twice. It sure is nice to get out, even if I was yawning by 10pm. I'm telling you; I'm a grandma cleverly disguised as a twenty-something.

19 down; 11 to go.

Sometimes, I just crack myself up.

Aly: (insert random chatter and questions about New Zealand here)
Jason: "Mmmhmm." (blank face)
Aly: "We're paying off our trip! I'm excited! It's so soon! Yay!"
Jason: "Yep."
Aly: "You're so BORING. What's wrong with you? I'm excited!"
Jason: "Nothing, I'm fine!"
Aly: "Boring. How can you not be excited!? We're going to NEW ZEALAND!"
Jason: "I am excited."
Aly: (snorting noise)
Jason: "We've still got ages, it's not until after Christmas. I guess it just hasn't hit me yet."
Aly: (pause)
Aly: (punches Jason in the chest)
Jason: "Ouch!"

Well, he can't say it hasn't hit him yet.

18 down; 12 to go.

Is it wrong that I am counting down the days until school is over this year? You would think I had been teaching for years and needed a break, can you believe I've only been in the big, wide world for less than a year now? And I'm already exhausted.

The kidlets are driving me crazy. My patience has plunged from so-so to absolute nothingness. I have spent every afternoon this week doing extra work, work that isn't going away as hard as I feel I'm working on it.

Back to counting: 24 days of term left. 24 school days, that is. It's not that long, when you think about it. I'll survive.

Besides, I have New Zealand to look forward to.

(Fwee! Passport arrived today, complete with its photo that makes me look like a crazed psychopath! Fwee! New Zealand! Poor! Poor, Poor, Poor! Paying travel agent tomorrow and I am POOR!)

Today was not a good day.

The kidlets had apparently forgotten how to walk in two, straight lines.
I had ONE child out of twenty five bring back their homework (that I had spent AGES on, making little booklets and the like.. bastards!)
Eleven of them (again, out of twenty five) didn't even bring a pencilcase. Not a single pencil. (One day a rant will come about parents sending their kids to school with NO FUCKING EQUIPMENT, ROAR.)

I was very moody. So moody that we worked in silence nearly all morning, and that rarely happens. I'm not a fussy teacher who can't stand a single speck of noise; to me, as long as they're on task and working things out, I'm happy. Not today. One sound and their name went on the chalkboard. See? Moody.

After they were finished, I had them write up a paragraph about why it is important to listen to instructions. It wasn't for any educational purposes (except to check maybe spelling and punctuation?) but really, I just wanted to see what responses they would come up with.

"We should listen because if we don't, Miss S. will get a headache."

"If we don't follow instructions, we will get in trouble and that is not good."

And the classic:

"Listen to Miss S, because she is the boss of this class and knows everything!!"

Damn straight, kiddo. Damn straight!

17 down; 13 to go!