a spade is a spade OR I am a big, big bitch

When I was a first-year teacher, there was a VP at our school who hated me. Hated me. Seriously - she had it out for me. She was always snippy with me. She chewed me out for things I couldn't control. She would greet everyone in the room except for me.

I used to feel like no matter what I did, it was never good enough. She didn't cut me any slack. She never let me live down a mistake. She came to evaluate me and came with guns blazing.

Think I'm crazy? Paranoid? Ha! She got drunk at our end-of-the-year party in my second year and told me, "I almost fired you last year. You were so disappointing. But now I think you're fabulous."

She then proceeded to order a round of vodka shots and left without paying. I got stuck with the bill. She = Bitch.

People told me it was because she was unhappy or that my principal really liked me. Or maybe she felt threatened? I doubt that. I know I screwed up on occasion. I know I made mistakes. I was 22. I was a brand new teacher. I was disgustingly insecure and inexcusably shy. Not to mention miserable about my life in general. Are you supposed to be another way at age 22? Probably. But I wasn't.

Lately, I feel like I've been a bitch to my intern.

Really, she's a sweet person. She tries so hard. She's going to make a really good teacher. But she let her personal life get in the way of her work. And I haven't let her forget how much that disappointed me.

Yesterday, when she was finishing up some paperwork to graduate and I was teaching, I felt disconnected from my kids and it was so sad. They kept asking when she was coming back. I'm not really a teacher who thrives on the love of her students, but seriously, it hurt my feelings! I guess I never learned to share.

I think my biggest issue is that she and I are the same age. Everyone at my work is shocked to hear me say that. You can see her insecurities from a mile away, and you just don't expect that from someone who is almost thirty. But she is still a student, still learning.

God, I'm the biggest bitch. I couldn't just let things slide with her. She's not a bad teacher. She's still learning and I'm supposed to be teaching. I just need to stick with teaching children. I have no patience for adults. Myself included.

But at least I pay for my own vodka.

wg

on why one shouldn't get a spray tan

1. You will look orange.
2. You will feel orange.
3. You will smell orange.

Orange you glad I gave you a warning???

happy (late) anniversary, sum of awe

I forgot to wish myself a Happy Anniversary! If you want to read about how my blog started, you can start here.

Seems kind-of crazy that this all began three years ago as a project to blog my way out of debt. I'm almost out of credit card debt, getting closer every day! More importantly, I'm a happier, sassier version of myself. What do I have planned for the next year in awesumness? Kick ass and take names, of course.

Thanks for reading.

WG

texting with my sister. again.

Me: My favorite show, House Hunters, is being ruined by a rash of "young newlyweds looking to start a family." Fuck you, assholes!

Her: Stupid retards! Soon to be fighting over finances and household chores.

Me: Having to compromise everything from what you eat for dinner, to what you watch on TV, to where you live and room in the closet for your shoes!

Her: Wishing they were still single, cursing the day they tied the knot.

Me: Not having sex for weeks but having to sleep next to each other every night, silently wanting to punch them in the face!!

Her: Secretly wanting to murder the other for making you wash their skid-marked underwear.

Me: Losing your will to live because you had a kid with the village idiot.

Her: Masterminding your own suicide while plotting to have an affair asap just so you can go out with a bang.

Me: Selling your wedding dress on eBay to afford your Zanax!

Her: Secretly allowing the medical world to harvest all of your eggs and hiding the profit in a savings account to plot your escape from marital hell, while quietly elated that all your eggs will be gone when he asks if he can knock you up!

Me: Taking out a home equity line of credit so you can soundproof the walk-in closet to use your vibrator in peace, while secretly denying him sex every day just to watch him suffer. Eventually he has no choice but to hire a prostitute; luckily the carpenter who soundproofed your closet is also a private investigator on the side. He snaps plenty of incriminating pictures which you present as "exhibit a" in divorce court and get a huge settlement which you use to buy an island in the Bahamas.

Her: Glorious!

Then, twenty minutes later...

Me: Dammit. I still want a husband one day.

Her: Me, too. Son of a bitch!

wg

cyst-picous

Well, I went for my follow-up appointment at the Breast Pavilion. Seriously - that's the name of the building! No, there is not a 'Penis Pagoda' next door. Yes, I asked.

They gave me another mammy on just the left boob. Then they made me wait. She then took me to a back room where they performed an ultrasound. That nurse was very talkative and told me stories about inverted nipples and cauliflower breasts! And you thought pancakes was a bad image!

Throughout the ultrasound, I was silently freaking out. Who will drive me to chemo? What will my insurance cover? Do I have short-term disability at work? Where did I put my life insurance information? What is heaven like? Does God have a beard? If so, is it as long and glorious as I imagined?

Finally the radiologist appeared. He congratulated me on my "perfectly healthy breasts". He pointed out a small area of concern that he has determined, with the ultrasound, is just caused by the density of my boobs. "You are lucky," he said. "They won't sag as soon as others." Then he said it was nice to see someone as young as me being so proactive, especially knowing considering my family history.

I then asked him for a lollipop.

Apparently, radiologists do not give out lollipops. Even when your boobs are cancer-free.

wg

pancake breakfast

Did I tell you I got a mammogram?

Well, I did.

I was sitting (if that's what you call it) in the gyno's office when she began lecturing me about getting my first mammogram. Most women don't need them until they are in their forties. I, on the other hand, am blessed with a family history of breast cancer. Therefore, I get to begin the pleasure of boob squishing at a much earlier age than most.

I've been putting it off for a few years. The reason for this is stupid. It stems from something I once overheard about mammograms. I have a vivid memory of my aunt saying, "Mammogram? More like a pancake cook-off!"

Seriously, that image of my boob being flattened to a pancake stuck with me. Ow. And cook-off? Does it burn? Eek! Even though my own mother died from breast cancer, I kept letting the image of that damn pancake guide me.

Well, the gyno wasn't having any of that. "Listen," she said, "Do you want me to sit in here while you call and make the appointment? Because I'll do it if that's what it takes."

Geez! I thought gynos were supposed to lecture you about STDs and contraception, not irrational fears stemming from breakfast foods. "Fine, fine," I replied. "I'll go. I'll have my pancake and eat it, too."

So, I went. It wasn't that bad. Basically, you have to take off your shirt in front of a nurse. She looks at boobs all day, so it's no big deal. She puts your boob up on a shelf and then you have to lean in while a piece of plastic is lowered, lowered, lowered onto your boob, squishing it against the table. It really doesn't hurt. It's just uncomfortable.

In all honesty, the worst part is that I wasn't allowed to wear deodorant. Not only do I live in Florida, but I'm part Italian. I don't sweat, I ssswwweeeaaattt. I stashed deodorant in the car to use when I left, but it had partially melted in the thirty minutes it took to get the mammy. So I drove home with soupy, freshly-scented pits.

Well, I thought no deodorant was the worst.

I really wasn't prepared for when they called me today, asking me to come back in for more testing. The radiologist saw something concerning on my film and they want to "investigate" further.

Pancakes, I can handle. But this?

faithful followers

Today I saw that - oh geez - the sum of awe has 95 followers! I must admit, that's kind-of freaky. No offense, but I probably only know 5 of you. Yet you're reading about my shitty home appraisal and naked teenage exploits. Grrrreat.

While it's admittably freaky, it's also nice to read your comments. (Unless you're the asshole who wrote "This blog sucks." You can die.) But for the rest of you, I'm curious - how did 95 people find my blog? And what made them want to follow?

So, if you're a follower, please leave me a comment and tell me how you found the awesumness that is my blog and what keeps you coming back for more. I'd say this is for research purposes, but in all honestly, I'm kind-of an attention whore.

wg

wg's dating tips for dudes

Hello, boys.

Here are some things you should do on a first date:
1. Show up on time.
2. Make a decision.
3. Turn off your phone.
4. Walk the girl to her car, even if she parked next to you.

Here are some things you should not do on a first date:
1. Say you are picky about people's looks, particularly if you are not exactly the twin brother of Brad Pitt.
2. Stare at your date's boobs.
3. Say you need to get home early, then make a phone call within ear shot saying, "Yeah, I'm on my way to meet you guys right now."
4. Ask, "Hey, can you chip in for this tab?"

Most of all, you should probably lose my number.
wg

tease

While back in hometown this weekend, I ran into an old friend from high school. I am officially at the age where phrases such as "old friend from high school" are a fitting description. Ugh. Regardless, seeing him was a riot. I think it's pretty hilarious how people remember the same things, yet, we remember them differently. For example:

Me: The first time I ever got drunk was at your house.

Him: Yeah, it was awesome. You were always the good one, always the DD, always taking care of us. Then you started begging me for a drink.

Me: Um, no. You guys picked on me so much that I took one giant schwig of Goldschlager just to shut you up.

Him: Yeah, seeing you drunk was pretty hilarious. But then you just disappeared without saying goodbye.

Me: Um, no. You idiots let me drive home and it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.

Him: Oops.

Fast forward to twenty minutes later in the conversation.

Him: I'm going to have to tell my girlfriend I ran into you. I hope she doesn't get mad.

Me: Why would she get mad? Is she a super jealous person?

Him: No, but considering our past, I should probably tell her.

Me: What past? So we made out once. That was, like, a hundred years ago!

Him: We did more than make out.

Me: No, we didn't.

Him: Yeah, we did.

Me: No. We. Didn't.

Him: Linds, I've seen you naked.

Me: Big deal. I mooned everyone in high school. I had an issue with boundaries.

Him: No, more than that. Don't you remember?

Me: You are making this up. We never slept together.

Him: But we almost did. Don't you remember? Jenni's grandparents' house? The party in the summer?

Me: I remember the party but I don't remember getting naked with you.

Him: We going at it in her grandparents' room. Then I asked you if you really wanted to go through with it. You laughed and told me you were not going to sleep with me in the first place. And I said, "Well, why'd you let me take off all your clothes?" and you rolled your eyes and said, "Oh, my god." Then you saw a big crucifix hanging on the wall and said, "Oh, my GOD!" and ran out.

Me: (Silence.)

Him: So. Do you remember now?

Me: Um, yeah. I had kind-of blocked that out.

Him: So, what do you have to say for yourself?

Me: Oops.

wg

man-demonium

So, as revealed in recent post, I went somewhat crazy on match.com. I figured if my house wasn't going to appraise at a decent value, I might as well whore myself out on match.com. (And by whore myself out I mean give my phone number to a lot of people. Don't get all judgmental on me.)

Here are the results:

Best Buy Guy:
Eh, kinda boring. No real sparks there. All we did was text and it was just yawn, yawn, yawn. While I was disappointed to lose my connection to a possible discount on electronics, I wasn't sad to delete his messages.

Bold Approach Dude:
I saw this particular person wrote "I don't date blondes" on his profile. Um, ftw? So I wrote him and said, "As Barack Obama said, it's time for a change!" He did call me, but it was the night before he wanted to do something. He also called from a bar where he was out with his friends and said, "I have to admit, it helped when you added the additional pictures to your profile. After that, I wanted to call you." Again, ftw dude? I took that as an insult and blew him off. I know men are visual but give me a break. Well, he's been pretty persistent since then. I feel like this guy has "bad boy" written all over him. Uh-oh. Don't worry. We're supposed to hang out next Tuesday.

Med School Man:
Upside - makes really hysterical jokes about fish tacos and his rounds in gynecology. Downside - lives in Gainesville and is going to start fourth year of med school this summer. Won't be back in Jax until the first of May. But I do love fish tacos...

The Younger Man:
Well, he's two years younger than me, but it counts. I met him for drinks, but he had a friend with him so it was hard to tell if there was any connection. Meh, next please.

Baggage Boy:
He has a daughter, but surprisingly, that didn't really bother me. I guess my surplus of middle schoolers bothered him, because I haven't heard from him in over a week. It probably didn't help that he sent me a text message right after I had the home-loan debacle and when asked, "How's it going?" I replied, "My life sucks." Oops.

So, when you add up all these match.com suitors and multiply the fact that MLL has been around a lot lately, you get MANDEMONIUM!

Geez.
wg