Just...stop.

Before I start this post (sorry about the hiatus, bee tee dubs), I am posting an update on Mr. Leftie!  He was spotted at the local library by a student whom I have been tutoring.  She started talking about this man who approached her table whilst she was being tutored by another teacher, and began rambling about left-handedness.  He has been found!  Let us rejoice!  

Ahem. 

Anyway.  

Top 5 Most Annoying Types of People 

•  The person who has perfect skin, but takes terrible care of it.  You know how you're not supposed to, like, sleep with makeup on?  You know how touching your face too much causes breakouts?  Oh, and how smoking causes wrinkles and all kinds of other problems?  These people don't care about that.  At all.  And their complexions do not show it.  Meanwhile, I'm taking meticulous care of my skin...I wash, I moisturize, I exfoliate once a week and mask twice a month, and here I sit, 27 years old and still looking like a teenager.  Oh, the injustice.  I swear, if I compliment someone's skin one more time, only to hear that freaking giggle and "I sleep in my makeup every night!" I'm going to have to vomit all over their face.  Aaand that will probably just make them look even more radiant. 
  
  Where to find this person:  Anywhere you allow yourself to go when your skin looks its WORST. 
  
  
• The person who tries to make you feel stupid and crazy for doing things that aren't stupid or crazy.  Yes, I cry when I watch The Notebook.  It's SAD.  How is a man and wife, deeply in love, torn apart by Alzheimer's Disease NOT sad?  I also like to play video games.  Many of my friends seem to think this is some childish and crazy behavior.  What ought I be doing?  I guess I should sit around the house and pay bills and discuss Plato in order to be considered an adult doing adult things. 
  
  Where to find this person:  Your lunch table at work; at a person's house where you are outnumbered by people you don't know. 
  
  
• The person who drives like a moron, and then looks at you like you it's your fault.  Seriously, this must happen to me at least twice a week.  One time, this daft she-devil didn't stop at a red light and proceeded with her right-hand turn while I was going straight through an intersection with a GREEN light.  I put on my brakes, and she flipped me off.  Then, as I drove behind her, she slammed on her brakes several times, purposely trying to provoke me.  Gold star.
  
  Where to find this person:  On the road, usually when you are in a hurry; In Upstate New York during even the slightest bit of precipitation, or even a strong wind. 
  
  
• The mom who can't handle that her daughter's life isn't her own.  Facebook has made this phenomenon creepily more simple.  Moms can now be BESTIES with their daughter's friends, tag pictures of them, and comment on said pictures, all while using the coolest teen lingo.  If you don't know of a real-life example of someone like this, just think of Mrs. George from Mean Girls.  "I'm not a regular mom, I'm a cool mom!"  Never mind being a parent, authority figure, or example.  To hell with that!  Let's just try to be BFFs with our kids and they will be just fine, amirite?  Sigh. 
  
  Where to find this person:  Any school dance that requires fancy dresses;  Cheerleading competitions, usually wearing velour pants that say JUICY or PINK on the butts. 
  
  
• People who don't like animals.  How can you trust someone who can see this and not think it's cute?  I don't get it, and frankly, it's making me not want to elaborate.
  
  
• People who get offended over lists like this.  Yeah, this makes it a list of 6, and not 5, but to anyone who fits one or more of these, this is all in good fun.  You still kinda suck, but I probably like you anyway.
  
  
  -R

Tales from the Pizza Shop, Part 1: Mr. Leftie

I worked in the pizza shop of a local grocery store for about six years.  It was fun for the most part, but everyone knows that the best thing about working in customer service is being able to laugh at all of the ridiculous clientele.  Today, I am going to tell you about Mr. Leftie.  

It all started a few months into my job at the store.  I started out working as a cashier in the food court area, and part of the duties was to wipe down tables when it was slow so that the customers could have somewhere clean to sit.  I was doing this one day, minding my own business, when Mr. Leftie (who did not yet have this nickname) interrupted. 

"Left-handed, huh?" He asked. 
"Yep," I replied. 
"I'm glad you're cleaning the table left-handed, because I'm going to be eating at the table left-handed!" 

Not really knowing what to do or say, I smiled politely and moved to the back of the dining room, simultaneously becoming ashamed of my lefthanders calendar at home.  Was I like this guy? 

Fast forward to about a year later, after I had started working in the pizza shop.  Mr. Leftie would call us up probably every other week.  This is how every conversation with him would go: 

"How can I help you?" 
"I would like to order a large cheese pizza with banana peppers."  
"All right, is there anythi--" 
"Why do we always say 'all right?'  I think that is unfair to all of the left-handed people like me!" 
"I guess you're right." 
"See?!  Always using the word 'right!'" 
"O...kay?  That'll be about 20 minutes."  


He would inevitably come to pick up his pizza while I was slicing it, and would go to his old standby: 


"I'm glad you're cutting that pizza left-handed, because I'm going to be eating it left-handed!" 


As you can imagine, Mr. Leftie became pretty annoying.  Being cut off every single time you uttered the word "right" takes its toll on a person.  I was also not the only person who was subject to these strange conversations, as pretty much everyone else in the department had dealt with him at one point.  


So it got to where we started messing with Mr. Leftie on purpose.  


"I would like to order a large cheese pizza with banana peppers." 
"Aaallllll RIGHT!" 


I would cut the pizza with my right hand, risking maiming myself in the process, just to get a reaction out of this guy. 

And not only did he say weird things, but he was also the most bizarre looking person I'd ever seen.  He looked like a caricature, with a gigantic head and expressive eyes that would tell you your obvious douchebaggery in an attempt to screw with him and totally worked.  


We tried to weave the word "right" into our sentences, and we became experts at it.  


I'm not sure whatever happened to Mr. Leftie after I stopped working there, but the last time I saw him he was riding his bike down the middle of Main Street.  


He did, however, teach me one important thing (other than the fact that my own left-handedness was now about 476 times more lame): 

The customer is not always right. 

Childhood Vignette, Part 1

I am seven or eight years old.  

I wake up in the middle of the night regretting drinking that third glass of Kool-Aid.  Sleepily tossing the covers aside, I make my way in the dark to the upstairs bathroom. That bathroom is a little scary, but it beats going all the way downstairs.  I quietly open the door, tiptoe to the toilet, do my business, and put my hand on the handle to flush. 

Wait.  Flushing might not be a good idea.  Hmm.  

I slowly and gently begin to walk into my parents' bedroom.  They are both sleeping, and I head over to my dad's side with the stealth of a ninja. 

"Dad," I whisper.  No response.  

"Dad!" I say a tad more urgently. 
He awakes with a start, probably confused as to why his seven or eight year-old daughter is inexplicably standing over him while he sleeps.  
"What?" he says. 
"Can I flush the toilet?" I whisper.
"What?" he says, clearly still wondering what the hell is going on. 
"Can I flush the toilet?" I whisper forcefully.  
"Yes, why wouldn't you be able to flush the toilet?" 
"I didn't want to wake anybody up," I reply.

Thinking about work, even on Spring Break

I am a high school Spanish teacher.  I teach a little over 100 freshmen every day.  

*Disclaimer:  I absolutely adore my job and my students.  These quotes are not unique to any one student, which is why they made it to this list.* 

5 things you shouldn't ask/say to your Spanish teacher

• "How do you say TACOS in Spanish?" I'm not kidding.  Same goes for quesadillas, tortillas, and nachos.  

• "Does this need to be in Spanish?" Nah, you can write it in English.  's'all good.  We aren't in Spanish class or anything.  Write it in Urdu if you wish. 

•  "Me llamo es Pablo."  For the love of all that is holy, there is no "es" in that phrase!  Not only does it say "Me llamo ______" at the top of each and every paper I've ever handed out to you, but I have also never uttered the word "es" when stating my name.  I've also specifically pointed out that you do not add in the word "es," because then the phrase would translate to "I call myself is ____." 

• "Do you take off for spelling?"  Take off for spelling?!  No way!  Go ahead and string together as many random letters as you'd like.  It's only a foreign language.  It doesn't matter, right?  I can just pretend that you spelled the word correctly.  No worries.  

• "Accents don't matter!"  Oh?  I'm gonna introduce you to a word where a little squiggly line makes all the difference: el año.  Many of you know that means "year."  iFeliz año nuevo!  Happy New Year!  Take away that pretty little tilde over the "n" and you have something completely different:  anus.  Now your lovely tidings of love and prosperity for the new year are tarnished.  iFeliz ano nuevo!  Happy New Anus!  Still think the accents don't matter?  

 I swear my next post won't be a Top # list. 

Facebook can read minds.

There is nothing worse than getting excited to eat/make something delicious, only to find out that you lack ONE ingredient, one crucial ingredient, required for making it, and consequently eating it.  

3 Ingredients that it really sucks to not have

• Milk.  I can't tell you how many times I've gotten snuggled into my bed, with visions of Cap'n Crunch with Crunchberries dancing in my head, almost bursting with excitement to wake up and devour a bowl or two.  The alarm clock, once a device made to torture and taunt, becomes akin to the sounds of steel drums on a white sandy beach, simply because there is a fresh box of Cap'n Crunch in the cupboard.  I bound down the stairs, grab the biggest bowl I can find (and, preferably, a wooden spoon) and pour the delicious cereal.  I open the fridge to get some ice cold milk, and lo and behold, THERE IS NONE!  Deflated, I almost always check the fridge for a liquid that would mesh well with the flavors of the cereal.  I once tried ginger ale.  No.  I'm not sure how cereal was invented, or who thought to put the substance a cow uses to nourish her calf atop it, but he or she created a real problem for those of us who run out of milk and would like some cereal anyway.  

• Oil/Eggs.  These are considered one ingredient, because it doesn't matter which one is missing, the outcome is the same:  you can't make the freaking cake.  Tonight was one such moment.  The "calories" part of my blog name refers to the fact that I am on a constant quest to eat better, exercise more, and be healthier in general.  But every so often (read: at least once a week), I go into pathetic mode, where I would do almost anything to eat cake.  Picture this:  I am shoulder-deep into the cupboard looking for cake mix, when I finally lay my eyes on some delicious yellow cake mix, the Pillsbury Doughboy looking at me with an approving smile.  Victory!  I pre-heated the oven.  I took out my cake pan and sprayed it with some non-stick cooking spray.  I grabbed a bowl (the same one I use to eat my Cap'n Crunch).  I read the ingredients needed:  water, oil, and 2 eggs.  I had just been to Wegmans and gotten a carton of eggs.  I obviously have water because I live in the year 2010.  Oil?  When was the last time I had ever needed to use oil?  I DON'T THINK I HAVE ANY OIL!  I again found myself shoulder-deep in the cupboards, though this time I think the Doughboy was shaking his head, ashamed at what a person would do to eat some empty calories.  While I turned off the oven and threw the cake pan into the sink, I wondered silently if I could use olive oil.  Then I remembered that I have googled that at least 2 other times, and no, you can't use olive oil if you want it to taste anything like cake.  

• Bread.  I don't think I really need to explain this one.  You really want a sandwich with all the trimmings (note: trimmings is a funny word), and you don't have any bread.  Usually for me, I have none of the trimmings, and probably not even the basic parts of the sandwich (meat or cheese).  So I guess the bread isn't the worst thing not to have.  I should change that to "stuff for sandwiches."  Sandwiches are delicious, so I'm not sure why I rarely have ANY of the ingredients for them. 

 Just to make this problem worse, it appears that Facebook can tell when you are really craving one of the above things.  After the cake debacle tonight, I logged onto Facebook to beg my friends to bring me cupcakes, and one of the ads on the right side of my main page was a recipe for chocolate cake.  


Facebook: 1  R: zed 


-R

Hello, Clarice

I've never actually met a person named Clarice.  I also do not know how to write an intro post to a blog, so I will just dive in head-first. 

Top 2 Clarices I've Ever Known/Heard of

•  Clarice the doe - "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" - 1964:  Having watched this every Christmas for my entire life, she was the first Clarice to whom I had ever been introduced.  She started out as just a random doe in the crowd of those who made Rudolph cry, and she ended up stealing our hearts by being the only one who gave him a chance.  Aww.  (If you read the Wiki article I've linked to, you'll see that in the sequel, Clarice is seen laughing at Rudolph.)  Oh, Rudy.  You'll find better love.  Just ask Tim McGraw.  
• Clarice Starling from "The Silence of the Lambs" - 1988:  I've never actually seen the entire movie.  I was 5 when it came out, and I remember the video store across the street had its movie poster in the window for at least 2 years.  The image of the disgusting moth with a skeleton on its thorax covering Jodie Foster's mouth was enough to make me steer clear of the movie, save for the times it's been fully edited on TV.  Plus, renting it from that video store would have limited the number of times my sister and I could rent "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory," and that would just not do.  

Welcome to my blog.  It only gets more random from here on out.   


-R