I sometimes feel as if I am the only woman in America who has not read Fifty Shades of Grey. With the movie coming out it seems to be all anyone talks about. My little freaking sister has read it, and I want nothing to do with it. Does this mean I am not normal? Does this mean I am boring and bad at sex??
I don’t know, but this is the funniest thing I’ve seen today. Enjoy.
Three more days of work before Miami. Lately, work hasn’t been too bad, though. Everyone is in a post-quality review stupor. I’ve been teaching chemical and physical changes to the kids, which means lighting things on fire and calling it science. Try this at your next party: take a dollar bill, dip it in water, and then dip it in isopropyl alcohol. You can light it on fire and the isopropyl alcohol will burn right off and turn a really cool color, leaving you with a mostly unharmed but soaking wet dollar. I can promise you that your dollar bill will be okay at least 70% of the time… and if not, singed money is still money.
In other news, Roomie and Friend-from-home (let’s call her Izzy) and I have all been prepping for Miami by attempting to drink a gallon of water a day. This goal was born after I read an article from an internet source of dubious reliability that promises more water equals beautiful skin and a flatter tummy. It is now after 8:30pm. I still have at least 40 ounces left. I consumed most of my water today during my second period prep, and then I had to teach four in a row with a full-to-bursting bladder. I have peed a dozen times and I have a new zit blooming on my chin. Additionally, I ate butter and noodles for dinner. I should just accept that I will not be quite to Karlie Kloss standards for Miami and begin again effective tomorrow.
Doorbell has been ringing intermittently for the past minute and a half. Am reluctant to go answer because last time doorbell went off this much it was Roomie’s ex. What if he is back? She is in bed fragile with a migraine. Maybe it will be one of my exes (hopefully a good one) coming to tearfully reunite with me.
Was delivery food for downstairs neighbor, they had the wrong bell. Que sera sera. Someday, my prince will come.