Help! I’m Leaking Money!

Oh. My. LAWD.

My bank account is leaking like a sieve.

At this point, it seems futile to try and stop it.

I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain the universe is conspiring against me –  requiring major payments for things that have been put on the back burner for far too long, while other regularly-scheduled major payments are due at the EXACT SAME TIME.

Which means, I’m living WAY beyond my means at this point. Thank God for savings, but I am NOT a spender and this is just making me crazy-nervous.

Between car repairs and insurance premiums and bigger-ticket necessities… It’s just harrible. Plus, on top of all that, I missed a day of subbing thanks to the stupid vertigo, and right now I only have a few more subbing days lined up, and… well… let’s just say I’m working on my deep breathing exercises.

I hate money. Why was I not born independently wealthy? Why am I not the princess of some obscure European country nobody talks about or cares about? Why did I have to choose two of the lowest paying professions in the history of professions? Why is my checkbook not bottomless? Why is life so HARRRRRRDDDDD? WWWWHHHHHYYYYY????





Okay, I’m over it.

I’m off to pay for more stuff.

Wheeeee! This should be fun…


Like a record, baby. Right round, round, round.

Right now, I should be in a second grade classroom trying to get those hooligans to put away their math workbooks quietly, and then quietly clean up their space so they can get ready for recess.

But I’m not.

Instead, I’m here. Sitting at my computer. Writing to you guys.


Because… Vertigo.

It started at 3:00 am. I was woken up by something (probably my stupid cat), and greeted by a spinning room.

Spinning. Like a record, baby. Right round round round.

“NOOOOoooooooo!” I thought to myself. “I have to work in the morning! Go away, vertigo! Go away. Go away. Go awayyyyy…..”

And then I fell asleep.

When my alarm went off 3 hours later…

Spinning. Room.

I wasn’t even sitting up yet.

I closed my eyes again.

Room still spinning. Only not visually… just in my head. My head was spinning.

I closed my eyes tightly and rubbed them. Then opened them.

Room. Still. Spinning.

I sat up.

The spinning continued. Like I was ready to pin the tail on the donkey, but no one had spun me.

Do you know how annoying it is when you are unable to get your eyes to focus because the room is spinning?!

The spinning finally stopped and I stood up. The room had righted itself, but the floating, spinning feeling remained.

Crap. How am I supposed to teach a bunch of hyperactive, emotionally immature 2nd graders when I can’t even keep my balance?

So, I made the dreaded phone call. To the school. Apologizing profusely. But I couldn’t come in when I couldn’t even see straight. I didn’t want to fall and crush any 2nd graders. I normally wouldn’t cancel the day OF. I’m sorry I suck. I hope you can find a replacement. I have to go now. Room spinning again.

I’m sure they hated me. What kind of substitute teacher calls in an hour and a half before school to CANCEL? Me. Little Miss Bobble Head.


I went back to bed and when I woke up the second time the spinning continued. Then it stopped. Then the floaty feeling started. Now any time the position of my head changes, the floating kicks in. And I really don’t want to lie down because that’s how the spinning starts.

I have a hair appointment at 4:30. I cannot miss it. I already had to reschedule once, and my hair is in desperate need of a trim. I’m just wondering how I’ll deal with having my hair washed. Oy.

Am I dying? I think I’m fine. I have no other symptoms. But I dare not look too much into WebMD for certainty that I will diagnose myself with Ebola.

I think it’s stress-related. I’m the kind of person who bottles everything up and sucks up all the anxiety and worries she can, and then holds onto it until she explodes 6 months later in a flurry of tears and obscenities. (It’s pretty impressive, actually. You should come watch the show sometime…) But until then, my stress and anxiety seeps out and manifests itself in weird ways. Like spinning rooms.


I just hope I’m not dying.

Screw you, ball joints.

Apparently, I need the ball joints on my car replaced.


Let’s try that again.

Apparently, I need my ball joints replaced.

There. That sounds sufficiently dirty and weird, which is exactly what I was going for.

These “ball joints” they speak of are going to run me about $600.

Which is slap-my-ass fantastic because I already gave away $300 of my money on other car repairs and really, really wanted to make another donation to the struggling automotive business.

Sorry, charitable causes. The children will just have to starve this month because Annie has car parts that need replacing.

Screw you, savings account. Annie didn’t really need you anyway. It’s not like she has to survive the summer months with zero income.

No hard feelings, other bills. The late fees shouldn’t amount to much anyway.

My apologies, people I was planning on visiting this month. Looks like until those ball joints are fixed Annie will not be doing any freeway driving, lest her wheels give out on her and she goes careening into oncoming traffic. (Which, at this point, doesn’t sound like such a bad thing…)

Thanks, car people. That was just the pick-me-up I needed after I spent the day from hell with a bunch of hyperactive, misbehaving kindergarteners that I have to babysit again tomorrow. And when I say babysit, I mean babysit… because with all the hyperactivity and misbehaving, not much learning was happening anyway. So, really, thank you for that.

Oh, and Aunt Flo? Thank YOU for showing up unannounced and uninvited, so much so that I was completely unprepared for your visit and forced to run home at lunch time. You. Are. Awesome.

This day needs to be put out of its misery.


Things That Made Me Go “Hmm…” – Week 21

Okay, let’s just get to it, shall we? First, for the harrible, terrible, very bad, no good stuff.

  • I know I’ve said it numerous times, but apparently it needs to continually be brought up because it’s reaching new and dangerous heights. What is with the recent Anti-Semitism? Is this Nazi Germany? Is this 1933? WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?! It’s everywhere and for some reason, NO ONE is talking about it because, “Meh. It’s just the Jews. Who cares? Been there, done that.” We can get all up in arms about Indiana’s most recent legislation but the growing Anti-Semitism around the world is somehow irrelevant? Why are we not talking about this?
  • For instance, even “celebrities” (if you can call her that) like Lena Dunham feel the need to jump on the Anti-Semitic band wagon and write absolute garbage like “Dog or Jewish Boyfriend? A Quiz”. And then magazines like the New Yorker publish the garbage as though it has literary merit. Really? REALLY?! (You can’t see me, but I am literally trembling as I type this because I am so outraged…) Lena Dunham is a classless, bigoted, troubled young woman (have you read her book?) who has no business spouting such garbage for others to read. If I never hear her name again, I will be a happy girl. (And yes, I’m disgusted that I possibly gave her even more notoriety for posting about this, but not posting about it was not an option.)

And now to counter the harrible, terrible, very bad, no good things, there is this:

Penguins in Sweaters.

Photo from Huffington Post.

Mind. Officially. Blown.

  • You know what else is adorable? This:

Seriously? How adorable is HE?!

  • And lastly, because we all need a good laugh after the garbage that kicked off this post, there is this. Because I know I struggle daily with figuring out how to spell this silly word that continues to mock me with its bizarre spelling. Silly English language.

That’s it for me, peeps. Over n’ out, good buddies.

Crabby Ms. Evans

For the first time in a very, very long time, I literally (in this context, we’re using the British pronunciation of the word…) feel like doing nothing.

And by nothing, I mean that staring at a wall in silence seems like it would be a little too much to undertake at this point in time.

I never feel like doing nothing. I always have to be doing something. And now?

Nope. Nothing. Not a single solitary thing do I feel like doing.

The 3rd graders I had today pushed every one of my buttons… and then a couple I didn’t even know existed.

They were belligerent, disrespectful, and waaaaaaaaay out of line.

They refused to listen, threw things when they didn’t get their way, mimicked and mocked any adult that dared to call them on their behavior, told bald-faced lies and then cried and threw complete temper tantrums when privileges were revoked.

I’m not the kind of teacher that typically yells, but by the end of the day, you bet your ass I was yelling. By that point, I was no longer taking the diplomatic approach of pulling the student aside and talking to them calmly about their behavior. Nope. When it got to the point of infraction after infraction after FREAKIN’ INFRACTION by the same students, I just used my noisy, angry, “you have GOT to be kidding me with this” teacher voice to tell them in no uncertain terms that they “Need to fix it NOW otherwise you can have a long chat with the principal”. I was flipping cards left and right. They were losing privileges left and right. By the time the buses came, I was like, “Go. Leave. I’m done.”

I HATE being that teacher. Especially when there were some kids who were REALLY on  top of it today. They were following directions. They were being respectful. They were doing what they were supposed to be doing. And yet, they were forced to sit through all my lectures and reprimands. And yes, I made sure the kids who were doing their jobs got extra privileges and kudos from me, but I just felt horrible that a half dozen kids could ruin the day for everyone involved.


So, if you don’t mind, I’m spending the rest of my evening stress-eating and staring off into space.

Kids these days…

Dorks will be offended by this post. Consider yourselves warned.

The other day, while out for coffee, my friend uttered a sentence that should never have been uttered.

“Ooh! The new Hobbit movie is coming out on DVD!”

I think the look I shot her was akin to the following:

Um… What?

Just… NO.

What about my personality suggests I would have any interest what-so-ever in the new Hobbit movie?

I then told her I had only seen the first Hobbit movie, and I only went because it procured me a bag of buttered popcorn. I even slept through a good portion of it.

To which she responded with an excited, “Oh! Did you see it with your brother?”

Um… no. Because my brother is awesome and not a complete and utter dork.

It’s possible that I hate all sci-fi and fantasy more than I hate both awkward conversational transitions and bar soap. So… basically, my hatred for all types of sci-fi and fantasy is so intense that it results in physical manifestations. Like… shaking uncontrollably, screaming obscenities, and throwing any and all items in the immediate vicinity. (Occasionally, I spew vomit and my head rotates a full 360 degrees, but hopefully my handlers have managed to calm me down before I get to that point.)

I literally can’t stand it. Sci-Fi and fantasy are loved by dorks around the world. Me? I abhor it. And by abhor, I mean I wish to abolish it from the face of the earth so it can no longer plague our fair society with its rubbish.

Lord of the Rings. (Seen all three. Hated all three. Poked an eye out for each one I had to watch, and then ran out of eyes so I shot myself in the foot instead. I am now blind and feeble thanks to those stupid movies.) The Hobbit. (See above.) Star Wars. (I tried to watch one once. I got 15 minutes into it and fled the room in tears because it was THAT STUPID.) Star Trek. (Couldn’t watch the originals, and only got through half of the remake before shooting myself in the other foot.) LARPing. Comic-Con. Cosplay. Any and all RENAISSANCE FAIRS.

Something about watching actors tromp around on film in costume and pretend to be other-worldly beings enrages me. Watching otherwise normal adults play dress-up themselves and pretend to other-worldly beings also enrages me. Why I can’t just shrug it off and be like, “That’s cool” is a wonder to me. It just drives me crazy. We are grown-ass adults, people! Are we not past the “dress up and play pretend” phase???

The thing is… I don’t have a problem with dorks in general. We’re all dorks about certain things. Take me, for instance. I’m a total book dork. Dorks are awesome. I’m pretty sure it says somewhere in the Bible that dorks shall inherit the earth. I mean, if it weren’t for dorks, we wouldn’t be as technologically advanced as we are today. Dorks kind of run the world. But when that dorkiness seeps over into sci-fi and fantasty? No. Not acceptable. Basically, you lose all your credibility as a dork, and you just become a weirdo in my mind. (I’m sorry… that was harsh. I still love you. You are allowed to love as many LOTR and Hobbit and Star-type-thingys as you want. But I cannot and will not condone the behavior.) The problem is… all of my friends are dorks. Which, because of numbers alone, makes them normal and me the outcast. And it’s not as much fun to mock the rest of the group when you’re the outcast of the group. *sigh* Such is my life. I literally can’t escape the dorkiness… it’s all around me… and it’s making me crazy.

Certainly, I can’t be the only one who feels this way. Or maybe I am. Maybe I just enraged all the dorks of the world to such an extent that they now feel the same way about me as I do about their hobbies…

Sorry, dorks.

You’ll get over it.

Gif Sources:,,

Things That Made Me Go, “Hmm…” – Week 20

Okay, kids. If I’m being honest, I really had nothing to go on this week. I think it’s the funk I’ve been in… I just couldn’t pull it together enough to find brilliant, amusing and thought-provoking material. Thus, the reason this post jumps from current events, to the inane, to commentary on modern art. But hey, at least it’s something. The hoops I jump through for you people… the least you could do is act grateful…

ANYhoodles, here’s a run-down of the things that made me go, “Hmm…” this week:

  • President Obama telling Prince Charles that Americans like the British Royals far more than they do their own politicians. To which Prince Charles replied, “Oh, I don’t believe that.” before shifting the topic to his visit to Mount Vernon. Two things I feel the need to mention here:
    1. DUH. Can you blame us? Our politicians are pretty much… well… harrible. So, there’s always that to contend with.
    2. AWKWARD TRANSITION ANYONE? There’s pretty much nothing worse than awkward transitions. I mean… nothing. Granted, what was Prince Charles supposed to say to that? I mean, I suppose he could have always given a cheeky, “I know, right?”.  (Actually, that would have been fantastic if he had responded with a big ol’ “I KNOW, RIGHT?” Bwahahahahaha! Seriously. That would have made my entire year if that had been uttered, but alas, it was not meant to be.) Instead, the most awkward transition ever was uttered by bringing up Mount Vernon. I wonder if President Obama was like, “What the hell?! Did you hear what I just said?”
  • Sweat Pants. Are people really upset about sweat pants? It was a joke, you idiots. Good grief. Could we please get a sense of humor? (And Eva, please don’t apologize for making a joke. It just means the idiots win.)
  • Proof that I am the clueless friend. Especially that last part. I truly don’t know what that means.
  • Additional proof that at least half the world’s population is full of bullshit:
  • And finally, this brilliant tidbit from Prager University explaining why modern art is so bad, and why I hate it with the passion of a thousand burning hell fires. (You’re welcome to disagree, but he makes some excellent points…)

Alright, bloggity peeps. That’s all I have this week. If you have suggestions for next week, toss them my way. Seriously. No lie. Just do it. Why? Because I asked you and I’m pretty. Like you need another reason?

Over n’ out, good buddies.