Annie and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Week

So, to summarize my week….

On Monday, while in the midst of planning for a coworker’s baby shower and doing laundry and grading papers, Sir Winston started dragging his butt across the floor. Just like he had been doing in February. Just like he had done in December. DANG YOU, ANAL GLANDS!

On Tuesday, I had a complete meltdown because of all the things I have yet to do as a teacher this year… and there is no possible way to get it done by NEXT THURSDAY. And despite my control freak tendencies, I was forced to ask for help and delegate responsibilities for both the field trip and baby shower that I had PROPOSED AND PLANNED. (It nearly killed me. I’m not gonna lie…)

On Wednesday, the noises my car was making got so bad I realized I better bring it in before the wheels fell off. And then I spent the evening curled up in the fetal position waiting for the mysterious waves of nausea and light headedness to pass

On Thursday, I brought a bus-load of hooligans to meet some sisters and tour a cathedral amidst waves of nausea and light headedness. Let’s just say it could have gone better.

On Friday, I was forced to cancel the trip to the cabin, the car appointment AND the hair appointment in order to figure out what was up with Winston’s Butt Scootin’ Boogying… and now I am forced to stay home, hawkishly watch his every move, ensure he’s still eating and drinking, and force feed him medicine twice a day while he froths at the mouth. Oh, AND my principal decided yesterday was a good day to pop in for a surprise observation… while I had NOTHING to teach. (I seriously can’t make this stuff up.)

Meanwhile, the man came in with a carpet cleaner to get the remnants of all the CAT DIARRHEA out of my carpet, while I scrubbed everything by hand… and YET, after ALL that, I awake this morning to the scent of cat urine. ARE YOU KIDDING ME, CAT?!

And to top it all off, my shower drain is completely clogged because of all the baths I’ve had to give smelly Sir Winston, the man thinks I’m a complete fruit cake because I’ve been crying about EVERYTHING, my neighbor keeps bothering me and asking me for help despite the fact that I have NOTHING else to give at this point of the week, and the man gets to spend the weekend with the kiddos up at the cabin WITH the boat AND the dock in, while I sit half-heartedly watching TV and staring at Sir Winston to make sure he doesn’t DIE.

Oh, and the cops were called to my apartment building yesterday.


Happy Memorial Day Weekend, ya’ll.


Spider Eyes

I just refused to accept a friend request on Facebook because the girl had spider eyes.


MAJOR spider eyes.

Do you know how bothered I am by spider eyes?

I mean… what… what business does that TARANTULA have crawling all over your eyes?!




I mean, when I see this:

coming at me THROUGH YOUR GLASSES, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be your friend.

Because I’m pretty sure those spiders want to gnaw my face off.


And then I have no face, and children are crying, and the police are called, and its this whole thing and… I just don’t want to put you through that.

But if you were to remove the spiders FROM your eyes… Then we could sit down and discuss things.

And that way, you’ll be able to see better, I won’t have to worry about my face getting gnawed on… Everybody wins!

But really… can I just… you know… ask… WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?!

I mean, I’m as big a fan of mascara as the next girl but… you realize those GREAT BIG BALLS of BLACK GOOP shouldn’t be there, right?

And, long luscious lashes are one thing but… you know… hair… by its very essence… should not have the thickness of a two by four.

I mean… I’m not an expert but… you know… common sense and all.

And when your glasses are 5 inches thick and still the only thing I can see are those furry spider legs and not your EYES… I’m just thinking… the mascara probably isn’t doing its job. Its doing the opposite of its job. Because its job is not to put big ass spiders on your eyeballs.

Again… not an expert… but one would assume… that is NOT the purpose of mascara.

I mean… how have your family members never said anything? And why do all your Facebook friends comment on how pretty you are? I mean… YOU ARE. You’re gorgeous. It’s just that…



Seriously, girl?




Say something. Say… Anything.

Yesterday, I had a meeting with “the father”.  (What? I didn’t tell you about “the father”? Yeah, well… you’ll catch up.)

And as I am wont to do, rather than be my sophisticated, witty, interesting self, I ended up acting like Gomer Pyle. Because that’s how I roll.

You know Gomer Pyle, right? The simple-minded mechanic from “The Andy Griffith Show”?

Oh, you don’t? Well, this is Gomer:

Anyway, here’s a brief overview of how it all went down:

So, I had a meeting with the guy, right? We were discussing things, right? (No, it doesn’t matter what we were discussing, all that matters is that a discussion was taking place.  Stay with me.) Okay, so while we’re discussing these “things”, the guy is trying unsuccessfully to sit still. He absolutely cannot sit still. He’s like one of my 2nd graders. It’s ridiculous. Whenever we’re having a discussion he’s constantly rummaging through his books, looking things up on his phone and computer, shifting positions incessantly so he can get better blood flow to the brain…

Not entirely unlike this…

Anyway, he doesn’t do it to be rude. He’s listening the entire time, and continuing the conversation, and giving feedback. It’s just that when we’re discussing things, his brain is always going, and when his brain is going, he has to find supporting evidence for his assertions and opinions. And so he’s always looking things up. Because he’s brilliant and smart and a nerdy, researcher-thinker dude and I kind of find him weirdly… cute.


ANYWAY, at one point he was looking something up on his computer… you know, to offer up supporting evidence for his assertion. This happens a lot so usually I just wait for him to find whatever he’s looking for, and read whatever he wants to share. So, he’s looking up this information, and I’m sitting there waiting…



And instead of sitting there staring at him (Which I would never do… because that would be ridiculously awkward…)


I was looking out his office window. You see, he has these large windows in his office, and he had them wide open. And it was that kind of windy, blustery, perfectly stormy, summery day, and I was just enjoying the view.

Not entirely unlike this…

I don’t know how long I was sitting there staring out the window, but I finally turn back to his desk and he’s just sitting there…

Looking at me…

Like he was waiting for me ask my next question…

And I’m like, “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were still looking something up…”

Not entirely unlike this…


It could have been 30 seconds… It could have been a minute and 30 seconds… DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THAT IS IN REAL LIFE?!

That’s a freakin’ long-ass time!

He must have been like, “Dude. Are you just going to hang out in my office or…?”

It’s not that simple! I didn’t know we were sitting here in awkward silence!

UGH… I am so ridiculously awkward. But why didn’t he say something?! He could have been like, “So, what else is on your mind?” Or… SOMETHING! But no. He sat there in awkward silence, looking at me, waiting for me to collect my thoughts and SAY SOMETHING.


It was horrifying.

Okay, not as horrifying as I made it out to be, but still pretty horrifying nonetheless. I mean… How long was I just sitting there? How long was he waiting for me? WHY DIDN’T HE SAY ANYTHING?

I’m so freakishly awkward. I’m such a Gomer.


Seriously, you guys. Is there anything better than s’napping?

And by s’napping, I mean, “summertime napping”.

I’ve been s’napping nearly everyday.

Usually during that mid-afternoon lull where you’ve finished errands and daily chores, there’s no justification for starting a Netflix marathon this early in the day, and quite frankly, if you spend anymore time reading, trolling Pinterest or stalking people on Facebook, you’re going to flat-out off yourself. THAT, my friends, means it’s prime time for a s’nap. (For people who work during the summer, this is that drowsy point in the afternoon right after lunch, right before your 15th cup of coffee. Primetime for s’naps.)

The problem with s’naps is that once you get into the habit, it’s hopelessly hard to break. Because they feel SO GOOD. I never knew how much I could enjoy taking a nap WHENEVER THE HECK I WANT. And most of the time, after I wake up, I don’t even feel guilty. Because it’s SUMMER. And I’m a TEACHER. What else am I going to spend my time doing? I mean, besides…

  • Catching up on reading
  • Working a summer job for extra income instead of whining about how poor I am
  • People-watching at Starbucks
  • Reorganizing my life
  • Redecorating my apartment
  • Gardening
  • Golfing, hiking, playing tennis or getting any kind of exercise
  • Travelling
  • Learning a new skill
  • Mapping out my curriculum for next year
  • Planning and putting together my classroom for next year

You know… all those things that pretentious over-achievers do. And I’m nothing if not an unpretentious under-achiever.

Now before you leave a whole slew of comments about how I SHOULD be spending my time instead of s’napping, let me clarify. This is my first summer off since starting my teaching career. All the prior summers off were spent taking graduate courses or relocating for new jobs. I’ve never had a summer where I could actually… HAVE A SUMMER. So, don’t be getting all up on your high horse with your, “Annie… you’re being slothful. You need to go to confession.”

OOH! Confession! That actually sounds like fun. I should try that out sometime. Play a little game of, “See which priest can recognize my voice the fastest.”

Oh, Annie. You irreverent, sacrilegious boob. Go take a s’nap.

Since you’ve been gone…

Since you’ve been gone…

Or rather, since I’ve been gone…

Let me get caught up with the following series of interpretive images…


Trump? Really? Not even this is as bad as that:


Which pretty much leaves us with this:


In the apolitical arena, this has been my life:

09f4b3ed6ebafe623899db8478bcd976 190e4558d61768ead801acf90576c41a 19033884582d3d45073ff7383aa94fea b98f37f89e3f35c4fbb47b3abef40249 dd85c78f4b434b9f79b91d1fd1793c91

Not to mention getting used to and indoctrinated into this:

4ec95753b7fff51c3fa49ee507e54153 mass-day

Which I have loved and been completely into… I find the whole thing fascinating… and occasionally… odd. But like… “good” odd. You know?

And then there was the time I almost passed out at Mass, froze to death in Urgent Care, fell in love with a priest, had a kiddo desecrate the host and fell all over myself trying to crown Mary. But those are other stories for another time.

What’s new with you?

Ms. Evans needs a time-out.


Have you ever had those times when no matter how many ways you approach a subject or how many techniques you use to teach it, or how many times you go over it, or how often you review it, or how often you beat your students over the head with the information… THEY STILL JUST DON’T GET IT?!

And you’re all…

This is not happening…

So, you’re like, “Clearly, I need a different approach. And we need to review. And we need to go over this. One. More. Time.”

And so you do. And you spend ANOTHER two weeks on it and still they’re…

As though this is an entirely new concept they have never even heard of before.

Until you’re just…

Seriously. You are clearly incapable of learning anything. Unless it’s the new Taylor Swift song. Whatever. Just… go away.

And then YOU get blamed for being the reason why all of American society is so stupid because clearly you don’t know how to teach, when you just want to scream, “Um, DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU PEOPLE THAT YOUR CHILDREN ARE JUST STUPID?!?!”

And then you’re put on unpaid leave because apparently that’s not okay to say or something…

Okay, so clearly I don’t feel that way about my kids. I adore my kids. They are the best things about my day. But if I have to teach SUBJECTS and PREDICATES ONE MORE FREAKIN’ TIME… HEADS ARE GOING TO ROLL, PEOPLE.

How hard is this? HOW HARD?!?!

On my last test, I asked them to circle the subjects (the thing the sentence is about… it’s usually at the beginning of a sentence) in the sentences that followed. You see the part I put in parentheses? I actually put that ON THE TEST. So there would be no confusion. And a bunch of them failed it. Then on the retake, I put the same thing in BOLD LETTERING. They actually did WORSE on the retake, than they did on the original.

That’s not even humanly possible.

Why do I even bother?

I just… I just… it’s not even… I mean… why do… how come… how can… what the…


No. Words.

Clearly, Ms. Evans needs a time-out.


Is this what my life has come to?

Yesterday I took a picture of things I bought at the store.

Then I took a picture of the food I was making for dinner.

Then I took a picture of Winston because he had taken my spot on the couch.

I then proceeded to send said pictures to my siblings.

Because clearly they would be interested???

Is this what my life has come to?

Taking pictures of my boring life for no reason what-so-ever?

I’m just surprised I didn’t post them to Facebook or Instagram.

Now THAT would have been pathetic.